To uncover the truth of this scenario, time would be needed to rule out each possibility. For now, however, he had no choice but to accept things and move on.
"Praise be to the Emperor," one of the Ecclesiarchs declared, rising to his feet with a broad smile.
"Yes, praise Him," Bastion replied before turning back to the Sisters.
"I shall see you all again tomorrow. From then on, your training may differ somewhat." With that, he turned to leave.
"My lord!" One of the Ecclesiarchs called out, halting him.
"Please forgive the intrusion, but if possible, might we trouble you for this prayer? That we may recite it and receive the Emperor's blessings?"
Bastion saw through their ploy immediately. They sought to twist his words—to weaponize them for controlling the masses.
They may not have fully grasped his meaning, but their expressions during the prayer told him they had sensed something.
(A/N: Remember, though distracted, his senses still 'recorded' the scene, allowing him to replay it in his mind.)
"Do not worry. I shall have a servitor deliver it to you," Bastion said.
"Now, I must leave. The planet awaits." His gaze shifted to the exit, where Selene stood waiting.
It was becoming increasingly clear that his time here had run out—the next task demanded his attention.
Turning to the Canoness, he warned, "Over the course of today, their appetites will increase drastically. I will instruct the Fabricator-General to prepare enhanced nutrient solutions. Ensure you collect them before the first symptoms appear—otherwise, they will die."
With a silent command, he relayed the order to the Fabricator-General, who set to work at once. Unlike before, when such tasks would have been personal undertakings, he now delegated them to the appropriate department within the soon-to-be-reformed Mechanicus.
At the moment, all the Archmagi were engrossed in various projects within his lab. Their minds remained intact, but he had reprogrammed them to be more open-minded.
Using the Omnissiah Program, he had convinced them that innovation and research were acts of worship... that ideas themselves were sacred.
With every ruling Magos embracing this belief, Bastion was confident it would soon spread across the planet.
As for the Sisters, he couldn't stay to monitor the changes unfolding within their bodies. But since there were no significant outward transformations yet, he suspected their physical appearances would remain largely unchanged.
"Alright, let's go," Bastion said as he joined Selene. "What's next on the agenda?"
Her eyes gleamed with an unreadable light—neither supernatural nor cybernetic, just pure excitement. He could guess why.
"A visit to the newly rebuilt barracks in the Mid Hive," she replied.
"Then let's go." He strode past her, leaving the convent behind.
The more he walked through its halls—adorned with excessive ornamentation, gargoyles, stained glass, and marble floors—the more his disdain for the Ecclesiarchy grew. He might have understood such extravagance if they actually contributed to society.
But they didn't. This was a convent, not even a grand cathedral, yet its opulence was built on the backs of forced labor.
As soon as he stepped past the convent gates, a crowd of Ecclesiarchs surrounded him. Their expressions told him everything. Thankfully, his guards had already formed a perimeter, escorting him swiftly to the waiting hovercraft.
The vehicle was sleek, imposing—straight out of a nightmare masquerading as a sci-fi fantasy. Every time it glided down the road, Bastion's irritation flared. The air was foul, and he estimated these machines contributed at least 0.2% of the planet's pollution.
"I should look into repairing the filtration systems," he muttered.
At the edge of his vision, he spotted Dresk shoving through the crowd, a vox-communicator pressed to her ear. She barreled past priests as if they were nothing, shouting, "Abort! Abort!"
Bastion chose to ignore her.
"My lord," Selene said, holding the hovercraft door open,
"have you finalized your designs for the reforms?"
He stepped inside and immediately began refining his plans. The deployed sensors... though barely covering the Mid Hive... provided enough data to reveal the hive's true state.
Its structural integrity was beyond compromised. Living standards might as well have been nonexistent. Respect for life? Absent.
Through the neural link on his finger, he could sense the deaths of at least forty thousand people at this very moment. And worse—those around them simply carried on, indifferent.