Chapter 98: The Power Spurned by the Emperor
As the first light of dawn filtered into the room, it illuminated Hikigaya Hachiman, who sat cross-legged before the floor-to-ceiling window.
However, the warm sunlight distorted and flickered; dark, heavy wisps of black mist swirled around him, seemingly devouring the light. These mists occasionally coalesced into the shapes of screaming skulls—disturbing manifestations of the psychic struggle occurring within Hachiman's mind.
"War, Blood, and Conquest!"
"Wisdom, Guile, and Change!"
"Plague, Death, and Rebirth!"
"The Pursuit of Ultimate Pleasure!"
In his mind, these chaotic words formed an unbearable cacophony, like thousands of voices ground together into a singular shriek. The moment Hachiman opened his eyes, the voices vanished, leaving behind a silence so absolute it felt as though the previous chaos had been a mere hallucination.
Hachiman had not simply acted as a container for the statues of the Four Saint Cult. Had those icons—charged with a millennium of belief—been consumed by the "Master" of the Ghost Post Office, the consequences would have been catastrophic.
Instead, Hachiman intended to systematically dismantle the faith contained within them.
While these local, "planetary-tier" spirits were far weaker than the interstellar, galaxy-spanning Ruinous Powers he once fought, their death throes were still potent.
The mental pollution he had just endured was the result of using his psychic power to grind away the lingering wills of the four "gods." For a normal person, such concentrated corruption would result in instant insanity.
Hachiman, however, found himself comparing their whispers to Gojo Satoru's [Unlimited Void]. Both techniques flooded the brain with "trash information." While the "gods" added a layer of seductive depravity to their data-dump, Hachiman—who had stared into the true Warp during space voyages—found these local imitations lacking.
They caused him fatigue, but no actual spiritual damage.
His long night of labor had not been in vain. On the contrary, he had gained something staggering.
Hachiman extended his hand. In his palm danced a tiny, flickering flame of pure gold. It was as brilliant as colored glass, its light sacred and mesmerizing. Though it was smaller than a candle flame, Hachiman's expression was one of profound solemnity and a hint of awe.
This was the byproduct of obliterating the four "gods": Faith Power. Or rather, the very power spurned by his Master, the Emperor of Mankind.
Even now, Hachiman found it hard to believe. By refining the essences of these local "gods," he had distilled pure Faith. In his past life, this was a theoretical concept, never officially proven or permitted.
The Emperor had famously rejected all forms of religion.
He viewed faith as ignorance—a shackle on human progress and a beacon for the Warp.
Even the Imperial Creed that eventually deified Him was something He had strictly forbidden during the Great Crusade. The Primarch Lorgar and his Word Bearers had been brutally punished for their religious fervor; the Emperor had even ordered the Ultramarines to raze Lorgar's "Perfect City" to the ground to enforce a mandate of absolute rationalism and materialism.
Hachiman understood the logic: Science and logic suppressed the influence of the Warp.
Because of this deep-seated Imperial conditioning, Hachiman's first instinct upon seeing the gold flame was dread. But as he observed it, he realized its terrifying potential.
In this world, jujutsu battles were usually determined by the volume and purity of Cursed Energy.
Hachiman's own Cursed Energy was incredibly dense, yet when it touched this tiny, nearly extinguished spark of Faith, his energy was instantly annihilated.
The Faith Power acted as a force of absolute purification.
When he tried to pierce his own palm with a needle formed from this golden light, it didn't draw blood. It simply "erased" the psychic and cursed energy in that localized area.
This holy, golden energy reminded him of the Emperor.
In the 41st Millennium, weapons "blessed" by the Emperor could permanently kill Daemons instead of just banishing them. Hachiman had always assumed this was due to the Emperor's status as the most powerful psyker in history—a "supernova" of psychic might compared to Hachiman's "candle."
But now, a bold thought occurred to him: 'Is the Emperor's anti-Daemon power actually the distilled Faith of the quadrillions of loyal citizens and Astartes across the galaxy?'
If the Faith Power of a primitive, "50k-years-behind" Earth could generate energy capable of bypassing his own defenses, then the Faith accumulated by a galaxy-spanning Empire must be invincible.
It stood to reason that in a direct confrontation in the Warp, the Emperor could likely "trade" His life to take down at least one of the Chaos Gods—a prospect so grim that neither side had fully committed until the Horus Heresy.
Hachiman didn't expect to become as powerful as the Emperor. He currently held only a millionth of the power stored in those four statues. But by "interrogating" the statues daily, he could harvest a steady supply.
The power was highly versatile. He smeared a tiny speck of it onto his broken chainsword, and the blade instantly erupted in golden flames. Even without Cursed Energy, its lethality was now off the charts.
'This is "Loyalty" made manifest' he thought.
He decided he needed to commission some large-scale firearms. Faith Power would likely have an even higher compatibility with projectile weaponry—a "Daemon-Slaying Specialty" weapon.
He merged the wisp of golden light into his own body, making it a resource he could call upon at will.
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His phone rang. It was Gojo Satoru.
"Morning, Hachiman!" Gojo's voice was full of energy. "I heard you made quite a scene at the Association headquarters last night."
Gojo sounded delighted. Anything that made the "old farts" lose face was a win in his book.
"I suspected they were hiding data," Hachiman replied, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He felt mentally drained after a night of psychic screeching. "If that's all you called for, I'm hanging up."
"Wait, wait!" Gojo laughed.
"Actually, I forgot to tell you yesterday. Tokyo Jujutsu High received an invitation for a 'Social Studies' trip. We're going to visit a research institute."
"Social studies? At a research lab?" Hachiman was skeptical. "Is Jujutsu High trying to upgrade to a university?"
"You won't believe this—honestly, I barely do," Gojo said. "The institute claims to have developed a machine designed to fight Curses. They're calling them 'Titans'—apparently taking the name directly from that book you wrote."
Hachiman froze. In his book, he had written extensively about the Imperial Titans, the "God-Machines" of the Mechanicus.
"A robot that fights Curses?" Hachiman asked. Curses could usually only be harmed by jujutsu.
"It uses Cursed Energy as fuel, with a sorcerer acting as the pilot. The demonstration is on the same day you're scheduled to come teach Fushiguro Megumi, so the timing works out."
Hachiman was intrigued. Could a world with this level of technology actually produce something resembling a Titan, or was it just a glorified PowerPoint presentation?
"Which company is behind this?"
"Let's see... ah, here it is. Togawa Logistics, Robotics Division."
Hachiman paused.
Togawa? That's Sakiko's family name.
He had assumed Sakiko's family had fallen on hard times, but it seemed they were still capable of massive R&D projects. There was clearly more to her story than he knew.
"Fine," Hachiman said. "I'll go."
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