…
Within the illusion realm crafted by the Shapeshifter, a complete visual projection of the Talon Subsystem #12 unfolded in vivid detail, a vast holographic lattice of orbiting planets, defense grids, and data trails, suspended in cosmic stillness.
Qin Mo stood inside this constructed phantasm, watching alongside the ever-shifting form of the Shapeshifter.
Creations like the Leviathan still filled him with pride. Just like the Nexus Firmament and Dimensional Technology, it was a masterpiece.
Perhaps imperfect, but a masterpiece nonetheless.
"Why not just have this thing release a purge strain and eliminate every trace of the plague on that planet?" the Shapeshifter asked curiously.
"Because this is an experiment," Qin Mo replied, and then elaborated.
In short, Leviathan, designed during the early development of the Talon system, wasn't solely created to combat plague outbreaks. The reason it wasn't equipped with vast reserves of anti-plague agents was deliberate, to test its adaptive capabilities. Could it neutralize planetary-scale threats using only localized resources?
Like the Tyranids it was inspired by, Leviathan was Qin Mo's answer to swarm-based warfare, a hyper-adaptive weapon of mass destruction capable of evolving on the fly.
After listening, the Shapeshifter, now in the shape of a floating stone, bobbed idly in the void. "I see. As expected of the Forgemaster… in just a year and a half, you've turned a system of upright apes into a stronghold of advancement and power."
"Haha∼." Qin Mo accepted the compliment from the other C'tan with a smile, then abruptly dropped it and fixed the Shapeshifter with a hard stare. "Where have you been these past days?"
The Shapeshifter had gone off-grid for quite a while.
They had agreed to cooperate: the Shapeshifter would provide intelligence. But its constant disappearances had made coordination unreliable at best.
If the Shapeshifter hadn't kept vanishing, Qin Mo wouldn't have needed to deploy recon fleets at all. With stellar charts already charted, Shapeshifter could've simply scanned each system in the Talon Subsystem for signs of plague, and the cleansing fleets could've deployed right after the Inquisition withdrew.
"You know me… fragmented memories, fractured mind." The Shapeshifter morphed into a warship as it spoke, a broken silhouette of a Dirge-class Necron vessel, its hull fractured by invisible gravity tides. "For other C'tan, memory is just a glimpse of the past. For me, it's like reliving every moment in perfect clarity. I can't even tell if I'm in reality or a memory loop right now."
Qin Mo considered this, then said, "From now on, report your status to me regularly. Whether you're lost in the past or off on your own agenda, I need updates."
At first, the Shapeshifter felt cared for. But then it reconsidered his tone, Qin Mo wasn't asking, he was commanding.
"You already control every soul in the Talon System. You command your entire warhost. And now you want to command a Star God too?" It narrowed its glowing eyes, their color cycling between viridian and white. "Don't you think your obsession with control is becoming pathological?"
Qin Mo exhaled softly through his nose. The air around him shimmered with static, his emotions translating unconsciously into raw C'tan energy. The word obsession didn't sting. It didn't mean much. Labels like that came from people who still thought in terms of balance.
"I wouldn't bother if we weren't allies," Qin Mo replied flatly. "But if you go unhinged again, I need a way to jolt you back. You don't want to spiral into endless hallucinations, right?" He raised a hand. Arcs of electricity crackled between his fingers, dancing like caged spirits. Each spark whispered litanies in binary, self-written code written in the language of dead suns.
Qin Mo was no longer the man he once was. As soon as lightning surged at his fingertips, the illusion around him began to destabilize, flickering between the simulated world and physical reality.
"My core consciousness isn't even here. I only sent a fragment," the Shapeshifter protested. "But... fine. It does help. If I start slipping into broken memories again, feel free to zap me."
The warship bobbed up and down, as if nodding.
"Good. Regular status reports, understood?" Qin Mo asked.
"Understood," the Shapeshifter replied.
Qin Mo nodded back. He admitted it, he was a control freak. But this wasn't about dominance; it was about safety.
If the petty Necron dynasty imprisoning the Shapeshifter ever decided to bargain it for power, or if rogue shards of other Star Gods found and devoured it, things would spiral fast out of control. The last time a Star God shard destabilized in realspace in 40k, five sectors had to be quarantined for ten thousand years.
"These plagues…" The Shapeshifter now appeared as a woman, her skin glassy like obsidian, eyes flickering with nebulae, locked on System #12. "They're ravaging everything near Talon… so why hasn't Talon itself seen even a hint of infection?"
The illusion shifted again, this time zooming into the Talon System at planetary scale. In seconds, the Shapeshifter scanned Talon's three core worlds. No signs of the Plague of Unbelief. Not even background warp resonance.
"Don't bother searching. There's nothing," Qin Mo confirmed, still finding it odd.
If there had been even a whisper of outbreak, the central Master-AI would've reported and purged it immediately.
"Is it possible the plagues were seeded by passing vessels?" the Shapeshifter proposed, shifting the illusion again.
The projection displayed the current state of System #12, then reversed, like a holofilm rewinding. Time peeled backward rapidly.
Qin Mo recognized the method, it resembled the Trace Recollection he had used on Tyrone hive Spire to reconstruct past events.
Time regressed, ten thousand years into the past. Back when the system was feral and uninhabited. Only a few fleets had ever passed through, his own Talon fleet, the Imperium's Great Crusade expedition, and the original colonizers from millennia ago.
"Alright, guess my hypothesis was off," the Shapeshifter shrugged.
"This is Nurgle's Rot. It doesn't have to be spread by vectors. Sometimes it just… appears. A curse born from the Warp," Qin Mo replied.
"Then why is your Talon system untouched?"
Qin Mo pondered deeply. His only guess was that his Star God powers had grown strong enough to block the Warp's influence.
Just as ships must reach a Mandeville Point to safely enter the Immaterium, far from planetary masses, perhaps Star Gods acted like celestial bodies that passively resisted Warp corruption.
That might explain why Talon remained unscathed, while surrounding systems were vulnerable to the Plague of Unbelief.
He explained this theory to the Shapeshifter, then asked, "Shouldn't you know this better than I do?"
"I was shattered aeons ago. I don't even know what a 'Mandeville Point' is," the Shapeshifter replied.
"Doesn't matter," Qin Mo said, staring back into the illusion. "Show me the status of every system in the Talon Subsector."
"You've already named the entire subsector?" The Shapeshifter smirked, but complied. Dozens of star systems displayed their planetary conditions in detail. Each one surrounded by emerald sigils, with tags like: '95% compliance', 'Sublevel Cult Detected', or 'Plague Cleansing in Progress'.
The Talon Fleet had finished purging or was mid-purge across the entire subsector. At this pace, the Plague of Unbelief would be eradicated within three days, buying them precious time.
Qin Mo made a decision: all populations in the subsector would be tagged, recorded, and genetically catalogued. The governance system of Talon would be exported to every world. Any resisting governors or populations would be cleansed like plague-ridden vermin.
Order would be spread to every corner of the Talon Subsector.
The Shapeshifter, for all its shape and insight, had no idea what Qin Mo was truly planning, nor did he care. It continued displaying planetary data, letting Qin Mo observe the subsector from a macro perspective.
Moments later, at the fringe of the Talon Subsector, System #17, something stirred.
Rifts of violet Warp-light erupted at the system's edge.
Twelve warships emerged from the Immaterium and entered realspace.
"Are they enemies?" the Shapeshifter asked.
Qin Mo narrowed his eyes at the vessels. Though shaped like Lunar-class cruisers and Tempest-class escorts, their forms were grotesquely twisted. Flesh grafts writhed over metallic hulls, bristling with green tendrils, eyes, maws, and gnashing teeth. Warp-corrupted echoes of Imperial make, now servants of Nurgle's blasphemous fleet.
"We just need to observe," Qin Mo said calmly. "Let the fleet handle the rest."
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