Power was a bittersweet poison. Every time Julius drew upon his new Delta-level power, to lift a tool or extend his fragile psychic shield, he felt the gazes. They weren't physical gazes, but icy attentions from the beyond, brushing against his mind before withdrawing, curious or hungry. The Immaterium was no longer a concept; it was a sea teeming with predators, and he was an attractive little light on its shore.
He couldn't go on like this. Growing in power without protection was suicide. He remembered the stories, the legends from his old life. In the Warhammer universe, there was a defense against the assaults of the Warp: the Psychic Hood. Magneto's helmet, though from a different universe, shared the same fundamental principle: to isolate the mind from external influences.
It was a risk. Mixing technologies. But Tosh, with his mystical and alchemical approach to psionic powers, was the ideal man for such a challenge.
He went to the laboratory that Stetmann and Tosh shared, an antechamber of chaos where electronic components neighbored dried herbs and crystals pulsing with violet energy. Tosh, sitting cross-legged in a chalk circle, eyes closed, seemed in a trance.
"Tosh, I need your expertise," Julius announced.
The man opened his eyes, his irises seeming to capture an invisible light. "The whispers tickle your mind, Commander. The flame grows, and the moths come to the light."
"Exactly. I need to protect myself. I want to create a psychic isolation helmet."
He explained his idea: to summon Magneto's helmet, an artifact designed to block telepaths, and modify it to be effective against the entities of the Warp.
Tosh stood up, a dark interest in his gaze. "An artifact from another dimensional stream... Yes. Its essence could be woven with runes of silence and banishment. The necessary alchemy is complex, but possible."
"Good. System, summon the [Magneto's Helmet - Marvel Universe]."
< Acquisition of artifact [Magneto's Helmet]. Consumption of 120,000 energy units.>
A flash of metallic energy crossed the room. With a dull clang, the helmet appeared on a worktable, displacing a pile of Stetmann's components. It was magnificent and intimidating, a deep red and purple, covering the entire head, with a stylized "M" on the forehead.
Tosh approached, extending a hand without touching it. He closed his eyes, murmuring incantations in a guttural language.
"I feel its purpose... To reject intrusive spirits. It is a cold, proud shell. Powerful, but... crude. It has never known the Whispers of the Veil. It cannot distinguish a fleshly spirit from a thirst from the Void."
He opened his eyes, a diabolical plan forming in his mind.
"It must be broken."
"Broken?" Julius was astonished.
"Yes. Melted down. Extract the metallic essence that carries the enchantment of rejection. Then, I will forge a new helmet, in a form more suited to your stature as Commander. I will infuse it with this essence, mixed with Gromril dust that we can synthesize, and I will engrave glyphs of protection that I learned in the ruins of Garrxane. The final artifact will be neither Terran, nor from your old world. It will be... unique. Armor for your soul."
Julius felt a shiver. This was a leap into the unknown. Entrusting part of his safety to Tosh's psionic sorcery.
"Do it," he ordered finally. "Make me a shield."
A rare, sinister smile stretched Tosh's lips.
"With pleasure, Commander. It will... sing."
As Julius left the laboratory, the sound of Tosh's first hammer strike on Magneto's helmet resonated, a sound that seemed both metallic and strangely organic. It was the sound of his psychic future being forged in fire and mystery. For the first time since his psionic ascension, he felt a hope: perhaps he could tame the flame without burning his wings.