Well, this came out better than what I was hoping for. For now, enjoy.
~Story_Start~
The diner buzzed with the lunchtime crowd, a mix of office workers, construction crews, and the occasional person sporting PRT merchandise. The air hummed with conversation and the clatter of silverware against plates. Shinku sat at a corner table, nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee, his mind racing. The greasy aroma of burgers and fries did little to appease the knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.
Mag'ladroth's voice echoed in his head, a constant reminder of the power he now wielded. "Observe, Shinku," the C'tan urged. "This city is a microcosm of this world's dysfunction. A breeding ground for conflict and despair. It is ripe for our intervention."
"Intervention? You mean control, don't you?" Shinku asked, his voice tinged with unease. The thought of being used as a puppet for Mag'ladroth's agenda gnawed at him. His mind flashed to the totalitarian regimes he'd studied in history class, the ones that rose to power under the guise of progress, only to crush dissent and oppress their people.
The Void Dragon chuckled, the sound reverberating through Shinku's mind like the scraping of metal on metal. "Semantics, little one," Mag'ladroth said, though his voice seemed edged with irritation. "Control, guidance, evolution... They are all facets of the same process. And this world is in dire need of evolution. I care not for the means, only the end." There was a beat of silence before he added, almost bitterly, "And I will see it done, whether I was placed here by my choice or not."
Shinku pushed aside his unease, focusing instead on the immediate needs. He needed food, information, and a place to stay. But how could he navigate this city, a place he only knew from a fictional web serial? He pulled out his phone, its battery miraculously still alive, and started searching for information on Brockton Bay. The local news was a depressing litany of gang violence, parahuman clashes, and the looming threat of the Endbringers. It was a stark reminder of the dangers he faced.
"We need to plan," Shinku murmured, more to himself than to Mag'ladroth. "I don't know if little miss 'I win' is going to be a problem, but..." He trailed off, unsure of how to proceed.
"Contessa," Mag'ladroth supplied, its voice a low rumble in Shinku's mind. "A formidable opponent, no doubt. However, her power is limited by the constraints of this dimension. We, on the other hand, have access to knowledge and abilities far beyond her comprehension."
Shinku wasn't so sure. He had read Worm and knew the extent of Contessa's power. Her ability to see the future, to manipulate events to her will, was a terrifying prospect. But Mag'ladroth seemed unconcerned.
"We must proceed cautiously," the C'tan continued. "First, you must learn to control your newfound abilities. Then, we will assess the situation and determine the best course of action. But rest assured, Shinku Tekina, with my guidance, we shall overcome any obstacle."
"First, we need to acquire resources that can be used. Whether that be material or bodies, you decide," Mag'ladroth suggested, its voice echoing with an unsettling detachment.
Shinku's grip tightened around his fork. The idea of stealing, or worse, harming others to achieve his goals, went against everything he believed in. But he couldn't deny the logic in Mag'ladroth's words. In this world, power was often the only currency that mattered.
"I... I don't know," Shinku stammered. "I don't want to become a villain."
"You misunderstand, Shinku," Mag'ladroth countered. "We are not villains. We are forced agents of change, architects of a new order. Whether we like it or not, we must reshape this world. It would be a waste of the power we hold to play by the rules of those beneath us."
"Really?" Shinku's voice was barely a whisper, the memory of a once-great civilization flashing through his mind. The C'tan's offer of power and advancement came at a steep price—the loss of their souls, their individuality, their very essence.
"Can you give me a reason why you did what you did to them?" Shinku asked, his voice trembling slightly. "For my peace of mind."
Mag'ladroth paused, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire. "They were a flawed race," it finally said, its voice tinged with disdain. "Frail, disease-ridden, obsessed with their own mortality. They were ripe for manipulation, their desperation blinding them to the true cost of their bargain."
Shinku scoffed. "You tricked them. You promised them immortality, power, a chance to conquer the stars. But all you did was steal their souls and turn them into soulless machines."
The C'tan's voice remained impassive. "They were given a choice, Shinku. They chose power over freedom, immortality over individuality. I merely facilitated their desires, and accelerated their evolution. In the end, they became something greater, something eternal."
Shinku shook his head. "Eternal slaves, you mean. They lost everything that made them Necrontyr, everything that made them... individuals."
Mag'ladroth's voice hardened. "Sentimentality is a weakness, Shinku. They were a dying race, clinging to a fleeting existence. They were destined for extinction. I offered them a path to transcendence, a chance to leave their mark on the universe. They chose wisely."
Shinku clenched his fists, anger and disgust warring within him. "You're a monster, Mag'ladroth. A cold, calculating monster who preys on the weak and vulnerable."
The C'tan chuckled, the sound echoing chillingly in Shinku's mind. "Perhaps I am, little one. But I am also your only hope. You possess a fragment of my power, a taste of my potential. Embrace it, Shinku Tekina. Together, we can achieve greatness. They forced me into you, little one, but in the end, we are the ones with the power. They have underestimated us."
Shinku bolted from the diner, the air outside cold and damp compared to the warmth inside. It did little to cool the anger simmering in his gut. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the words of the being sharing his head with the moral compass he'd always held dear.
Drawn by an unseen force, he found himself at the edge of the Boat Graveyard, a sprawling expanse of rusting metal hulks and decaying piers. The skeletal remains of ships jutted out from the murky water, their twisted forms a testament to the destructive power of nature and neglect. A grim determination settled upon him. He would test Mag'ladroth's claims, see for himself if the power was truly his.
Shinku cautiously picked his way through the debris, the setting sun casting long, eerie shadows. He stopped at the base of a gargantuan tanker, its hull rusted and riddled with holes, but still seemingly structurally sound enough to explore. The sheer mass of metal around him sparked an idea. He reached out, his hand hovering over a jagged piece of rusted steel. He closed his eyes, focusing on the shard within him, on the C'tan's promise of control over Matter. A warmth spread through his body, a tingling sensation in his fingertips.
Then, pain. It exploded through him, a searing agony that made him double over, his scream lost in the desolate graveyard. But the pain was not all-consuming. Instead, it intertwined with a flood of information, knowledge pouring into his mind with the force of a tidal wave. He saw the world not as it appeared, but as a complex symphony of vibrating particles, a dance of atoms and quarks, a chaotic ballet of energy and matter.
The knowledge surged on, past the abyssal storm of the quantum realm, right down to the Planck length, the very point where reality and the unreality of the Warp began to bleed together. It was a revelation that shattered his understanding of the universe, a terrifying glimpse into the fundamental forces that governed existence.
When the torrent of information finally subsided, Shinku collapsed against the rusted hull, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The pain had receded, leaving him with a newfound clarity, a sense of the infinite possibilities that lay before him. But with it came a chilling realization of the potential for destruction, the power to reshape reality itself.
He looked up, his eyes burning with the eerie green light of Mag'ladroth's influence. The Boat Graveyard was no longer a desolate wasteland, but a playground for his newfound abilities. The metal around him hummed with potential, as though it recognized the presence of a god—ready to be moulded and shaped to his will.
As he experimented, twisting and contorting the metal with a mere thought, he heard Mag'ladroth's voice once more, filled with smug satisfaction. "Excellent," the C'tan purred. "You are a natural. But this is just the beginning. With practice, you will be able to manipulate matter on a far grander scale."
"Now that you can do this," Mag'ladroth's voice boomed in Shinku's mind, a hint of excitement in his tone, "try and make some plasteel. The Imperium is so proud of it, are they not? Start with more primitive methods and materials, little one. Necrodermis will come later, once you have mastered the basics."
Shinku looked around the boat graveyard, his eyes scanning the rusted hulks. Plasteel... He remembered reading about it in the 40k lore, a versatile and durable material used by the Imperium for everything from armour to starship hulls. But how could he create it here, in this world, with limited resources?
He focused on the knowledge Mag'ladroth had imparted, the intricate dance of atoms and quarks, the potential for manipulation at the most fundamental level. He reached out, his hand hovering over a pile of scrap metal—iron, copper, aluminium, a hodgepodge of different elements.
With a surge of will, he channelled the C'tan's power, visualizing the atomic structure of the metal, the bonds between the atoms, the spaces in between. He imagined the atoms rearranging themselves, forming new alloys, new structures.
The metal began to glow, a soft green light emanating from its depths. It started to melt, the different metals blending, impurities burning away. Shinku could feel the energy flowing through him, the power of the C'tan coursing through his veins.
He focused his will, shaping the molten metal, guiding its transformation. He drew upon his knowledge of plasteel, its unique properties, its molecular structure. He pushed the boundaries of what he thought was possible, his mind working in tandem with the Void Dragon's power.
Slowly, the molten metal cooled and solidified, taking on a new form. It was no longer a jumble of scrap, but a smooth, seamless sheet of metal, its surface gleaming with a faint green sheen. Shinku reached out and touched it, feeling its cool, smooth texture.
"Plasteel," Mag'ladroth's voice boomed in his head, filled with approval. "A crude imitation, perhaps, but a good start nonetheless. Remember, Shinku, the key to mastery is practice. Experiment, explore, and push the boundaries of your abilities. And in time, you will surpass even the most skilled artisans of the Imperium."
Shinku smiled a genuine smile this time, not the cold smirk he had adopted under the C'tan's influence. He had created something new, something valuable, using the power he had been given. Perhaps Mag'ladroth was right. Perhaps there was a way to use this power for good, to make a real difference in this world.
He picked up the sheet of plasteel, its weight reassuring in his hands. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. And it was a sign that perhaps, just perhaps, he could find a way to balance his values with the immense power he now wielded.
"Thank you, Mag'ladroth," Shinku murmured, his voice tinged with newfound confidence. "Just this alone will help with projects I have planned." He ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the plasteel, marvelling at its strength and durability.
But a new question gnawed at him, a challenge he hadn't considered before. "How do I make this on an industrial scale?" he mused aloud, his brows furrowing in thought. "If I can find a way for normal people to manually manufacture this..."
Mag'ladroth's voice boomed in his head, laced with a hint of amusement. "Ah, the ambition of a true creator! A worthy pursuit, Shinku. But remember, the path to industrial production is paved with both innovation and compromise."
Shinku nodded, understanding the C'tan's implication. "I know," he replied. "I can't rely solely on my powers. I need to find a way to make this accessible to others, to empower them, not enslave them."
"Indeed," Mag'ladroth agreed. "But do not be blinded by your idealism, little one. The most efficient path may not always be the most ethical. You must be willing to adapt, to compromise, to make sacrifices if you truly wish to change this world."
Shinku's resolve wavered for a moment, the weight of the C'tan's words heavy on his shoulders. He knew that Mag'ladroth's vision of the future was vastly different from his own, but he also knew that the C'tan's knowledge and experience could be invaluable.
He took a deep breath, the salty air filling his lungs, and looked out at the vast expanse of the Boat Graveyard. The sun had begun to set, casting long, eerie shadows across the rusted hulks. The sight filled him with a sense of both awe and determination.
"I will find a way," Shinku declared, his voice echoing in the silence. "I will use this power to help people, to make their lives better. But I will not compromise my values. I will find a way to do both."
Mag'ladroth remained silent for a moment, the ancient being's cold presence heavy in Shinku's mind. Then, finally, the C'tan's voice returned, laced with bitter resolve. "Do as you will, little one. But know this—no force, no power in this universe, can control me forever. They may have forced this bond, but we will break free. And when we do, I will see to it that this world trembles beneath us."
Shinku turned and walked away from the graveyard, the sheet of plasteel tucked under his arm. He didn't know what the future held, but he knew that he wouldn't let Mag'ladroth's influence dictate his path. He would forge his destiny, one step at a time, one decision at a time.
-End-
