All things considered, my laboratory complex was woefully understocked by whatever force brought it into existence. I had taken cursory mental stock of the contents before I first left the isolated dimension, but upon returning and more carefully examining the available supplies, I find them severely lacking. I have yet to even apply any of the charges gained from Inspired Inventor, and already, with only the knowledge gained from the mind within my mind, I find myself searching for resources that simply do not exist. I sigh, raking a hand back through my hair.
"Easily fixed, I suppose. Psychokinesis can generate and shape matter, or I could attune one of my power slots to something that can create materials, but still… I can't help but feel a bit underwhelmed by what's here. Fully stocked my ass," I say more to myself than anything. I really need to get someone to talk to. The mind within my mind stirs, thoughts rippling and coalescing into a single piece of advice.
Build.
The single word manifests not from a voice, but as a concept I intuitively recognize. Immediately, thousands of ideas pour forth, pushing themselves to the forefront of my mind, each curated by the consciousness within me before being passed to me. Weapons, armors, genetic templates, and so much more spring forth. I begin to skim through them as I responded to the mind within my mind.
"Right. Thatwasmy intent when I came here, you know." It wasn't exactly what I had meant when languishing for conversation, but I suppose it's better than nothing. Though, I am a bit skeptical as to the quality of the conversation to be had with the mind within my mind. It seems on the surface that our thoughts are heavily aligned, with my deviations stemming from the me from before, and the traits unique to that me.
"What should I refer to you as? You're the Emperor, aren't you? But now, I am too. We're bound together, so who are you in this relationship of ours?" I ask the mind of the mortal deity. The mind shifts, psychic energy spiraling inward on itself as if considering for several moments before answering.
Predecessor. Mentor. Ally. Father.
I jerk. That was… a lot to unpack. Predecessor is a given, expected even. I am taking up the mantle as the new Emperor of Mankind, so of course he considers me his successor. Mentor isn't exactly expected but is a wholly welcome surprise. I'm feeling completely new to… well, everything about the current situation, from possessing cosmic power, to planning the creation of an empire. Even if I have all the requisite knowledge I need, it is still comforting to have my predecessor available to go to for advice. Ally is also welcome, but also expected. Our goals are aligned, and our thoughts are too in sync for us to be anything but allies.
Father, however, is a loaded word. My father in my previous life died when I was very young, and so I had lacked a father figure for most of my life. To hear someone, anyone—even this psychic thoughtform so in tune with me—attempt to enter that position brought up an involuntary defensiveness that I did not entirely comprehend. Am I defending the position of my late father? I barely remember him, and I doubt my predecessor cares one whit about him beyond his being human. I can't even begin to imagine what would cause this reaction in me.
Is it what I know about my predecessor? I was by no means an expert in the lore of the then fictional universe from which The Emperor of Mankind stems, but I knew of him and his deeds. I knew his actions and his flaws, and now I was able to remember all of them in perfect detail.
Neglectful. Distrustful. Short-sighted. His fall from power was entirely due to his own actions, predominantly where his sons were involved. The Primarchs, genetically tailored warriors, diplomats, terrorists, and soldiers alike, all each lovingly crafted in a lab so much like this one to help his build his galactic Imperium.
Half of them turned to chaos. Half of them betrayed him, and in the end, he had no one to blame but himself. Of course, the chaos gods played their parts, but the way the Primarchs were treated lies solely with the Emperor. It was the great irony of what, at the time, I had considered a wonderful fictional story. But now it was real, and that same man, that same failure was asserting himself asmyfather.
My predecessor was a terrible father. Heisa terrible father, even as he resides in within my mind.
"I am not your son," I say carefully, "You are my predecessor to be certain, but there is no familial relationship here. We are like minds wielding a powerful vessel. I as the arbiter, and you as the advisor. Nothing more. We may be friends in time, but not family."
You are human. All are my children.
The response is firm and delivered in a patient tone. There is some level of condescension present, as if my predecessor believes I do not understand my words. Anger rises in my chest. My temper had always been an issue before my transformation, and I am somewhat comforted to feel it resurging. It is familiar.
"I am not one of your Primarchs, predecessor. Don't patronize me with vague statements about humanity as you attempt to obscure the truth. I am just ashumanas you were in life," As I say this, the part of my thought processes I had devoted to skimming the proposed projects from my predecessor lingers for a moment on a particular plan—the genetic template and creation process for the Custodes, my Predecessor's most elite guard. Quickly, I commit the plans to memory and continue looking. Even as we argue, I feel approval radiate from him at my choice of selection.
You will understand in time.
I grit my teeth. Irritating bastard.
"Whatever. Think of me however you want." My predecessor does not respond. I continue flipping through the remainder of the plans he has selected. As I finish, and come upon the final plan, I sense an excitement emanating from my predecessor. I instantly understand why. The final plan, or rather bundle of plans, is the collection of templates and processes necessary to birth the Primarchs. Incredibly intensive, both in resources and time, neither of which are much of a concern to me. I can feel the anticipation rolling off of the mind of my new mentor.
I discard the plans just as I discarded the others that did not interest me, pushing them to the back of my mind.
Confusion.
The plan is drawn back out and thrust at me once more, as if he somehow thinks I missed it or tossed it by mistake. I push it away again.
You will need them. Why?
"I won't need them. I will not repeat your mistakes, predecessor. I will not create them. There is much I can build that does not involve your sons." As I say so, I send back a flurry of the same plans he had sent to me. The Custodes, powerful weapons, near-impervious armor, wartime vehicles, and more.
"I have no reason to want to give rise to the Primarchs. You and I seem to be much alike, and your greatest failing was in their upbringing and treatment. I will not birth them only to fail them. Even without chaos present, the idea is foolish. It is far too likely that I will tread the same path you did."
Anger.
I remain silent as my predecessor roils with fury in my mind. I have already made my decision, so we have very little left to discuss on the matter, and it seems he is aware of the fact.
"Now. It's time to get started. I believe the Custodes will be a fine place to begin," I declare. Psychokinesis surges to life as I call upon it, and matter begins appearing before me, shifting, and sliding through the air as an indistinct metallic liquid as I walk to one of the many laboratories in the complex. I find a suitable one and begin preparing it for what is to come, forming the indistinct matter into the necessary technology.
It occurs to me that I have still not used the charges from Inspired Inventor. With a quick motion, all the still forming machinery flickers back into the indistinct liquid matter.
'Let's see what this does.'I think as a apply a charge of Inspired Inventor to Biology.
My understanding explodes. I reel backwards, unprepared for the sudden influx of knowledge. A hand flies up to my head, clutching it. There is no pain, but a sudden shift, as all of the knowledge I had previously is forced to accommodate a deluge of so much more. Designs for biological alterations begin coming to mind unbidden, this time from my own brain rather than my predecessor. Most of these plans overlap in some ways with the knowledge I already had, while much of the knowledge gained seems to fill the gaps where I lacked knowledge. I grin savagely. It's just as I was hoping. The understanding from Inspired Inventor isn't simply coexisting with my predecessor's knowledge, but actively mingling with it, improving on it, and innovating based on it. The two knowledge repositories are feeding on one another, producing a far greater whole. I apply another charge to Biology.
I don't reel this time, now prepared for the influx of data, but I feel my understanding deepen, and the designs forming in my head are far more complex than before. I understand all of them. I add a third charge. My knowledge deepens once more, this time, the influx barely registering to me. I frown. The third charge seemed to have a much weaker overall effect. If I was applying an arbitrary number to the increases, both of the first charges had increased my understanding by 5. The third however, only increased it by 2.
Does the knowledge gained plateau as more charges are used? I still have 7 charges remaining for the day, so to test the theory, I apply a fourth charge to Biology.
The increase in minimal. Almost unnoticeable. If I was rating it on the same arbitrary scale as before, it would be less than a 1. Based on this test, I conclude that three charges into a subject is likely where the most significant dip in effectiveness lies for most, if not all, subjects.
I do a quick mental review of my CYOA choices in my head. Each charge of Inspired Inventor was described as giving a PRT rating 4-5 Tinker specialty. Due to choosing World Breaker difficulty, all powers were purportedly doubled in strength. Therefore, it wouldn't be unreasonable to assume that with a single charge of it at the potency I possessed it would grant a Tinker specialty of rating 8-10, potentially less if the scale is not linear. I vaguely recalled the meaning behind the numbers as being the necessary response from the Protectorate or Parahuman Response Team but did not actually know the individual number's response requirements, so the numbers felt rather arbitrary to me. I do, however, recall that Eidolon, the ultimate superhero in his prime, was considered a Trump 12. Therefore it seems reasonable to assume that 10-12 is likely the top edge of the scale in terms of rating.
Was that what was happening? Charge one grants a high rated power of 8-9, charge two boosts it to… what? Mathematically, I would say 16-18, but that's assuming the power rating system is a linear scale. More likely, increases in rating become more difficult to obtain the higher you go. So charge one, 8-9. Charge two, 10-11? Charge three, 12 or higher?
That seemed the most likely to me off of just a few moments thought on the subject. In the end, the exact math behind the increases was somewhat irrelevant. It seemed the most efficient method of utilizing charges was to use them three at a time. Since Inspired Inventor and Power Manipulation ran off of the same basic rules for charges, it is likely that all of these rules applied to it as well.
With six charges left for Inspired Inventor, I think for several minutes, weighing options. I then invest three charges into Augmentation, and my mind is flooded with upgrades, enhancements, and alterations for the body of both humans and animals. My mind immediately begins attempting to apply as much of that as feasible to the predecessor's knowledge, and even begins mixing with my enhanced understanding of Biology.
With my last three charges I hesitate. This field of science, if it can even be called one, is not one I believe even exists in Worm outside of Cauldron. The imaginary super-science of granting powers to mundane individuals. Captain America's super soldier serum, Deadpool's regeneration, The Flash's chemical accident. All scientific methods of empowering someone with no powers of their own. Combined with the biological modifications and various augments I am capable of now producing, this hypothetical field could produce warriors beyond imagining for my future legions. But if it isn't recognized as a true science, I'm unsure as to what would happen. Would the charges be wasted? Or would I keep them? I'm loathe to just throw them away, but the potential payoff is too massive to ignore.
"Ah fuck it, I'll get ten more of them tomorrow." I invest three charges into Empowerment, and my mind explodes with new information.
"Holy fucking shit." I say to myself, pouring through the new information. Hundreds of thousands possible methods to turn a regular human into a powered individual. Chemical compounds, special wavelengths, biological alterations, mechanical implants, serums, pills, and more than I could ever hope to describe. This was massive. A much larger swing than I ever could have anticipated.
Even as he continues to stew in silent anger, I feel grudging approval of my choice from my predecessor. I brush his consciousness with my own.
'Let's get to work.'I send. There is no response for several seconds, an eternity at the speed at which I'm sure he is able to think. Finally:
Agreement.
And we begin. We work together to comb through our gargantuan shared collection of knowledge to begin forming a finalized design for our first creation. We go back and forth, proposing and counter-proposing ideas and combinations endlessly, and over the course of the process, I can feel my predecessor's anger fade as he loses himself to our brainstorming. Slowly, a design begins taking form, drawing from the most effective parts of my new specialties and the knowledge my predecessor has granted me. Even with our ludicrous speed of thought, it takes us nearly an hour to agree on a final draft of the blueprint, but we are both satisfied with the creation
"This will be the first of many. It will be called the Genesis Chamber," I say to my predecessor, receiving a flash of satisfaction from him at my words. Psychokinesis resumes its work, this time the machinery being built diverging significantly from the machinery specified in the Custodes template. These new creations will be even greater, and thus will require even greater technology. Matter begins swirling into internal vats, forming complex chemical compounds and biological slurry for the impending process. Internal vials are prepped with serums and the machinery's software is prepped with both the blueprints for the mechanical augments that will be included as well as the genetic template for the soon-to-be-born lifeform. Life support devices begin to be formed within the structure, and soon, an enormous obsidian monolith dominates the room. The finished Genesis Chamber.
The birth of a new Imperium.
I smile at that, happy to at least be on cordial terms with my predecessor again. As the preparations finish, and the process to create the first of my new legion is activated, I feel an unmistakable giddiness from him, eager to see the results of our work.
But there is something else there in him. Something I haven't felt for a very, very long time. So unrecognizable to me that I almost miss it entirely. I haven't felt it since my father passed so very long ago, and I suddenly felt a surge of pity for my predecessor, whose wounds were likely just reopened by my earlier tirade. As the machine in front of me comes to life with an almost inaudible hum, I try to ignore the feeling radiating from my only companion in this new world.
Grief.