The moment the eternal crusade plunged into the Warp, a powerful Gellar Field rose like an invisible shield, tightly enveloping the entire battleship.
The heavy armored bulkheads then closed behind observation windows and all possible external openings, completely severing any visual or even physical connection between the ship's interior and that mad dimension.
At this moment, the battleship's interior became a sealed iron box sailing alone through the Warp's tumultuous waves, relying on its own systems to maintain the laws of the real universe.
However, within this almost absolute isolation, there existed a necessary and extremely dangerous exception—the astropath spire, located at the highest point of the battleship.
This was the astropath's sanctuary, and the only node on the entire battleship allowed to establish "contact" with the Warp.
The aged astropath sat on a specially designed high-backed chair. His weathered forehead was covered by an elaborately embroidered headband, beneath which lay his tightly closed, non-human third eye—the Psychic Eye.
Only this eye could penetrate the Gellar Field's barrier, directly "seeing" the bizarre, flowing colors, and the Warp's reality outside, composed of pure energy and malice.
His duty was paramount: to search for and lock onto the astronomican's light, maintained by the Emperor, the Lord of Humanity, burning himself, from Holy Terra tens of thousands of light-years away, amidst the endless chaotic currents.
That light, in the Warp's vision, was like a cold but incredibly steadfast sun, a lighthouse for all Imperial ships returning home.
The astropath had to constantly adjust the course, guiding the eternal crusade along this path of light paved by will.
This was a process of dancing with madness.
The Warp was not empty; it was filled with unspeakable evils, seductive whispers, and terrifying sights capable of disintegrating the soul.
The astropath had to rely on unwavering willpower to build mental barriers, resisting all these contaminations attempting to invade his mind.
He was like a sailor gripping the helm amidst a raging storm; even a slight lapse could send him plummeting into the abyss.
As long as he remained clear-headed and steadfast, he and the battleship dependent on his guidance would be relatively safe.
But once his will fractured, lured or broken by what he saw and heard, then the astropath's Eye on his forehead, which should have guided the way, would immediately become a conduit for Warp fiends to surge into the real universe.
At that point, this astropath would no longer be a guide of hope, but would transform into the most deadly and swift source of disaster within this colossal iron ship.
The entire eternal crusade and everything it carried would face utter destruction.
Therefore, as the battleship traversed the currents of the Warp, the silence within the astropath spire was far more suffocating and heavy than the roar of the engines and the commands of officers on the bridge.
Sitting within the astropath spire was an old astropath who had served the eternal crusade for decades.
The long years and continuous contact with the Warp had left indelible marks on him.
He was already aged, and recent voyages had accelerated his… transformation.
From the unique and increasingly insular perspective of the astropath clan, he was perhaps becoming more "pure," closer to the ancient form of their bloodline's origin.
But in the Imperium, especially now, after the Horus Heresy, with its extreme sensitivity to any mutation, any non-human features on him would be unhesitatingly considered overt proof of Chaos corruption, and a severe mutation of deep depravity, almost beyond human form.
Currently, he still maintained a roughly human silhouette.
However, fine, shimmering, dark-glowing scales had covered most of his exposed skin, replacing the original texture.
Gill-like structures, constantly opening and closing slightly, had grown behind his ears, as if silently breathing a non-existent ether.
His hand joints were abnormally large, and his fingertips extended into hard, obsidian-like claws, long having lost the ability to manipulate ordinary tools.
At this moment, this astropath was enduring unprecedented pressure.
The unusually violent Warp storm crossed on the way here had already ravaged his mind, accumulating an immense burden.
Now, on the return journey, the aftershocks of the storm had not yet subsided, and in some sections, it had even grown more turbulent.
He had to, in this environment, forcefully concentrate his almost-breaking willpower to capture the distant and cold light of the astronomican.
The severe mental depletion was most directly reflected in the rapid mutation of his physical body.
During this voyage, engulfed by the Warp storm, the attendant sent by the astropath clan to serve the old astropath stood by nervously.
He knew clearly that this rapid acceleration of mutation under immense pressure was by no means "purification," but a dangerous deviation leading directly to ruin.
Once the astropath's mind was completely lost amidst the drastic physical changes, he would no longer be the guide, but the source of disaster that would bring utter destruction to the entire ship.
The attendant, suppressing his inner fear, closely watched his master's changes.
He saw the scales thickening and spreading at a visible rate, their color shifting from dark to an ominous blue-violet; he heard the unnatural shifting of shoulder blades beneath the clothing, as if bones were forcefully tearing through muscle, attempting to stretch into shape.
His master's entire silhouette was twisting in agony, evolving towards some kind of feathered-scaled, winged, bird-like form.
Each course correction was accompanied by the astropath's suppressed growls from deep in his throat and the eerie sounds of his physical mutation.
The attendant dared not be negligent in the slightest; he, according to the ancient methods passed down by the clan, timely injected the astropath with specially formulated psychic soothing agents, and in a low, firm tone, repeated bloodline proverbs into his ear, attempting to anchor the nearly dissipated consciousness to reality.
His task was not to observe and record, but to help the astropath persevere and complete this crucial navigation at all costs.
He had to ensure that this dangerous process of metamorphosis was controlled before the critical point, preventing the old astropath from ultimately becoming an abyss entrance that would devour everyone.
Cold sweat beaded on the attendant's brow. Following the ancient rituals passed down by the clan, he carefully injected the precious secret medicine into the astropath's trembling limbs, while continuously whispering the bloodline proverbs into his ear, attempting to reinforce the mental barrier that was being eroded by madness.
In the past, with these methods and the astropath's own will, it might have been possible to temporarily suppress this terrifying mutation, keeping it at a controllable edge.
However, the eternal crusade's current journey was destined to be a heavily cursed route.
Especially when certain unspeakable entities in the Warp cast their "gaze" upon this ship, the situation had already transcended conventional boundaries.
Even if the ship itself seemed to be under the gaze of another great entity, this could not completely block all targeted malice.
And the old astropath, situated in the astropath spire, his Psychic Eye forced to be continuously exposed to the Warp's maelstrom, unfortunately became a fragile yet conspicuous channel.
The attendant watched helplessly as all his efforts were like pebbles cast into a raging torrent, instantly swallowed.
The blue-violet scales on the astropath's body rapidly hardened and spread, like armor covering his entire being; his back suddenly tore open, and a pair of membranous wings, covered in twisted feathers and scales, burst forth from his body, frantically flapping in the limited space of the spire.
The astropath's head underwent a terrifying deformation amidst a shrill, inhuman shriek, a beak-like structure extending through flesh and blood, his eyes consumed by pure psychic light.
The attendant was violently pushed away by an unseen force, crashing against the cold wall.
He watched in despair as before him was no longer the astropath, though mutated, still rational, but a hunched, bird-headed, human-bodied monster emanating a thick aura of Chaos.
The monster turned its head, looking at the attendant with "eyes" burning with malice; its third eye—the portal to the Warp—was erupting with dangerous and chaotic light.
The astropath spire, this sanctuary of guidance, had in an instant transformed into the core of the most deadly disaster on the entire eternal crusade.