From the information he had gathered on the Orks, they were something else entirely. He didn't understand how they interacted with this world's magical aspect—the Warp—but they were undeniably monstrous.
The fact that they could assemble scrap into functional machinery defied logic. The Mechanicus had conducted countless experiments on Ork "technology," yet in human hands, it remained useless junk. In an Ork's grip, however, it became a weapon.
They were a broken species, thriving on violence and sheer, irrational willpower. If they believed something worked, it did—despite their staggering simplicity.
This meant that 90% of his attempts to neutralize the spore failed outright, and the remaining 10% never succeeded twice. It was infuriating.
Thankfully, he was human, and if humanity had perfected anything, it was destruction. When direct assaults proved futile, Bastion shifted tactics, designing chemicals to disrupt the spore's energy production.
As he'd discovered, fungi generated energy through three primary methods: aerobic respiration, anaerobic respiration, and fermentation—though this spore employed those and more.
To counter its hyper-adaptability, he needed a compound targeting the enzymes governing all three processes.
Minutes later, after essentially reinventing the periodic table and possibly adding new elements… Bastion observed a cluster of spores shriveling into sludge. Further testing confirmed the solution's efficacy, surpassing even his expectations.
"One problem solved. Now, the people."
His primary concern was their suffering. He hadn't witnessed their conditions firsthand, but reports described them as inhumane—especially for survivors of the Ork incursion.
After deliberation, Bastion retained control of the Fabricator-General's mind while freeing the other Tech-priests. He would remain indoors as the Fabricator-General under the pretense of divine revelation or something.
While in seclusion, he could take his time and figure out how best to boost the planet's defenses both externally and internally. True independence required more than just planetary control, it demanded self-sufficiency.
Which also meant that If he could integrate the Ork spore's traits into crops, this hellscape could become a paradise, eradicating hunger.
However for now his focus was on planetary defense, a shield better than the void shields, better weapons and many more.
Days passed with the Fabricator-General (Bastion) in seclusion. His research was progressing slowly… Well quicker than normal research would but it was coming along fine.
Using his current authority as Fabricator-General, he even began to slowly reform the Mechanicus. Segmenting them into Proper departments each led by a Magos and issuing tasks masked as the Omnissiah's will.
Meanwhile, Bastion could be seen under a small shaded area in his ever expanding garden.
It was a peaceful place and offered a better environment for one to sort out their thoughts.
Something Bastion needed desperately at the moment, he needed to reform his governance system into a functional one if he wanted to declare independence at any point in the future.
However, he had yet to come up with an optimal system yet. He could reform it but what is the point of going through the motion when he didn't have a system to replace it with.
Hence, he was in the garden, bathed in the spire's amber light, staring at the massive structure that he now had to call home. It looked more like a cathedral than a residence
Grand arches, gargoyles and statues of what he guessed was either his ancestor or The Emperor.
Looking down, he could see the servitors and various servants of the house going about their duties, trying their best to be as discreetly as possible.
However considering his currently enhanced senses, their actions was of no use since he could still detect them in more ways than one.
"Your Grace." a voice called out.
Turning to the source, Bastion was faced with Elara whose head was still bowed… she had done this so much that Bastion believed her spine may have realigned itself to fit her posture.
"Do I have a guest?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord," she murmured.