Chapter 308

Chapter 308: Brimming with Life

When yet another squad vanished near the core compartment, unease turned into something closer to panic.

And the reality of being stranded in an unknown star region, trapped in deep space, only fanned it higher.

Sage had no choice but to order everyone aboard the Pillar of Order to inject a dose of fortitude compound to blunt the fear and preserve discipline.

He could feel the truth anyway: the fear didn’t vanish. It still grew in the dark, like an evil spirit behind a curtain, straining to tear through the last thin wall of reason.

…Inferior iterative products.

Watching cultivators with their heads bowed, busy but clearly unsure of what to do next, the old man in white frowned and cursed silently.

“We just lost contact with the lower mechanical bay,” a Hermitage Order member reported, careful and tense. “In the last transmission, they said there was noise inside the pipe interlayers. They went outside to inspect equipment, and then disappeared. Surveillance only captured them leaving the hatch.”

“What about the engine?” Sage asked, voice heavy. “When can we jump again?”

“It’s charging, but part of the power lines are offline. Charging efficiency is only a third of normal. It’ll take at least an hour before it can start. And…” The reporting cultist swallowed. “We still haven’t found the intruder. We also can’t confirm what caused the last jump failure. Even if charging completes, rushing into another jump might—”

“I do not need you to remind me of the risks. I will judge when the time comes.” Sage’s eyes cooled. “Now tell me—how many sections have we lost contact with? How much area do we still control?”

“The mechanical bay, the supply bay, the data center, residential zones two through four, and the D-1 and D-2 connector segments. Other areas are still under control, but…”

“But what?” Sage snapped.

“But something is very wrong. The hull perception system keeps returning noise we can’t filter. Even in compartments where communications are stable and duty staff are safe, the perception system returns strange signals. It feels like… like…”

“Stop stammering.”

“It feels like the entire Pillar of Order is infected with some kind of disease. Part of its structure is changing, and the hull perception system recognizes it as foreign matter. But those structures can’t truly be removed. And aside from that small amount of noise, every other sensor and surveillance signal looks normal.

“Also, duty staff in some compartments reported hallucinations. They felt like something was crawling inside the walls, or like someone was talking to them through the ventilation system. One mechanic even said his tool cabinet was watching him—and there were several pairs of eyes inside it.”

Sage didn’t answer. His expression stayed as still as water.

Inferior iterative products were full of flaws. Fragile neural structures, easily influenced by environment, like ordinary mortals. But loyalty and tolerance were beyond question. Their reports could be wrong, but they’d never exaggerate on purpose, never babble nonsense out of fear.

They were sensing something real—some kind of mutation spreading through the ship.

And thinking of the missing squads… the way even the knights vanished from the command link… their disappearance felt less like an attack and more like the ship had swallowed them whole.

Sage rose and looked out over the hall, as if his gaze could pierce walls and floor and see the entire tower.

The Pillar of Order—the pride of the Hermitage Order. Every ship like this carried the mission of repairing world order and reshaping time-space structure. Its core came from the great forged world of Ladar. Every batch of metal used to build it had been personally blessed by a living saint. Whether assembly was done on an industrial planet or in some savage expedition camp, its sanctity was beyond doubt.

And now a disease was defiling that sacred creation.

Sage lowered his head and drew a small pendant from his robe. Gold. A delicate double-ring design. A shining red gemstone at its center.

Within the gem, an ominous light flickered.

“Inform every compartment we can still contact: hold your posts. Without orders, do not step out of your compartment for even half a step. Do not enter connecting corridors.”

They didn’t know what the missing personnel had encountered, but all of them had vanished while moving outside. The problem likely lay in the act of leaving a compartment—or entering a connecting corridor.

“Continue attempts to repair the navigation system. Before the phase engine finishes charging, we must be ready for a jump.”

Without the intruder’s location—and without certainty the interference wouldn’t happen again—another jump could fail the same way. Still, preparation was mandatory. The ship had been exposed. If they delayed too long, the Special Operations Bureau fleet might arrive.

At last, Sage turned back to the reporting cultivator. “How far is the artificial saintess reboot? Why hasn’t she been deployed?”

“R-report. The body repair is complete, but…” The cultist hesitated, then hurried on under Sage’s gaze. “There’s a problem with mental awakening. The saintess refuses to leave the holy coffin.”

“Refuses?” For once, shock cracked Sage’s calm. “She’s afraid? She’s refusing to return to the battlefield?”

“No. She’s eager for battle. The mental monitor shows her anger at the enemy and her conviction in faith are at their peak.” The cultist spoke quickly. “It’s just… she’s performing a prayer to soothe the dead, and she believes it’s extremely important.”

Sage’s frown deepened. “A prayer? Has no one told her what’s happening outside?”

“According to the safety manual, before the artificial saintess leaves the holy coffin, we can’t reveal too much outside information. Only a limited set of preset instructions can be sent into the coffin. This prevents her mind from breaking the protocol.” The cultist swallowed. “The monitor shows she’s mourning the fallen knights. She’s especially attached to this batch. The issue is probably in the factory settings, or it might be related to where they were produced.”

“Enough. I do not care why.” Sage’s voice snapped like steel. “I want the artificial saintess out of that iron coffin immediately. If she wants to pray, she can pray to her heart’s content after we return. She can lie in that coffin for a hundred years if she likes. But now is not the time to waste.”

He cut the air with an angry wave. “Inject Type 4 compound. Then reboot into combat mode. I will bear the responsibility.”

“U-understood. I’ll relay your order to the holy sarcophagus chamber right away.”

The cultist turned and hurried off.

Around the hall, operators kept their heads down and worked. From time to time someone glanced up, then lowered their eyes again at once.

Someone heard light tapping beneath the floor. Someone heard strange noise in their headset. Someone felt eyes on them.

No one spoke.

The ship was slowly coming to life.

Many felt it. Sage probably did too.

The Pillar of Order was infected with a plague called vitality, and the symptoms of that teeming life had already spread through half the ship.

…

Type 4 compound. Maximum dosage. Injected into the reserve tank.

Mental reboot entering warm-up sequence. Ending in three minutes.

Holy coffin power supply: normal.

Deep within the Pillar of Order, in a circular hall lit by warm yellow light, several Hermitage Order members in short robes hurried from station to station.

Thick pipes dangled from walls and ceiling, gathering at the room’s center and feeding into a device five or six meters across. It gleamed iron-black, ringed with monitors, thin tubing, and cables. Small lights flickered between wires and metal. At the very center sat a black iron container tilted at about forty-five degrees.

The artificial saintess’s holy coffin.

A faint humming rose from within, as if some hatching process had entered its final stage.

A Hermitage Order member wearing a white half-mask stepped up, checked gauges, and beckoned. Assistants moved in, set candles into holders on both sides of the coffin, and lit them.

The pumping unit beneath the platform began to run. Heads lowered toward flame, and brief blessings were murmured.

“The compound is entering the pipes.”

The lead operator stared hard at the delivery tube connected directly to the holy coffin, muscles tight.

This was a dangerous operation. Type 4 compound was potent enough to melt a mind if anything went wrong. Normally it required long preparation. Injecting it like this meant gambling with the saintess’s sanity.

But there was no time left for caution.

An eerie atmosphere seeped through the Pillar of Order. Even this sacred holy sarcophagus chamber seemed to be “waking,” little by little, as if prying eyes were emerging from blessed pipes and cables.

Pale blue liquid appeared in the tube and began flowing toward the coffin.

“Type 4 compound contacting the neural interface plug. Reaction normal.”

“Saintess mind stable. Entering reboot process.”

“Recompiling the sensing layer and expression layer…”

The lead operator finally released a small, shaky breath.

Then, in the very next second, he saw the pale blue liquid blush red.

No—it wasn’t a blush. It was blood.