Training

"I may have forgotten, but my body remembers. Select a champion, and let's settle this," Bastion replied. 

His gaze never left the Inquisitor standing before him. Her expression shifted a thousand times in a single minute as she processed the implications of his challenge. 

"Overconfidence has always been the death of great men," Dresk said before turning away, refusing the duel. 

He had anticipated this. From what he'd gathered, Dresk was an opportunist—both her greatest strength and her fatal flaw. 

She aligned herself with whoever offered the most advantage, but that same instinct had honed her intuition to a razor's edge. 

Did she sense he wasn't truly a Living Saint? Or was there another reason?

Her sharpened instincts meant she could often *feel* when something was wrong. Right now, her gut was likely screaming that there was something off about him. Of course, this was just speculation—he wasn't a mind reader. 

"Now, if you will, please resume your training," Bastion said, taking a seat to observe. 

With Dresk gone, the remaining Inquisitors stood in silence, unwilling to interfere. 

Bastion watched with an uncanny intensity, his eyes glowing brighter than usual… A recent and unsettling development. It seemed his evolution or the so-called "Emperor's Trials"... wasn't yet complete. 

After the battle with the servitor the previous day, he had returned to his chambers only to find his pupils gone. His irises now emitted a golden radiance, amplifying his already saintly appearance. 

But this glow wasn't divine… it was neural. 

Unable to submit his DNA for analysis without raising suspicion, he had instead sought the closest equivalent to his brain's processing power. The results were both awe-inspiring and terrifying. 

The human brain, as documented by Mechanicus experiments and supplemented by his own research, functioned *reactively*—processing information step by step. If A, then X.

His mind was different. 

It could sustain over 800 distinct, contradictory thought streams simultaneously without strain… not as separate consciousnesses, but as parallel calculations. 

A normal human in a crowd might hear a familiar voice and immediately match it to a face. However, He cataloged every face instantly, reading microexpressions to discern emotions with near-perfect accuracy. 

(A/N: Think of him as a biological quantum computer… his mind branches into 800 possible solutions before collapsing into the most probable answer, accurate 95% of the time. But like any system, he still needs data.)

As the Sisters trained, he noted height, weight, physique, and posture… each factor critical to combat efficiency. His senses alone constructed detailed 3D models in his mind, simulating battles and refining techniques in seconds. 

He was a living quantum sensor. Nothing within 100 meters escaped him.

Within minutes, he had devised individualized corrections to perfect their biomechanics and group coordination. 

"Enough for today. Now, divide into groups of five," Bastion commanded, rising and shedding his jacket. 

His guidance was unnervingly precise—so much so that even the Sisters found it unsettling. He couldn't blame them. 

Even his own reflection unsettled him now. Too perfect. Too inhuman.

Hours passed, and with each minute, their skills sharpened exponentially. The zealous warriors were transforming into something greater… an army honed to biomechanical perfection.

Not that the Sororitas were lacking. Their discipline was unmatched, their faith unshakable. 

But individually? His former Tempestus Scion honor guard had been superior.

He didn't need to see them fight—their movements alone betrayed their elite training. 

Now, as their commander, he would push the Sororitas beyond elite. 

Beyond human.