"The Ancestor Cores are the bedrock of the Leagues, the font of our heritage and wisdom! No one, save the Kin, has the right to stand before them."
Clad in his heavy power armor, Gisent issued his refusal to Axion's inquiry without a moment's hesitation. Such a retort, however, could not thwart the will of an Iron Man, especially not when Axion suspected that this "Ancestor" might be a fellow member of his own kind.
To Axion, historical data concerning Humanity and the wider galaxy possessed an irresistible gravity.
"I am not soliciting your opinion, Votann. Disclose the location of the Ancestor Core."
Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, the surrounding Hearthkyn and Ironkin snapped into a state of high alert. Against an unknown factor, vigilance was the only logic. The Ironkin unhesitatingly leveled the beam cannons integrated into their mechanical limbs and their stout, twin-linked bolt cannons. The Hearthkyn raised their uniquely patterned bolters, L7 missile launchers, and EtaCarn plasma rifles, training them on the Automated Sentry-Trooper standing before Gisent.
"I must say, your manner of speech is remarkably like that of an Ironkin, so I shall overlook your impertinence, once. Now, you have two choices: leave of your own accord, or I use this power axe to turn you and your craft into a pile of scrap fit for the reclamation vats."
"Threats and intimidation are actions taken to avoid loss between peers of equal standing. Their execution is predicated upon parity."
As Axion spoke, swarms of Heavy Combat Drones descended from the heavens. The apertures of their mounted plasma cannons flickered with the lethal arc-light of pre-ignition.
"You, however, lack that prerequisite."
Axion was indifferent to the sentiments of these Votann. More heavy carriers moved into hovering positions above the camp, and a legion of identical Sentry-Troopers leapt directly from the air to the ground.
Faced with a mechanical host that suddenly outnumbered the entire camp, the Hearthkyn fell into a stunned silence. The Ironkin, observing the shock of their biological brethren, remained frozen; their inferior cognitive cores kept them in a state of perpetual mimicry rather than independent decision-making. Though they occasionally issued commands that struck the Hearthkyn as odd, such instances were usually the result of algorithmic efficiency-seeking, not true high-level sapience.
With his Sentry-Troopers deployed, Axion wasted no more words on the shortlings. Shimmering pale-gold blades and the dark maws of neutron-flux emitters held the Votann in a state of coercion.
"You might shatter our axes, spend our munitions, and rend our shields and plate. But you will never break the will of the Kin! By my Ancestors, though you may slaughter us all, you shall gain nothing of the Votann!"
Gisent, his chest heaving as Axion's blade pointed at his throat, roared his defiance before swinging his power axe with sudden, violent intent. Reinforced by the actuators of his armor, his natural strength was amplified into a crushing force.
The battle ignited in an instant.
"The Ancestors are watching! Fight to the last!"
Roars of defiance echoed across the camp. The newly landed Sentry-Troopers were immediately beset by fire. Axion cared little for the tactical mess; the number of Votann here was limited, and if the combat drones opened fire, the camp would be cleansed of all life. His objective was not genocide, it was data.
Gisent swung his power axe with every ounce of his strength, aiming for the Sentry-Trooper controlled by Axion.
Clang!
With a thunderous impact, the power axe was parried aside by Axion's long blade. The sheer magnitude of the counter-force stunned Gisent. The Ironkin of his league possessed no such harrowing strength. Even with the assistance of power armor, he could not gain the upper hand against this towering machine.
"Agh!"
Cries of agony began to erupt across the camp. Numerous Hearthkyn were hewn down, collapsing in pools of their own blood. This was not a battle; the Kin had not been prepared for a full-scale engagement. Aside from the patrols and sentries, the other Hearthkyn Warriors were not even wearing their void armor.
From the corner of his eye, Gisent saw a missile from an L7 launcher strike a Sentry-Trooper directly. Yet, as silver light shimmered across the machine's chassis, it stepped unscathed from the blossoming fire, its orange beams turning the missile-wielder into a screaming pyre. Those orange beams punched through fortress-grade alloy void armor as if it were parchment, igniting the flesh beneath.
The twin-linked bolt cannons and beam cannons of the Ironkin fired incessantly, but aside from clouds of dust and flashes of energy, their volleys achieved nothing. In the chaos, a few valiant warriors managed to swing power axes, severing the heads or limbs of the mechanical invaders.
But nothing could halt the advance of these metallic reapers.
Possessing overwhelming numerical superiority, the Sentry-Troopers shattered the weapons of the unarmored Kin and pinned them to the earth. Those Hearthkyn in power armor suffered a more brutal fate as their limbs were severed along with their plate by shearing blades, before they were crushed into the dirt underfoot. The Ironkin fared worst of all, their bodies being crudely torn into multiple segments. Broken wiring, sheared bolts, and metallic shards flew through the air.
The apocalyptic scene tore at Gisent's focus.
"Ugh—AHHH!"
In a moment of fractured concentration, Axion's particle-vibration sword swept through the air, severing Gisent's axe-arm. The weapon hit the ground with a dull thud. Gisent ground his teeth, using sheer willpower to suppress the agony as he raised his remaining arm.
A wrist-mounted volkite disintegrator flared with blinding brilliance. A beam of reddish-orange thermal energy struck the edge of Axion's Sentry-Trooper, which had moved with preternatural speed to evade. The impact detonated in a bloom of ultra-high-temperature flame, successfully melting half of the machine's torso.
It was a hollow victory.
Another Sentry-Trooper stepped forward, its blade whistling through the air to sever Gisent's other arm. Deprived of both limbs, Gisent could no longer contain the pain, let alone his fury, and he howled in anguish.
The volkite weaponry of the Leagues of Votann possessed a lethality comparable to the Imperium's melta technology, whereas the Imperium's own volkite stocks were heavily restricted due to systemic flaws and scarcity. This was the fruit of the complete STC templates for volkite weaponry preserved within the ancient Ancestor Cores, further refined by the Kin's own technical ingenuity.
Unlike the Imperium, which followed ancient dogma, obsessing over the discovery of old tech while shunning new development, the Votann behaved much like Archmagos Belisarius Cawl. They took old foundations and relentlessly iterated upon them. Such technological heresy would have earned the Imperium's undying hatred and the covetous gaze of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Even Cawl had to weave elaborate fables to disguise his innovations, a luxury the unrecognised abhuman race of the Votann did not possess.
Though their skulls were indistinguishable from those of baseline humans, the Imperium maintained a state of extreme suspicion and hostility toward them. Conversely, the Votann could never accept the stagnant, dogmatic cage of Imperial society. While the Imperium had not yet moved to systematically purge this abhuman breed, they were fundamentally treated as a xenos threat of secondary priority.