Datch fired his super shotgun, killing the last mutant to breach the area. The enemy's head burst on the spot, their muscular body crumpling at the knees and finally toppling forward with a dull thud.
"Perfect headshot."
Datch quietly praised his own marksmanship.
Within the mechanical ark of the Archmagos, the sound of gunfire and the shouts of battle gradually faded. Reports flowed in over the comms—every squad had confirmed their assigned area was clear of enemies. At that moment, a much-anticipated notification appeared before Datch:
[Mission Complete! Congratulations!
With the assistance of the Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, you have repelled the traitorous forces led by Fabius Bile, securing invaluable genetic research data and the safety of the 'Primaris Gene-seed.'
Mission Rewards: XP +1500, Points +1500, Mechanicus Reputation +200, Explosive-Bolt Sniper Rifle ×1]
A faint light flickered, and a heavy yet slender sniper rifle, exuding a cold mechanical beauty, materialized in Datch's hands. The gun's body was matte black, intricately etched with brass gears and sacred machine motifs at key points—a masterpiece.
This single-shot sniper rifle was of 'blue' (rare) quality, and included a special attribute:
Trait: Machine Geist Exultation
Effect: When this weapon kills a traitor unit, the machine soul is roused into ecstatic resonance, removing the need to reload or chamber rounds and drastically increasing firing speed.
"No need to load or reload? So if I just kill one enemy, the machine spirit supplies all the ammo from then on?"
"The Machine Geist can actually send bullets across the Immaterium. Amazing."
Datch stroked the cold barrel with an expression of infatuation, like a youth tormented by first love. Every man dreams of owning a weapon of such sheer power.
"From today, you are my brother—Death Gun."
Datch used the sniper rifle for a bit before storing it back in his game inventory. He noticed that as he received his reward, a golden question mark—representing Archmagos Cawl—had appeared on his minimap.
"Another mission…"
Datch's spirits lifted. He sprinted a few steps, deftly weaving through the scattered debris and finishing with a crisp, fluid sliding tackle. As he completed the slide, he sprang to his feet and skipped down the empty or half-collapsed corridors, feeling both efficient and oddly gleeful.
As he passed through some vehicles, Datch suddenly braked and darted into one. Approaching a stack of metal crates, he didn't bother looking for keys—he simply forced the lock open. Inside, he found a decent haul—wads of currency, rare souvenirs, and more. Datch pocketed everything and dashed off like the wind, heading straight for where Archmagos Cawl waited.
…
"My money's gone! What the hell happened?!"
Not long after Datch left the living quarters, the Archmagos's navigator, Bob, returned to his modest private cabin. In high spirits—he'd been commended for taking down two mutants during the assault—his mood soured instantly upon seeing his crate overturned. Walking over, he quickly realized his money and souvenirs were gone.
He slumped to the cold floor with a heavy thud, feeling as if the world itself had turned to gray. That money was his wages. He'd planned to spend it on stimulants and alcohol—it was how he coped with his insomnia, hallucinations, and nervous exhaustion, all side effects of staring too long into the chaotic warp. As a navigator, Bob often relied on chemicals just to rest.
Luckily, not long after, a junior tech-priest in red robes knocked on his hatch. Holding a data tablet, the tech-priest checked Bob's loss report and explained that Archmagos Cawl had personally authorized full compensation for his property, plus a bonus. Overwhelmed by surprise and gratitude, Bob signed the receipt. Still, he wanted to know who had stolen his things—but was sternly warned not to ask further or pursue the matter. The seriousness in the tech-priest's tone left him silent, with no intention of ever bringing it up again.
Of course, this was all part of Cawl's plan. Ever since the evacuation from Cadia, Cawl had kept an extensive behavioral dossier on the Nameless One. The Archmagos had long since anticipated Datch's eccentric interests, and arranged for the logistics priesthood to handle "loss assessment and compensation" in advance—to avoid needless chaos on the ark and preserve everyone else's enjoyment.
Datch was entirely unaware. Attacking red-named people, picking up anything in sight, kicking crates, skipping pointless dialogue—all these seemed completely normal, didn't they?
…
Datch navigated the labyrinthine corridors and arrived at the data sanctuary in the ark's central core. There stood Cawl before a massive holographic display—streams of data pouring down like a waterfall, precisely assessing the aftermath of the raid. Preliminary reports indicated main facilities were intact and no vital data had leaked; disaster had been narrowly averted.
Alpha lay on a medbed beside Cawl, a team of medical magi tending his wounds. Sophisticated mechadendrites, bristling with advanced medical tools, went about the meticulous process of repairing his exposed neck and chest—the brutal surgery performed by Bile to extract gene-seeds had left terrible injuries. Fortunately, two valuable gene-seeds had been recovered. When Datch defeated Bile, he'd spotted a glowing halo on Bile's belt and seized the opportunity to snatch them.
Stepping into the data sanctuary, Datch noticed the exclamation point above Cawl's head—he chose to interact, receiving a hefty sum of experience points and reputation in reward.
"Archmagos, is there anything else you'd like me to do?"
Cawl turned and studied Datch for a moment, then spoke in his synthetic voice. Simultaneously, he adjusted the holographic display, unfurling a galactic star map. One planet—Sotha—shone brightly.
"We have just received and confirmed critical information from the reconstituted Scythes of the Emperor Chapter.
They have discovered that the Xenos structure destroyed ten thousand years ago by Lord Roboute Guilliman—the Pharos Beacon—was in fact a massive extradimensional psychotronic facility."
Even more troubling: the beacon had now finished self-repair, and upon the Great Rift sundering the galaxy, it had reactivated, resonating with other Necron beacons elsewhere.
"I intend to travel to Sotha and conduct a thorough investigation of the Pharos Beacon myself.
The objectives: analyze its operating principles, seek a method to close or stabilize the local tear in the Rift, and explore the possibility of installing a new navigation beacon for Imperial explorations into the Dark Imperium."
He paused to gather his thoughts.
"Previously, we captured several Necrons and extracted fragments of data from their databanks.
It is highly likely the Necrons imprisoned a fragment of a C'tan within the Beacon's core—providing it with an almost limitless energy source and the ultimate defense."
C'tans were once masters of the Necrons and gods of the material universe. At the end of the Celestial War, they were betrayed, torn apart, and fragments were imprisoned in various dimensions and substructures—used as power sources and ultimate weapons.
As soon as Cawl finished speaking, Datch saw the mission interface pop up before his eyes:
[Mission:
Assist Archmagos Belisarius Cawl on Sotha, investigating the local necrodermic construct: the Pharos Beacon.]
The Great Rift has sundered the galaxy, leaving the Dark Imperium without the Emperor's guiding light. Warp travel is perilous. Assist Cawl in his research of the Pharos so that humanity might build their own beacon.
[Quest Rewards: XP +1700, Points +1700, Fame +200, Teleportation Gun ×5]
Five uses of Teleportation Gun!
Datch nearly screamed from excitement. His teleporter gun was almost out of charge, and refilling it with points was far too expensive. Five charges at once? Now he could splurge for a while.
Now, even a trip to the bathroom warranted using teleportation.
Truly, those with green liquid are arrogant.
Moreover, the planet Sotha apparently housed a C'tan—deity of the material universe, builder of wonders, shaper of stars. If Datch could seize that being, he could deploy it as a minion to construct marvels at will.
"With the Emperor's blessing, I will see this mission through!"
Datch pledged himself to the task.
"Nameless One, your help is appreciated. As long as you are with us, this mission cannot fail," Cawl replied.
Datch didn't respond. He pivoted sharply, rushing out of the data sanctuary to tend to the wounded and farm more XP and points—smashing any unattended crates along the way.
"Is he… always like this?"
The chief of the Proto Primaris couldn't help but whisper to Cawl as Datch departed.
"Based on 674 direct and indirect observation records since his first appearance on the battlefields of Cadia: yes, his behavior has always been this way—efficient, direct, and utterly unpredictable."
Cawl didn't look back, his eyes still tracking the flow of data.
"Shouldn't we be more cautious? He's so powerful, yet completely unrestrained."
The Proto Primaris Chief pressed.
Cawl turned his cybernetic head, fixing his gaze on the original's face. He sensed both jealousy and anxiety.
"Are you doubting the Emperor's judgment, or accusing me of paying more attention to the unknown than to you?"
"I am only fulfilling my duties as your adjutant and raising the potential risks!"
The chief's voice betrayed his irritation at having his real feelings exposed.
"I hope so."
Cawl replied coolly, shifting his focus to a full system check.
Alpha watched the Archmagos leave, clenching his fist and then slowly releasing it. Ultimately, full of frustration and helplessness, he turned and walked out of the data vault, telling himself:
Clearly, I am your own creation.
…
The overhauled ark plunged into turbulent and bizarre warp tides. During the voyage, the navigators focused with total concentration, shifting their vision between the metaphysical and material realms, dodging rocky reefs and terrifying void rifts within the warp flow.
For Datch, these long trips through the warp were standard "skip" time. They stood absolutely still, like statues, until the hull gave the slightest shudder and the mournful clang of the ship's bells rang out.
"Attention all personnel, we have reached the edge of the Sotha system. Exiting the warp and resuming standard navigation in one minute. If not on critical duty, please prepare for inertial buffering."
"I repeat: we have arrived…"
The broadcast echoed down the corridor. Datch, who had just finished farming, immediately snapped to attention and rushed off to continue his mission with Cawl. Along the way, he opened boxes, teased servants and priests, and explored, always leaving a trail of chaos wherever he went—though never causing any major harm.
A tech-priest, observing a tangle of datacables and dislodged machinery, sighed.
"If only this great figure could meditate as still as the statues in the meditation hall, how perfect and harmonious things would be."
A few colleagues nearby nodded in agreement—the gears around their necks spinning with a whirring noise, expressing silent solidarity.
Aside from his restlessness and habit of poking at everything, the Nameless One was a good man in every way.
…
The ark exited the warp and approached Sotha, entering orbit. Sotha had once been a prosperous world, but during the wars it fell and all life was wiped out. Now, only a barren, pockmarked rocky surface remained.
A massive Relay Station Seven orbited above—looming like the skeleton of a vast beast, floating alone in space. Its outer shell was scarred by the acid and claws of Tyranid biovessels. The Mechanicus fleet, having arrived first, was already conducting repairs—numerous maintenance ships clinging to the station's hull and flashing welding torches.
The ark moored at a safe distance to avoid collision. Soon after, Datch's party transferred to a shuttle and slowly closed in on the orbital station.
Inside, the damage was even more shocking. Corridors twisted; bulkheads were cracked and covered in dried ichor. Guided by a mechanic, they traversed the damaged passages to the command center, where gravity and atmosphere had just been restored. There, they were met by veteran tech-priests in crimson robes and a squad of Imperial Scythe Astartes.
Datch immediately noticed exclamation marks blinking over the tech-priests and marines, and rushed over to interact.
First, he activated the exclamation by a technical monk—[Chuffet 87, modeled after Friedrich Assem Sylip Chuffet, a renowned Mechanicus Tech-Priest active during the Great Crusade and Horus Heresy]. He was a close friend of Cawl, and the two had escaped together from the fall of the Trisolia sector. The current Chuffet was a clone cultured from memory backups and genetic samples preserved by Cawl, designated number 87.
"That's actually just a clone of my old friend,"
Cawl explained.
This NPC version of Cawl seems almost inhuman—does he have any feelings at all?
Could this be one of those "mechanical sage's forced love" stories popular in women's fiction? Unable to bear being parted from his partner, he cloned them to stave off loneliness?
Datch turned his gaze to the Imperial Scythe squad. Thirteen in number, every one was a legacy Space Marine. The Scythes of the Emperor were a descendant chapter of the Ultramarines, and the first to recruit Primaris warriors—though curiously, none of the newcomers were present here.
Their power armor was ancient—yellow and black paint faded and scuffed, the multiple repair plates and weld marks hinting at hardship and dwindling resources. Among them were an apothecary and a blacksmith responsible for equipment maintenance. Most striking were the four Terminator-armored marines: three suits in decent condition, the fourth a patchwork, mismatched masterpiece scavenged from a junkyard and looking as though it might collapse at any moment.
Chapter Master Mansirius, clad in Terminator armor, eyed Datch warily. The Nameless One wore a comically mismatched harlequin helmet, his power armor painted in no fewer than five different styles and colors; he bounced and slid as he walked. Others saw this as abnormal behavior, perhaps even grounds for intervention.
Yet Mansirius had learned from Chuffet 87 87 of Datch's true identity—a being who stood on equal footing with the Archmagos, who could summon guards at will, and enter palaces and sanctuaries freely. The Nameless One embodied the Emperor's will made manifest.
Sweat beaded on Mansirius's palm—he feared Datch might pierce the dark secrets deeply hidden within the Scythes of the Emperor. The burden weighed on them: they'd rather die gloriously in battle than let their chapter's honor be stained.
Datch, oblivious, directly exchanged Golden Hammer and began to use it, striking each armor set in turn.
Buzz—!
Each blow from the golden hammer radiated gentle, dazzling golden light, enveloping the Imperial Scythe warriors.
A miracle occurred.
Deep cuts, dents, and battle scars smoothed and faded as if time had reversed. The power armor visibly reverted to its original state, freshly painted as if new. Even the Tyranid taint within Mansirius's body vanished, leaving him a pure Astartes once more.
Mansirius and the warriors stared in disbelief at their newly restored armor. The whispering Hive Mind voices that had haunted them were gone without a trace.
Salvation they'd never dared hope for had come—so simply.
A look of rapturous joy blossomed on the faces of the Imperial Scythe warriors.
After receiving the healing reward, Datch noticed a gold question mark had appeared above Chapter Master Mansirius's head—was there more to the story?
Datch approached Mansirius and asked,
"Chapter Master Mansirius of the Scythes of the Emperor, is there any way I can assist you?"
"Thank you for your help. We're all right now, there's nothing more—" he began earnestly, grateful for the Nameless One's help, but determined to face the chapter's dark secret alone.
But before he finished, Datch cut him off.
"Skip, skip."
"Chapter Master Mansirius, is there any way I can assist you?"
"Forgive us, we..."
"Skip."
"…"
"Skip."
Pushed to breaking by Datch's repeated "skip," the Scythes of the Emperor glitched out, endlessly repeating the same dialogue loop.
Unable to endure it any longer:
"We should just be honest—nothing can be hidden from the Nameless One!"
Even Archmagos Cawl lost patience, stepping forward and demanding a truthful explanation from the chapter.
"Chapter Master Mansirius, is there any way I can assist you?"
Datch asked once more.
Mansirius sighed,
"Ah… This secret should have been buried with us. But for you, our savior, Nameless One—"
At this, Datch fell silent at last, waiting for the story to conclude and the mission to be triggered. Many of the Scythes of the Emperor finally breathed a sigh of relief at not having to hear "Skip" anymore—the word made them all uneasy.
….
Mansirius revealed the secret long hidden by the Scythes of the Emperor. During the Tyranid invasion, Sotha's advanced defenses should have made it a bulwark. But the planet fell before it could mount any real resistance, with the chapter suffering grievous losses. The reason: Sotha had been tainted, over centuries, by the influence of gene-stealers—corrupting civilians, soldiers, government officials… even the chapter's own retainers. Their gene-seed was contaminated. Some new recruits unknowingly carried corrupted gene-seed, forced to wear suppressors and undertake penance missions; the weak-willed were executed, their past erased.
If not for Guilliman's return and the advent of Primaris Marines, the best outcome for the chapter before his arrival would have been total exile. In the political climate of the pre-Primarch Imperium, if the Inquisition had discovered the truth, the Scythes of the Emperor would have been deemed traitors—crushed, not only by military might, but by an indelible stain on their name.
Mansirius and his brethren had purged Sotha's refugees themselves—hoping to eradicate the hidden threat and expunge their shameful past. But now, things were different. The Nameless One had purified them, making them once again worthy to fight for the Emperor.
"If it is possible, please help us kill the patriarch of the Genestealer cultists—put an end to the shameful past haunting the Scythes of the Emperor."
The burden of that mission now fell to Datch.
[Mission: End the Scythes of the Emperor' Shameful History]
Sotha's fall hides a grim truth: the entire planet was tainted by gene-stealers, explaining its swift defeat. Chapter Master Mansirius is determined to finish off the last enemy and end his chapter's dark past—and he needs your help.
[Quest Rewards: XP +1200, Points +1200, Fame +100, Mirror of the Inverted World ×1]