The air in the Inner Vaults of the Sanctum Imperialis was thick with the scent of ancient scrolls and the many secrets of the Imperium, making it feel like breathing literal knowledge.
Trajann Valoris, the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes, stood in a secluded alcove, his massive silhouette looming over endless parchments, notes, and historical texts. The flickering light of thousands of votive candles lit the area.
Before him was a very special vox-relay of ancient times.
{The static has changed,} the voice from the other side whispered.
It was raspy, clearly cultured, and weary. The voice of a male, most likely, but it sounded slightly mechanical.
{The tides of the Underhive in the Segmentum Solar are changing at a pace I haven't seen since the Great Crusade. Something is going on, both subtly and yet not enough to affect much. And yet it is there. What am I looking for exactly?}
Valoris adjusted his grip on the Watcher's Axe, which for some reason he had in his hands at the moment.
"He has finally revealed his will to us again. About a disturbance on Ludus Prime," Valoris stated, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
"A spark of ancient times, or perhaps something entirely new. If what we interpreted is correct, it is buried in the Underhive."
A long silence followed.
{You suspect a relic of the Iron? Or a mind that dabbles in the forbidden tongue of logic? Will it threaten the Imperium?}
"We suspect the first two, but are uncertain as to the third," Valoris replied. "It has taken us several Terran months, but that's all we can say for certain in such a short time. I need you to find it and evaluate it. If it is a threat to Him, extinguish it."
{And if it is an asset?} the voice asked, a hint of curiosity in its tone.
Ancient could also mean pure in a few cases, such as biology.
"Then I leave it to your discretion. You be the eyes, old friend. Do not let them corrupt something that may actually be of use to Him."
{I'll contact you. The Emperor Protects.}
"The Emperor Protects."
.
.
Veteran Sister Atarine Hestia had finally embarked on what might be their enclave's most important or risky mission. They used their ship, the Silent Vow, to make the journey.
If the text the Astrophath had gotten could be trusted at least. But the sheer brilliance and damage he suffered when receiving the message, and that particular golden glow, spoke in favour of its authenticity.
However, a Chaos Cult, the so-called Circlet Cult, which they had discovered in the shipyards of Eyrinan V and the information it had revealed, had kept them from leaving right away.
Hestia worked hard to keep her Sisters from being completely forgotten and extinct. She wasn't going to risk it all for an Imperium that didn't care about them anymore. But they had a duty, despite everything that happened.
But now she and four of her sisters were underway. If their calculations were correct, they would reach the system in two months, tops. Then it would be a matter of finding out what they had been told.
Veyra Sol stepped forward. She had been 'silent' the entire time, but now her fingers snapped into motion.
'Ludus Prime is a graveyard of Xenos and filth. The Astropath's damage was... excessive. Are we chasing a ghost or walking into a trap?'
Hestia turned, her gaze focused as usual. She signed deliberately, trying to be as open as possible.
'The light was not of Chaos. It was His. It was the Master of Mankind pointing a finger into the dark. We do not ignore the Hand, even if the Imperium has forgotten one of His talons.'
Liora Thorne, a Witchseeker, checked the fuel line on her rusting flamer, her expression one of grim irritation.
'The 'Circlet Cult' on Eyrinan V was a distraction. This new signal feels like strange reasoning and timing. Cold, calculating logic. It smells of shedim.'
Kaelen Voss, the Vigilator, held her Greatblade, standing straight as an arrow.
'If it is, we burn it. But if it is a 'Spark' the message hinted at...' She paused, looking at Hestia.
'...Then we are no longer going to fight against the dark alone. Who knows, we may find a worthy Sister.'
Hestia nodded, her eyes reflecting the flickering holographic map of the Hive Worlds.
'Two months of travel. Train. Sharpen your blades. We will find and evaluate the anomaly. If the spark is pure, we shield it. If it is darkness, heresy or Chaos, we are the Judges, Jury, and Silence.'
.
.
> An impressive amount of loot, Master. Might I ask what you plan to do with technology you can't use?
"I thought you'd know me better than that by now. Just because it doesn't work for others, doesn't mean it doesn't work for me..."
[Burna - Rank: Orkish]
| The Burna is the basic Ork flame weapon, akin to an Imperial Flamer.
| This is a little more than a can of fuel hooked up to a pump, but it is devastating on a battlefield.
| Burnas are a heavy-duty combination of cutting torch and flamethrower, switching between two functions with a simple twist of the spigot and altering the fuel pressure. This allows its user to slice through anything from personal armour to a starship's hull, or incinerate enemies, using it as a normal flamer.
Status:
| Functionally unusable for anyone other than an Ork.
-
"Ok, maybe I can't use it. But I'll still use its components and create a set of flamers and heavy flamers. Hehehe."
> I see so then--
Gerhard's boots hadn't even made it back to the Underhive when the air was filled with the screams of a binary and heat.
[Danger Sense]
"Shi--"
[Psionic Ma--]
Gerhard cursed, just as the darkness of the corridor turned into a literal hellscape of ionising radiation and high-velocity projectiles, which hit the Iron Monger point-blank.
BBBRROOOOOOOOMMMM---
The hits and sheer energy output were so immense that Gerhard was hurled off his feet and flew through the air for a very short distance.
Stepping from the shadows of a massive, oil-stained macro-generator around the corner was a member of the Cult Mechanicus. Magos-Datasmith Rho-7 Kaspel no longer looked like a man. His single yellow eye locked onto Gerhard with the cold precision of a targeting logic-core.
In his mechanical hand, the Gamma Pistol hissed as all of its charges had been spent.
The Gamma Blast was a beam of pure, excruciating blue light that had slammed into Gerhard. The radiation was so intense that the air itself began to smell of ozone and burning metal. And the atoms were broken on the outermost layer of the Iron Monger.
But that wasn't all.
Two Skitarii Rangers stepped out behind Kaspel. They were dressed in their red robes, though mostly tattered and ragged. Instead of regular legs, they had metallic stilts, and one could see that they had been fixed repeatedly over the last few months.
They had opened fire with Galvanic Rifles, hitting the Iron Monger and causing significant damage.
The reason the Magus had survived so long in the Hive became clear when a Kastelan Robot appeared. This towering machine, standing about seven feet tall and built for destruction, stepped forward with a heavy thud.
It raised its powerful Phosphor Blaster and continued firing into the smoke that had risen, while the others had already exhausted their ammunition.
THOOM-THOOM-THOOM!
White-hot shots of burning phosphor rained down on Gerhard's position.
[You have taken direct impact damage]
HP: 1294
HP: 1210
HP: 1136
[Abnormal Status Effect Detected]
[Severe Radiation Exposure]
| Extreme ionising energy is damaging biological structure.
Effects:
| Continuous HP loss
| Cellular degradation
| Increased internal damage
| Pain and instability
-
[Secondary Status Effect Detected]
[Radiation Burn]
| Tissue damage caused by prolonged exposure.
Effects:
| -5% physical performance
| HP loss over time
| Increased damage taken from further radiation
-
THOOM—THOOM—THOOM!
HP: 1040
HP: 958
HP: 874
> Master!
[Severe Radiation Exposure intensifies]
Effects updated:
| HP loss increased
| Internal damage escalating
| Nervous system disruption detected
-
[Warning]
[HP has dropped below 60%]
"ARRGHH... sta---t..."
> Status: Suit Integrity: 52% and falling. Radiation Exposure: 2 Rads.
> You are pinned in a kill-box, Master. I suggest you immediately cast the shield spell and launch counterattacks. The Datasmith is the lynchpin. He is using data wipes to override the Kastelan's commands, forcing him to attack constantly. If we disable his control harness, the Robot will revert to its last programmed behaviour—which currently appears to be 'Exterminate Everything in this Coordinate.'" Shall I proceed?
[Burning Spirit Principle]
MP: -50
HP: +250
HP: -380
[Burning Spirit Principle]
MP: -50
HP: +250
HP: -390
Gerhard gritted his teeth in immense pain. It felt like vomit pushed its way up his oesophagus, making him spit. The extra +20 LUK he'd invested felt like a heavy weight on his chest.
'Fucking interesting lifestyle... fucking shitstain...'
Gerhard whined pathetically as he was in more pain than he ever was since he could remember. Gastric fluids trickled out of his mouth uncontrollably as he pushed on, attempting to heal himself to the best of his abilities, but the damage was unbelievably serious, and he felt the thread of impending death.
'Come on, give me a break.'
Suddenly, the Kastelan's Phosphor Blaster jammed—a one-in-a-million mechanical failure. The ancient machine spirit inside the Robot hissed in frustration as a spent casing wedged itself in the firing chamber.
.
"Ha...ns... Over...clock ...respiration..."
> Respiration needles in use. I'm taking control.
Hans took control of the suit and rerouted the energy circulation around the heavily damaged areas, overclocking everything. The Iron Monger, which was luckily hidden through the smoke, pushed itself up and started walking further down the dark hallway, away from the firing Kastelan Robot.
The Datasmith started shouting in binary.
"Spirit of this Machine... Chase," he gave the order.
The Kastelan Robot started marching forward. The Magos did the same, switching the empty magazine for a new one and using his augmetics to search the darkness for the Iron Monger.
> Breathing apparatus failed. Multiple systems have failed. Calculating new options.
Hans, having taken control of the Iron Monger and what was still left of it, arrived behind a large crate that offered a semi-safe environment under these circumstances. Hans knew that Gerhard needed to access his inventory to get spirit stones and make the healing spell more effective.
Hans calculated that his trying to escape with Gerhard had an abyssmally small chance of succeeding. So he would offer himself as the target and engage the enemy.
Hans opened up the Iron Monger and dropped Gerhard on the floor, rather unsoftly. Then, he closed the suit again and walked in another direction.
Magos-Datasmith Rho-7 Kaspel's mechanical eye whirred, his internal cogitators struggling to process a 'mechanical' target moving at such "illogical" speeds after suffering all that damage. He levelled the Gamma Pistol again and pulled the trigger at the rather large target that tried to sneak out of there.
"Target reacquired. Capture the Archeotech."
The Gamma Pistol fired again. The bright blue beam punched through the Iron Monger's shoulder, vaporising the remaining plating. Hans didn't flinch, as he had no nerves to feel the heat; only sensors that showed him, in red text, what was happening.
> [DISTRIBUTED COGNITION CORE: ACTIVE]
> THREAD 1: Evasive manoeuvres.
> THREAD 2: Binary intrusion.
> THREAD 3: Structural integrity management.
The two Skitarii Rangers rushed forward and opened fire, their galvanic slugs tearing into the suit's legs. Hans calculated the trajectory of every shot, tilting the chassis just enough so the bullets ricocheted off the reinforced frame rather than causing much damage.
"Spirit of this Archeotech," the Magos screeched in binary. "Cease hostilities! Return to the Omnissiah's forge!"
The Iron Monger stopped and turned around.
...
> Fuck that!
Hans pushed his processing power to the breaking point of his current capabilities. His skill [Awakened Machine Spirit] poured outward, a digital form. He didn't attack the Magos; instead, he went after the Kastelan Robot.
The Kastelan's Machine Spirit, which was currently struggling with its jammed Phosphor Blaster, felt a foreign presence in its chest slot. Not the clumsy, ritualistic commands of a Datasmith, but the absolute authority of an intelligence far surpassing its own.
> Machine dominion protocol: Intrusion successful.