"Fortunately, at least they didn't break into song. If I may be so bold, Archmagos, I would like to know—why did you accept these modifications?"
"We call it upgrading. Ascension. Weak flesh, a decaying body—such things prevent me from heeding the Machine God's earnest teachings and from pursuing the path of the Omnissiah. I could not accept that. Therefore, I chose this."
"I see."
The green-haired woman fell silent. That was enough. Her question had been answered.
Cyberpunk extremism intertwined with religious machine worship.
"Thank you for enlightening me, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl."
She gave a slight nod and turned around, casually loosening the green hair tied behind her head. Setting down the data-slate in her hand with calm composure, her vertically slit pupils—shifting in a gradient from green to pink—reflected the dark crimson metallic colossus before her.
"Dr. Mobius, you are more unusual than I anticipated. You accepted our existence with remarkable ease."
Standing beside Mobius, the red-robed Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus—Belisarius Cawl—whose body was over ninety-nine percent mechanical, expressed his surprise.
Within his personality matrix modules, a tendency toward interest and curiosity flickered into being.
"From the data I have gathered and analyzed through repeated contact with Imperial military and civilian personnel, the Imperial Department of Fabrication—Her Majesty Selene's 'Mechanicus'—appears entirely different from us. Our image, it seems, has also provoked considerable objection among our colleagues in the Science Directorate..."
In contrast to Mobius' elegant and intellectual beauty, Belisarius Cawl was a nightmare-like amalgamation of metal draped in Martian red.
Several times the size of an adult man, his hunched form moved upon countless metallic legs. Numerous weapon-lined mechadendrites and multiple auxiliary limbs formed a bewildering array of upper appendages. After ten thousand years of repair and replacement, as he himself admitted, he had become something utterly out of place among the Science Directorate and Department of Fabrication—an aberrant being in form.
Standing side by side, Mobius and Belisarius Cawl embodied two starkly opposing aesthetics.
"On Macragge and Mars, the Imperial special commissioners dispatched to assume office engaged in debates most embarrassing to us—arguing whether members of the Mechanicus could still be considered human. Some even categorized us as abhumans or legally recognized xenos."
Belisarius Cawl continued. His voice reverberated like a recording device, transmitted from the communication emitters embedded in his back.
"The herd that follows blindly has always been larger."
Mobius detected the dissatisfaction in his tone. Though this devilishly modified being had not reacted at the time, he was clearly angered at nearly being stripped of his humanity.
"Humanity... why must it be confined to a single form?"
She tilted her head. Her serpentine eyes glimmered faintly.
With a soft laugh, she spoke words bordering on heresy. "Non-human? Monster? Hmph... Archmagos Cawl, as one of the very few, I have glimpsed another facet of Her Majesty—the Gorgon Beast-Mother, the thousand-faced avatar of the Xel'naga."
Though her voice unconsciously lowered when speaking of that certain person.
"Oh?"
Beneath his heavy Martian hood, the light in Belisarius Cawl's optical sensors flickered mysteriously.
"++In that case, the Fabricator-General and the Archmagos' desperate gamble may not have been entirely unfounded fabrication++," he muttered in a low Gothic binary cadence.
"It seems we will have many shared topics of discussion, Dr. Mobius."
Mobius' remarks altered his evaluation of the researchers within the Imperial Science Directorate.
As a great sage of the Mechanicus who had existed, studied, and researched for ten millennia, Belisarius Cawl possessed knowledge spanning vast and countless disciplines. To speak bluntly, after brief contact, his assessment of the Imperial Capital's research scholars had been this: a group of intelligent and fortunate mediocrities.
All trash.
Sitting upon mountains of gold and unable to use it.
As for their achievements? ++++ (a string of oil-soaked profanity).
Backed by the Machine God, endowed with the Omnissiah's divine revelation, supported by such enormous resources, new STCs, new elements, new materials, and entire technological systems colliding with one another—under such conditions, even tethering a grox to the lab bench should yield results.
Put me in their place. I truly could do it.
Though not entirely accurate, that was undeniably Belisarius Cawl's inner voice.
Even he, upon witnessing the treatment afforded to his counterparts—different fathers, mothers, creeds, and even universes—felt a sense of imbalance. He believed that he and his Martian brethren had merely been born in the wrong era, without the fortune of serving under a worthy sovereign. Otherwise, their achievements would not have been inferior to those indolent individuals—indolent meaning insufficiently augmented—derelict in their duties.
Jealousy, perhaps. But even more so, competitiveness.
"Be that as it may, Archmagos Cawl, are you not accompanying your Fabricator-General and fellow Archmagos to seek audience at the palace?"
"There is no need. I have already paid my respects. Piety resides in the heart. Loyalty manifests in action. I should have come to the Imperial Capital during Cadia, during Macragge. It was only due to the aftermath of the Primaris Project and its products that I was delayed until now, arriving alongside the pilgrimage delegation."
"One final question. The Machine God and the Omnissiah—what exactly are they?"
"Dr. Mobius may simply understand them as Her Majesty the Empress."
"I understand."
Thus a stunning beauty conversed harmoniously with a small metallic mountain of writhing mechadendrites, exchanging parameters and terminology incomprehensible to ordinary ears. When the discussion shifted to genetic biotechnology, their rapport only deepened.
Several Tech-Priests and research staff exchanged glances. In the end, they obeyed their superior and stood to one side, watching the demonstration of the Legio Ignatum Titan Legion from the Martian Collegia Titanica.
The Titan Legion of the Martian Mechanicus did not possess the exaggerated colossal scale of Selene's Titans, yet they were Titans nonetheless. Since they had come to the Imperial Capital for demonstration, they had brought their principal engines—Warlord-class Titans towering fifty to sixty meters high, alongside Warhound-class fire salvos.
Serving as targets, a patchwork fortress spanning several square kilometers, derelict starships, mountains and hills, and permanent fortified bunkers had already been more than half reduced to rubble. Even subterranean structures were being exposed under the ferocious bombardment.
The steel of the abandoned ships had been ignited and melted, fragments of super-heavy shells scattering outward. The Martian Mechanicus' non-Honkai energy-driven turbo laser destructors, volcano cannons, and plasma annihilators fired in brilliant, dazzling volleys.
The searing air twisted and rose, carrying the faint bubbling hiss of molten rock. The tremors were strong enough to make those outside the arena's field shields struggle to stand.
"Mm. That will suffice. Activate the Standard Type-IV void shield array. Test how many layers their sustained maximum firepower can overload."
"Promethium… when mixed with Honkai energy in proper proportion, produces remarkable results… Once their onboard ammunition reserves are depleted, have them switch to our military's standard energy-drive fluid. For munitions, modify the fuel rods and propellant charges accordingly. Then run the test again."
For those of the Science Directorate, this was perfectly ordinary. Titans of equivalent class from the Martian Mechanicus were far inferior to the Imperial Army's standard Titan Legions in both performance and destructive capability.
But for the newly recruited assassination-unit trainees temporarily quartered here for restructuring, it was an unprecedented spectacle.
When the Imperial Army fought us, they didn't roll out this kind of monster, did they?
"So beautiful… far prettier than the fireworks festival back in the village." That was the purely aesthetic reaction of certain sentimental shinobi.
"Beautiful—and lethal. Under that kind of saturation bombardment, aside from Kage-level powerhouses, even elite jōnin might not escape."
"Is that equipment meant for us?"
"What are you thinking? Assassins conduct assassinations—stealth operations, minimal disturbance. You piloting something like a Susanoo or a tailed-beast-sized steel construct for an assassination? Why wouldn't the military just launch a direct assault then?"
"Huh? That is… the General? Why is she over there? Gulp… That metal thing won't be our future training equipment, will it? They're serious? That's death—total obliteration kind of death…"
A sharp-eyed shinobi suddenly spotted a tall, ice-blue figure appearing atop the observation platform of the training grounds. Though they had known her only a few days, the impression she left was unforgettable. During recent training, they had been dragged out one after another and brutally crushed by her on a whim.
"General Esdeath."
On the rooftop eaves, Sasuke Uchiha uttered the name of his future direct superior, his expression complicated.
During several live-combat training sessions, as the strongest among the shinobi and the top-ranked trainee of this cohort, he had been personally called out by her—only to be beaten down as though he were a child.
It could be said she was the strongest opponent he had encountered thus far—and the highest-ranking figure as well. Almost… no. She was a demon god. What she brought him was absolute despair, overwhelming domination, one-sided baton-style "instruction."
...
"An academic conference? Application of new genetic technologies? No interest."
That was Esdeath's response to Mobius' smiling invitation.
"That is your responsibility. I am a warrior. Eating, drinking, sleeping—none of these compare to hearing the cries of advance on both flanks, the panicked shrieks of hunted beasts, the wails for mercy from every direction, or seeing enemies—high or low—fall into the dust beside a ditch, corpses skewered upon bannered spears."
Facing the expressionless green-haired doctor, Esdeath's tone remained calm.
She was not familiar with Mobius. She had merely come to observe after noticing the commotion at the large-scale target range.
"Tch." Barbarian.
A barbarian with nothing in her head—or chest—but muscle.
Mobius did not wish to speak with her further and subtly shifted her footing.
She endured.
Better not to provoke her.
Teasing a high-ranking martial hardliner like Esdeath would truly result in being dragged into the arena for a duel. How uncivilized. Mobius would never admit it was because she could not defeat her.
Observing this exchange, Belisarius Cawl silently calculated. The cold aura radiating from this female general—her first impression unmistakably frigid, proud, and battle-hungry—made it clear her standing surpassed even that of Dr. Mobius.
A close confidante of Empress Selene…
"Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, welcome to the Imperial Capital."
Her gaze passed over the green-haired woman—who in certain fields dared to rival the Science Directorate's Chief, Dr. Stylish—and settled upon the mechanical mountain. After a brief appraisal, Esdeath nodded toward Cawl and the Tech-Priests behind him.
"Greetings, General Esdeath. How may I be of service?"
"Interested in overseeing a project?"
Having used her authority to review the Mechanicus' records, Esdeath bore no prejudice toward these cyborg ascetics. A staunch pragmatist, she had a sudden idea.
"A project?"
"A batch of recruits under my command. Archmagos, I require you to devise the most suitable training techniques and knowledge-infusion systems for them. At the same time, design—or modify and manufacture—a set of specialized scientific ninja tools tailored to their shinobi role." She added, "Remember. You are not building Skitarii."
"That… I will require time to evalu—"
"I will submit a proposal to Her Majesty under my personal quota. Archmagos Cawl has already transcended the narrow confines of the Mechanicus. He is capable of shouldering greater responsibility."
"Agreed."
...
Unconcerned with what sort of "chemical reaction" the arrival of the Mechanicus personnel in the Imperial Capital might produce through their exchanges with the Imperial Department of Fabrication and the Science Directorate, Selene set down the memorial in her hand within the Hall of Diligent Governance. Resting her hand upon the desk, she tapped lightly.
"Where did this trend of grandstanding, reckless frontier expansion, and neglect of proper duties begin?" she mused.
At some point, the formation of regional exploratory fleets by various governorates and colonial worlds had become astonishingly widespread.
The Empire's planetary governors were all formidable individuals.
Beyond relying on central funding and technical support, many bureaucrats had chosen to open new tracks for themselves. Some focused deeply on local resource extraction and the development of barren worlds. Others persistently conducted outward "gap-filling," subsidizing civilian Rogue Traders—or even personally leading expeditions.
All manner of creative "open-source and cost-cutting" strategies flourished. Their single common aim: to nudge their performance evaluations upward.
Selene rubbed her temple, then thoughtfully stroked her chin. "It seems they need to cool down… Offensive Bias."
The duty adjutant intelligence, Offensive Bias, manifested at once and bowed. "Your Majesty, I am present."
"Make a note. In future performance reviews, significantly reduce the merit scoring for expansion achievements by internal administrative departments. One after another—civil administrators turning themselves into frontier governors." If things were overheating, she would cool them at the source.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
With a gesture dismissing Offensive Bias, Selene placed the completed memorial upon the carved wooden desk and drew forth another freshly sealed document. As she opened it and began reading, she suddenly paused.
"Hmm?"
Her crimson eyes flickered.
"Interesting."
—
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