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Chapter 13 - Chapter 13: The Fabricator Makes His Presence Known

The air compressed under impossible concepts that mortal minds could not name. Four armies gathered under the command of greater demons—existences beyond what any being could name—united despite their disdain, as they were creations of different demon lords.

Their concepts clashed with one another, blending and diffusing, yet maintaining the true essence of the ideas that birthed them.Four shadows, mere echoes of those servants so worthy of their demonic gods, plotted how to eliminate the one who had refused to offer his soul as tribute to their unnameable masters.

This minor dimension, outside the Source, belonged to all of them—reluctantly. Everything: from the sicknesses of mortal life in this place, to the ecstasy of sex among barely intelligent creatures, to the paradigm shift where predators fell to prey in endless cycles; all of it was under the dominion of the blood spilled in pursuit of ultimate violence.

Impossible plans were whispered by the one whose head split in two; avian faces veiled by magic beyond the material plane, joy overflowing alongside the rot of thousands of souls—he who smiled with glee at spreading the word of his lord.Profane pleasures were enraptured in delicate words spoken by the one consumed by excess.Blood dripped from hands like endless rivers of rage from those who live for the true eternal war.

The arguments began. Those echoes of the dark gods spoke of [The Fabricator], as he called himself. Their plans had been, as with all mortals that Chaos encounters, to harvest his soul. But this being seemed to have a better use—as a follower of their divine patterns, after proving capable of a resistance that was, in their eyes, dignified, yet insufficient.

That mortal creature appeared to be this dimension's version of the followers of the Machine God: cold logic, flesh twisted under the desire for improvement, metal consecrated in prayers that worshipped no deity.But this wasn't entirely true—this being and its creations acted under total order, without flaw, like true components of something greater, never colliding among themselves.

Of the four greater demons, Zarakynel was the most disgusted by the fact that these creatures acted in pursuit of a perfection that did not belong to her profane god.The mere idea that these beings felt no pleasure at all was repugnant to her.

The plan to harvest him as food had failed.The plan to corrupt him seemed to be going nowhere.Only death remained for the one who dared defy Chaos.

The stench of sulfur mixed with unknowable concepts blended into the smog of gigantic metal creatures, slowly advancing while firing their monstrous nightmare cannons.Factories were built under the guidance of metallic beings in perfect synchrony, only to be destroyed by the fastest of demons.Fire raged in a battlefield that might as well have been infinite.

Rows of billions of homunculi flowed in what, to untrained eyes, would appear as discord—but if one looked deeper, they would notice how their movements changed according to the battle itself, following a rhythm so incomprehensibly complex that it no longer appeared rhythmic at all.

The hordes of demons were varied in form. They fought with ferocity and reverence for their gods, each following the doctrines they so deeply longed for.Flesh, blood, and metal were spilled equally in this endless war.The servants of the Factory were slaughtered by the millions.

From the slaughter, infinite demons rose again from the energy of their dark gods, reformed the moment they were eradicated. Immortal beings were sealed in gems, used as energy to power structures until nothing remained—only an empty shell, no longer considered a being.

Senseless death and destruction, thought the supervisor of one of the few [Magical Titans] that had been hastily created.

This war was only an attempt to expel Chaos from this plane of existence. They themselves had decided—that is, [The Fabricator], as they had begun to call themselves—that they did not want to be part of an eternal war.It was too troublesome to consider that they were possibly trapped in the Warp.They did not want to be part of a universe in flames.They only wanted to experiment in peace, without being bothered by creatures so irritating to kill.

While thinking, he moved the titanic body he controlled. A railgun charge was ready; the calibration systems were finalizing the aim, avoiding the deaths of their own troops—either by slightly recalibrating the direction or coordinating the real-time creation of shields with the other supervisors present.

He finished his reflection just as the railgun fired, erasing everything in that direction—only for the enemy line to be filled once more with more demons.He sighed with resignation as the battle continued.

But this entire battle was just one of the many plans held by the one who stood above all the other cogs that made up the Factory.This war was only a distraction—until he created a way to seal this reality, separate it, dominate it—let true order reign over it, let it become one with the Factory.

Unfortunately for him, he had to intervene personally—since he was, at the very least, the strongest creature in his own army. He needed to buy time before the truly intelligent demons realized what he was planning.

He sighed within his dark palanquin—this time not as a commander, that could be handled by his less occupied parts. No, he was here as just another weapon on this war board.

Magic moved swiftly in patterns so vast they began to encompass a large portion of the battlefield. The sound of explosions reached his ears like another war creed.

The magic spread slowly—by his standards.The calculations had already been made beforehand, but this had never been tested.It might kill a large part of his own army—of course, only if they weren't already being evacuated to the back lines while only the necessary ones remained.

He watched through multiple angles as the spell was finally completed.Let's hope it works,he thought with indifference.

Light flooded the entire battlefield in an instant—no symbolism, no rituals—just the cold calculations of what might as well have been an artificial intelligence, and there would have been no difference.

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