-Mars Inner Sanctum
Nusa advanced deeper into the sacred strata of Mars' core sanctum, each step echoing with a metallic groan, the plasteel floor plates buckling faintly beneath his augmented weight. His aura flares sharply.
Every chamber he passed lay in ruinous condition.
Magi and Tech-Priests sprawled across the ferrocrete floors, twitching, whimpering half-formed binharic litanies of ignition.
Their augmetics sparked uselessly, rites failing, sacred sequences unresponsive.
"By the Omnissiah's grace… by sacred unguent… arise, I command thee…"
A few, barely human in their augmetic excess, pawed frantically at console panels, pressing null-lit activation runes, muttering incomplete ignition protocols.
Those half-flesh adepts whose augments had not yet enslaved their frail forms struggled on, fingers bleeding against unresponsive machine-spirit interfaces.
Whenever Nusa passed, adepts in proximity fall unconsious crushed by aura, overcome by a primal instinct long buried beneath iron and cable, the ancestral dread of an apex predator poised for slaughter.
An inheritance from mankind lives on caves resurfaces to body of flesh and iron.
And Nusa strode on, unhurried.
Air filtration systems sputtered and failed, unable to countermand the overriding command Nusa's presence had issued.
The atmosphere thickened with heat and grit, lumens extinguishing one by one.
The HUD within his helm calmly registered climbing temperatures — 61°C and rising.
Oxygen levels plummeted, replaced by carbon dioxide and industrial smog.
He remained indifferent.
Ahead, a cluster of figures in suits awaited. Their leader stepped forward, bowing with disciplined grace.
"My liege," the agent intoned, voice level despite the suffocating heat. ""The operation is underway. ANBU units are deployed, and Root detachments have moved into position. Noosphere nodes are being infiltrated by our AI proxies. They are closing in on the target."
Root, the elite of the elite amongs the shinobi corps. The blackops operatives, trained by the best forces and training regiment exile could have provided.
Nusa inclined his head. "Excellent. Maintain veil protocols. I've spared select defense grids — seize them as auxiliary firebases should there be resistance. Let the AI remain undetected."
"As you command."
He gestured. "With me."
The agents fell into step, unaffected by the lethal conditions.
Dead mars adepts lays in the corridors asphyxiated, their augments becomes a burden.
Deeper still they descended. Power conduits bled plasma, vox-relays hung inert. The atmosphere was a furnace.
Finally, they reached the sanctum's heart, the sealed Arch-Relic Vault.
Hundreds of Skitarii and automata lay in deactivated heaps, entombed in sudden silence. Nusa raised a hand. The vault's massive adamantium doors parted at his will.
Within lay the greatest heretekal relics: forbidden STC schematics, black data-codices, relic-pattern weapon arrays, artifacts hoarded by the Mechanicus for ten millennia.
And at its center, Fabricator-General Ctesibius Gamna.
A pitiable remnant of flesh and steel, his life-support stilled, mechadendrites sagging.
One remaining organic optic glared upward as Nusa approached.
A final, desperate override attempt flickered through his noosphere, ancient code-phrases hurled at dormant systems. The ancient forge-engines rejected him like a heretek.
Terror etched itself upon his half-metal features.
The Machinist's smile was thin, predatory.
"Well met, Fabricator-General. When I declared my intent to revisit my cradle, I had expected your presence. Instead, you sent bickering childrens."
The crippled figure could only glare, his vocal augmetics inert.
Nusa turned toward the sealed cogitator array — its mechanisms dark since before the Horus Heresy.
"Your obstructions amended little. The outcome remains."
He extended a palm, ancient code-phrases and command sigils spoken into the dead systems.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then life returned to the slumbering cogitator. Status runes flared to life. Pressure-seals unlocked. Millennia of dust shaken off.
Across the planet, alert klaxons sounded. But not alarm rather a recognition.
Machine-spirits roused, keening in joyous resonance. Vast planetary war engines stirred. Subterranean vaults whispered code-litanies dormant for aeons. Buried AI cores awoke.
The central cogitator on the the sealed Arch-Relic Vault scrolled a single message:
[WELCOME BACK, MACHINIST]
[WELCOME HOME, OMNISSIAH]
-Imperial Palace
In the Sanctum Imperialis, a Custodian paused mid-step. The air felt… wrong. Not hostile. But impossibly heavy, as though the very fabric of reality strained under the weight of something ancient and absolute.
His enhanced senses detected no tangible threat. Yet the aura thickened a pressure against his mind, colder than the void, older than Imperium itself.
The golden warrior's vox-net crackled with static, his helm's ocular feed dimming for a heartbeat. A scentless wind swept through the throne hall, though no doors stirred.
Then, a voice inside his mind. The custodes was about to retaliate fearing daemon psychic attack. Yet he stops and listen to the voice in reverence.
Ancient, undeniable, absolute. A command delivered in pure, incandescent thought. The Emperor's will being conveyed to the custodes mind.
[Guide the Machinist to me]
The Custodian staggered, knees almost buckling as the weight of the command crashed down upon him. It was not a request, nor the council of a master to a servant. It was the voice of the Throne itself.
An image burned into his mind — a lone figure descending from orbit, shrouded in war-forged authority, the sigil of the Machinist gleaming upon his cloak.
The vision snapped away, leaving the Custodian's breath ragged, his twin hearts pounding.
Without hesitation, he activated his vox.
"Sanctum Control, this is Shield-Captain Aureon. Prepare the Emperor's Path. Clearance for the Machinist's arrival, direct to the Golden Throne. No delays. No intercession. By the Throne's will."
Silence met the order for a moment.
[This is Captain General Trajann Valoris, are you certain?]
"Yes, captain general. I am sure of the Emperor's voice." Shield-Captain Aureon replied in confidence.
[At last, our master grace us once more. Brother we will fulfill the duty.] Captain General Trajann Valoris replied in happiness.