They stepped out of the lift slowly.
The chamber beneath Grey Hound was vast—far larger than the forge corridors below. The Titan stood anchored into a cradle of adamantium braces and mag-locks, surrounded by maintenance platforms, fuel lines, and silent ammunition hoists. Every surface was marked with Mechanicus runes and warning sigils. This was sacred ground.
Cătălin felt small here.
They moved along a lower service walkway that circled the Titan's left leg. The metal beneath their boots thrummed faintly—not movement, but power cycling at a barely living level. The Machine Spirit slept, but it breathed.
Daniel scanned the upper platforms. "Too many blind spots."
As if answering him, a deep, guttural laugh rolled across the chamber.
From behind stacked supply crates and collapsed scaffolding, orks emerged—more than before. Armed better. Organized. At their center strode a Nob, massive even by ork standards, armor plates bolted directly into his flesh, power klaw snapping open and shut with a metallic hiss.
"Humies shouldn't be 'ere," the Nob growled. "Boss wants da big god-machine."
Cătălin stepped forward, chainsword igniting with a controlled roar.
"Then you chose the wrong place."
The orks opened fire.
Daniel braced and answered immediately, heavy bolter rounds hammering into the closest greenskins, tearing them apart and forcing the rest into cover. Explosions echoed through the chamber, sparks raining from the Titan's leg plating.
Cătălin charged.
He hit the first line hard, chainsword carving through armor and flesh, momentum carrying him straight into the mob. An ork swung a crude axe—Cătălin caught it on his power fist and crushed the ork's arm, then finished it with a downward strike.
The Nob roared and charged him.
They collided beneath the Titan's knee joint. The power klaw slammed down, denting the deck where Cătălin had stood a heartbeat earlier. Cătălin drove his fist into the Nob's chest, cracking armor but not stopping him.
The Nob laughed and backhanded him across the platform.
Cătălin rolled, came up, and revved the chainsword to full. He lunged as the klaw snapped again, jamming the blade into the joint of the ork's shoulder. The chainsword screamed as it bit deep.
Daniel shifted fire, pouring rounds into the Nob's exposed side.
With a final surge, Cătălin tore the chainsword free and drove it up through the ork's jaw. The Nob collapsed, shaking the platform as it fell.
The remaining orks broke.
Some ran. Others tried to fight and died for it. Within moments, the chamber fell silent again, smoke drifting upward toward the Titan's unmoving form.
Cătălin wiped his blade clean and looked up.
For just a second, he thought he saw a single lumen flicker behind the Titan's head—then darkness again.
Daniel noticed it too.
"Tell me you saw that."
Cătălin nodded slowly.
"She's listening."
Above them, deep within Grey Hound's command core, a system logged the engagement.
THREAT: TERMINATED
EXTERNAL DEFENDERS: EFFECTIVE
PRINCEPS AWARENESS: RISING,................