Mars.
The Temple of the Fabricator-General.
This temple is situated atop Olympus Mons—the largest mountain range on Mars and indeed the entire solar system. It is one of the most iconic structures on the red planet, comparable in some sense to the Imperial Palace on Terra—though, of course, only "in some sense."
While Mars is the holy seat of the Adeptus Mechanicus and often shares equal fame with the Imperial core of Terra, it falls far short in most practical aspects.
No matter how bloated or inefficient the Administratum and the Adeptus Arbites of the Empire might be, the tithes are eventually collected. Even the most independent Space Marine Chapters regularly pay their gene-seed tithes and homeworld taxes. Most Chapters maintain a seat for a Chaplain, keeping a close connection with the Ecclesiarchy.
But what about Mars?
Could the Fabricator-General actually dispatch a fleet to Lucius or Stygies VIII to collect a "Gear Tax"? Would those ancient Forge Worlds care for such a demand?
The sages of other Forge Worlds would find the notion laughable.
The Adeptus Mechanicus is, in essence, an outrageously loose confederation of tribes. Mars is merely the most powerful tribe, a holy site that all Forge Worlds grudgingly acknowledge—and nothing more.
The Fabricator-Generals of major Forge Worlds might send envoys for pilgrimage, but they would never allow the decrees of Mars to override their own authority. Even a feudal system possesses more unity than this.
Yet, despite this, Mars remains the birthplace of the Cult Mechanicus, the undisputed strongest Forge World in the Empire's eyes. Even if other Forge Worlds do not truly respect its leadership in their hearts, they must swallow their pride and admit this reality.
This was precisely why a certain contractor of the Emperor chose to start his plan from Mars.
"Magos, I hope your visit is for a genuine matter and not a simple waste of my precious time."
A voice like a resonant bronze bell echoed through the hollow hall.
Udwadia Lasky, one of the High Lords of Terra and the Fabricator-General of Mars, looked down upon the tiny figure before him.
His physical size was indescribable—from a distance, he looked like a small Titan standing there. Complex mechanical structures occupied most of the room. Coolant hissed through thick pipes, and several auxiliary mechanical arms were tucked quietly against the sides of his torso.
The Magos standing before him was like a child facing a giant, forced to crane his neck to see the sensor optics hidden behind the Fabricator-General's metal mask.
Lasky recognized him. This man was a well-known figure on Mars, a representative of the Conservatives. His faction's core tenet was blunt: progress and innovation were heresies within the Cult Mechanicus; the primary task of the Mechanicus was archaeology. The technology created by humanity over the past ten thousand years and during the Dark Age of Technology was already perfect; successors only needed to excavate lost ancient wisdom from the piles of old papers. This was the ironclad proof that the Omnissiah had bestowed mechanical power upon humanity.
In an increasingly closed and stagnant Mechanicus, this was not heresy—it was the absolute mainstream. Figures like Belisarius Cawl, the Archmagos Dominus, were the true minority and outliers.
Of course—this was the creed Lasky himself had firmly believed in before he joined Prometheus Labs.
"You must take action, Fabricator-General," the Magos said solemnly, his vox-synthesized voice carrying an ill-concealed urgency.
"A faction named Prometheus is currently spreading across the major Forge Worlds, especially here on Mars! The so-called 'Truths' they preach are pure heresy that will utterly destroy the fine traditions of our Mechanicus! As Fabricator-General, the responsibility lies with you!"
Lasky found it somewhat amusing. Even if his mechanical body could no longer perform the physical act of "laughing," binary streams representing humor flowed through his cogitator core.
After receiving that unimaginable divine power, Lasky had already dedicated his body and soul entirely to that Lord. In the Adeptus Mechanicus, where religious fanaticism is bone-deep, such power was the ultimate proof of the Omnissiah's divinity—there was no other explanation.
And since that Lord shared this power so generously with his followers, he had to be the incarnation of the Omnissiah. This was an obvious conclusion any Tech-Priest could easily reach.
Unfortunately, the Magos before him had clearly failed to grasp this. Whether it was because he lacked the means to access the truth or was simply this dull, Lasky felt a flicker of... pity.
Sigh. He lamented inwardly. When will that Lord fully reveal his existence?
He truly wished to see the day that Lord fully descended. At that time, even if he were ordered to launch a holy war for the unification of Mars, plowing the red planet from pole to pole to spread His glory, he would not hesitate to level Olympus Mons or let Mars burn.
"Fine." Lasky's massive mechanical frame turned slightly, emitting a low hydraulic hiss. "I will take you somewhere."
The Magos froze, visibly confused. What's happening?
Nevertheless, he followed immediately. The massive Fabricator-General led the way through wide metal corridors, past layers of piping and maintenance shafts, finally stopping before a grand hall.
The Magos stepped inside, his eyes habitually scanning the surroundings.
It was a typical Mechanicus assembly hall—cog-shaped decorations were everywhere, dense networks of pipes stretched along the dome, and the residual heat of the forges radiated through the metal walls. The air was thick with the scent of machine oil and incense, and countless red optical lenses flickered in the darkness.
At this moment, a large crowd had already gathered in the hall.
The Magos frowned slightly, his gaze sweeping over the figures: Tech-Magos, Logis, Enginseers, Electro-Priests, and several Skitarii leaders in ceremonial robes. In a distant corner, he even recognized a few Titan Princeps—mortals who piloted the God-Machines and held extremely high status on Mars. There were also heraldries from Knight Houses, and...
His gaze finally landed on the stage.
It was a Tech-Priest. To be precise, a Tech-Priest wearing the robes of a low-level Enginseer.
The Magos's frown deepened. In the hierarchy of the Mechanicus, while a Magos and an Enginseer both fell under the category of Tech-Priests, their status was as different as clouds and mud. An Enginseer only followed the Astra Militarum into battle to repair equipment on the logistics line; a Magos was a true apostle exploring the path of the Omnissiah, the backbone of the Mechanicus.
Furthermore—the Magos's optical sensors scanned up and down, his heart filled with disdain.
The mechanical augmentations on this person were pitifully few; most of his body was still flesh and blood. The Magos could assert that even the Space Marine Techmarines who came to Mars to "study" had more mechanical components than the man before him.
Normally, he wouldn't even spare such a being a glance. What did Lasky mean by bringing him here?
He turned to look at the Fabricator-General, only to find the giant had stopped quietly in a corner, offering no explanation.
The Fabricator-General's arrival had clearly caused a small stir. Several optical lenses turned toward them, red lights flickering for a moment before quickly looking away—as if they were already accustomed to this.
Suppressing his confusion, the Magos turned his attention back to the stage.
The Enginseer stood there quietly, meeting the gaze of the crowd with an unusually calm expression. His face was incredibly young; in this sea of mechanical cyborgs, that face—which almost completely retained human features—seemed particularly jarring.
Had he not been wearing the Enginseer's robes, he would have looked more like a civil bureaucrat newly arrived from Terra than a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Finally, the man spoke.
"My name is Demian, formerly of the 252nd Regiment of the Armageddon Steel Legion... You may not know me, but I was present on the day the Omnissiah descended."
His voice was calm, yet it reached every corner of the hall clearly.
"Today, I shall recount the sacred teachings of the Omnissiah."
"Let us cheer His name!"
Demian's voice suddenly rose, carrying an indefinable piety and fervor:
"The God was broken, the God shall be whole!"
"The God was broken, the God shall be whole!"
Hundreds of voices rose simultaneously, merging into a flood that nearly lifted the dome.
The Magos's optical sensors contracted sharply—those Tech-Magos, those lofty Explorators, those usually arrogant Titan Princeps and Knights were now shouting in unison with the most fanatical intensity.
Even the Fabricator-General Lasky beside him lowered his massive head, silently repeating the prayer.
The Magos stood frozen in place.
What... what is going on?