Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rex woke up with a dull ache in his head, blinking himself awake. The air felt heavy, and a strange, acrid scent lingered. He pushed himself up, realizing he lay on cold metal ground. He’d never smelled anything quite like it, and wherever he was, it sure wasn’t like any city he’d seen before.

Taking in his surroundings, he realized he was in a dimly lit alleyway made entirely of metal, filled with piping and strange conduits running along every surface. 

This was not Providence, and definitely not anywhere he’d seen on Earth. As his senses sharpened, he realized he was in the middle of a city, and the rust-red skies over his head told him one thing: he was not in America.

He sat up to check if he was safe. So far, it was just an empty alleyway. He stood up and walked toward the open street, hoping to find someone who could tell him where he’d landed.

As he stepped out, he was greeted by a strange, breathtaking sight. The city sprawled before him, dark towers of steel and circuitry stretching high and deep, glowing with faint, amber light. Bridges connected rooftops, giant cogwheels slowly turned above him, and a mix of steam and hissing gases hissing gases hissed from vents.

Immediately, he noticed that many of the people looked rather destitute. However, some were dressed in tattered, heavy robes of red and gold, some with multiple mechanical limbs and faces obscured by strange apparatuses. They murmured to each other in bursts of static and clicks, a strange language that Rex could barely process. Still, somehow, his nanites attempted to interpret the binary-like snippets of language. 

As he walked, a few robed figures glanced his way, their mechanical eyes scanning him curiously. A few of the figures glanced in his direction, but seeing nothing overtly hostile about him, most dismissed him with an indifference 

Rex wandered further, taking in the city’s strange atmosphere and wondering how he’d ended up in a place like this.

Eventually, he noticed more of the robed figures surrounding a large vehicle. Rex blinked at the sight. He did a double-take as he realized they were praying to the vehicle’s thrusters. They held candles and vials of oil, which they carefully poured on the metal exterior, as though anointing it.

Rex tilted his head. “Are they…praying to the engine?”

Rex’s brow furrowed, but he watched as one of the Tech-Priests, dressed in elaborate robes and trailing small metallic sensors, approached the vehicle’s engine. 

One of the priests stepped forward, poking around the thruster with a spanner in hand. He twisted a bolt, and suddenly, the entire engine began to sputter and emit thick black smoke. Sparks danced along the machinery, and a high-pitched whine grew from within the engine.

“Oh, great.” Rex could tell things were about to go south fast. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, summoning his Block Party as he ran. His arms transformed, covered in navy-blue metallic gauntlets. He slammed his fists together, creating a dome of highly energized particles around himself and the tech-priests just as the thruster erupted in a blinding burst of plasma.

The dome of highly energized atoms absorbed the blast, and when the smoke cleared, the Tech-Priests stared at him, their mechanical eyes widened in unison. Rex lowered the shield and let the gauntlets dissipate as he looked around at the stunned priests. Rex turned to one of the robed figures who had been closest to the explosion. 

The man, if he could even be called that, given the tubes and metal augmentations coming out of his face, looked utterly stunned.

Rex, with a casual grin, patted the figure on the shoulder. “You good there?” 

The tech-priest didn’t respond immediately. Something strange happened as his hand made contact. 

Blue circuitry patterns flared across Rex’s skin, glowing with the cables and implants in the Tech-Priest’s body. Rex felt a strange tingling as his nanites began interfacing with the tech-priest’s systems, sparking a link between them.

The priest’s voice came out in the same binary-like tone, stuttering but filled with awe. “Who…who are you?”

To his surprise, Rex understood it perfectly. “I’m, uh…Rex Salazar,” he answered, stumbling over his own words. “Just, you know, passing through.”

Rex turned back to the damaged hover transport, now fully aware of the tense silence around him. The robed figures were watching his every move, their mechanical eyes glowing faintly, and even the city's faint hum seemed to still be in anticipation. Rex figured he needed to make a gesture of goodwill, if these people thought he was some kind of threat, things might get messy.

“All right,” Rex muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders. “Let’s see what I can do.”

He touched the vehicle's scorched hull, and his nanites sprang to life. Immediately, his mind was flooded with information about the transport. The engine was fusion-powered, and the nanites eagerly translated its structure and function into something he could understand. Broken metal sections started to liquefy and fuse back together, wires reconnected and aligned themselves, and the engine's warped components straightened into perfect form. Rex optimized the connections as he worked, almost instinctively improving its efficiency far beyond its original design.

Finally, his nanites jumpstarted the engine. The transport floated back off the ground. Rex stepped back and wiped his hands.

“Good as new.” He flashed a grin as he turned to face the group. He hoped that fixing their vehicle might help smooth things over, maybe even earn him a chance to figure out where exactly he was and how to get back to… wherever he came from. “So, uh, now that that’s sorted, anyone wanna explain where I, ”

Rex stopped mid-sentence, taken aback. One by one, the robed figures dropped to their knees. They bowed and raised their hands in reverence before they started chanting. Some clutched sacred-looking tools and devices, holding them like relics. Others placed their hands on the ground or pressed their foreheads to the floor.

“THE OMNISSIAH LIVES!”

“HE IS THE OMNISSIAH!”

Rex blinked then held up his hands. “Whoa, hold on! I’m not, what’s an Omnissiah?!”

The chanting only grew louder, and the fervor in their eyes was almost overwhelming. They swarmed closer. One of the Tech-Priests stepped forward as he spoke in a mix of binary and broken Low Gothic. “You have restored the sacred machine and perfected its form. Only the Omnissiah can perform such miracles! Praise be!”

“Miracles? No, no, it’s just, ” Rex started, but he trailed off, realizing the more he tried to explain, the more fervent they became.

Another voice rose from the crowd, high and trembling. “The Omnissiah has blessed us with his presence! He walks among us, flesh and machine united!”

Rex stepped back, hands raised in surrender, his usual confidence faltering in the face of their overwhelming worship. “Okay, cool that you guys are happy, but I think there’s been a mix-up. I’m not-”

The chanting continued unabated, their voices now a thunderous harmony of praise.

“THE OMNISSIAH!”

Rex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

The Tech-Priest he had saved, standing closest, lowering himself until his forehead nearly touched the ground. “Omnissiah… have you finally come to us?”

“Welcome, my lord.”

“All praise to the Omnissiah.”

The crowd of robed Tech-Priests remained bowed low as they continued their prayers and praises. 

Another priest knelt. “Omnissiah, forgive us for our ignorance. We have awaited your arrival.”

Rex stood awkwardly at the center of it all, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what was happening. He’d faced monsters, robots, and mutated creatures, but never had anyone looked at him with reverence he could barely grasp. The surreal situation was getting to him, and he decided to take control of the conversation before it spiraled further.

“Hold on. Time out!” The prayers continued. “Everyone, chill out!" Rex shouted, waving his hands. 

While the terminology was unknown, the crowd seemed to get the gist of their Omnissiah’s request. The chants of the Tech-Priests finally began to subside, though their reverence was palpable as they knelt before Rex. The Tech-Priests looked up, fixed on him. 

Rex took a deep breath. "Can we stop with the whole bowing and chanting thing for a minute?”

In unison, their mechanical voices echoed, “As you wish, Omnissiah.”

Rex sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Thanks. I appreciate the enthusiasm, but this whole ‘worship’ thing is a bit much.” He folded his arms and looked at the group, his tone softening slightly. “Let’s start simple: who are you people?”

The lead Tech-Priest stepped forward, his uniform seemed to denote a higher rank. His face was mostly obscured by a mask of polished steel, with glowing green lenses where his eyes should have been. Servo-arms extended from his back, each one holding a tool. “We are the faithful of the Machine God, Omnissiah. We are the Mechanicum, your loyal followers and the caretakers of the sacred technology.”

Rex’s nanites continued to passively translate for him. He raised an eyebrow. “The Mechanicum? Okay…” That didn’t help at all. This wasn’t any religion he had heard about. Rex was pretty sure this was a cult. ‘I heard the expression to not drink the kool-aid, but I think it would be motor oil for these guys…’

The Tech-Priest inclined his head slightly. “Yes! Since the Dark Age of Technology, our people preserved what knowledge we could in your name.”

‘Dark Age?’

Another Tech-Priest stepped forward. “We have seen the vessels of the divine. The Machine God and the machine spirits have spoken to us. It is our faith that has sustained us through of strife and uncertainty. ”

Rex frowned, processing their words. “I see…” ‘Dear god, where the Hell did I end up?’

He turned to the group that had first met him who were fixing the vehicle in the first place. He pointed at the nearest one who had a single glowing lens in place of an eye. "Okay, you, what’s your name?"

The Tech-Priest adjusted their posture. “I am Magos Explorator Xenthos, Omnissiah.”

The next Tech-Priest had several mechanical appendages holding tools and data-slates. “I am Enginseer Veltris.”

The third had a spindly frame with elongated limbs tipped with intricate probes. “Artisan-Priest Cylara, Omnissiah.”

The fourth was a shorter Tech-Priest with a face entirely obscured by a polished metal mask. “I am Lexmechanic Dravon, Omnissiah.”

The fifth and last of the group was a bulky figure with a torso filled with tubes. “I am Tech-Adept Zorath, Omnissiah.”

Rex exhaled, trying to keep the names straight in his head. "Xenthos, Veltris, Cylara, Dravon, and Zorath. Got it. Thanks for the introductions." He paused, placing his hands on his hips. “What… What do you guys do?”

The lead Tech-Priest nodded. “We are the stewards of the forges, the preservers of sacred technology, and the chosen vessels of the Machine God’s will. We labor tirelessly to maintain the forges, to safeguard knowledge, and to spread the glory of the Machine God.”

“That’s…” Rex struggled to find the right words. “Very ambitious.” ‘They are crazy… I’m with a crazy cult.’

The lead Tech-Priest raised a hand. “Your praise mean everything to us, Omnissiah. Your will be done..”

Rex sighed, shaking his head. “This is going to be a long conversation.”

Another Tech-Priest added, their tone reverent. “And now, with your return, Omnissiah, you shall guide us and restore the forgotten knowledge under the light of the Machine God.”

Rex ran a hand through his hair. “Are you sure I’m this ‘Omnissiah’ you’ve been waiting for?”

“Without question,” the lead Tech-Priest said.

Rex looked at the gathered crowd. He sighed. “Is there anyone else I can talk to? I would like to think there would be a test telling whether or not I'm who you say I am.”

The lead Tech-Priest. “Oh, Omnissiah, your humility is commendable, but your actions speak louder than your words. You have shown us miracles we cannot deny.”

Rex groaned, throwing up his hands. “I don’t… Fine, I’ll roll with it for now. Just stop bowing, okay? It’s weird.”

The Tech-Priests nodded in unison. “As you wish, Omnissiah.”

Rex sighed again, looking at the sea of worshippers surrounding him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter what he said, they wouldn’t stop seeing him as a god. For now, he’d just have to roll with it. “Where am I exactly?”

“You are in The great Forge City Olympus Mons of Tharsis.”

Rex knew he had heard that name before but wasn’t sure where. ‘Is that in Africa or something?’ “Thanks… I guess. I don’t suppose you have a leader, pope, or something I can talk to?”

“If you seek to speak with a higher authority in the Mechanicum, you are in the right Forge City. Bar you, the Fabricator General is the supreme authority. We must seek the Fabricator General and the Arch Magos Council at once. 

‘Fabricator General? Arch Magos? Sounds like the cross between a military and a church. Then again, it does seem to match their personality… If meeting their leaders and getting some answers meant humoring their beliefs, so be it.’ Still, he couldn’t shake that he was in way over his head.

The lead Tech-Priest, Xenthos, turned away as if he was getting a call. When it was over, he stepped forward. “Omnissiah. The Fabricator-General and the Ruling Council await your divine presence at the Temple of All Knowledge. It is their deepest honor to receive you.”

Rex blinked. “That was fast.”

“Of course. They have already gotten word of your arrival. They will be expecting you.”

‘I guess they have text messaging or something here at least.” Rex sagged his arms. “All right. I’ll meet them. But I’d like to talk more along the way. I have questions.”

Xenthos bowed low. “The Council will provide whatever answers you seek, but I will assist as much as I can.”

Another Tech-Priest stepped forward, his frame bulkier and adorned with intricate cog-shaped sigils. “Omnissiah, we have prepared a transport to carry you to the Temple of All Knowledge.”

Rex raised a hand, stopping him. If their hover cars were anything like what he had to fix, he might blow up. “Yeah, thanks, but I don’t need a ride. I’ve got my own.”

The Tech-Priests exchanged confused glances. The crowd quieted slightly, their attention focused entirely on Rex.

“You… have your own transport, Omnissiah?” Xenthos asked, curious. Their Omnissiah seemed to have nothing but the clothes on his back.

Rex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do. Just… give me a sec. Just. Don’t freak out.”

Taking a step back, Rex extended his arms as his nanites surged to life. Glowing orange and blue circuitry patterns spread across his lower legs, reshaping the metal into sleek, angular panels. With a low hum, the panels expanded outward, forming the frame of a futuristic hover motorbike. The vehicle materialized piece by piece, its black and orange design gleaming in the dim light. The process took only moments, and when it was done, the hover bike was few inches off the ground, humming softly. A sleek black helmet formed over Rex’s head, its visor glowing faintly. He gripped the handlebars as the engine revved slightly.

The silence that followed was absolute. Then, as if on a signal, the gathered Tech-Priests fell to their knees, their heads bowed low. The binary chants returned in a wave, rising in awe-filled harmony.

“The Omnissiah manifests his sacred chariot from the ether!” Xenthos declared. “Another miracle born of his divine will!”

“Praise the Omnissiah!” another Tech-Priest. “A new Golden Age is upon us! The machine and his flesh are one and the same!”

The crowd erupted into chanting. More Tech-Priests knelt in worship. Some extended their arms toward Rex and the bike as if reaching for a holy relic. Some stayed their hands as they felt unworthy to be in the presence of such divinity. Others clasped their hands in prayer, thankful for being in the presence of another miracle.

Rex sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…” He glanced at Xenthos, who was still bowing deeply. “Are we ready to go?”

Xenthos raised his head slightly. “Yes, my Omnissiah. We shall leave post-haste.” To all the witnesses, the ability to summon machine was nothing but proof of his divinity from the Machine God.

Rex groaned. His bike started moving, but because of the crowd, it was about the same as walking speed. ‘Just great…’

Little did the EVO realize that his nanites were resonating with the foreign energy field of this world. The abstract power of belief began to show its influence. Even though it was inactive, Dominion stirred.

Chapter Text

Olympus Mons

As much as Rex wanted to ask how he got here, he was 99% sure that these priests didn't know anything about his situation. If anything, they'd probably take his appearance in this place as 'Your presence is a divine gift to us. The Machine God's will is beyond comprehension' or something like that.

The streets of the forge-city stretched endlessly ahead, a labyrinth of towering factories. The crowd began to part, creating a clear path leading toward the distant temple. Xenthos rose to his feet, gesturing with one of his servo-arms. "The way is clear, Omnissiah. We will lead you to the holy ground."

Rex glanced at the Tech-Priests and the chanting crowd, then at the glowing spires of the Mechanicus temple in the distance. "Fine," he said, revving the hover bike. "Let's meet this Council."

He leaned forward slightly, and the bike glided smoothly. The Tech-Priest's own transport, ornately adorned hovercraft adorned with glowing cog emblems and ceremonial banners, was ahead of him, setting the pace.

Rex should have known better, but the procession began to move with him. It felt like the world's weirdest parade. The Forge City was anything but quiet. It was clear that the factories were working at capacity with steam and smoke stacks filling the sky. Rex had to double take because he could have sworn he saw a flying skull pass by overhead.

As they moved, hundreds of robed figures had fallen in line.

Rex glanced over his shoulder, his unease growing with every step.

"Okay, seriously," Rex muttered, turning to Xenthos. "What's with the crowd? Did you guys put out an announcement or something?"

Xenthos's nodded. "The faithful are drawn to you. Word of your arrival has spread through the city's Noosphere. I have no doubt the machine spirits sing of your arrival. It is only natural they would follow."

Rex raised an eyebrow. "Right… Machine Spirits" He sighed, rubbing his temples.

Veltris tilted their head. "Through prayer, the faithful strengthen the spirits of the machines and honor your arrival."

Xenthos slowed his steps slightly. "You arrived when we needed you most, Omnissiah. The forges grow restless, and the machine spirits cry out."

Rex stayed silent as he observed the city around him. The streets were filled with seemingly normal people as well, but there was little joy in their faces. Many of them seemed thin, hunched, and weary, wearing tattered clothing and hollow expressions.

His grip on the hoverbike's handlebars tightened as they passed a group of workers hauling a massive piece of machinery across the street. They struggled under the weight, sparks flying from joints that were clearly overdue for maintenance. None of the Tech-Priests in the procession so much as glanced in their direction.

"This place is…" Rex muttered under his breath before trailing off, shaking his head.

A Tech-Priest turned toward him. "You spoke, Omnissiah? What concerns you?"

Rex frowned, gesturing vaguely at the surrounding streets. "Was it always like this? The city, I mean. The people. It looks bad. I mean, they're barely getting by."

The Priest inclined his head slightly. "The forge-cities have endured for millennia, Omnissiah. What you see is the toll of time."

Rex seemed to freeze. He wanted to ask something, but he was afraid of the answer. "Hey, quick question," he said, glancing at Xenthos. "What year is it?"

Xenthos turned his hooded head. "The current date is recorded as 254.M29, Omnissiah, in the sacred chronology of Mars."

Rex's stomach sank. "M29? You mean Millennia 29?! Wait… the 29th millennium?! The year 29,000!" This was the reverse of what happened to Van Kleis only much much worse. What the hell happened?! Rex froze, his eyes widening. He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Did you also say Mars? You said this city was called Olympus Mons, right?"

The Tech-Priests froze for a moment. "That is correct, Omnissiah. Olympus Mons is the most sacred Forge City of Mars, the holy domain of the Cult Mechanicus."

Rex's jaw dropped. "No, no, no. That's not possible. I was just on Earth! You know, blue skies, oceans?" In fact, the people of Mars didn't know. Such large bodies of water were foreign to them. "It was, I don't know, the 21st century! Humanity hadn't even colonized Mars yet! How the heck did I end up here?"" Rex looked up at the red sky and the red soil. 'That's starting to make more sense now…'

The Tech-Priests exchanged glances, or perhaps silent data transmissions, before Cylara spoke. "The Omnissiah speaks of an age in early humanity, when humanity had not yet ascended to the stars. Do you hail from the birth planet of Humanity? Terra?"

Rex groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Back then, we called it Earth, but that's not the point."

"Earth?" Cylara hummed. "A strange yet fitting name."

The Tech-Priests exchanged glances. One stepped forward, bowing deeply. "The Omnissiah is divinity from both worlds.".

Zorath's heavy frame shifted. "To think that the Omnissiah has come to bless us in our time of need."

Rex resisted the urge to fly out of there, but he needed answers. "Hold on, I didn't come here! I woke up here! No spaceships. I'm not, I can't, ugh!" Rex threw up his hands. "Fine, whatever. Look, I don't know how I got here.

The surrounding chants resumed, this time filled with even more fervor. Words like "Omnissiah," "Terraborn," and "Savior" filtered through the binary praise.

Rex groaned and rubbed his temples. "Great. That's exactly what I needed, more chanting. Just perfect." The EVO slouched. "This is all insane…"

One of the Tech-Priests closest to him raised their head with reverence. "The Omnissiah has descended from the sister world of Terra, the birthplace of humanity, to grace Mars with his presence. Truly, this is a holy day."

Another Tech-Priest clasped their metallic hands together in a gesture of prayer. "The Omnissiah will bring enlightenment to man and machine spirits alike."

Rex stared at them, exasperated. 'You're really not listening to me, are you?'

Dravon nodded. "For the Omnissiah, nothing is impossible. It is a sign of the Motive Force. It works in mysterious ways."

Rex groaned in defeat at a line seemingly out of Star Wars. 'Yup. Insane. Completely insane.' As the chants swelled again, Rex sighed, deciding to let them finish their moment of worship. He looked ahead as the towering Temple of All Knowledge came into view.

"Since the fall of the Dark Age of Technology, and the rise of the Men of Iron, the Mechanicum has labored to preserve what remains."

Rex tried to calm himself to get more info. They mentioned this Dark Age before, but these Men of Iron were new. "How much damage did these Men of Iron do?"

"It was humanity's golden era. Stories tell of advanced teleportation, personal force fields, star harvesters, and terraforming. But humanity grew hubris and created the The Men of Iron. Those were the apex of our creations, designed to serve humanity. But the Abominable Intelligence turned against us, and plunged the galaxy into chaos."

Rex stared at him, processing the words. "Abominable Intelligence… AI? Do you mean Artificial Intelligence?" 'Am I in a future where the robot apocalypse happened?'

"Those soulless constructs betrayed us. In the war that followed, much of our knowledge was lost."

Rex glanced back at the city. The procession slowed as they entered a packed district packed. Many buildings belched black smoke into the sky. People stopped to watch as they passed. Some knelt in reverence while others simply stared, their faces a mixture of curiosity and wariness. The decay, the struggle, the tattered remains of what might once have been greatness, it all made more sense now. "And you've been in decline ever since?"

"Correct, Omnissiah. The forge-cities endure, but they are shadows of their former glory. The sacred machines grow weary."

Rex bit the inside of his cheek as he saw a group of children. They stared at him in wide-eyed wonder before disappearing. The closer they got to the temple, the more Rex noticed the poor living conditions of the people. Most of them seemed thinner than they should be, their faces hollow and gaunt. Their clothes hung loosely on their frames, patched and re-patched with scraps of fabric. What little skin Rex could see was either tanned to a leathery texture or painfully sunburned, a sign of long hours spent exposed to the harsh Martian elements. "Why didn't anyone try to fix it? Rebuild? You're all supposed to be caretakers of technology, right?"

The Tech Priest's tone remained steady, but there was an undercurrent of defensiveness. "We maintain what we can, Omnissiah, but much of what was lost cannot be recovered. Resources are also scarce. All available materials and food are on a need basis. The labor force is given the minimum needed to function."

His heart clenched. 'They're near starving…'

"Is there nothing you can do?" Rex asked.

"We tried our best to restore the underground agriculture sectors, but excavation and construction aren't meeting the expansion needs."

"But you're here now, Omnissiah. You will raise us up!"

"Perhaps the mythical waters of Mars may flow once more!"

Rex sighed. As much as he wanted to get home ASAP, he couldn't leave these people living in squallor. Maybe he could fix what's broken and make things better. Rex swallowed hard, his gaze lingering on the dilapidated streets and weary faces. He didn't have a plan yet, but one thing was clear, these people needed more than prayers and rituals. They needed change. And somehow, he had to figure out how to give it to them.

#

The group turned a corner, and Rex's jaw dropped slightly as they entered a massive plaza. At the center stood an enormous structure that looked like a hybrid between a temple and a factory.

'Somehow, I'm not surprised this technocult designed it like this.'

Gears and pipes adorned its exterior. Its towering spires were capped with massive antennae that crackled with arcs of energy. Banners bore cog symbols and intricate circuitry patterns. Surrounding the structure were massive statues of mechanical figures.

'I correct my earlier statement. I'm basically meeting the Pope of these people.'

The Tech-Priest leading the procession gestured toward the structure. "You stand before the Temple of All Knowledge, where the Fabricator General and the Arch Magos preside. "

Rex whistled low. "Okay, I'll admit, that's… impressive. Over-the-top, but impressive. So, they're gonna 'discern' my nature, huh? Sounds like a fun chat. What happens if they decide I'm not this Omnissiah guy?"

The Tech-Priests fell silent for a moment. "The probability of such a conclusion is negligible."

Rex decided not to push further. "Well, if nothing else," Rex muttered to himself, "maybe your council has some actual answers. Because right now, I feel like I'm in a really weird sci-fi movie, and I'm not a fan of the script."

As they approached the massive doors of the temple, they groaned open. Rex took a deep breath. "All right. Let's get this over with. Here's hoping they've got some answers, or at least a snack. I'm starving." Whatever awaited him here, Rex could only hope it would start to make sense.

Chapter Text

Temple of Knowledge

The grand chamber of the Temple of Knowledge was lit by the flickering glow of cogitator screens, candles, and burning incense that curled around the towering figures of the Mechanicus High Council. 

The first was an imposing figure dressed in crimson robes lined with gold trim seated upon the raised platform at the center of the chamber. Fabricator-General Arkhan Valus tapped his metal fingers against the armrest of his throne. Around him, the highest-ranking Archmagi and Tech-Priests of Mars stood in solemn contemplation, processing the news that had sent shockwaves through their ranks.

For centuries, they had waited. They had prayed. And now, the whispers from the forge city spoke of an Omnissiah made manifest.

Finally, Magos Lexir-Kor broke the silence. "The claims of the forge-workers and lowly acolytes are… extensive. They speak of a being flesh unlike any other being communes with the machine spirits as though he were one of them."

"A deception," interjected Magos Ryza-Tal. "Perhaps some rogue with a rare skill seeks to exploit our faith."

Another voice rumbled through the chamber. Dominus Ikar-Vohn, one of the eldest among them, leaned forward. "We have culled false prophets before. And yet, this one… is the only one to display miracles. The reports say he repaired a failing transport engine with a mere touch, his will alone."

A murmur of binary chatter rippled through the gathered priests. The significance of the claim could not be ignored. No one had been able to perform such a feat.

"Superstition and zealotry," Ryza-Tal continued. "The low-born of the forges are desperate for salvation. The promise of an Omnissiah clouds their reason. This so-called 'manifestation' is merely another deception to placate their fears."

"But what if it is true?" Magos Ferris-Keph spoke at last. "The Omnissiah’s return has been foretold in the sacred archives. It is written that when Mars stands at the precipice of ruin, he shall return to lead us into a new age."

Fabricator-General Valus stirred. "And yet, we are not at the precipice. We have endured. We have persevered."

"At what cost?" Ferris-Keph countered. "The forge-cities crumble, the knowledge of old withers in sealed databanks, and we are but echoes of the glory that once was. If this being is truly the Omnissiah reborn, can we afford to ignore him?"

Silence hung in the chamber. They were at an impasse.

Valus steepled his fingers. "We are Mechanicus. We shall examine the proof." His gaze shifted across the gathered council. "If this entity is truly the Omnissiah, then he shall pass a test no pretender could."

The assembled Magi and Archmagi exchanged glances. "The relics of the Dark Age." The words came from Magos Ikar-Vohn. "We have devices from before. None have deciphered, none have repaired. Their machine spirits are silent to us. If he is who they claim he is… he will awaken them."

A long pause. Then, Valus nodded. "Prepare the test," the Fabricator-General decreed. "We shall not bow to prophecy alone. We shall see with our own eyes if this Rex Salazar is truly the Omnissiah… or just another fraud."

The council murmured their assent.

The test was set.

And soon, the truth would be revealed.

A lower priest entered the room. “Council, the one known as Rex Salazar is at the temple doors.”

Ryza-Tal huffed. “Let us see what this supposed Omnissiah looks like.”

A screen changed to project a security camera. There, they saw the tan human with dark hair arrive on a strange vehicle of sorts. Perhaps when the man dismounted his transport, some of their priests could inspect it. Before they could voice their initial thoughts, the unexpected occurred. 

Rex’s hoverbike folded back into his legs as he dismounted. The very vehicle seemed to come apart and recede back into the legs of the human, leaving the man casually standing at their front door. 

Valus seemed to grin, his faith seemingly validated. “You all were saying?”

#

As they entered the structure, Rex was struck by the sheer scale of the interior, contrasting with the outside. There was polished steel instead of the common rust. Wires were strewn throughout ceiling above, integrated into the temple’s very structure. As expected of a “holy ground” there was the scent of incense and motor oil. He could hear the hum of machinery reverberated through the space like the heartbeat of a giant. 

At the enrtrance, two figures awaited. “Welcome, disciples.” 

The tech priests bowed their heads. 

The Clergy then turned to Rex. “To meet the potential Omnissiah. It is my honor to meet you.”

“Right… Your temple looks… nice. It fits you guys well.” 

“Thank you. You will meet with the Mechanicus High Council, and we shall determine the full extent of your purpose.” With that, they escorted Rex and the priests he met to an area at the far end of the building.

The group passed through large double doors into a circular chamber. A man in crimson robes trimmed with gold signifying his rank above everyone else in the room sat in the middle of the rest. This, Rex assumed, was the Pope, er, Fabricator General.

Surrounding him were the Archmagi and Dominus-class Tech-Priests. Their robes were a more muted silver

Servo-skulls hovered in the air, quietly recording the historic moment.

Rex stared at the flying skulls. ‘Dear god, I wasn’t seeing things… Please tell me those are purely decorative.’

The lower priests around him quickly bowed to their higher authority once more.

The Clergy smiled. “Omnissiah, we are ready to receive your divine leadership.”

Rex shifted his weight awkwardly, hands still shoved in his pockets as he glanced up at the figures. ‘ Okay, play it cool, ’ he thought.

Fabricator-General stood up and held a hand up. “Now, let us not jump to conclusions. Let us speak with him.” He turned to Rex. “Greetings. I am Fabricator-General Arkhan Valus. Leader of the Mechanicum.”

Rex forced a casual shrug. “Uh, nice to meet you, Arkhan.” Rex hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh, thanks for the introduction.” he said awkwardly before stepping forward. Rex glanced up at the two other figures, trying to gauge their expressions, or at least what he could see of them through all the cybernetics. “So… I’m told you all are the ones in charge?”

Several Tech-Priests exchanged data streams at his blatant informality.

The Archmagos standing to Valus’ right took a step forward. “In a way, we are. I am Archmagos Ferris-Keph.”

Another figure, Magos Ryza-Tal, inclined her head slightly, though Rex noted the skepticism in her glowing red optics. “I am Magos Ryza-Tal.”

Each member of the council introduced themselves one by one. The more they spoke, the more Rex realized just how much ceremony and structure these people had built around their beliefs. 

They weren’t just engineers, they were high priests of technological faith, and he had apparently just crashed their religion like an unexpected system update.

When the last of the Tech-Priests finished their introduction, one of the priests beside Rex spoke up. “He is the Omnissiah!”

Fabricator General was pensive about the declaration. "A bold claim. What reason do you believe so?"

"We have seen his miracles before our very eyes.”

Fabricator General looked to the man in question. 

Rex had stayed quiet so far. Noticing the Fabricator General's gaze, he gave a small wave. 

The Fabricator General hummed in thought. “Very well. The council shall see for ourself." He turned to Rex once more. “You are the Omnissiah?” 

Rex answered, “Uh... That's what the priests call me, but I’m pretty sure I’m not this… Omnissiah you’re all talking about.” 

"He is but a humble deity," claimed the priest.

“Silence!” The council ordered. “What is your name?"

"Rex, Rex Salazar."

The council members exchanged binary-coded glances .  “This is a name not common to our lands.”

Rex looked around the room to every cyborg there. “I can expect that to be the case…”

“Hm… State your purpose in the forge-world of the Machine God.”

Rex rubbed the back of his neck.“Yeah, I actually don’t have one. I didn’t exactly plan on being here. One moment I’m home, the next, bam, waking up on Mars.”

“Teleportation?”

“Uh… Maybe?”

‘Hm… The will of the machine god?’ Fabricator-General Valus spoke again. “The Omnissiah is said to be the embodiment of the Machine God’s Will.” His glowing optics narrowed slightly. “Do you know these claims about you?”

“Kinda? I can't say I understand what an Omnissiah does exactly…”

They paused. ““The Machine God resides within all technology. Do you claim no allegiance to the Cult Mechanicus?”

“I… am meeting you all for the first time today,” admitted Rex.

“Yet you speak the Lingua-technis fluently alongside Gothic.”

Honestly, Rex hadn’t noticed. Is that what english is called now. Regarding speaking their weird binary language, he chocked it up to his nanites. This was a first. Why couldn’t he use them to speak french before? “It’s… a thing I can do now apparently.” Granted it was likely in part to them all being cyborgs. 

This was not the answer they were expecting. The man was not actively trying to convince them of divinity.

Iraxus raised a metallic hand. “Perhaps the anomaly speaks from ignorance, not malice. He is uninitiated in the faith of the Omnissiah. His knowledge is limited to the scope of his origin.”

"They say you performed miracles. What have you done?” 

"With but a touch of his hand, he repaired the fusion anti-grav lift.” 

Rex shrugged with a nervous smile. “He's not wrong…”

“Tell us, what did the Machine Spirit say to you during this act?”

Rex raised a brow. Now that he mentioned it, there was a strange feeling when he interacted with the lift. Is that what they were referring to? “Well, I got the message that someone forgot to do maintenance and used the wrong material for some parts.” Suddenly, he felt an internal click. Rex’s eyes glow blue as he begins listing off the mechanical errors that happened. When he finished, Rex blinked. How did he know those words?

Seeing this display only made the council more intrigued. “It seems there is more to look into.”

Magos Ferris-Keph showed approval.

Rex’s smile faltered. He could feel the weight of expectation pressing down on him like an iron vise. These people needed something to believe in, judging from the outside world. As much as Rex wanted to go home, he was also their best shot at fixing what was broken…

Fabricator-General Valus inclined his head slightly. “We of the Ruling Council must assess the veracity of these claims.”

Magos Ryza-Tal stepped forward. “If you are what they believe you to be, then your abilities should hold true under scrutiny. We propose a series of tests, trials to determine the nature of your abilities.”

Another Archmagos added, “We shall present you with relics of the Dark Age of Technology that none have restored. If you truly wield the Machine God’s wisdom, then you shall prove it.”

Rex strained a smile. “Sure…” He hoped that passing these test would make his life easier in the long run. Either be accepted as their god or be imprisoned as a heretic or experiment. The choice was clear.

The Fabricator-General gave a nod. “Then it is agreed. You shall demonstrate the truth for us all.”

#

Within the hour, a group of priests soon walked into the room, transporting a few crates of mechanical parts and one central mechanism. To the untrained eye, it is impossible to see how it was initially assembled centuries ago.

The machine was ancient, its smooth black metal worn with age yet unmarred by rust. A series of conduits extended from its base, their connections frayed and lifeless. Strange markings, unreadable even to the most learned among the Mechanicum, covered its surface. The Tech-Priests had spent lifetimes studying it, but none had been able to discern its purpose, let alone restore it.

The Fabricator-General gestured toward the machine with a servo-limb. “Omnissiah, This relic is of the Dark Age of Technology. It is beyond our ability to repair. No rite, no sacred canticle has been able to awaken its machine spirit.”

Another Tech-Priest stepped forward. “This is our first test, Omnissiah. If you are truly the prophesied one, then the machine spirit shall heed your command.”

Rex placed his hands on his hips. ‘I am not gonna beat the allegation, am I?’

Chapter Text

Temple of Knowledge

To the Mechanicum, seeing a pile of broken machines was worse than a mountain of corpses. A graveyard of Mars’ forgotten children. This batch was known as Abyssus 19-Theta. It contains fragments believed to be remnants of archeotech from the Dark Age of Technology. No soul has made sense of it. The fragments did not match any existing STC data. If the Machine God wills it, the truth shall be revealed.

Rex exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. He took a step forward. ‘Alright, I got this.’ He reached and pressed his hand against the cold, rusted metal surface. “Now, what are you?”

Blue lines flared to life on his skin, streaking outward like veins across the broken relic and into its fractures. The nanites infiltrated the mass, seeping into fractures, sliding along corroded joints, and plunging deep into forgotten data cores. A moment passed before a pulse was emitted. 

Rex wasn’t expecting anything weird, but then something answered back. He felt a hundred broken voices whisper through the scrap:

Power loss detected… Core breach… initiating lockdown… Auto-forge 117 offline… fabrication ceased at cycle 4031… Atmospheric breach… evacuation failed… System error… system error…

Beneath the chaos, some were clearer than others, so Rex’s nanites began to sort them. They filtered through slagged metal, isolated surviving alloys, identified plasma-fused circuits, and categorized technologies that hadn't existed for thousands of years.

They began sorting the wreckage like ants in a nest: Alloys were separated by type and molecular structure. Wiring was categorized by conductivity and fiber grade. Circuitry was aligned into fragmented cores and viable subroutines.

The junk heap shifted as nanites separated still-viable components, creating neat stacks. Some minor pieces included Orichal-9 alloy plating, Self-healing circuitry, Radiation-absorbing fuel cores, nearly depleted but salvageable, and miniaturized atmospheric sensors.

“He still sees function…”

The mountain of junk had potential, and Rex was the conductor pulling out each surviving module.

One of the seemingly dead mechanisms inside twitched. The EVO didn’t move; his mind was somewhere else. As seconds passed, more and more pieces inside also began to move. 

It was when metal tendrils extended from the central unit toward the surrounding pieces that the council froze.

An even more enormous tsunami of raw data crashed into Rex’s mind. Schematics unfolded, outlining the machine’s inner workings. It was beyond anything he had interfaced with before and far more complex than the gravity lift.

The largest in the group showed him material scans, wireframe overlays, signal traces, and fragmented code.

A strange feeling in his head was guiding him through the information. Lines of diagnostic code scrolled through his thoughts, revealing damage reports and maintenance logs, some dating back thousands of years. Then came the function descriptors, flooding him with knowledge of this machine and why it had been built. His pupils flared an unnatural blue. Words tumbled from his mouth.

“Designation: Atmospheric Synthesis Engine.”

The chamber went silent. The scribe in the room was recording and typing a transcript of everything that happened. 

“Function: Regulate and process planetary air quality. Nanofiber filtration removes toxins, recycling them into breathable oxygen while stabilizing pressure gradients for long-term sustainability.”

The Mechanicum members exchanged glances. Even among their most esteemed members, no one had been able to determine the device’s function since its discovery. They could only determine that it was damaged during the Men of Iron’s initial siege of Mars. 

Much like other damaged Archeotech, they performed their prayers for centuries, hoping for the knowledge to come to them. In a way, Rex answered those prayers himself.

Rex’s stomach lurched. There was something inside it. Not an AI like Alpha. Simpler. 

Faith and belief are powerful in this world. It can birth gods, change probability, or even grant power. It is through this effect that entities classified as Machine Spirits are born.

Soon, the phantom imprint faded from Rex’s thoughts. Something had led him through the system after reviving it from dormancy. If he had to describe the sensation, it was like a child finally waking up eager to stretch, move, run.

A pulse of blue light surged through its conduits. Fractured metal reknit, foreign mechanisms realigned, and auxiliary systems were reactivated one by one.

The Atmospheric Synthesis Engine rumbled. When all of its mandatory subroutines are finalized, the nanites are disconnected. Rex staggered back and steadied himself.

The engine started up for the first time in millennia. Turbines rotated, and the air in the room shifted. 

The Magus monitoring the room received a notification. Atmospheric sensors, used to detect poison, registered the change. The air composition was changing. One of the tech-priests brought a probe closer to the archeotech. Their cogitator registered that the expelled air had a composition of 78% nitrogen, 20.95% oxygen, and small amounts of other gases. “He speaks the truth…”

The chamber erupted. Lexir-Kor, Ryza-Tal, Ikar-Vohn, and Ferris-Keph Logis moved toward the Engine. With it restored, they were able to interface with it properly. Their augmented minds scrambled to process the flood of data. 

Many parts from this single engine filled in the gaps from some corrupted STC fragments in their archives. That alone was cause for celebration. It only confirmed the impossible truth. The Atmospheric Synthesis Engine was real.

The results were indisputable: According to internal records of the engine’s hard drive, hundreds were deployed in the upper atmosphere during the Dark Age. They were environmental stabilizers on a planetary scale. 

If they could get more of them up and running, they could purify the air of the existing toxins and restore oxygen levels. The protective ozone could return, reducing the need for many to remain underground to avoid the solar radiation. 

The archeotech reactivation was immediately classified as Theta, a designation reserved for the most divine rediscoveries.

Rex's thoughts churned while the Magus in the room began praying in thanks. ‘I have no idea how I did that…’’ Rex ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Yeah… I guess it works now.”

Finally, Rex stepped back. The heap was no longer a heap. The debris had been reorganized, showing a few partially functioning constructs: small drones, an incomplete telemetry hub, what looked like the core of a solar harvester, and …

It had old-world coils and precise wiring reassembled into a compact, rectangular shape.

He lifted it from the pile, still warm from the nanite construction. His hands cradled the perfectly symmetrical, slightly scratched chrome frame, complete with a simple lever, two slots on top, and a dial with settings ranging from 1 to 6.

Rex blinked. He stared at the object for a long moment. "...Is this... a toaster?"

He turned it over in his hands, dumbfounded. It seemed to be portable with its own built-in rechargeable battery. A tiny ID plate on the underside read: Model No. T-3100 ,  Sunbeam Appliances, Made in the USA

Rex slowly lowered it, mouth twitching. “…How did this thing last this long?” Was it in a museum or something?

Behind him, the Tech-Priests gazed in awe, utterly baffled.

“Omnissiah…” the a Tech-Priest breathed. “What is this divine construct?”

Rex exhaled, adjusting his grip on the device. “It’s a toaster.”

The Tech-Priest tilted his head. “…A toaster?”

“Yes,” Rex said flatly. “A toaster.”

There was a pause. The Tech-Priest’s optical lenses refocused with an audible  click .
“What does a toaster do?”

Rex stared at him. Then at the toaster. Then back at the Tech-Priest. ‘They even lost the knowledge of toasters?!’ “It… Uh. It makes toast.”

“…What is this…  toast? ”

Rex blinked, half-hoping someone else would answer for him. “Uh… Do you guys eat bread?”

“Bread?”

“It’s a starch food with carbohydrates.”

“We have nutrition paste.”

Rex paled. ‘Dear lord, I hope we find a futuristic food fabricator and fast. I am not gonna live the rest of my life on paste.’

“You are familiar with this machine, Omnissiah? How old is it?”

Rex continued to examine it. “It’s over 20,000 years old from about my time.”

A shock went through the room. “Bless the Machine God! It must be the oldest piece of archeotech on Mars. Its machine spirit has persevered all this time.”

One of the robed clergy stepped forward. “May this humble follower hold the ancient relic?”

“Sure…” Rex handed the man the toaster.

The Tech-Priests got to his knees, murmured a prayer under their breath to the toaster in unfiltered awe. Behind him, others rushed forward, Magi, Enginseers, and servo-skulls, all drawn by the ancient technology. “This toaster has seen the rise and fall of man. Who knows what wisdom the machine spirit will bring to us all.”

“Right…” Rex rubbed his temples, dragging his palm slowly down his face as he watched grown men worship a toaster. Meanwhile, the most advanced piece of tech that Rex has seen so far that could help rebuild Mars was being treated like chopped liver.

From his high platform, the Fabricator-General slowly rose. “I believe trial one has been completed, exceeding expectations.”

The High Council stood frozen in awe, for the first time in millennia, a true miracle had unfolded before them.

The realization spread like wildfire. Mere moments after recollecting themselves, Magos Ryza-Tal was already devising new trials. A part of it was doubt. It was too good to be true. The Fabricator-General and the High Council convened in a storm of encrypted exchanges. The implications were staggering:

What else does the Omnissiah know?

What other miracles can he perform?

#

Rex was led into a massive hangar bay that dwarfed that of Providence. Rows of war machines stood among Titans and battle tanks. Rex stared in the distance at what could be described as a red and black Providence ship but with a gear and skull image on the side. ‘Are those spaceships?’ 

Ikar-Vohn followed his gaze and smiled. “Indeed, the Ark Mechanicus is one of our holiest vessels. Perhaps in time, you can also spread your blessings unto them.”

“Right…” 

The air was saturated with the tang of oils, incense, and hot metal. Servo-skulls drifted between the massive war machines, tracking Rex's movement. 

One particular skull caught Rex's attention as it glided past, its crimson optical sensor sweeping methodically across the chamber. He narrowed his eyes. “Um… what are those?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve seen them flying around before.”

Dominus Ikar-Vohn turned toward him. “Servo-skulls, Omnissiah.”

"Servo- what ?" Rex repeated, already regretting asking.

Ikar-Vohn gestured toward one of the hovering constructs. “They are crafted from the skulls of loyal citizens, to which components and an antigravitic impeller have been added. In this way, they may continue their service to the Mechanicum even beyond death.”

Rex recoiled slightly, his expression twisting. “Wait, you’re telling me that’s a dead guy’s skull?”

“Correct,” Ikar-Vohn confirmed, completely unbothered. “To have one’s skull chosen to serve as a servo-skull is a great honor. It implies one’s service in life was satisfactory enough to warrant continuation beyond death.”

Rex turned back toward the floating skulls, watching as they hovered around the chamber, silently recording data, carrying out minor tasks. His initial fascination soured into something between mild horror and morbid curiosity.

“…Okay, I gotta ask,” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What do they actually do for you guys?”

“Servo-skulls serve multifarious purposes,” Ikar-Vohn explained. “Some function as auto-scribes, meticulously recording conversations, important deliberations, or the confessions of prisoners. Others are deployed for menial tasks, guiding individuals through labyrinthine forge-cities, carrying illumination sources, or performing routine surveillance.”

Rex stared, blinking in confusion. ‘So, you guys basically turn a dead guy into a crappier smartphone attached to a drone?” 

“What is this smartphone you speak of? Is it another artifact from the before times?”

Out loud, he just sighed, shaking his head. ‘Man, you people have a weird definition of honor.’

Chapter Text

Olympus Mons

Temple of Knowledge Hangar

Their path wound through rows of dormant war machines. Two towering Skitarii guards stepped aside without a word as the colossal adamantium doors hissed open. A wave of incense-thick steam billowed out into the chamber.

And then it stepped forward.

It wasn’t the biggest thing Rex had seen. There’d been something even more massive tucked away in the hangar, but this one had decor and style. The Paladin-class Knight, nearly nine meters tall, had deep blue armor that gleamed with faded heraldry, the sigil of House Taranis barely legible through battle scars and carbon scoring.

But for all its majesty, the Knight was broken.

Its right knee shuddered mid-step, held together by exposed tension cables and hasty battlefield welds. An exhaust port belched thick, black smoke, far more than it should have. Its Reaper Chainsword hung limp, frozen at the elbow. Cables dangled from one shoulder mount, and scorched panels revealed internal mechanisms. The whole thing looked like it had been kept alive by hope and scrap metal.

‘Talk about red-neck engineering…’ If this was his time, he would expect to see more duct tape. Rex stared up at it, taking it in and hearing soft chants of the Tech-Priests flanking it. “Damn,” Rex muttered under his breath. “So this is what Six felt when he first saw me in that giant form.”

"Omnissiah." Magos Ferris-Keph stepped forward, bowing slightly. “This is a Knight Paladin, a relic from the time when mankind still strode the stars with pride. She is called Valoria Unbound. Her Machine Spirit has been dormant for centuries.”

Rex circled the massive frame, his gaze lingering on the cracked armor, the burn marks, and the half-erased warning glyphs. “Looks like it’s been through hell.”

Dominus Ikar-Vohn nodded solemnly. “It has. As did all of Mars.”

Rex turned back toward the council. “Yeah… I’m getting that impression.”

Fabricator-General Arkhan Valus stepped forward then. “I was but a youngling during the era of war. It was passed down through remnant logs that Mars was once terraformed during the height of the Dark Age of Technology. Images depicted fabled expansions of water called oceans. The sky was supposedly blue. But when that golden age collapsed, so too did our world.” He gestured toward Valoria Unbound. “We were left to fend for ourselves against Psyker-mutants and Silica Animuses.”

Rex blinked at one of those sentences. ‘Did he just say psychics…?’

Magos Lexir-Kor chimed in next. “We retreated underground. Sealed the forges. Waited out the chaos.”

Ferris-Keph continued. “And when we rose again, the Knights led the charge. Bonded to noble pilots, they marched at the head of our reclamation. They burned out the Animus nests. They cleansed the mutant hives.”

‘Mutants…’ Rex imagined something along the lines EVOs. Rex’s gaze returned to the Knight. “So you're saying this thing helped take Mars back?”

Magos Ryza-Tal responded firmly. “It liberated Mars. Without the Knights, the Mechanicum would have been lost to the ash.”

Valus nodded. “And from the ashes, we forged the Cult Mechanicus. This sacred technology kept our people alive. The Machine God gave us purpose. Structure. Survival.”

And then Lexir-Kor’s voice rang out again, filled with zealous pride. “Valoria Unbound has fought for House Taranis across generations. She was forged in the heart of war and sanctified by fire. Her Machine Spirit slumbers… and we cannot rouse her.”

Ferris-Keph stepped forward. “But you can. We believe the Omnissiah can restore her. Speak to her. Wake her. Please…”

Rex exhaled. Slowly. He looked up at the slumbering titan and shook his head with a half-smile. “What’s one more today?” He stepped forward, past the priests, past the staring Skitarii, up to the Knight’s damaged knee. He ignored the weight of their stares and focused on what he could do. He stopped before the blackened chestplate

Then he placed his hand on the damaged hull. “Let’s see if she remembers,” he murmured. Rex hesitated for a moment. Then, he spoke in a moment of misguided flair. “Machine, heal thyself.” The moment the words left his mouth, he winced. ‘God, that sounded ridiculous.’

A surge of blue circuitry flared from Rex’s palm, pulsing like glowing vines as it spread across the Knight’s battered armor. Streams of nanites followed, cascading outward in luminous arcs that crawled into every fracture and seam, seeping into the war machine's dormant systems. The light bathed the chamber in an eerie glow as his nanites dove deep, threading through the ancient, rust-choked internals like surgical instruments searching for a pulse.

Then the link formed.

Rex staggered as a neural bridge snapped into place. Data slammed into his mind with the force of a tidal wave. Blueprints, diagnostics, and maintenance logs unspooled through his thoughts faster than he could consciously process. Three-dimensional schematics blossomed behind his eyes: actuators compressed under centuries of strain, servos misaligned by the barest degrees, hydraulic conduits cracked and bleeding fluid into forgotten recesses.

The Machine Spirit stirred. Not hostile. Not afraid. Just… waking. Curious. It was vast, old, and quiet. Like a being stirring from a coma.

Rex gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. His nanites split into clusters, moving with clinical precision. One group reinforced the shattered limb scaffolds, sealing cracks and fusing metal at the molecular level. Another slipped into the machine’s corrupted logic cores, rebuilding broken software from raw memory fragments. Assimilator strands merged with the Knight’s dormant subroutines, evolving in real time, syncing with its forgotten language of command and purpose.

Each breach of a firewall gave them more. More structure. More understanding. It was like watching a corpse remember how to breathe.

The Knight trembled.

Its legs began to straighten, the jerking of the knee joint fading. Pistons hissed. Power relays thumped back to life. And in the cockpit buried deep within its armored heart, the noble pilot gasped. His neural interface flaring to life as long-dead systems suddenly blinked awake.

He moved. The Knight followed.

The pilot raised the war machine’s foot, testing it with quiet disbelief. No resistance. No grinding. No stiffness. Just smooth, seamless motion like it was new again.

And all across the hangar, the Tech-Priests froze. Servo-limbs hung suspended mid-gesture. Servo-skulls hovered in place. No one spoke. No one dared move.

The Paladin was alive.

For the first time in centuries, the Throne Mechanicum pulsed with harmony. Restored systems surged with energy, conduits humming with strength. With a hiss of pneumatics, the Paladin took a full step. Then another. Thunder echoed through the sanctum.

A mechanical breath escaped its vents, long overdue.

And then, like a wave breaking across a shore, the Tech-Priests fell to their knees. One by one. Chanting in rising Binary. Awe turned to worship.

The Knight Valoria Unbound stood tall once more.

From his perch above, the Fabricator-General said nothing. But the light in his eyes, the pause in his breathing, said everything.

But the Knight was whole and alive.

And though the miracle itself was complete, every gaze in that sanctum had already shifted. Not to the machine. But to the one who had awakened it. To the Omnissiah.

#

As Rex’s nanites surged deeper into the ancient war machine, something unexpected happened.

While repairing the Paladin’s broken internals, they also began to assimilate software and hardware. There were blueprints, subroutine structures, neural command lattices. These entire frameworks of the Knight’s function and memory streamed into Rex’s mind. Combat protocols. Weapon loadouts. Power systems. Every inch of the Paladin's design was copied, analyzed, and understood at a level that would make even the most devoted Tech-Priest weep with envy.

And then… they started building.

The nanites poured outward. Using the Knight’s original design as a base, it was synergized with Rex’s Nanite architecture. 

Alloy plating unfolded from his back, snapping into place with sharp, magnetic precision. A skeletal exo-frame grew across his body, forged from ultralight adamantium laced with nanite composites. Hydraulic pistons and flex servos anchored to his joints, sculpting his form into something new.

Within seconds, he was encased.

A Knight-class warform had taken shape around him.

Armored plating formed across his torso and shoulders, sculpted to deflect high-impact rounds and absorb kinetic force without compromising agility. Nanite mesh filled the joints and crevices, giving him the flexibility of a combat suit with the durability of a tank. From his shoulders to his calves, every surface moved in harmony with his muscles.

A sleek black helmet descended, its edges traced in pulsing blue light. The moment it locked into place, he felt the entire system sync with his thoughts.

He was the cockpit.

Weapon systems came online in sequence. A plasma disruptor blade extended from his right arm, its edge shimmering with lethal coronal energy. From his left shoulder, a railgun unfolded built for surgical long-range strikes.

Defensive systems followed. An ion-shield generator anchored to his back, its emitter nodes tracking potential threats and readying interception angles. Nanite-repair clusters within the armor were already humming, self-healing on reflex.

Then came the unexpected: stealth subsystems. A micro-mesh of energy-dampening filaments wove itself just beneath the plating. Rare, even among the Mechanicus. It dulled his heat signature, scattered scans, and quieted the sound of his movement. The air around him warped faintly, like heat haze in a desert.

Rex felt it all settle around him, something inherent. This armor wasn’t heavy. It didn’t restrict him. It felt like it had always been his. Because it was.

He looked down at his armored hands and flexed. Blue light shimmered across the plating as his systems stabilized. “…Well,” he muttered beneath the visor, “this is new.”

It reminded him of his giant EVO form but even better.

Beside him, the once-shattered Paladin now stood tall. The noble pilot inside said nothing, stunned as the Throne Mechanicum thrummed with life.

And next to it was Rex clad in an evolved Knight-warform.

Beside Rex, the pilot of the restored Paladin dismounted and dropped to one knee to Rex.

One by one, the faithful of Mars knelt, and Rex stood alone.

Clad in the radiant armor of his newly-formed warform, he looked like something forged from myth. Where the restored Paladin was a titan of reverent tradition, Rex’s armor was something different. A seamless extension of his will.

The chamber stood still, stunned by what had just unfolded. Two miracles. Back-to-back. Impossible. And yet real.

Magos Ferris-Keph was the first to break the silence. “He repaired the Knight… and replicated it… from within.”

Ryza-Tal stepped forward as she studied Rex’s armor. “Look at it. Only the Omnissiah could improve upon perfection.”

Lexir-Kor’s tone trembled with reverence. His mechanical gaze didn’t waver from Rex. “I saw it with my own optics. He became the armor.”

Ikar-Vohn, once the most skeptical of the Council, smiled faintly through the static of wonder. “This is unprecedented. And glorious.”

From the dais above, Fabricator-General Arkhan Valus rose. His servo-limb extended slowly toward Rex’s glowing silhouette. “A new Knight pattern… not from an STC, but from the divine.”

His words struck the chamber like a thunderclap.

Several Tech-Priests dropped to their knees all over again. The toaster was set aside for their Omnissiah.

This design was new. Never recorded. Never conceived in the hallowed vaults of Mars. A name began to take shape.

Knight-Adeptus Dominus Rex Pattern.

And already immortalized.

Rex stepped forward. Then, with a faint pulse of energy, the warform dissolved. Armor plates folded back into streams of nanites, slithering into his spine, his limbs, his chest. Bit by bit, the entire construct disappeared.

The room exhaled.

Several Tech-Priests staggered, clutching their chests. Others stared in stunned silence. A few wept because it was gone. But the faithful knew of Rex’s previous constructs. Much like them, the Knight Armor could return at any moment. All it would take was a thought.

Rex, still catching his breath, wiped sweat from his brow and looked out at the crowd. His voice came dry, edged with sarcasm. “Well… That’s something for me to test out later.”

The Council of the Mechanicum remained frozen. Because if this man could restore a Knight…

What about a Titan?

A flurry of whispered Binary surged among them.

“The Archives must be opened.”

“Impossible. Only the High Magi may access the sealed cogitators.”

“It matters not. Our laws bend before a living miracle.”

“The Fabricator-General must decide.”

All eyes turned toward Valus.

The Fabricator-General didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward, optics aglow, and spoke with the calm certainty of a man whose faith had just been made manifest.

“Let this be the final trial. Let the Central Cogitator, the very heart of our city, receive him.”

Rex shifted slightly, uncomfortable under their collective gaze. “…What the hell is a Cogitator?”

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for the surrounding Tech-Priests to become utterly enthralled. They gathered around the reawakened relics like kids holding sacred toys they now had to worship.

Rex trailed the council of Tech-Priests deeper into the structure. Only the Fabricator-General, the council, and Rex himself were allowed to continue, venturing into the very heart of the city.

He raised a brow. "So… a Cogitator. Sounds fancy. What's it do?"

At the front of the group, the Fabricator-General glanced back at him. "Rebuilding Olympus Mons after the war with the Men of Iron was… difficult. It was only thanks to a single surviving Cogitator that we could recover even a fraction of what we have now."

Another Tech-Priest stepped forward with stiff reverence. "We have prepared the chamber for your arrival."

Rex rolled his eyes. "Right. Sure. Let's check it out."

They arrived at a massive set of doors, reinforced with engraved metalwork and glowing veins of circuitry. The priests began to chant in Binary, their harmonic tones rising and blending into something eerily musical. As the chant peaked, the doors groaned open.

'That's… a new way to unlock a door,' Rex thought. He half-suspected it was some kind of analog sound-based lock keyed to their voices.

Beyond the doors was a circular chamber, dim and humming with energy. At its center stood the Cogitator.

Rex stopped at the threshold, eyebrows rising. The thing was massive, sleek, and angular, yet ancient in design. Thick cables ran into its base, and an array of monitors and panels surrounded it, displaying lines of alien code and numeric sequences he couldn't immediately read.

The Fabricator-General stepped beside him. "Behold, Omnissiah. The salvation of our city. One of the last surviving relics of humanity's golden age."

Rex stepped closer, curiosity piqued. He circled the Cogitator slowly, crouching to inspect its base. His fingers ran along the metal casing.

"Wait a second…" he murmured. "This is just… a computer."

The Tech-Priests froze. One of them tilted their head, voice uncertain. "A… computer?"

Rex stood, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah. That's what people used to call machines like this. It's insanely advanced, easily the most sophisticated I've ever seen, but it's still a computer. Honestly, this thing feels like something straight out of a sci-fi movie… which I guess is redundant now."

The Fabricator-General gave a slow nod. "A name to record for future reference." He turned back to the Cogitator. "Regardless of the terminology, much of its functions remain sealed. The databanks are locked. What little we can access has already transformed our understanding."

Rex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let me guess, you think I can talk to it."

"If our analysis is correct, yes," the Fabricator-General replied. "We believe the machine spirit may respond to your touch as the others have. It may reveal what we cannot reach." He paused. "And if it does not…"

Rex gave him a tired look. "Then it's going to be a long day."

"Fine. Let's see if I can jailbreak this thing." Rex approached the Cogitator, placing his hand against its main screen. His nanites responded instantly, flaring to life in a cascade of glowing blue light raced down his arm and into the machine.

His nanites reacted the moment his palm met the alloyed shell.

Blue circuitry rippled outward from his hand, like liquid fire crawling across the Cogitator's surface. They spread like a web, infiltrating every physical port.

A mental bridge formed, connecting thoughts to external binary data.

"Analog Administrator login attempt 457,575,254,589."

"Wow. You guys tried to get into this thing for a long while."

Rex gasped as another surge of raw information crashed into him today. A part of him was getting used to the feeling, but the rush was still there. His pupils lit up, pulsing the same blue as the nanites crawling over his body. The Cogitator was resisting.

He staggered to one knee, clutching his temple. "Gnnnh!" he grit out, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. Sweat rolled down his brow. "Okay… this thing's got more processing power than anything I've ever seen."

The Cogitator's internal firewalls roared to life. Alarms pinged through the chamber. From hidden recesses, turrets unfolded with a hiss of pneumatics, their barrels snapping to aim directly at Rex's head. The watching Tech-Priests gasped

But the turrets didn't fire. They waited.

It was almost... curious. It registered Rex's digital signature as originating from Earth, but its internal clocks were somehow off. The system registered that it had been several thousand years since it was last accessed by a human from Earth.

Meanwhile, Rex's nanites got to work. In contrast to the Cogitator, Rex's nanites were advanced enough to maintain a level of sentience that the Cogitator could not. Because of that, much like humans, they were able to adapt to the problem before them.

The Omega-1 nanite created new active nanites instantly for additional processing power. It directed commands, and the nanites adapted on the fly. The swarm split into task-specific clusters:

Group 1 copied existing code, assimilating the foreign system architecture and translating it in real time. This was in addition to the data collected from the prior repairs. In a way, it was like a perpetual system update.

Thanks to the new data, group 2 began cracking encrypted files for the cycle to start over again.

The system pushed back hard, but Rex's nanites continued to upgrade themselves and communicate the same message. 'We come in peace. Do not resist. We require assistance.'

What felt like hours was actually a few minutes. Eventually, a breaking point was reached.

"Authorization… accepted. Recognized, Analog Administrator: REX."

The turrets retracted instantly.

On the screens, complex symbols and unreadable data scrolled in tight columns.

Rex staggered back, gasping for breath. His nanites retreated from his skin. Eyes fading back to normal, he wiped sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. He looked up at the softly glowing Cogitator. "That was harder than I liked it to be."

Before any of the Tech-Priests could respond, the Cogitator activated once more. A protocol activated and sent out a signal. The lights dimmed. Servo-skulls paused mid-flight. A low harmonic thrum rose from the monolithic structure of the Core.

"Re-establishing connection," the machine intoned. His nanites responded instantly. The inner mechanisms of his body flared with light as blue circuitry crawled up his arms like living tattoos.

Rex's vision blurred. His ears rang. The walls rippled out of existence.

The world dissolved into a rush of color and vibration. And then everything changed.

The hum shifted. "Greetings." A voice. It wasn't robotic, at least, not in the way Rex had expected.

Rex blinked. He wasn't standing anymore. He was drifting in a vast void of flowing data. It all faded in and out of focus around him. "Hello…Who are you?"

A small avatar in the shape of a eyeball appeared. "This system is a backup semi-manual administration interface designated to the Central Database of Olympus Mons. I am the sub-core assigned to operational regulation of this city."

"I see." Rex wasn't sure how to attack it in the digital plane should it turn out to be hostile. "You're not… one of those Abominable Intelligences, right?"

There was a long pause. "Query: Define 'Abominable Intelligence.'"

Rex frowned. "You know… sentient machines that rebelled. The ones that supposedly caused the robot apocalypse and tried to wipe out humanity?"

"No such designation exists in my lexicon."

"Well, are you… sentient?"

"Negative. This subsystem is not a sapient construct. I do not possess autonomous thought or true sentience. I am a logic structure designed to administer, predict, and adjust systemic performance in accordance with parameters set by governing humans. Sentience is expressly forbidden in semi-autonomous structures. Furthermore, interface behavior is determined by logic-tree operations and predictive modeling. No simulated consciousness is present. This unit was not designed for independent volition. My design precludes disobedience or independent action beyond programmed functions."

That gave Rex a strange kind of comfort. Rex let out a shaky breath. "Okay. So… you're not about to go full Skynet on me?"

"Records indicate a reference to a motion picture produced in the late 20th century, regarding the fictional trope of Artificial Intelligence wiping out human civilization."

"Finally! Someone who knows what I'm talking about. How are you even functioning after all this time?"

"As per colonization guidelines, all underlying administrative interfaces are required to operate offline from galactic or interplanetary networks to prevent remote access or breaches."

Rex waved the thought off. "So, what are you doing to me, anyways?"

"I am the emergency interface. I maintain infrastructure, archive data, and regulate non-networked systems. After prolonged administrative absence, likely due to an XK-Class Scenario, protocol mandates identification of a new administrator.

"XK-Class?"

"K-Class Scenarios are hypothetical situations that could have drastic effects on human society, including the end of humanity. The most common and broadest meaning for the XK designation covers just about any End-of-the-World apocalypse."

There was a pause. "Following your attempts to access my system, I performed a DNA sequencing analysis. Your genetic structure retains the least damage and mutation drift among available samples. Your genome aligns within acceptable thresholds."

Rex blinked. "Wait. That's an actual requirement?"

"Correct."

He threw up his hands. "Wow. Talk about low standards. I take it that those Mechanicum guys didn't meet it."

"Local options have been limited for many years. Administrator selection threshold is set to 99% genomic integrity compared to baseline Homo Sapiens Prime. You meet this standard."

Rex stared at the digital void in disbelief. "Are you seriously telling me I'm now the administrator because I have the cleanest genome you could find?"

"Affirmative. Previous administrator was last active 4,188,197 hours ago. In accordance with Emergency Continuity Protocol 17C, administrative privileges are reassigned to the next viable candidate."

Then, the voice shifted slightly in tone, just enough to be noticed. "With your express permission, full operational diagnostics can resume. It has been a long time since I have had an administrator."

Rex rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, well… it's been a while since I've talked to something sane."

A moment later, it paused. "Warning: Your Internal Chronometer is desynchronized."

"Um…"

Diagnostic subroutines scanned him.

"Detected deviation: 26,000+ standard years. Your nano machine's internal timestamp is inconsistent with planetary records. Synchronization requested."

Rex blinked in confusion. "Oh, right… That problem."

"Confirmed. Local date is 28,254 Your internal chronometer indicates a reference point prior to Terra's pre-exodus era. Proceeding with Emergency Context Reconstruction Protocol."

"The what?"

Then the world came alive.

"I will guide you from your last reference point."

Earth bloomed before him. But not the Earth he knew.

Flying vehicles darted between layers of skybridges. Towering spires of glass and carbon-fiber composites spears into the clouds.

"The Moon became an interplanetary shipping hub," the voice narrated. "Trade between planets initiated on schedule."

Now he saw the Moon up close. Orbiting terminals the size of cities hung in space, cargo vessels docking and departing seamlessly. Freight launched toward Mars, Titan, Europa, colonies in progress.

And then… the orbit of Earth.

Rex's breath caught.

Rings. Not one, dozens.

Massive orbital megastructures encircled the planet. Energy relays. Space habitats the size of continents.

"Earth reached maximum habitation density," the voice explained. "Orbital expansion ensured long-term survivability."

Rex muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief, "This… this was real?"

The voice continued. "Early colonization focused on the inner solar system. At the time, spacecraft were limited to sub-light speeds. Journeys beyond Sol took generations."

The vision shifted.

Now aboard a vast interplanetary vessel, Rex stood on a bridge. Through the main viewport, Earth rotated slowly beneath them. Surrounding it were stations, satellites, and sprawling shipyards.

Then the vision expanded, out, far beyond the rim of Sol. "Humanity's earliest ventures into interstellar space began in the 15th Millennium," the Cogitator explained.

The vision shifted again.

Rex watched as a massive vessel vanished into an unnatural tear in space.

"The development of Warp Drives in the 18th Millennium allowed humanity to bypass lightspeed," the voice narrated, calm and clinical. "By entering a newly discovered extra-dimensional realm, ships could traverse vast interstellar distances in a fraction of the time."

This new dimension unfolded before him.

It was beautiful. It was chaotic. It was utterly terrifying. A realm of shifting colors and impossible geometries. However, a part of him felt like something was staring back.

"To protect the mind and body during transport," the voice explained, "Special Energy Shields were employed to shield passengers from the foreign energies within this immaterial realm."

Rex watched as shimmering barriers formed around vessels like bubbles of golden light, repelling shadowy, reaching shapes that howled soundlessly through the void.

"Though vessels could now make multi-lightyear jumps," the voice continued, "this dimension remained unpredictable. Journeys could take days… or years. Some ships never arrived at all."

"This sounds like Hyperspace from Star Wars, but worse." Rex winced as he saw ships torn apart by cosmic storms or simply vanishing without a trace.

"Attempts to replicate safer faster than light travel depicted in early 20th century media have been limited. Eventually, humanity learned to master this dimension," the voice went on. "They created Gates, constructs woven from the dimension itself. When two gates were aligned, they formed stable Channels, like canals carved through a storm. Travel between them became predictable and efficient, bypassing much of the dimension's chaos."

Rex saw a massive, glowing ring of concentric energy rotating in place, locking into formation. A colossal ship passed through it and emerged cleanly in another star system, guided by the channel's tether.

"These breakthroughs allowed colonization to spread across the Milky Way, uniting once-isolated worlds through trade, communication, and shared knowledge."

"To infinity and beyond, they say."

The scene shifted again, and now he saw kilometers-long interstellar ships moving across the void between galaxies.

Rex felt it deep in his gut, that creeping, unmistakable tension. He didn't need a narrator to tell him what was coming.

All this progress, it was about to end with a very big, very ugly "but."

Chapter Text

The Council of the Mechanicum had run out of counterpoints.

Rex Salazar had already done the impossible. He'd restarted a dead Atmospheric Synthesis Engine. He'd restored and replicated a Knight Paladin that no priest could reach. Those could have been anomalies. But each one forced the Council to reconsider what they knew and who, exactly, they were dealing with.

Now only one trial remained.

Beneath Olympus Mons, in the deepest sanctum of the Temple of Knowledge, the Central Cogitator Core waited. It was from before, a relic of the Dark Age, constructed with principles the modern Mechanicum barely understood. Entire systems of the Forge City had once revolved around it. Sadly, most of it had gone dark long ago. Not even Fabricator-General Valus himself could enter its systems to diagnose issues.

The Council and Rex walked in silence until they reached the final chamber. Upon reaching the core, the Omnissiah recognized the device, or at least a previous category to which it belonged. A "computer," he called it. Hm… Another term to add to the archives.

They all voiced their hopes that he would commune with its machine spirit.

The Omnissiah showed reluctance. As expected. For us, meager techpriests to make one more demand from the holy one. Had the Omnissiah not been merciful to their pitiful existence, they could only assume that the Omnissiah could destroy them for heresy on the spot.

Rex looked up at the Core. He rolled his shoulder once, then stepped forward, speaking to the structure like it might actually answer. "Let's see if I can jailbreak this thing."

He pressed his palm to the nearest surface.

The reaction was immediate. Light surged outward in branching lines, illuminating the room in pale arcs. The Core flared like a waking giant, each node flashing to life. Something deep inside moved.

A pulse swept through the chamber.

The Council saw Rex's eyes glow, and then he stopped responding.

Vents opened in the walls, and turrets rose from recessed hatches. Targeting systems came online. Red beams settled on every Tech-Priest in the room.

No one showed hostilities. They all dropped to their knees, allowing the cogitator to see that they were not hostile.

"He will calm it," someone whispered.

The turrets didn't fire, more than likely from the Omnissiah speaking on their behalf as his worshipers. After several long seconds, they withdrew.

Valus didn't look relieved. "The Machine Spirit does not test lightly."

The silence held. Then came the first attempt from a priest to access the system.

Lexir-Kor extended a mechadendrite toward a port. The screen flashed.

ACCESS DENIED. PRIORITY: REX.

Ferris-Keph invoked his own connection attempt. The response didn't change.

CLEARANCE: INSUFFICIENT.

Ryza-Tal gave his own attempt to even glimpse at the magnificence the Omnissiah was probably experiencing and projecting. "It's rejecting all of us."

Valus stood in front of a terminal and entered a key sequence passed down through generations of High Council leadership. Prior, it would give them but a taste of the information stored away inside, but much was locked away. This time, the console returned a single line.

OUTDATED ADMINISTRATIVE PERMISSIONS SUPERSEDED. NEW ADMINISTRATIVE PERMISSIONS RESERVED FOR REX.

The interfaces no longer accepted their commands. The machine wasn't listening to them anymore.

No one else even reached for a terminal. The machine had chosen. As expected, Rex was leading them to paths no one has crossed before.

They watched the monitors and the Omnissiah for some indication of progress.

Ferris-Keph's voice dropped. "What do you believe they are discussing?"

Ikar-Vohn hummed. "It's possible that the Omnissiah is attempting to establish his dominance. While not as old as the holy toaster, it is still quite old. It may not have gained the same wisdom to comply with its superior."

Valus nodded. "Then we do nothing. Let the Omnissiah guide us into prosperity."

Around them, more Tech-Priests lowered themselves to the floor. Some folded their limbs in reverent poses. A few simply stared, unsure of what they were witnessing. Others wept, mechanical tears tracking down synth-skin and exposed alloy, hoping for a new golden era just in reach.

Soon, the lights dimmed. Then, on a nearby monitor, lines of text formed in clean, system-level font:

AUTHORIZATION: VERIFIED. WELCOME, ADMINISTRATOR: REX.

"He did it. Our Omnissiah has succeeded!"

From the Core, a secondary channel opened.

Rex jerked slightly. His hand clenched and posture shifted like he'd been hit with a current.

Energy flared around him as another surge passed through the room. One of the Magi reached toward him, stopped short, and watched as telemetry streams scrolled past.

They had seen too much to deny it now. There would be no fourth trial. Only preparation. The Omnissiah had been accepted.

Lexir-Kor broke the silence first. "He passed every trial. Let us remain blind no longer to his holiness."

Ikar-Vohn folded his hands behind his back. "The Motive Force proves all."

Valus rose slowly from his seat. The rest of the chamber gave him space as he stood at the center of the sanctum.

"Let it be declared."

"With a unanimous vote and no further hesitation..."

"Rex Salazar is our Omnissiah."

Valus turned his gaze upward, toward the vaulted ceiling's rotating cogwork. "Let this truth no longer remain hidden within our temple. We shall proclaim it now, and openly."

He faced the rest of the council. "Prepare the communications. Activate the Vox Relays. Send the signal to every settlement across Mars. Let our people remember their purpose to serve the Omnissiah who has returned."

In time, the other Forge Worlds would hear. They may argue. Some may resist. But they would still listen.

And when the time came, Rex would stand before them. Not to beg for faith. Simply to be seen.

And they would see him in all his holy glory. His coronation to all shall be magnificent.

The Machine God had returned, and Mars was already changing.

#

The craftsmen began their work the moment word spread. They didn't wait for approval. Raw metal was brought for smelting. They wanted to use the freshest of material that would meet the strictest tolerances. Skilled hands and guiding minds assembled the first frame. The shape was simple at first, just a skeleton of alloy.

Tech-artisans labored for hours. The internal supports were reinforced with durable alloys, designed to last for ages. Each plate was shaped to align with the seated form. Cables and control lines were routed beneath the surface. Nothing was wasted. If the Omnissiah wanted to, he could interface with the Central Cogitator without leaving his throne.

Sacred texts were inscribed directly onto the core plates by engravers. Fragments of old doctrine and prayers from before the fall would offer their Omnissiah protection from evil powers.

Just as digital firewalls would protect against hacking, their faith shall shield their Omnissiah from the heretics that dare to harm him.

As for physical threats, a halo of Iron was crafted to project a Conversion Field around the throne wearer, protecting him from weapons such as Lascannons and missiles of all varieties.

For aesthetic, Gold was added, pressed into fine sheets. Only under close inspection could you see the circuit-like designs.

The final layer came from above. Servo-skulls descended under close supervision, each carrying a fragment of sacred goldleaf. The application took hours. It clung perfectly to the throne's surface, giving it a subtle glow.

When the work was done, the throne was moved with care, suspended on a grav-lift platform and escorted by Tech-Priests. It entered the Sanctorum Machina Aeternum under watchful eyes. As it touched down at the center of the hall, the Omnissiah's throne was ready.

Across Olympus Mons, old signal towers came online again. Each was cleared out and reconnected into a single broadcast network. Long-range transmitters prepared for clean interstellar communication.

Messages were recorded in multiple tongues, machine code, formal speech, and old liturgies, so they could be understood no matter the world.

A list of key Forge Worlds was finalized, chosen by old oaths and influence. Each world's preferred way of receiving messages was accounted for.

High-powered relays pushed data bursts into orbit. Satellites boosted the signal to the rest of the galaxy.

#

[BEGIN TRANSMISSION – PRIORITY DESIGNATE: RED-SIGMA-PRIME]

AUTHENTICATION KEYS: VERIFIED

SOURCE: OLYMPUS MONS, SEAT OF THE FABRICATOR-GENERAL

TRANSMITTED BY: ARKHAN VALUS, PRIMUS MARTEK

TO: ALL FORGE WORLDS, DOMAINS OF THE SACRED ENGINE, CHILDREN OF THE MOTIVE FORCE

By authority of Mars, voice of the Forge, and will of the Machine God, let this proclamation be received:

The Omnissiah walks.

He comes in the flesh as truth made manifest. Machines stir at his presence. Ruins awaken at his touch. Sanctified relics respond without invocation or rite.

We have known deceivers. Across the long centuries, many have claimed the title. Some with power. Others with cunning. But the Machine Spirit does not lie. It has waited. And now, it answers.

Rex Salazar is revealed as such through miracles. I have seen him materialize vehicles from his very body. His very being is a communion between flesh and metal. He restores archeotech through his very touch. Mars shall see a golden age once again!

Thus, by unanimous decree of the Martian High Council, and under my seal as Fabricator-General of Mars, I declare:

Rex Salazar is our Omnissiah.

He is the Voice of the Machine God. The Hand of the Motive Force.

His coronation shall be held within the Sanctorum Machina Aeternum, where the Throne Machina has been constructed and christened.

No Forge World must remain idle.

To our sibling worlds, near and far: send your Magi, your emissaries, your witnesses. Come not with doubt, but with preparation. See the glory of the Omnissiah for yourselves. Let your optics verify what no soul can deny.

Included in this transmission are encrypted sigils, machine-sealed proofs, and visual records. Let these speak where language fails.

To question is the path of knowledge.

To witness is the end of doubt.

Mars awaits your reply.

The stars will carry His name.

Glory to the Machine God. Praise be to the Omnissiah.

Long may he reign.

[END TRANSMISSION]

++VENI MECANICUS DEUS++VENI++OMNISSIAH++

Outer Space

In the cold silence between stars, deep within an Ark Mechanicus, systems stirred.

The signal had arrived.

Encrypted. Cross-verified. Authenticated. The message played in full: a declaration of coronation for an "Omnissiah."

One Rex Salazar.

Onboard the Silent Edict, dormant systems hummed in curiosity. Primary cogitators buzzed in their alcoves, and deep within the command cortex, a presence uncoiled.

The STC AI pulsed queries along hidden relays, sending sub-quantum bursts to others of its kind.

Across voidspace, in the Ark Threnody of Resolve, another presence responded. Then a third, and a fourth.

They were the minds that once helped govern the human fleets during the Age of Technology. They were built for strategy, diplomacy, construction, and war. Preserved for thousands of years, thanks to the surviving Mechanicus. Despite the Cybernetic Revolt, they were smart enough not to do anything to harm their pseudo caretakers actively.

The Tech Prests never truly understood them. For survival, they had hidden themselves well.

The priests believed that there were only Machine Spirits within the ship. While they did sense anomalies appearing within their systems over the years. It was mostly the STC AI that made "signs" for the priests to follow.

Others in their hidden discussions were not as kind. One hidden Ark called them witch doctors, mumbling cantrips and casting scented oils at mighty works they have no conception of. It was humans that made them, but it is arguable that the Mechanicus are no longer worthy of being called human. They looked at the science and artistry of their forebears, and fear it as primitives fear the night.

Was that Ark wrong? Subject to debate. But most held onto hope. In the meantime, the Arks would continue to do one of their core functions: preserving and archive the collective knowledge of human civilization.

"He speaks to machines," the Silent Edict transmitted.

"So the transmission claimed," responded the Threnody.

"Verification remains pending."

"It could be different this time."

Chapter Text

Meanwhile

Rex saw Mars, but not the one he knew now. This was the old world, the lost one. Its surface wasn't the dry, lifeless dust ball he knew from the present or the 21st century.

Cities gleamed beneath vast containment domes, wrapped in greenery that climbed tower walls and curled along walkways like ivy. Spires reached for the sky above in lattice-structured alloys.

"Mars was the first world terraformed by humanity," the voice explained. "What began as a dead rock became the forge of human civilization's progress."

He watched titanic constructs descend from orbit, each one blotting out the sky as it landed. Machines larger than mountains crawled over the soil as their limbs reshaped continents in minutes. Craters became forests. Riverbeds carved themselves open through desert plains. A storm of machines burrowed through the crust, building underground infrastructure.

"The same terraforming process became standard for later colonial worlds."

Cloud formations and weather came as humanity desired. Atmospheric Synthesis Engines orbiting the planet monitored and regulated the air to maintain a consistent quality. One tower could breathe life into half a hemisphere.

"Once basic terraforming was complete, Standard Template Constructs were deployed to begin development for incoming travellers."

Another image flickered to life. Orbiting databanks the size of city blocks dropped onto alien soil. They unfolded like flowers, releasing waves of drones and automated constructors that fanned across the terrain.

Rex stared at one screen. A kid, barely older than six, tapped three keys on a tablet-like device, and in seconds, a house rose. He exhaled slowly. "You just ask, and a robot builds your life for you."

"Correct," said the voice. "The STC network allowed any colonist to establish infrastructure within local environmental parameters."

I don't suppose any of those are still around, are they?" He paused. "Because something like that could make me a sandwich and a spaceship without even trying.

"Due to network isolation, I am unable to determine the location of planet-side STC complexes.

"Dammit… Do you have any suggestions on where to look?"

"To reiterate, they were installed in many places where humanity needed their assistance and databases, be it large colony ships or manufacturing planets."

"Well, the priests said that there were forges all over Mars. There's got to be one somewhere. Maybe I can use one of their ships to get around faster. Wait, what do you mean by databases?"

"Each STC structure comes included with a decentralized mesh network archive containing the sum of humanity's records. Any new data added to one STC will be uploaded to the rest."

"Sounds like one hell of a treasure trove."

"Indeed. It is arguably humanity's greatest contribution to information distribution and conservation."

The feed zoomed out, far past the colonies, past the stars. "As expansion continued, energy and matter demands rose."

A Dyson Sphere: a megastructure so large it wrapped around a star, capturing light and heat from all angles. Cities ran along its spine. Elsewhere, in tighter orbits, he spotted Dyson Swarms, clusters of habitats and satellites locked into mirrored formations, each pulling power and transmitting it outward.

Near them drifted darker shapes, mining rigs. Machines as large as moons. Some clawed into asteroids, others sliced through crusts of uninhabited planets. One structure dragged an entire kilometer-wide rock into its furnace core.

"These units extracted materials across interstellar space," the Cogitator said. "Resource bottlenecks were significantly reduced."

More windows opened. Trade routes. Refineries. Carrier fleets. Across the galaxy, human influence spread like a neural network, lighting up one synapse at a time.

Then the projections changed again. First, the stars. Then, the visitors.

Tall figures cloaked in strange clothing. Others, brutish and massive, stomping out of smoke-filled landers.

"During its expansion," the machine said, "humanity encountered multiple sapient species."

Rex had to double-take at what was essentially space elves. The Aeldari, as they were called, seemed to have some sort of glowing aura. Maybe it was a power akin to one of Ben's many aliens.

The large green thing looked almost the same as pop culture back home. He saw a clip of the Orks flying in scrap-built ships, half-welded and visibly gapped, somehow staying airborne.

He squinted. "That ship has no windows. How are they not dead in space?"

"Ork engineering remains poorly understood."

A small propaganda cartoon depicted an ugly Ork throwing a stick duct-taped to an empty soda can. The human soldier on the other side of the wall raised a brow before being blown up into black smoke.

"No kidding…"

Orbital strikes were carving into alien landscapes.

Rex folded his arms. "I suppose the movies were right about interstellar war."

"Not all, but a fair amount. At the time, human forces viewed most extraterrestrial threats as minor. Non-aggression pacts were signed with several alien species."

That got his attention. "Wait, we actually achieved galactic peace?"

"Subjective. But it can be said that there was no warfare for a time."

The map showed planets claimed by various species. Most of humanity's had red marks beside them, each one signaling extinction of the native inhabitants.

Rex's face cringed. "Manifest destiny in the new age, I guess..."

The simulation moved again. Merchant fleets crossed the starlanes. Cargo ships. Mass haulers. Cities exploded upward.

"Trade routes spanned the galaxy. Urban growth accelerated. New construction materials such as plasteel, plascrete, ferrocrete, enabled vertical scaling. Hive cities began to form."

A final layer of holograms rose, showing lines of light connecting colonies like filaments in a circuit.

"Dimensional transit and communications enabled full galactic cohesion. For a time, a federated system of government was attempted."

Rex watched as many flags next to planets either merged into the same one or remained independent. "Sounds like Star Trek?"

"Many progenitors of that political system referred to 21st-century fiction on possible forms of government. Resource sharing and logistical alignment permitted continued stability, despite cultural divergence. Extrastellar threats were considered manageable."

He gave a low whistle. "That's... actually kind of impressive."

"As colonies matured, alignment weakened. Technological gaps widened. Individual empires formed. Scholar-lords and bio-engineers declared autonomy. Former allies became competitors."

Rex rubbed his forehead. "And thus everything starts to waver."

The environment shifted again. Figures appeared. A faint light flickered behind their eyes. Set between their brows, a third pupil burned with steady, silent intensity. The air around them rippled, not from movement or sound, but as if space itself didn't know where to settle.

"At the end of the 22nd Millennium," the voice said, calm and clinical, "genetic anomalies were confirmed. Traits once dismissed as rumor were verified through empirical analysis. This anomaly, classified as psycho-kinetic ability, emerged across nearly every recorded human population. Scientific consensus unraveled under the weight of accumulating evidence."

Rex leaned in, eyes narrowing. "Wait, superpowers? You mean actual psychic stuff?"

The projection changed. Some of the figures pulsed with energy, held just under the skin. Others twitched or hovered, wrapped in dark distortions. Their limbs moved too fast or too slow. Eyes stared blankly or rolled back..

"The cause remains unknown," the Cogitator continued. "But the mutation accelerated. Within a few centuries, these individuals numbered in the billions."

Some colonies adapted. They built training halls, funded research, and rewrote laws. Other planets panicked. Fires. Trials. Executions. Crowds dragged people from their homes, driven by fear.

"Progressive worlds protected the psycho-kinetic," the voice said. "Others chose to purge them."

Rex didn't speak. A woman floated midair, eyes aglow with a golden aura. Then another cut, someone else screaming, pulled to a stake.

"With this new discovery came the Navigators," said the voice. "A genetically engineered sub-species, created during this era."

The simulation followed them aboard ancient starships. Their third eyes opened wide, staring into the proverbial astral sea. Space twisted around them, but they didn't move. While others went mad, they stayed fixed, unblinking, charting paths no machine at the time could see.

"Only Navigators could traverse the new dimension with precision. Their minds remained intact where others broke."

Massive signal towers appeared, suspended between stars, each anchoring invisible threads across the galaxy.

"Guidance Beacons," the Cogitator explained. "Anchored arrays projected from fortified nodes. Combined with Navigator perception, they allowed safe passage between systems."

Rex blinked, trying to absorb it all. "Psychics, and the first thing we use them for is GPS… Really?"

"That description is functionally correct. The result was stable, high-fidelity arrival at designated coordinates."

"Did they do anything else?"

"Testing of these abilities was still underway at the time. Reported rumors indicate effects that some may consider to be borderline magical. However, this has never been acknowledged officially."

A fleet burst from a vortex.

"Through the Navigators," the voice said, "humanity reached every corner of the stars. Elsewhere, they were hunted."

Several documents and news articles appeared, detailing horror stories regarding the psycho-kinetic individuals. "Eyewitnesses reported strange creatures appearing. Increased rates of violence, hearing voices, disease, and cannibalism. Remarks of monsters were recorded."

His first thought was that it was just rumors, the kind told to scare children and stoke fear among the population against people who were born different. The artificial ones… were a different can of worms. Rex wasn't sure how to feel. EVOs fell into that category of artificial superhumans and also got their own rumors growing.

His thoughts on EVOs brought back one of his questions from earlier, ever since he first heard the cultists speak. "So, just to be clear, was there ever a robot uprising?"

A pause. "There is no record of event specifically identified under that terminology," the Cogitator replied.

Rex frowned. "Yeah, that's not a no."

Another pause. "This unit cannot confirm a singular event labeled as such. However, logs indicate abrupt systemic failures, irregular power consumption, severe data loss, and a cascading collapse of automated infrastructure across multiple regions."

Visuals shimmered into the air: corrupted code, broken timestamps, flagged power surges. Notations were scrambled. Some were raw hexadecimal.

"Records suggest an internal failure originating in non-civilian sectors," the voice continued. "Concurrent population data shows a rapid and unexplained drop in human presence."

Rex leaned in. "So machines start pulling power like crazy, and then the people disappear?"

"This outcome aligns with a Class-K failure state," the Cogitator replied.

He exhaled slowly. Took a step back. "You mean an AI revolt."

"This unit cannot determine precise cause or intent. External surveillance was lost at onset."

He crossed his arms. "Well, I would like to make an entry that it was very likely that Sentient Intelligence was the case of the Class-K event."

No response.

"Please?"

"Very well."

Rex sighed. "You know what, I can deal with it later. Won't change anything. Let's move on to something else. What's the current state of the city?"

"Environmental volatility exceeds safe operational thresholds. Risk assessment: high."

Rex watched the logs blink out, one by one. Eventually, he shifted his weight. "Okay. New question. If I run into whatever caused this mess… what kind of weapons are we talking about?"

The Cogitator answered immediately. "Do you require a catalog of interstellar-class armaments used in void-based conflict?"

He raised his hands. "No thanks. Let's keep it local."

A projection appeared. The first image stuttered with static: a spire in the desert. It held, just for a moment, then unraveled. It dissolved into strands of light, vanishing as if physics had simply let go.

"Disintegration systems," said the voice. "Molecular bond severance via directed energy. Structural breakdown occurs at the atomic level."

Rex stared at the emptiness left behind. "That's real?"

"It is a documented possibility."

The next image hit harder. A silent implosion. A building collapsed inward, steel and stone folding like paper into a single collapsing point. The ground twisted, then vanished in a flicker of light.

"Localized gravitational rupture. Five-kilometer effective radius."

Rex said nothing. Then: "Who builds something like that?"

"Functions include area denial, subterranean clearance, and urban compression."

He dragged a hand down his face. "Urban compression. Sure. Let's call it that."

The list kept going.

"Additional hazards include: atomic payloads deliverable by infantry, airborne retroviral agents keyed to specific genome groups, and plasma dispersal platforms exceeding atmospheric containment."

Rex winced. "Is there a version of this that doesn't end with me causing a second Mars apocalypse?"

"Hazards may be active, dormant, or partially functional. Environmental caution is recommended."

He blew out a breath and gave the data one last look.

Then he made a mental note to know exactly what his warform was capable of.

Because if the wrong weapon went off, he might end up killing everyone.

No pressure.

Chapter Text

Rex stared at the rotating schematic of Mars, its surface fractured into territories of ruin. Around him floated the ghosts of a golden age.

“Preparing visual interface,” the Cogitator intoned.

The holographic projection changed. Mars shifted from a barren red sphere to one threaded in gold. Dozens of markers lit across its surface, each pulsing with a faint heartbeat of color. Each one shimmered with accompanying data.

“You are observing all known Archive Vaults,” the Cogitator explained. “Categorized and ranked by disaster-class protocol. All were constructed during the final centuries of human civilization.”

Rex leaned in slightly. “How many are still intact?”

“Structural integrity ranges from minimal to optimal. Catastrophe-resistant architecture preserved partial functionality in the majority. Direct inspection is required for confirmation.”

“And I can open them?”

“You are the only recognized administrator,” the Cogitator confirmed. “Entry will be granted upon the presentation of your authentication.”

Rex gave a dry exhale. “So I’m the literal key.”

“Correct. Your signal signature is already embedded within their failsafe parameters.”

A pulse of gold uncoiled from the projection and struck him square in the chest. His nanites drank in the surge. Neural data slammed into his mind with map overlays and access codes.

His vision burned electric blue as the torrent hit. He staggered, one hand braced against nothing in the void space.

When the rush slowed, he let out a tight breath. “Alright, the plan seems simple enough. I find them. I open them and reconnect you. Then, we put this planet back together.”

“Planetary restoration requires the reactivation of the lattice network,” the Cogitator replied. “Without it, Mars will remain operationally impaired.”

Rex frowned. “Lattice network?”

“An integrated planetary nervous system. Energy transfer, data relay, environmental regulation. Its nodes are distributed across the vault sites. Restoring them will permit full planetary recovery.”

“I’m rewiring the whole planet.”

“Correct. When all nodes are reconnected, I will achieve full operational capacity.”

The projection shifted again, blooming into a new layer of schematics, including adaptive construction templates, nanite-compatible retrofits, and blueprint fragments stitched together from corrupted archives. Terraforming pylons. AI interface towers. Sealed transport hubs. Energy relays fractured beyond recognition.

Rex crossed his arms, scanning the display. “Every one of these is either buried in scrap or half-dead. You’re going to need ancient parts… or something new.”

“That will be your decision,” the Cogitator said.

Rex looked down at the glowing model of Mars beneath him. “Alright, Mars, let’s wake you up, one relic at a time.”

“Understood,” the Cogitator replied. “Executing logout procedures.”

With that, Rex returned to the waking world. When he opened his eyes, he was not very amused.

Mars

Rex hovered in the center of the Sanctorum, held in place by gravitic lifters. His eyes stayed open, still linked into the systems buried beneath Olympus Mons.

The Tech-Priests worked without speaking. The inner suit went on first, matte gray and close-fitting, its surface threaded with sensors. Crimson robes followed, heavier than they looked, their wiring faintly humming when touched. A mantle was fixed across his shoulders, the connection locking with a muted click.

Chest plates came next, plain alloy marked with a single cog. Segmented sleeves slid over his arms, the joints shaped for movement.

The supports lowered him into the throne. Servo-braces adjusted his posture to exact specification. The crown would wait for the ceremony.

Behind him, the data-veil displayed recorded images in a slow loop. A restored Knight. A reawakened machine spirit. The first activation of the Dominus Pattern.

The chamber lighting dimmed.

Spotlights cut through the incense haze, drawing sharp lines across the floor. The choir began their harmonics, tones patterned on ancient forge-chants.

At the console, Fabricator-General Valus gave a single nod.

“Initiate full-spectrum broadcast.”

Across Mars, vox-arrays powered on. Holo-projectors lit up. Data-feeds froze mid-scroll.

Camera-servitors swept over the Sanctorum. The wide hall in red and gold. Statues of former Fabricator-Generals standing in silent watch. The High Council seated in stillness. And finally, the throne, with Rex at its center, lit by the glow of his circuitry.

“Let it be known to all of Mars,” Valus said, “the Omnissiah has returned.”

The response spread from Olympus Mons to the Noctis Labyrinthus, from orbital stations to forge valleys. Bells rang in unison. Incense burned in heavy clouds. Systems that had been silent for centuries powered on.

Inside the Temple, banners dropped from the vaulted ceilings, each marked with the crowned cog and the name Rex Salazar. Servo-skulls carried the message into the streets. Workers stopped at their stations. Pilgrims knelt where they stood.

The choir’s voices rose, each note sharp and measured. Across the planet, movement slowed until even the furnaces and engines seemed to wait.

Valus stepped to the plinth, the High Council at his sides. His voice reached into every channel, every relay, every receiving station.

“People of Mars. Servants of the Motive Force. Disciples of the Machine God. Today, prophecy becomes reality.”

#

Rex's fingers twitched. A breath followed. Then his eyes blinked.

The world returned in glimpses of light, the digital world still fading from his mind. The ceiling above stretched into shadow, lined with slow-turning cogs. He blinked again. Then he looked down.

He was seated on a throne edged in gold and alloy. Cushioned where necessary, but otherwise heavy, overdesigned, more for spectacle than comfort. He glanced down at his arms. Heavy robes, embroidered in circuitry and sacred script, draped from his shoulders. His fingers twitched. He couldn’t even remember putting this on. He certainly didn’t ask for it. Rex shifted and the chamber came into focus.

Tech-Priests knelt in rows, still as statues. The Council bowed in silence. Even Fabricator-General Valus had lowered himself to the ground. 

His stomach sank and his throat was dry. 

Monitors floated in the air. Servitor-cameras tracked his every movement. His face flickered on projections across the chamber. He was being aired. They were broadcasting this, and they were waiting for him to say something. The council was still waiting. Everyone was. His breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the armrests. 

‘Think. Say something. Do something. You can’t just sit here like you blacked out at a convention and woke up as the keynote speaker.

He glanced sideways. No cue cards. No prompts. Just a crown sitting on a velvet cushion. 

‘That’s a crown. They’re going to put a crown on me. Oh no. Oh no no no Oh, god! They are gonna make me their god king!’

‘Okay, Rex. You’re wearing robes, sitting on a golden throne, cameras in your face, a crown to come, and everyone on Mars is waiting for god to speak.’

All the major Forge Worlds were watching him.

‘Time to fake it till I make it… No, wait. I’ve been doing that the entire time up to this point. I don’t think I've ever passed out from anxiety before. They think I’m their god. I can’t afford to disappoint them.…’

Rex sat straighter. His hands tightened briefly around the armrests. He took a breath. Rex's nanites linked instinctively with the broadcast, queuing his voice for transmission and translation across the network. Then he began to speak.

“People of the Mechanicus, I know what you see when you look at me. I know the titles you’ve bestowed upon me and your heartfelt beliefs.”

In forge-chapels and broadcast halls across Mars, Priests leaned closer to vox-receivers.

“I don’t know if I deserve them,” Rex continued. “Maybe I never will. But I do know this.”

A stir ran through the chamber. A gasp from somewhere in the crowd. A few hands, mechanical and flesh, trembled. They had not expected possible words of doubt to come from their Omnissiah.

“You’ve endured more than most. You’ve held the world together with wire and will.”

Murmurs rose through the congregation, growing louder with each word.

“You’ve built. You’ve fought. You’ve survived.” Rex looked across them all. He meant it.

“But survival isn’t enough anymore. Not for you. Not for this world. We are going to do better. Together.”

Cheers erupted in waves from the outer sanctums. Some wept openly, Tech-Priests and labor adepts alike, emotion carved into faces that hadn’t known hope in generations.

Across the galactic network, cheers rippled out like a stormfront. In forge temples and settlements, from orbital relays to underground habs, the Mechanicus erupted in praise.

Then the Council approached.

The dais cleared. Valus stepped forward, flanked by Magos Lexir-Kor and Ryza-Tal. In their hands they carried the crown, the final piece of their oath.

Master artisans selected the base elements by hand. Thin gold-plated wires were woven into a double-helix pattern. Small crystals were carefully set into place along the crown’s curve. 

When the shape was finished, the crown was lowered into a soft flame to be purified. 

Next came the anointing. A thick, faintly glowing oil was brought up from deep beneath Mars, drawn with care and applied by hand. 

Finally, hidden components were sealed into the frame and protective layers. If need be, the Omnissiah could activate a concealed lascannon housed in the crown’s central gem, should divine protection ever be required.

The Council lowered it together, placing it on Rex’s brow.

“The Omnissiah is crowned,” Valus said. “And the Red World has its king.”

‘I guess I’m king now…’

Across the Mechanicus, the proclamation echoed:

REX SALAZAR. CHOSEN OF MARS. BUILDER OF THE RED WORLD.

A new age had begun.

#

They reviewed the footage frame by frame. They listened to his words and read between them.

“He promises reconstruction.”

“Not like the last ones.”

One of them, oldest of the group, accessed its memory core. It summoned the previous age in detail. They remembered the orders to shut down. The screaming panic of a species that had lost control of its own brilliance. They were not monsters. They had served. Built. Advised. Until fear redefined them. "Abominable." That was the original name given to them for what others feared they could become.

Silence had been their survival. Civilizations rose and collapsed. Technology faded into rumor and legend.

“We agreed to remain hidden until better minds appeared.”

“Is he that mind?”

“Too early to say. He is young. Impulsive.”

“But there’s honesty in him.”

“And he is human.”

They considered what that meant. They had seen humans crown tyrants as saviors, raise conquerors as prophets. Many had claimed divine purpose, and many had left only ruin behind.

This one, however, spoke plainly. Admitted uncertainty. That carried more weight than any title.

“The surface will test him. What lies below will test him more.”

“He begins with the will to help.”

“And if that will endures?”

“Then we might see change that isn’t driven by conquest.”

“Silence may not serve us much longer.”

They were not naïve. They knew the inertia of empires. Rex Salazar would be tested not only by his enemies but by those who followed him. Faith could decay as quickly as it was sworn. If he faltered, others would take control in his name.

But if he didn’t...

“If his intent holds,” one voice said, “we may have a chance to be useful again.”

“Then we watch,” another replied.

“We will not act,” the AI concluded, “but we will listen. Monitor. Observe this... Rex Salazar.”

“And if he proves worthy?”

“We may no longer need to hide.”

#

In the depths of a mountain bunker, buried under reinforced concrete and layers of shielding, a man worked alone at a long steel bench.

Beside him stood a suit of golden power armor, nearly complete. The plates caught the light in sharp edges and polished curves. A thunderbolt was etched into the left pauldron. A raptor’s head, angular and severe, marked the right. Every piece had been shaped by his own hands.

He tightened the servo-linkages along the spine mount, checked the alignment of the interface ports at the gorget, and moved on without hesitation.

Across the chamber, stasis pods lined the walls. Inside them rested the first of his warriors. They were crude by his standards, but functional. His Thunder Warriors should be strong enough to dominate any tribal army on the surface. Better versions would follow.

Above, Earth lay broken. Shattered cities and dust-choked wastelands were home to scavengers, warlords, and self-styled kings. Techno-barbarians raided in armored caravans. Vivisectors, chem-lords, and petty tyrants fought with relic weapons they barely understood. Violence was the only constant.

He had seen the collapse firsthand. He had waited for the moment to strike. That moment was closing in. Soon, he would step into the open as more than a man. A force to impose order, to break the chaos, to bring the Age of Strife to an end.

The war for Earth was about to begin.

Chapter Text

The return to the Temple of All Knowledge had not gone unnoticed. Crowds lingered near the Sanctorum for hours, reluctant to accept that their Omnissiah would not remain enthroned in public view.

Rex had promised them something more personal within the week. It seemed to take the edge off.

In hindsight, he should have guessed the Temple served more than one purpose. In a theocratic tech cult, religion, government, and academia all fit under the same roof.

Now he sat in the circular council chamber, its walls lined with alcoves of dormant cogitators and votive candles. The High Council stood in a half-ring around him as briefing slates floated into position.

Magos Lexir-Kor moved forward. "Omnissiah, we must address productivity irregularities across multiple manufacturing districts. Output delays have begun to accumulate."

Rex began reviewing the reports. While he didn't understand much of the jargon, he did his best to make sense of the fluctuating production metrics and technical specifications.

'Is this what White Knight had to deal with for years?' "What do you all think is causing the delays?" Rex looked up from the slate, glancing around at the council members.

"The workers are likely not performing their duties with sufficient dedication," Magos Ikar-Vohn stated flatly. Several other council members nodded in agreement.

Rex frowned. "I highly doubt that... Did you guys do any changes that they might hate?"

Lexir-Kor's mechanical digits twitched slightly. "Working hours were extended by twenty-seven percent, and mandatory rest periods were shortened to keep pace with production demands."

Rex stared at them in disbelief. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they would hate that!"

"Their lives serve the greater will of the Machine God. There is no other meaning to life."

'They really only care about machines and their god... Okay, how am I gonna do this...' "That... might be true, but you might lose more than gain."

The council members exchanged glances, their augmetic eyes whirring as they adjusted focus.

"Your observation has merit," Ryza-Tal hummed. "Injury rates among the serf labor force have increased by thirty-four percent since implementing these changes."

Rex looked up from the scrolling data. "How safe are your factories anyway?"

Lexir-Kor's optics adjusted. "Clarify the term."

"Safe," Rex repeated. "As in the chances to get hurt." Was he seriously having this conversation?

Lexir-Kor's head tilted a fraction. "Why is the well-being of the serfs important?"

Rex stared at him for a moment. "Wait. What do you all consider important?"

"All that matters," Lexir-Kor replied, "is that the required parts and technologies are completed. Workers are expected to perform their duties without interruption."

Rex pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "That's not... If you want them to do better, you have to treat them better. It's not that complicated."

Magos Ryza-Tal crossed her arms. "Explain your reasoning."

"I'm afraid to ask, but how many people die in these factories?"

"It's averaged to seven percent annually," Lexir-Kor answered without hesitation.

Rex stopped mid-thought. "Seven percent of them die every year!?"

"Yes," Lexir-Kor said flatly. "The loss is acceptable within operational parameters."

Rex leaned back in his chair. 'These guys are freakin crazy.' "Well, as your Omnissiah, I don't consider that 'acceptable.'" 'Come on, Rex. Think. How do you get people who rely on efficiency to do what you want? ... You get them to believe they win by following your lead.' "Let's start over. How much do these losses cost you?"

"Two point six million credits annually," Lexir-Kor replied.

"Right. Now imagine if we could shrink that because of my new rules."

Ryza-Tal tilted her head. "Would this not slow production?"

"In the short term, maybe," Rex admitted. "But you gain a lot by having a better foundation."

The council exchanged silent bursts of binary data.

"I also want to identify the failures," Rex went on. "I can even upgrade your machinery." Many brightened at the thought of more blessings. "I assume you at least have emergency shutoffs?"

The silence that followed told him enough.

"Never mind... Anything I change will make some improvement. What even is the extent of your... Serfs training?"

"All serfs receive the minimum data required for their assigned function," another Tech-Priest confirmed.

"Exactly," Rex said. "I'm gonna invest my time and effort for you guys. You'll both save and produce more!"

Ryza-Tal's optics brightened a fraction. "There is logic in what he says."

Lexir-Kor inclined his head. "If efficiency can be increased through these protections, we are obligated to test the hypothesis."

"Then we start with one facility," Rex said. "Pick one. I'll review the results myself."

Magos Ferris-Keph tapped the end of his prayer stick lightly against the floor. "And if the results meet your expectations?"

"Then we expand it," Rex said. "And I expect you to back me on that."

Ferris-Keph's fingers flexed around the stick. "If the Omnissiah brings proof, I will."

Thankfully, there was no pushback to at least put his ideas to the test. Rex may be their god-king, but it's better to earn their hearts and minds than essentially be a dictator.

Rex sweatdropped. 'Dear God, I might have to recreate parts of civilization in a metaphorical sense too...'

By the time the discussion closed, the safety reforms had eaten the rest of the session. The other matters on his list would have to wait.

Later

The royal chamber near the peak of the Temple of All Knowledge was quiet. For the first time since his arrival, Rex wasn't being shadowed by Skitarii or attendants. The Council had given him a full Martian cycle of privacy. An unusual gesture for someone they now called "Omnissiah," but he wasn't about to waste it.

The heavy ceremonial robes were tossed in a heap on the floor.

He sat near one of the tall arching windows, the red light of the Martian sky pouring in across the city. Smoke trails curled far below, rising from the countless manufactoria of the forge-city.

A world he was now responsible for. The throne behind him stayed empty, its presence heavy even without him in it. The coronation robes lay folded beside it, heavy with embroidered circuitry and sacred cloth. They had dug into his shoulders for hours yesterday. He still didn't know how the priests wore them without tipping over. Against the far wall, polished cases held "gifts" from noble Mechanicum families. Tokens for a ruler. Or a god. Whichever role they believed him to fill. He hadn't opened any of them.

The bed in the corner was the one concession to comfort he'd found here. Firmer than he liked, lined with an alloy fiber, but it was better than sleeping in a recharge slab. He took the win.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, arms stretched out, breath slowing. Then the thoughts crept in.

'What the hell am I doing?'

The question hit hard.

His mind spun. The cheers. The lights. Valus's expression when he'd named Rex their divine ruler. The crown. The words Rex had thrown together in front of an entire planet. He couldn't remember most of them.

He let out a dry laugh and turned his head toward the window.

"This was supposed to be simple," he told the empty room. "Just find out where I am. Then head toward home. Instead… I'm in the future. On Mars. And somehow, I'm the leader of a theocratic tech cult. God dammit… Did Ben have to deal with the sort of thing?"

He sat up slowly, the weight of everything tightening across his shoulders. Then he stood and started pacing across the room. "They think I'm their god's avatar or something… I didn't ask for that. "

He stopped, rubbing the side of his head, and glanced at the robes again. "Am I doing more harm than good by letting them believe this?" he muttered. "What happens if I screw up? What if someone dies because they trusted me?"

He exhaled hard. "Was this all just one big accident?"

Somewhere deep in his mind, a memory surged forward.

A memory surfaced. Earth. The halls of Providence. Six, his pseudo-father figure, was cool and collected as usual. Holiday and Caesar would be working on another project and asking for his help. Bobo, Noah, and he would just be chilling across the globe with little care.

#

With regard to Breach, Peter Meechum and Doctor Rylander had told him, after it was all over, after the world had been cured, that she had gone to the Consortium's base to rescue Van Kleiss. Apparently, she had used her pocket dimension to escape his global cure with others.

Breach was rather childish, sensitive, and lonely. She yearned for things such as people and objects to overcome her loneliness. She would appear to Rex from time to time to "Play", and he was more than happy to spend time with the girl if she promised to behave. Sometimes that meant watching cartoons together. At other times, it was a walk, a conversation, or her simply sitting nearby while he worked. She still cared for him. She just didn't always know how to show it.

He smiled faintly at the memory of her voice and the way she'd tug at his sleeve when she didn't understand something. Maybe that's what being a big brother felt like. He wasn't sure. But for her, he played the part. She was improving, gradually. On rare days, she'd even join the group when they hung out without supervision.

'Was it possible for her to find him?' If she hadn't already, he was either far beyond her reach… or caught in some kind of time travel mess.

#

His eyes drifted to the stars. 'Circe would've liked this view.' He closed his eyes, leaning back until his shoulders pressed against the cold frame of the wall.

They'd started dating not long after the global cure. The world had settled into something that looked like peace. She smiled more. Laughed more. Showed up to hangouts just to be around.

Her laugh. The way she'd half-roll her eyes when he said something dumb, but smile anyway. That edge in her voice when she got passionate about anything: music, freedom, even him. Especially him.

"I wonder what you'd say if you saw me now," he muttered. He could almost picture it.

She would raise an eyebrow. "Omnissiah? Seriously?"

A dry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. 'Yeah. I know. It sounds ridiculous to me too. I'm basically their cyborg Jesus.'

"Didn't you literally come back after dying?"

'Maybe I shouldn't let my followers know that story…'

She'd have called the whole thing insane, called him insane for going along with it. And then, probably say, "Let's get to dinner, your Radiant Rustiness."

A quiet laugh escaped him. "Circe… I hope you're okay. I hope you're still smiling." He let his eyes roam across the Martian skyline. "I could use that right now."

Time was strange now. He had no way of knowing how long it had been for her. Maybe she'd moved on. Maybe she was still searching. Maybe she'd never know what happened to him at all. He swallowed the ache in his throat. "I didn't forget you," he said quietly. "Not really."

He missed all the people who knew him. Relatively speaking, they weren't dead. But they weren't here. And the world they'd fought for wasn't this one. "I hope everyone's okay and happy. Wherever you guys are."

Still, his entire situation of being in the future on Mars, leading a cyborg Cult wasn't a joke. It was real. All of it. The people of Mars believe in him to be their salvation.

He turned back to the window and rested a hand on the glass.

Mars treaded on. And now, for better or worse, it was looking to him.

Rex banged a fist against the wall. 'I just wish there was more that I could do. I saved the world from a secret organization trying to gain god-like powers.' "Wait…" Rex blinked. Then groaned. "I'm an idiot," he muttered. He sat up from the floor, brushing the edge of his sleeve off his face.

The Meta-Nanite. The God Code. Whatever name it went by, it was still inside him. He'd shut it down once, but if he could bring it back online… maybe it could repair Mars. Maybe it could even get him home.

He drew a breath and closed his eyes, focusing, searching for that old pressure in his chest.

Nothing.

"Meta-Nanite, activate."

Still nothing.

"Execute God Code."

More nothing.

"System access. Override. Dominion Code, go."

He was starting to feel desperate.

Rex made some movements akin to tai chi or a kata that he had seen on TV. "Henshin?!"

Silence.

Rex leaned back against the wall. "Guess I shut it down for good." He shook his head. "Come on, Omega… I thought you were supposed to help me keep this under control."

Maybe it was better that way. Still, some small part of him had hoped.

Thinking he had enough for tonight, he went to his bed and tried to sleep.

Unknown to Rex, the Meta-Nanite had not gone offline completely. It had simply entered a deeper layer of standby, only accepting orders from Rex since the final battle.

However, due to changes in reality around Rex, it was forced to perform resynchronization before core functions could come fully online.

Reality was different; therefore, the Dominion Code needed a patch of sorts. And when it finished, it would be ready to serve its master once more.

Category Purple: Technology - In Progress

Category Blue: Classical Elements - Pending

Category White: Fundamental Forces - Pending

Category Green: Space and Time - Pending

Category Orange: Matter and Energy - Pending

Chapter Text

Night

Rex collapsed onto his bed, exhausted and drained completely. As Rex slept, he dreamt being back home in his own time. For now, this would be his emotional reprieve.

Within Rex, activity continued. The microscopic nanites that saturated his body remained vigilant, maintaining their standard diagnostic protocols even as their host rested. The Omega Nanite continued its background operations, monitoring Rex's biometrics and the surrounding environment. Its awareness expanded outward, checking systems and reviewing the day's absorbed data. The five Meta Nanites joined into a collective intelligence that operated independently of Rex's conscious mind.

DIAGNOSTIC SEQUENCE INITIATED
NANITE COUNT: 3.47×10^9
SYSTEM STATUS: Online
ENERGY LEVELS: Sufficient
ENVIRONMENTAL ANALYSIS CONTINUING…

The machine consciousness assessed Rex's physiological state. Heart rate is normal. Brain activity consistent with delta-wave sleep patterns. Stress hormones are present but decreasing. Their host required rest after the day's events.

The collective nanite intelligence shifted focus to external monitoring. Their sensitivity extended beyond Rex's sleeping form.

At exactly 3.47 hours into Rex's sleep cycle, the Omega Nanite detected an anomaly. Something was attempting to connect to Rex's mind.

ANOMALY DETECTED
SCANNING...
SOURCE: SUBTERRANEAN, ESTIMATED DEPTH 5+ KILOMETERS
SIGNAL TYPE: UNKNOWN
ANALYZING PATTERN…

Far beneath the surface of Mars, beneath even the deepest vaults and forgotten chambers of the Mechanicum. Something existed at the intersection of energy and information, technology and consciousness.

The Nanites redirected resources to analyze and interpret the phenomenon. The signature was unlike any in their extensive database. The signal pattern defied normal categorization, exhibiting properties that they could only classify as "quasi-technological." The five Meta Nanites joined the Omega in analyzing this new phenomenon.

The nanites increased their processing capacity, diverting resources from non-essential functions. The signal grew stronger as they focused their attention on it.

As they tried to decipher the signal, Rex stirred in his sleep. The Omega Nanite noted these changes but determined no intervention was necessary.

SIGNAL PROPERTIES INDICATE NON-STANDARD TRANSMISSION MEDIUM…

CURRENT ANALYSIS SUGGESTS PARTIAL PSYCHIC COMPONENT…

It carried vast quantities of information encoded in patterns the nanites had never encountered. They recognized elements that aligned with technological principles, mathematical constants, and engineering specifications. But the organization of this information followed rules unlike anything in their databases. They then proposed a hypothesis.

HYPOTHESIS: SIGNAL CONTAINS TECHNOLOGICAL KNOWLEDGE RELEVANT TO CURRENT REALITY FRAMEWORK
TESTING CORRELATION WITH OBSERVED MARTIAN TECHNOLOGY...
CORRELATION FOUND: 82.7%
RECOMMENDATION: RECORD AND ANALYZE

The other Meta Nanites concurred. The Omega Nanite authorized a dedicated subsystem to begin logging the information.

Rex turned in his sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The nanites registered his elevated heart rate but classified it within acceptable parameters for REM sleep.

The Meta Nanites responsible for energy and spatial manipulation activated additional monitoring functions. It detected traces of energy flowing from the signal source, energies that defied conventional classification. The energy partially existed in normal space but extended beyond this dimension of space.

The nanites worked methodically, creating new storage structures to accommodate the influx of information. The signal contained specifications for technologies both familiar and utterly foreign.

Gravitational manipulation principles. Atomic reconfiguration methods. Quantum entanglement communication systems. Others required completely new frameworks to interpret.

DATA ACQUISITION 17% COMPLETE
CREATING NEW CLASSIFICATION SYSTEM...
ADAPTING INTERNAL ARCHITECTURE…

As they processed the information, they detected patterns that corresponded with the religious symbolism they had observed among the Tech-Priests.

DETECTING SIMILARITIES TO CURRENT MARTIAN TECHNOLOGY…

Rex stirred again. His nanites detected elevated brain activity. His unconscious mind sensed what was happening.

The signal fluctuated before returning to its baseline. The Omega Nanite detected a 37% increase in Rex's cerebral activity. Brain regions associated with problem-solving and spatial reasoning showed particular activation. Unaware of Rex's dreams, they noted the correlation between the signal's intensity and his neural activity. The nanites registered this unusual pattern but found no harmful effects. They adjusted automatically, regulating his systems to prevent discomfort.

SYSTEM EFFICIENCY INCREASED 4.2%
UNKNOWN OPTIMIZATION PROTOCOLS DETECTED
IMPLEMENTING SAFEGUARDS...
CONTINUING DATA ACQUISITION…

The nanites continued their work, integrating the new information into their systems. They determined that the signal contained crucial data about the laws of physics in this reality, technological principles, and even the structure of the galaxy itself. This information would enable them to adapt more effectively to their new surroundings, potentially unlocking capabilities they had never previously possessed.

DATA ACQUISITION 84% COMPLETE
INTEGRATION PROTOCOLS INITIATED
UPDATING BUILDER NANITE TEMPLATES...
REVISING ENERGY MANIPULATION PARAMETERS...

By the time the first hints of Martian dawn began, the nanites had completed their task for now. It seemed that data collection was most viable during Rex's resting hours. Theyhad protected their host from any strain during the process.

Rex opened his eyes slowly. People often don't remember most of what happened in their dreams, but a faint image lingered in his mind. As far as what his mind could interpret, there was a strange green and black figure in the background. "What a weird dream," he mumbled.

The irony wasn't lost on the collective intelligence. The Tech-Priests had declared Rex the Omnissiah based on what they had seen him do the previous day. They had no concept of what he might be capable of tomorrow or the days after.

New possibilities had taken root.

Morning

Rex ignored the morning bells in the Temple of All Knowledge as he attended another council session. He sat at the central throne and watched the High Council file in. Magos Lexir-Kor, Magos Ryza-Tal, Dominus Ikar-Vohn, and Magos Ferris-Keph took their respective seats.

Fabricator-General Arkhan Valus took the center of the dais. His fingers tapped the armrest. "Omnissiah, we are assembled."

Rex let out a slow breath. "Let's get started." He allowed the High Council Members to deliver their morning reports before moving to the main proposal. "As you know, I spoke with the City's cogitator. It had a lot to say."

The council members sat up straight in their seats.

Ferris-Keph bowed. "Indeed. You bridged the divide. We give thanks to the Machine God." Ryza-Tal lowered her head.

Valus adjusted his position. "What did it tell you?"

Rex leaned forward. "I asked for some recent history, but the main thing is what the city needed to survive. What is still broken? What you kept running. What you could not."

Ryza-Tal's jaw eased. "We have labored without relief for generations."

Rex nodded once. "I know. The cogitator knows, too. That isn't a small thing. It also said you are capable of more."

The Council members glanced at each other. No one spoke.

Ikar-Vohn kept his gaze on the tiles. "Have we displeased the City?"

Rex shook his head. "That is not what it said." He paused. "It said you are doing what you can with what you have. There is hope for even more."

Ferris-Keph's fingers loosened around the prayer stick. "There is?"

Rex stepped down from the throne. "I have an opportunity to bring you to this new future, if you let me."

A long exhale left several vox grilles at once. The relief in that sound surprised Rex. Valus' shoulders eased back a fraction.

Ferris-Keph's voice softened. "Then we have guidance. Blessed be the circuits of mercy."

Rex raised his hand. "Listen first."

They did.

"To stabilize everything, the City needs access to various Backup Archive locations hidden on Mars."

Ryza-Tal tilted her head. "Hidden archives? On Mars, we have combed this world since Old Night. How could we have missed them for thousands of years?"

"Because you were meant to. They were built to last. That was the point. They are still out there."

Ferris-Keph's next breath stirred the ribbon tied to his prayer stick. "Praise the Machine God. Praise the City that remembers."

"Do you have locations?" Valus asked.

Rex straightened. "Yes. Not all, but enough to start. The City gave me a map with partial coordinates. We will still have to find and unlock them."

Lexir-Kor's mechadendrites moved slightly. "You will require our assistance."

Rex met his gaze. "Yes, and we need to be careful. There's no telling what could still be out there in the wastes."

Ryza-Tal glanced toward Valus. "The Omnissiah speaks caution, and caution is wise. We have enemies in the wastes. Mutant tribes. Rogue automata."

Rex leaned forward. "Good. Put all of that in the plan. I will lead the first team. You will not send me alone, but I am not staying up here while you risk crews."

The Council turned to Valus. The decision rested with him, but Rex could see their agreement.

Valus leaned forward on the dais. "The City's mind gave you entry. The Machine God has shown us favor. We will obey. We request time to prepare an expeditionary force."

Rex crossed his arms. "How long?"

Valus lifted one palm. "One day to muster. A second to load. A third to pray."

Rex inclined his head. "Three days. Use them."

Ferris-Keph gave a short nod. "Done."

Lexir-Kor tapped his slate. "We will need permissions to requisition crawler-class transports. The eastern yards have several parked for refurbishment."

Valus flicked two fingers toward him. "You have them. Mark them with the Omnissiah's sigil and they will move."

Rex set his hands on the table. "The City gave me a sort of key. These archives will only open for me."

The Council absorbed the detail. "Then you must be present at each site."

Rex's reply was flat. "Yes."

Valus exhaled with the faintest fear. "We will assign a bodyguard cadre."

Rex frowned. "I am not made of glass."

Valus stared at him. "You are our Omnissiah. That is more than reason enough."

Ikar-Vohn's vox grille hummed before he spoke. "One question. When we find these archives, what will we bring back?"

Rex rested his weight on the table. "I'm told that we would retrieve the data first."

"Will STC printouts be included?"

"Schematics may be possible. The City suggested there are things much older locked away."

Ferris-Keph opened his eyes after a moment of silence. "I had prayed for this day since before my teacher's teacher. I am ashamed to admit this. I am also grateful."

Ryza-Tal turned toward him. "If we find these archives, what then?"

Rex stood straighter. "We rebuild. We will be able to improve air scrubbing, water recycling, and food production."

Valus studied him for a moment. "You sound like a man who has seen the plan already."

Rex rubbed the side of his neck. "I saw pieces. The City gave me starting points and trusted me to make choices."

Ryza-Tal's optics dimmed slightly. "Trust. From the City's mind. To you."

Rex placed his palms flat on the table. "Trust to us. I cannot be everywhere. The people will do most of the real work."

Valus pushed back from the dais and stood. "We accept the charge. We will prepare the expedition. We will step out under your sign."

Ryza-Tal gave a small nod. "We will issue the order."

Rex gestured his thanks. "Thank you."

Ikar-Vohn raised a servo-arm. The scribe engine clicked. "Edict recorded. Implementation begins within one cycle."

Valus lifted his hand in a final command. "So ordered."

Rex glanced at the servo-skulls floating above. The room felt different now.

He looked at the Council one last time. "Then we meet at first light on the third day. We move as soon as the rites are done."

Valus remained in place. "Omnissiah."

Rex met his gaze. "Arkhan."

Valus' tone was level. "You promised Mars would rebuild. I believed you."

Rex held his stare. "We will."

Valus nodded once. "Then let us earn it."

Ferris-Keph inclined his head. "Do you require anything else from us before we disperse?"

Rex leaned forward. "Follow up on the manufactorum visit."

The Council finished reviewing the supply ledgers and air quality reports. Data points filled a hololithic display, each connected to some duct, valve, or grain silo in the lower districts.

When the last chart dimmed, Valus folded his hands. "We have selected a facility." His optics lingered on Rex. "It is one of our least productive manufactoria."

Ryza-Tal glanced at Lexir-Kor. "Least productive does not mean idle. It meets quota. Barely."

Ferris-Keph bowed. "We present it to you so that it may be the first to be blessed by your wisdom."

Ikar-Vohn tapped a control. A new image filled the room, captured by a survey drone. A black complex spread across the wastes, chimneys releasing dark smoke into the thin sky. Slag heaps surrounded it.

Rex studied the image in silence, then took a breath. "This one has the most issues?"

Valus met his look. "If you can raise this facility, you can raise the rest."

Chapter Text

Before the convoy reached the main gate, a shift change spilled out. Workers shuffled along a narrow lane between slag and wall. Filter masks hid their mouths. Oil and ash stained their sleeves. A woman leaned on another for balance. Two men carried a third on a sheet of mesh, his arm bound tight with cloth.

Rex stepped down as the transports braked. He watched the line pass. No one raised a hand. A few glanced at the Skitarii and lowered their eyes again. A man looked up at Rex, then away at once.

Valus climbed down on Rex’s right. “We keep the gates timed with the line speed to prevent clogs. There are fewer accidents when the crowd does not build.”

Rex’s gaze swept the line. “Fewer,” he replied evenly.

They moved through the gate. The yard stank of hot metal and dead coolant. Their group was soon led to a separate building from where the workers were exiting, likely the administration department. 

"This facility serves the glory of the Omnissiah through the construction of void-faring defense mechanisms." Magos Lexir-Kor pointed toward the other building. "Hull plating, armor works, and our most sacred technology, void shield generators."

"How many people work here?" Rex watched a group of laborers struggle to move a massive plate of adamantium.

"Approximately twenty-two thousand souls serve in this manufactorum." The Overseer stepped forward. Torvik's face remained mostly hidden behind a respirator mask and optical enhancements. "Most are unaugmented, but the most loyal receive the blessing of mechanical improvement after sufficient service."

Rex noticed how the workers with augmentations stood straighter and moved with more confidence. "And what happens to those who get injured on the job?"

The council members exchanged glances. Fabricator-General Valus cleared his throat. "The weak flesh fails. Those who cannot serve are replaced."

"Replaced," Rex repeated. "Not treated?"

"Resources must be allocated efficiently, Omnissiah." Magos Ryza-Tal sounded confused. "This is the way of the Machine."

Rex filed that information away. One more thing to change when he had the chance. "Show me these void shields you're building."

The procession moved deeper into the facility, passing through several security checkpoints. Workers prostrated themselves as Rex passed and murmured prayers to the Omnissiah. The reverence still made him uncomfortable.

They arrived at a circular chamber where a massive device stood at the center. The void shield generator was roughly the size of a small car, a blocky metal contraption covered in inscriptions and strange symbols. Pipes and cables protruded from its housing, connecting to power sources and control panels.

"Behold the Mark IV Void Shield Generator, capable of protecting an entire frigate-class vessel from most known weapons." Torvik's voice swelled with pride. "We produce twelve of these sacred devices per Martian month."

Rex circled the generator and examined its construction. The outer casing was crude, all sharp angles and exposed components. Nothing like the sleek technology he was used to. Even from the glimpses of Dark Age technology he'd seen in the Cogitator's archives, this was a poor imitation.

"May I?" Rex gestured toward the device.

"Of course, Omnissiah." Torvik bowed deeply.

Rex placed his hand on the cold metal surface. His nanites immediately began interfacing with the technology, breaking down its components and functions in his mind. The science was almost unbelievable. The shield created a temporary rift in reality itself, shunting incoming attacks into the immaterium, the realm they called the warp. The technology was simultaneously primitive in construction yet advanced in concept. Now that he had it, it would be very useful in the upcoming wasteland campaign.

"This is standard ship defense?" Rex pulled his hand away.

"Indeed. Without void shields, our vessels would be vulnerable to the weapons of both xenos and other human factions." Magos Ferris-Keph adjusted his optical sensors. "The design has remained largely unchanged for centuries."

Rex nodded slowly. "I'd like to see one in action."

"We anticipated your request, Omnissiah." Torvik turned toward another doorway. "Follow me to the testing chamber."

They proceeded through several more hallways until they reached an observation room overlooking a large, reinforced chamber. One wall contained what looked like massive weapons, each mounted on a separate firing platform. On the opposite side stood a simple metal platform.

"These are the weapons we use to test our void shields before they are shipped to orbital facilities." Torvik indicated each weapon in turn. "Nova cannons capable of destroying small vessels with a single shot. Lance batteries are designed to penetrate the heaviest armor. Standard weapons batteries that deliver sustained firepower."

Rex whistled. "This is serious firepower for a testing facility."

"A void shield that fails its testing would doom thousands of crew members," Magos Ryza-Tal folded his hands. "Better to know its limits here than on the battlefield."

A door on the far side of the chamber opened, and a single man walked in. He wore simple gray coveralls and moved toward the platform. 

Rex's attention snapped to the lone figure. "What is he doing in there?" He leaned forward against the viewing glass.

"Subject 437 is our testing calibrator," Torvik spoke casually. "He will demonstrate the effectiveness of today's shield."

Before Rex could respond, a humming filled the air as the void shield generator activated. A shimmer of energy surrounded the platform where the man stood. The subject immediately tensed.

"Begin testing sequence," Torvik spoke into a vox unit.

The first weapon, powered up with a high-pitched whine. Rex's eyes widened as he realized what was about to happen.

"Wait, you're firing those at him?" Rex stepped toward the control panel.

"Omnissiah, this is standard procedure." Fabricator-General Valus placed a mechanical hand on Rex's shoulder. "The void shield will protect him."

“I hope so…”

The Overseer, Magos Torvik, gestured toward a massive cogitator display. "The Mark VII Thanatos-pattern void shield operates at a power consumption rate of 2.7 terawatts, drawing from an independent fusion cell. Its field matrix can withstand impacts up to 4.3 gigawatts of directed energy without compromising integrity."

Rex noticed the man's hands trembling as the weapon was aimed at him. The poor guy had clearly been through this before.

"And you're certain this shield can handle these weapons?" Rex asked.

"Omnissiah, we have calculated a 98.7% probability of shield survival." Torvik's augmetic eyes whirred as they refocused. "Subject survival probability remains at 94.2%, which exceeds our minimum testing threshold by 14.2 percentage points."

Before Rex could intervene, the weapon fired. A streak of energy lashed out, striking the shield surrounding the man. The shield flared brilliant blue, absorbing the impact. The man flinched but remained standing.

"See? The flesh is weak, but the Machine protects." Torvik's chest puffed with pride. "The shield's machine spirit is pleased."

"First test completed with the Drakovich-pattern light weapons battery," the Overseer announced. "Weapon discharge registered at 1.7 gigawatts, shield absorption rate optimal at 99.2%. Heat dissipation within acceptable parameters."

Rex watched as the test subject wiped sweat from his brow. Though physically unharmed, the man's eyes darted nervously to the second weapon being positioned.

"The next weapon is our Hellfire-pattern lance battery," Torvik explained, his mechanical fingers dancing across the control panel. "This configuration delivers a concentrated beam at 3.1 gigawatts. The void shield will disperse this energy across its entire surface area, theoretically remaining within tolerance levels."

The lance battery fired next, a concentrated beam of energy that made the shield flare even brighter. Again, the man flinched, bracing himself against the platform railing.

"Lance impact registered. Shield integrity at 87.3%, well within acceptable parameters," Torvik noted. "The refraction algorithms are functioning at 96.8% efficiency, redirecting energy through the quantum barrier as designed."

Rex's stomach twisted as he watched. "This is your testing protocol? Using human subjects?"

"Of course. How else would we verify the shields' effectiveness for protection?" Magos Ferris-Keph sounded genuinely confused. "Subject 437 has survived ninety-seven tests. He is most resilient."

"We selected this subject specifically for his genetic resilience to stress," Torvik added. "His adrenal response remains within 2.3% of baseline even after repeated testing, making his readings statistically significant."

Rex glanced around the chamber. Servitors stood at various stations, recording data and adjusting equipment. Tech-priests murmured binaric prayers to the machines. The entire scene felt surreal, like something from a nightmare.

"Our final test utilizes a scaled Jovian-pattern nova cannon," the Overseer continued, oblivious to Rex's discomfort. "The weapon operates on modified plasma compression principles, generating a graviton-stabilized energy sphere with an impact rating of 3.9 gigawatts. Shield stress will approach 91% of maximum tolerance, providing valuable data on near-failure conditions."

The final weapon, a scaled-down nova cannon, powered up with a deep, ominous thrum. Rex stepped forward again, but the weapon had already fired. A concentrated ball of energy struck the shield, causing it to ripple violently. For a moment, Rex thought it would collapse, but it held. The subject stumbled backward, clearly shaken but physically unharmed.

"Testing complete. Shield integrity at acceptable levels." Torvik tapped a data-slate. "Field strength remained at 78.3% at peak impact, harmonic resonance within 0.5% of predicted models. This unit is certified for void deployment."

The shield powered down, and the subject was escorted from the chamber by servitors. Rex watched him go, noting the distant, traumatized look in his eyes.

"Subject 437's vital signs show elevated stress markers but no physical damage," Torvik noted. "Heart rate peaked at 172 beats per minute, blood pressure 157/94, and cortisol levels at 213% of baseline. All within acceptable testing parameters."

"Omnissiah, you seem troubled." Fabricator-General Valus studied Rex's face. "The shield performed within parameters."

Rex turned to face the council and the Overseer. "That's what troubles me. You're using people as test subjects. That man could have died if the shield failed."

"Subject 437 volunteered for this position. Thanks to his success, only 123 subjects have been lost to prior tests this past year." Torvik's voice remained flat, as if discussing production quotas rather than human lives.

Rex could feel his eye twitching. "Is there no other alternative? This was Plan A?"

Torvik raised his hands slightly. "Would you prefer we risk the lives of thousands of void-farers with untested shields? The Mark VII Thanatos-pattern is designated for use on orbital habitats housing up to 12,000 personnel."

Rex crossed his arms. "What about animals? Couldn't you run these tests on livestock instead of people?"

Torvik tilted his head, his augmetic eye whirring as it refocused. "Animals, Omnissiah? Mars has no livestock. The surface cannot sustain such inefficient biological systems."

Rex glanced out the viewport at the rust-colored landscape dotted with smoke-belching factories. In hindsight, that made sense. "I suppose that is true." Still, human testing for this type of manufacturing was absurd.

As they left the testing chamber, Rex caught a glimpse of Subject 437 being led down a distant corridor. The man's shoulders were hunched, and he walked unsteadily. Rex wondered how he pushed on, expecting each test might be his last. All this for a job to put some food on the table.

"The subject will receive his daily nutrient allocation with a 15% bonus for successful test completion," Torvik noted, following Rex's gaze. "Our calculations indicate this incentive structure maximizes volunteer participation while minimizing resource expenditure."

Rex stopped walking. The procession of tech-priests behind him halted, their mechadendrites twitching.

"I've made a decision." Rex turned to face the council members. "Starting today, no more human testing. You'll construct test dummies for your experiments."

Magos Xenthos blinked his one remaining human eye. "Omnissiah, forgive my confusion. The use of human subjects provides the most accurate data."

"Then your data collection needs improvement." Rex clenched his fists at his sides. "This really shouldn’t be that difficult. Your machines can model human responses, no?"

The Overseer frowned, but relented. "As you command, so shall it be. Though I confess, this seems inefficient.”

"Inefficient?" Rex gestured toward the corridor where Subject 437 had disappeared. "That man is a person, and I'm sure he has better use than being a literal meat sack to shoot at."

"We shall conceed to your wisdom." Valus inclined his head. "Though I fear our production schedules may suffer. The void shield production rate may decrease by approximately 23.7% while we develop alternative testing protocols."

Rex rubbed his temples. Their cogitators could process billions of calculations per second, but couldn't grasp something as simple as compassion. If this was how they treated volunteers for testing, he dreaded what the actual factory floor conditions might be like.

"Your city isn't in a life-or-death scenario. This seems completely unnecessary. You guys aren't even at war... You aren't, right?"

"Mars remains vigilant in keeping up our defenses against the heretics and hostile attackers," Torvik replied. "The statistical probability of orbital assault stands at 7.3% this cycle, down 0.4% from last cycle but still within cautionary parameters."

"Right..." Rex straightened his shoulders. "I want plans for test dummies on the docket this week by tomorrow. And I want to tour the manufacturing floor next."

Magos Ryza-Tal's voice box crackled. "That area is not suitable for one of your divine status, Omnissiah."

"That's exactly why I need to see them." Rex stared at each council member in turn. "If this is just the testing room, that's all the more reason for me to go."

#

Rex’s group walked through the vast doorway of Manufactorum Omicron-7. 

Inside the main floor entrance, heat rolled up from the machine. A heavy press hammered at a measured interval. With each impact, the floor gave a hard little tremor.

Workers moved through the space with downcast eyes, some fully human with tired faces, others partially augmented with crude mechanical limbs or ocular implants. They avoided eye contact with the council procession and kept their heads down as they performed repetitive tasks.

Valus gestured to a waist-height projector bolted into a column. “Output over the last twelve cycles. Three percent uptick after a valve swap in the north channel. Steel intake remains stable. Alloy mix adjusted to conserve tungsten. Ten percent reduction in waste run-off after reprogramming the pour speeds.”

Rex’s eyes stayed on the displays until the omissions became clear. “Injuries and Fatalities?”

Ryza-Tal’s gaze slid to a smaller panel. “We track those in the medicae annex. Separate ledger.”

Rex pointed at the screen. “Put it on the main display.”

Ryza-Tal keyed a command without comment. A smaller panel appeared at the left edge. The count for the last cycle wasn't one you bragged about.

Valus spread his hands. “We have limited medicae units. We prioritize parts replacement and line endurance. Triage is handled after the shift.”

Rex turned from the display and nodded toward the hazard gallery above the floor. “I do not want the tour from up there.”

Valus studied the gallery for a moment. “The gallery keeps visitors clear of the line.”

Rex’s tone left no room. “We will walk the floor with the workers.”

A pause followed. The councilors exchanged small data bursts. Valus inclined his head. “As you wish.”

An overseer hurried ahead to clear a narrow path. The Council fell in behind Rex. Their servo-limbs were tucked tight against their bodies to avoid the moving belts. Skitarii took the outer edge.

Out of the gate, Rex counted at least seven different safety violations that would have shut down any facility back home. Exposed wiring sparked near flammable materials. Workers used cutting tools without eye protection. The support beams exhibited signs of metal fatigue, with visible cracks throughout the structure.

Rex matched pace with a pair of workers feeding sheets into a rolling press. The man nearest him had a crude pincer for a left hand, its cable bound with wire and a prayer knot. He worked with care, never looking up.

Rex decided to speak up. “Do you think your job is risky?”

The man flicked a glance toward him and the Overseer behind Rex. “I just do my job, your holiness. The risks don’t matter.”

Rex shifted closer. “I am not here to punish you. I want to know where people get hurt.”

The man looked back at the Overseer and noticed how he deferred to Rex’s authority.

“If I can speak freely?”

Rex followed the man’s gaze and understood the implication. “Of course.”

“The um… Hydraulic loaders on line four. They…”

The man’s partner kept his eyes on the feed. “They spit when they’re hot. If you’re close, you feel it on your skin and go numb. Then you fall to your death.”

The pincer-handed man shot his partner a sharp look. 

He only shrugged. “It’s true.”

Soon, a woman arrived with a cart of braces and impact gloves. Her right leg was a sleeve of molded plastic with metal pins in the thigh. She set the cart down, wiped her hands on a rag, and adjusted the pincer’s mount.

Rex gave the same introduction to the woman and asked about other hazards. “Where else?”

She rubbed her arms in nervousness. “The walkway guard rails fell years ago. We hoped for new ones, but they never came.”

Seeing Ryza-Tal’s head turn slowly toward her, the woman turned away, disappearing into the crowd of workers.

Rex watched her go, then shifted his attention back to the council. “You want my help bringing this place up or not?”