"Forgive me," Vic murmured, reaching out to the spherical STC and tapping rhythmically on its base forty-four times.
His research on this device had revealed a hidden pathway—a secret backdoor that could obliterate it when conventional methods could not.
After the sequence ended, a holographic menu sprang to life, displaying two options:
"Emergency Destruction" and "Auxiliary Function."
A mechanical arm extended from Vic's back, scratching his hooded head in bemusement. After a brief moment's hesitation, he opted for the auxiliary mode.
A single prompt remained on the hologram: "Speak."
With a quick, binary prayer, Vic voiced his need. "I require a means to vanquish the encroaching enemy."
Immediately, the STC projected a cerulean beam that began scanning the surroundings. The very metal forming the walls melted away, and in the center of the corridor, a construct began to materialize.
The beam swept over Vic's mechanical arm and weapons, consuming them to expedite the printing process, until finally, a towering iron soldier stood before him.
Recognition flashed through Vic's mind; he'd seen this construct during his trial on Talon—an iron soldier he'd been ordered to destroy with a melta bomb. Though the weapons and appearance had subtle modifications, it was unmistakably the same, albeit a refined and enhanced version.
Before Vic could dwell on it, six Chaos Marines from the Oathbreakers emerged, fixating on the iron soldier as they prepared for battle.
With slow, clumsy steps, the soldier lumbered forward, beams of energy firing from its hands. The Chaos Marines dodged with practiced agility, pressing forward, axes crashing into the iron hull, only to leave mere scratches.
This ponderous infantry model was indeed slow, but its energy beams could carve passageways through solid metal, and its defensive prowess made it an imposing blockade. Forced to contend with its relentless advance, the Chaos Marines were ensnared in a grinding battle.
With each assault, the soldier's armor bore more scars, and Vic assumed the skirmish would be protracted. But unbeknownst to him, the soldier was analyzing, studying the Marines' tactics with each attack. After dozens of strikes, it ceased firing, spinning to intercept an approaching enemy, driving its blade arm through the Marine's chest, splitting him in two.
Suddenly, the battle's tempo shifted. Despite its bulk, the soldier's movements became uncannily precise, its attacks anticipating the enemies' motions as if foreseeing their next steps. In mere moments, it had dispatched four of the Executioner Marines, leaving only one heavily armored Chaos Marine.
This final Marine, clad in a thickly plated power suit, evaded the soldier's predictive strikes, maneuvering with formidable skill, retaliating with powerful sweeps of his axe.
The soldier, recognizing the futility of its prior tactics, recalculated. A new approach held over an eighty-percent chance of success.
"Die!" bellowed the Chaos Marine, launching a fierce blow towards the deepest scar on the soldier's hull. The iron soldier retreated two steps, exposing the fusion core in its chest. A flood of energy erupted from the core, vaporizing the Marine and his axe in an incandescent blaze.
The battle concluded. The iron soldier's chest resealed, and it turned to face Vic.
"Praise be to the Omnissiah, blessed be the Machine God," Vic chanted in awe. But in that moment, the STC emitted a beam that transformed the soldier back into raw materials, reshaping them into Vic's mechanical arm and arsenal.
As for the metals extracted from the walls, they coalesced into a metallic cube that dropped before Vic. He rushed to it, already formulating ways to carry it.
Though only a simple cube, to Vic, it was a sacred relic, a hallowed creation he would henceforth name the "Sacred Cube." Its mere existence was of monumental significance.
"Deployment complete. For the Omnissiah. For the Machine God."
A transmission abruptly filled the air—a public broadcast sent to every device in the war zone, even the most rudimentary comms could receive the voice.
The chamber door opened, and Sevyn stormed in, gripping four power swords and four ancient tech pistols, prepared for a final stand. But he found no foe—only Vic, transfixed by the metal cube.
Vic swiftly encrypted and sent a recording of the recent events to his friend. As Sevyn reviewed it, he fell into contemplative silence.
"There's no time for reflection," Vic urged. "You must expel the invaders from the citadel, at least those within the fortress walls."
"Do I need you to tell me?" Sevyn retorted, turning back to the chamber and closing his eyes to refine his tactics. His mind stretched to each of his subordinates, guiding them to the most advantageous maneuvers in their skirmishes.
…
A month passed in the blink of an eye.
Sevyn and Vic had not only survived the initial onslaught, but at great cost had repelled those invaders who had arrived in drop pods. Only the fearsome clawed drop pods had managed to return to the warships—perhaps a small blessing, given the resources required to eradicate such blasphemous creations.
The invasion had raged for an entire month.
Sevyn could still recall, seven hundred solar hours prior, how the assault on the Forge World had escalated from targeted strikes into a full-scale invasion. An unending wave of transports amassed in orbit, depositing troops and war machines onto the surface below. The war had only grown fiercer.
Tonight, Sevyn was as always, eyes closed, his mind entwined with those of his soldiers on the frontlines, guiding their hands.
Vic, meanwhile, circled the metal cube, chanting binary prayers and anointing it with sacred oils, incense trailing through the air. The ritual, however, brought him no solace.
The distant blasts of titanic horns echoed through the chamber, interrupted by the thunder of heavy cannons and the relentless bombardment of macrocannons and las-lances. Below, the roar of battle and the percussion of artillery fire were ceaseless.
"What's the situation now?" Vic inquired of his old friend after completing the ritual.
Sevyn opened his eyes, his voice laced with resignation. "I've had one of our data-smiths scan the orbital region. More enemy warships are arriving, emblazoned in crimson, signaling that the void war in nearby systems isn't faring well for us. The foe has freed up additional ships for orbital bombardment."
Sevyn needed no further words; Vic sensed the gravity of the situation.
The Forge World had prepared defensive measures, expecting the Traitor legions from the Eye of Terror might ally for an attack. But who could have foreseen that the Red Corsairs would intervene? They seemed like unholy angels for the enemy, with no apparent motive or reward. Vic struggled to grasp their logic—after taking the Forge World, what gains could they possibly derive from the fractured Traitor bands? Could it be worth it?
The Red Corsair fleet's unexpected intervention had rendered all contingency plans futile.
"How many moons and planets are there in our star system?"
"What are you on about?"
Despite the detached tone, Vic was struck by Sevyn's seemingly irrelevant question. Sevyn met Vic's gaze, sharing his vision of the battlefield.
Through the eyes of a lone soldier charging across the field, Vic saw what Sevyn had seen.
Amid the chaos of the dying troops, the soldier chanced a glance skyward.
There, looming against the grim twilight, were two black moons and a third, smaller black planet, just barely visible through the murky atmosphere.
Watching this, Vic spoke calmly.
"The Omnissiah is with us."