62: Since you've already knelt down, let's get married.

[Mars - Olympus Mons - Fabricator-General's Throne Room]

This was an abyss constructed from brass, cables, and data servers.

Thousands of Servo-skulls circled above the dome, their buzzing converging into a never-ending hymn.

The air was thick with the cloying scent of evaporated high-concentration machine oil, along with something more ancient—the bitterness of ionizing radiation.

C-19 stood in the center of the hall. Even as an Astartes clad in Mk II power armor, he seemed insignificant in this gargantuan space.

Directly in front of him was a "throne" dozens of meters high. Or rather, it was a massive master control computing array integrated with the entire temple.

"Zzz—vroom..."

In the center of the array, countless mechanical arms slowly parted, revealing the core within—Fabricator-General Kelbor-Hal.

He could no longer be called "human." His body was three times larger than an Astartes, resembling a bloated metal spider.

Human limbs had long been replaced by hydraulic pincers and data probes; all that remained of his face was a patch of withered skin and three optical sensors emitting a ghostly green light.

In the surrounding shadows, hundreds of red-robed Archmagos floated silently on anti-gravity platforms.

They were covered in tubes, every electronic eye staring intently at C-19 as if they wanted to disassemble him into his basic atoms.

"The Agent."

Kelpor's voice did not travel through the air, but exploded directly in C-19's helmet via data link. It was pure binary code, forcibly translated into Terra Low-Fidelity.

"You have shown... the key."

"But logic circuits show your entity is... fragile. Poor. Lacking industrial foundation."

A massive mechanical claw descended from the throne, hovering over C-19's head.

"Why should Mars ally with a bunch of barbarians on a wasteland? We could simply extract your memory units."

This was a test. And a form of pressure. The Adeptus Mechanicus worships power—not just the power of knowledge, but physical power as well... [Holographic Operations Cabin]

Looking at the aggressive hunk of iron on the screen, Li Cang didn't get angry; instead, he let out a cold smirk, as if he had already seen through everything.

"This is walking a tightrope."

Like a chess player examining the board, he calmly assessed the risk of every move.

"C-19," Li Cang's voice was transmitted steadily.

"Tell him we aren't here to beg for help."

"We are here to... redeem them."

"System, load [Noctis Labyrinth - Second Level Key]."

"Show them what their proud 'machine spirit' will become if they lose our guidance."

... [Mars Throne Room]

C-19 looked up. Facing the threat from the supreme ruler of Mars, he neither drew his weapon nor retreated.

He simply opened his arms slowly. The vox-grill on his breastplate emitted a low roar.

"Because you are lost."

C-19's voice echoed through the hall.

"You have been fumbling in the dark for five thousand years, searching for the afterglow of the Golden Age."

"You worship machine spirits, yet you do not know how to appease them. You possess technology, yet you have lost the principles."

"But we are different."

C-19 gestured sharply. A holographic projection shot out from his power armor, suspended in the center of the hall.

It was a deep structural map of the Noctis Labyrinth.

But in the depths of that complex maze, there was more than just treasure; there was a "Void Anomaly" marked with a red warning, currently awakening.

"Look closely, Fabricator-General."

"That thing is waking up."

"Without our key, without the guidance of the omnissiah, when it awakens, Mars will no longer be a forge."

"It will be... a tomb."

Kelbor-Hal's three electronic eyes contracted instantly. The red-robed Archmagos around him emitted a flurry of panicked binary noise.

They knew exactly what was buried underground; it was their deepest fear and their deepest desire.

Calculating... probability... unguided contact... extinction probability: 99.9%. Conclusion: We need... a guide.

The mechanical claw on the throne slowly retracted. Kelbor-Hal's massive frame leaned forward slightly, as if bowing, or perhaps compromising.

"What do you want?"

... [Holographic Operations Cabin]

"Since you've lowered your head, let's begin the oath."

Li Cang pulled up a pre-drafted treaty—the [Olympus Treaty].

"C-19, read the terms."

... [Mars Throne Room]

C-19 retracted the projection, his voice becoming solemn and sacred.

"Article One: Mars and Terra shall be joined as a sacred whole."

"Terra provides guidance and protection; Mars provides steel and fire."

"Our sigils shall merge into one: the double-headed eagle (Aquila)."

"One head watches the past, ensuring truth is not forgotten; one head watches the future, leading humanity toward the stars."

This metaphor brought a sense of comfort to Kelpor's logic circuits.

It was an equal, symbiotic relationship that preserved Mars's dignity.

"Article Two: Mars holds the priority research rights for all newly discovered STCs (Standard Template Constructs)."

"But in exchange..."

C-19 pointed to the power armor on himself, then to the void above.

"We want equipment."

"We want a fleet."

"We want your most elite artisans to serve our Legion."

"I want... a Crusade sufficient to conquer the galaxy."

Kelbor-Hal silence lasted for three seconds.

He was evaluating the "ROI" of this deal.

"Agreement... accepted."

At the Fabricator-General's command, the floor in the center of the hall split open.

An ancient, massive data terminal rose. Kelpor extended his data probe, and C-19 extended his power armor interface.

Click. Connection established. Data exchanged.

Vroom—!!!

The factories across the entire Olympus Mons sounded their sirens simultaneously.

It was a cheer, and a declaration.

The most powerful military-industrial complex in human history was born at this moment... [Holographic Operations Cabin - Settlement Interface]

Epic Event Completed: Signing of the [Olympus Treaty]. Civilization Level Up: LV. 1.0 (Planetary System Civilization)

Obtained full technical support from Mars:

1. Unlock all Astartes armories.

2. Unlock interstellar fleet construction permissions.

3. Obtain passive BUFF: [Machine Spirit's Favor] (Maintenance cost for all mechanical units -50%, failure rate -90%).

Li Cang watched the tech tree nodes lighting up frantically on the screen; that once-dark, vast area was now turning an inviting golden yellow.

He let out a long breath.

But he didn't indulge in the joy for long.

Because after transmitting the protocol, Kelbor-Hal immediately sent a new message carrying an air of warning.

"Ally." "To prove the value of this alliance..."

"Mars has a small... request."

A new star map unfolded before Li Cang. It was Earth's satellite—The Moon (Luna).

"The Lunar Gene-cults have stolen our biotechnology."

"The deformed monsters they create are an insult to the omnissiah."

"Since you claim to be the masters of genes... go and purge them."

Li Cang looked at the pale satellite, a cold smirk curling at the corner of his mouth.

"A trial of loyalty?" "Fine."

With the guns of Mars and the blades of the Astartes...

A mere bunch of cultists playing with test tubes?

"C-19." "Tell the brothers the rest is over."

"Next stop: The Moon."