10: Chapter 10 Metal and the Dwelling of the Soul

Cassius looked away, lowering his head to avoid his electronic eyes meeting Icarus's gaze, suppressing his instinctive longing. He understood that in this world, temptation equaled corruption.

According to custom, he should now begin the long post-war machine spirit soothing ritual—reciting prayers and applying sacred oils for every machine involved in the battle. This process usually took several hours, sometimes a whole day.

Because those machines damaged in battle, their machine spirits would become violent, irritable, or even refuse to restart. And the duty of a Tech-priest was to calm them down, but now he was the only apprentice left in the squad.

Icarus still stood there, only dozens of meters away from them, but the base construction had not stopped. Blueprints were being mapped out, Construction Drones roamed the land like worker bees, conveyor belts were constantly extending, and buildings took root in the wasteland one after another. Finally, the blue phantom shadows of four more Interstellar Logistics Towers appeared on the ground, then instantly solidified, completing the connection with the conveyor belts on the ground in an instant.

A buzzing sound began to rise in the air as delivery drones wove through the sky, compensating for the mismatch in production capacity; the entire base began a true explosion of productivity.

Realizing that Promethium was roughly equivalent to combustible ice, oil was no longer a necessity. The Quantum Chemical Plant now had the ability to synthesize plastics from hydrocarbons, even proteins, even other things—this was the difference brought by the underlying rules of the universe.

Several Satellite Power Distribution Stations ascended one after another, casting a glow that enveloped the entire plain, painting the tones of the plain increasingly gentle.

At the same time, it was waiting, waiting for them to inform it if they needed food, and then it would use the base to produce it for them. It had no active will to help, only acting based on the respect for intelligent biological beings like humans held by The Main Brain and the out-of-control "Nanny" Servitor from the neighboring universe.

However, Squad 47 discovered none of this; their Auspex couldn't see that far.

Gluck looked down at his Rad-carbine.

Ever since the glow of the Satellite Power Distribution Station fell upon the weapon's body, the machine spirit runes emitted a soft blue light, "breathing" in mimicry of the Satellite Power Distribution Station's frequency.

He couldn't feel it, but the Satellite Power Distribution Station was replenishing energy for the machine spirit through electronic transitions, soothing the soul.

The battle was over, and no one went to count the casualties. To live was luck, to die was to become supplies.

Most of the time, if circumstances permitted, they would take away the soldiers' bodies and put them into biological protein reactors, processing them into hydrolyzed protein liquid after crushing—letting the deceased's protein continue to "serve" the Empire.

This was the standard procedure, written in the Adeptus Mechanicus supply manuals and printed in the Astra Militarum training outlines. Even corpse starch was "the Emperor's blessing to his fasting loyal servants."

Especially here, at a coordinate that only existed in some corner of a military star map, the forgotten Forge World they called Vulcan-IV. No glory, no monuments, only endless Greenskins and endless consumption, and that perpetual lack of food.

Most of the time, Gluck also believed that the soldiers' weapons and equipment were more important; human lives were just the Emperor's currency, and the only distinction was the denomination.

---

"Wait," Gluck said suddenly.

Cassius used his remaining mechanical limbs to pull at the door of the chimera, trying to crawl inside. Now he could only flee; he had heard in the mechanical cathedrals how heretics were eliminated, and even more terrifying was the soul's inability to return to the Emperor's Golden Throne.

And at that moment, Gluck called out to him.

Cassius turned his head and stared at Gluck, anger burning within him. He feared that once he turned back, he wouldn't be able to leave. Death was not frightening, but the inability to deliver the news that this place had been occupied by an external intelligent mechanical entity was. Moreover, it wasn't an STC Template, yet it was far too similar to the STC standard template his teacher had mentioned. Such a grand production base and defense arrays had stood on the plain without them noticing, exactly like the legends. He even began to think in a worse direction—could it be the Men of Iron? But the machine spirit readings couldn't explain it.

Gluck pointed at the other two chimeras. "They... aren't leaving."

Cassius turned his head.

The engines of those two chimeras had not started, but their machine spirit fluctuations were clearly discernible—carrying a sense of lingering attachment. They didn't want to leave this place. They didn't want to leave this place that made the machine spirit "happy."

"Start the engines," Cassius ordered.

No response.

"Start the engines!" He raised his volume, his binary code carrying the weight of a command.

A machine spirit fluctuation came back. It was a request—a request to stay, a request to remain here, a request to be near that metal creation.

Cassius was silent for a long time. His mechanical bionic eye flickered, and data streams scrolled frantically across his visual interface as he tried to find any possible solution.

Dragging his damaged lower body platform, he moved with difficulty to the other chimera. His mechanical fingers trembled as they pressed against the armor plating, and he began to recite the Adeptus Mechanicus's oldest machine spirit soothing prayer.

[The Omnissiah above, grant this vehicle strength...]

His binary code carried the weight of a command, attempting to force the machine spirit to obey. But the machine spirit fluctuation that returned was not submission, but... a request. A gentle request, like a child asking their parents to let them play for a little longer.

[...Engine start, tracks turn, vehicle return to position...]

Cassius's voice grew lower and lower. He felt the machine spirit's "longing"—not a longing for sacred oil, not a longing for prayers, but a longing for that place. A longing for that place that made the machine spirit "smile."

He opened his eyes, his mechanical bionic eye staring at the armor plating.

"Please," Cassius's voice came from the vocalizer in his chest, carrying an unprecedented humility. "Please, start the engine. We need you to go back. I need you to go back."

Gluck stood to the side, watching in silence.

Cassius continued to recite, but this time it wasn't a command, but a plea. He abandoned the authority of the Adeptus Mechanicus, abandoned the dignity of a Tech-priest, like a helpless child asking for help.

[Please... start the engine. Please... come with us. Please... do not stay.]

A machine spirit fluctuation came back.

Warmth. Understanding. But... refusal.

Cassius's hand slipped from the armor plate. He had failed. All the knowledge of the Adeptus Mechanicus, all the rituals, all the prayers, were useless in the face of this simple "longing."

"We can't take them," Gluck finally said, his voice calm.

Cassius was silent for a long time. Then, he turned to the last chimera—the one whose engine was still running.

He walked to the vehicle and placed his hand on the armor plate.

This time, he did not recite a prayer, nor did he use a command.

He simply said: "Please... take us back."

A machine spirit fluctuation came back.

Agreement. Warmth. Understanding.

The roar of the engine became steadier, and the tracks turned gently, as if nodding.

They climbed onto the remaining chimera. Gluck sat in the driver's seat, his hand on the steering wheel. A warm pulse came from the steering wheel; the machine spirit was "smiling."

The engine started, its low roar breaking the dead silence of the wasteland. The chimera slowly turned, its tracks grinding over gravel as it drove away from that newborn forest of metal, heading steadily toward the Hive City of the Vulcan-IV Forge World.

Behind them, the two chimeras remained quietly in place, their barrels drooping slightly, like silent sentinels, conveying a sense of gentle farewell.

Their machine spirit fluctuations drifted through the dry air—clear, warm, and firm. No prayer was needed to interpret them; one could read the lingering attachment.

They were going to stay.

Right here, guarding this land where their machine spirits could truly rest.

They would wait here, remaining on this land where the machine spirits could stretch and be free.