Alex was led into a room he had never seen before.
It wasn’t an isolation ward or a hangar, but a…
laboratory filled with mechanical arms and scanning equipment?
Two red robe Adeptus Mechanicus members stood on either side, a servo-skull hovering overhead, as red scanning beams swept from Alex’s head to his toes and back again.
“Take off your shirt.” Alex sighed and did as he was told.
More scanning beams fell upon him.
A mechanical claw descended from the ceiling, groping along his spine as if searching for something.
Just then, he noticed someone else standing in the corner of the room—the Priest who had “tampered” with his chimera.
She wasn’t wearing her hood today, revealing half of her face— The left half was a normal human face—young, pale, even delicate—while the right half was a cold metallic prosthetic, a red mechanical eye staring unblinkingly at Alex.
She held a data slate in her hands, her mechanical fingertips sliding rapidly across the screen, recording every piece of data sent by the scanners.
“Neural conduction normal.” “No mutations found in muscle tissue.” “No signs of Chaos corruption.” Listening to these reports that sounded like chanting, Alex couldn’t help but speak up: “What exactly are you looking for?” No one answered him.
But the female Priest looked up.
She took a few steps closer, the aperture of her mechanical eye contracting slightly, as if performing a more refined scan.
“Your neural reflex speed is abnormal, 17.3% faster than the mortal limit.” Alex raised an eyebrow.
“And?” “And so, I am curious.” She tilted her head, a gesture that seemed almost humanly habitual.
“How did you do it?” “I reviewed the data from the onboard recorder.
You were in the driver’s seat, yet the turret fired independently.
The holy machine spirit was protecting you.” She paused.
“Why?” “I’d rather you tell me why.
I’d have preferred to die there.” The Priest did not reply, only staring at Alex for a long time, a look of confusion flashing in her biological eye.
“A brave warrior who does not fear death to cover the retreat of the Angels.” “My name is Xi-Nuo Malis,” she said suddenly.
“You may call me Hino.” “…” Alex almost laughed in frustration; how could these people ever realize he truly wanted to die?
“My name,” she said, her tone as if stating an insignificant fact.
“We may have more contact in the future; you should know how to address me.” “Uh…
Hino?” he tried calling out tentatively.
“Yes.” “Can you tell me, that vehicle—” “Raise your right hand.” Hino suddenly interrupted him.
“What?” “Raise your right hand,” she repeated.
“I need to scan your palm print and nerve ending distribution.” Though Alex found it baffling, he complied.
He raised his right hand, palm forward.
As his palm rose, Hino’s movements were natural—as if she were merely adjusting her position—as she backed away to the other end of the room, leaving at least five meters between them.
“Scan complete,” Hino’s voice remained calm.
“You can put it down now.” “The inspection is over; you can put on your clothes.” Fine, fine.
It seemed their previous encounter had left a deep impression on her.
Just as Alex finished dressing, the door opened.
It was Matellus.
The Techmarine stood at the doorway, his red eye lenses glowing like two dim fires in the dark corridor.
Alex noticed that his servo-arms were not hovering behind him as usual, but were tucked tightly against the sides of his power armor.
Even through the power armor, one could feel his restrained anger.
“Follow me.” Matellus’s voice sounded as if it were squeezed through gritted teeth.
Alex didn’t ask questions and followed Matellus into the corridor…
they stopped before a massive airtight door.
The Blood Ravens’ Chapter insignia was carved onto the door, surrounded by circles of prayers and purity seals.
It wasn’t the door that surprised Alex.
It was the people in front of it.
Tarkus stood at the very front, his power armor polished to a shine, the Chapter insignia gleaming under the lights.
Avitus and Thaddeus stood behind him, and even the ever-ghostly Cyrus had appeared, standing quietly at the edge of the shadows.
Besides them, there were more Blood Ravens warriors—faces Alex hadn’t seen before, at least twenty red figures lined up neatly on both sides of the corridor.
Further back was a group of Blood Ravens recruits in scout armor.
Their armor hadn’t been fully painted red yet, but everyone’s expression was as solemn as if they were attending a sacred ritual.
On the other side of the corridor stood a dozen red robe Adeptus Mechanicus members.
They held censers and holy oil vials, chanting Ancient prayers in low voices.
The smoke from the incense swirled in the air, mixing with the smell of machine oil and metal.
Alex even saw Gordian; the Apothecary stood beside Tarkus, his power armor hung with various medical instruments and relics.
What a display…
Matellus made an aquila salute across his chest, whispered a prayer, and then pressed his palm against the authentication panel beside the door.
Click—Hum— The airtight door slowly opened.
The Blood Ravens warriors on both sides of the corridor knelt on one knee simultaneously, striking their chests with their right fists, producing a synchronized metallic clang.
Twenty voices rang out at once, rolling through the corridor like thunder.
“—We still serve!” Alex was startled by this sudden display of momentum.
Behind the door, he saw it.
It wasn’t an Astartes, but something even more massive.
It was four meters tall, with a massive assault cannon for a left arm and a Power Claw capable of tearing through tanks for a right arm.
The heavy armor plates were inscribed with dense battle honors and prayers; the sarcophagus on the front was currently open, revealing the intricate neural interfaces and life-support systems within.
A dreadnought.
There wasn’t just one in the room.
Alex looked around and saw at least six massive alcoves embedded in the walls.
Four of them were empty, their locks open as if waiting for their masters’ return.
In the other two stood silent dreadnoughts, their armor dull and their electronic eyes dark, as if fallen into an eternal slumber.
The resting place of the Ancients.
And in the very center of the room, the dreadnought belonging to Captain Tuer was surrounded by circles of prayer candles and incense.
The candlelight danced on the golden sarcophagus, casting flickering shadows.
Tarkus and the other warriors filed in, forming a semicircle around the dreadnought.
Gordian held a vial of serum, carefully approaching the sarcophagus.
The Mechanicus Priests took their positions and began chanting even more complex prayers.
Alex stood at the edge of the crowd, feeling as if he had stumbled into the sacred ritual of some Ancient religion.
“Captain Tuer.” Matellus’s voice came from behind Alex, carrying a…
heaviness he had never heard before.
“The serum has been injected.
The neural interfaces have been connected.
The Rites of Activation have been completed.” He paused.
“But he has not awakened.” Alex turned his head to look at Matellus.
The Techmarine’s eye lenses dimmed for a moment, like a leak of some emotion.
“There is no response.” “I have attempted seven Canticles of Appeasement, three Ancient Rites of Activation, and even requested the intervention of the ship’s machine spirit.” “It is no use.
The Captain’s consciousness is there—I can detect faint neural activity—but the dreadnought refuses to accept him.” The atmosphere in the room was heavy.
Alex saw Avitus’s fists clenching until they creaked, Thaddeus bowed his head, and even Cyrus’s perpetually expressionless face showed a flicker of gloom.