“It is a pity they found us and we had to purge them all, but it couldn’t be helped. The Assimilators can promise whatever they like, but once they’ve detected us, they won’t leave us in peace. They’ll send a new batch of flesh-harvesters, or perhaps even a fragmentary War-Vicar, but they’ll fail again. Every couple of centuries they invent some new way to subjugate the sapient, trying to break us, but every time we break their mechadendrites instead. And while we couldn’t seize their vehicles before, it’s unlikely they’ll leave their rear exposed like this again. They’ve already been hard-pressed for the last hundred and twenty years by the Scavenger hordes and some sort of rat-men who love to steal tech,” Dorogan said measuredly, approaching the truck and beginning to inspect its interior with me.
Inside, the vehicle was a standard grey metal box, with only sparse buttons indicating any functionality.
There were small lockers, ladders leading up to the machine-gun turrets, and a control panel at the very rear.
There wasn’t even a windshield; everything was viewed through dozens of cameras feeding data to several screens simultaneously.
We managed to recover a fair amount of light handheld laser weaponry, though none of it was sized for giants.
Far more useful were the medical kits, charging generators for the cyborgs, and the transport itself.
It was hard not to realize how useful such an incredibly fast machine would be in this dark age, where enemies wait around every corner.
I just needed to fix a few things.
Placing my hand on the cold, white metal wall, I closed my eyes and began to decipher the machine’s design.
My most unusual ability allowed me, in a sense, to literally understand a machine down to its smallest gear.
It felt as though it were speaking to me, explaining its own construction, etching the knowledge into my mind.*
I do not yet know the nature of this phenomenon, but it is obviously connected to my origins.
A superhuman fallen from the heavens in a technologically advanced pod, possessing supernatural strength and a head full of weapon blueprints capable of unmaking worlds—having a knack for working with machinery was hardly the strangest thing on that list.
I don’t believe in magic, but I certainly believe in technology or physical phenomena so complex and advanced that they are indistinguishable from sorcery.
In the library of Karaashi, there were rare mentions of people capable of changing the world with the power of their minds alone, but I treated these tales with healthy skepticism.
Thousands of years have passed since the Age of Knowledge; the locals could have easily invented explanations for devices they didn’t understand.
I am no sorcerer; I cannot create fireballs with my thoughts.
Understanding machines is my limit.
And this truck, which had crossed dead deserts for millennia, was very talkative.
Gradually, the entire blueprint of the machine formed in my head, including the locations of the Subliminate’s hidden tracking devices.
Without ceremony, I tore them out and destroyed them all.
I sat at the control panel and began changing all the access codes that our enemy also possessed.
The crystalline screen displayed a sea of symbols, numbers, and diagrams showing the statistics of the ancient machine.
It had been in need of repair for ten centuries, yet no one—not even the cyborgs’ “Overmind”—could handle such a task.
Working with atomic-scale semiconductors required extremely precise instruments, to say nothing of a capital overhaul of the fusion reactor powering the truck.
I would have to handle this problem myself.
“Can you make this beast move?” the leader of our group asked.
I nodded silently and, pressing several buttons, finally broke through the simple local security system.
My hands moved of their own accord, as if long accustomed to such work, while my hyper-fast mind swatted away every unexpected error.
Finally, after entering a thirty-digit alphanumeric password, I boosted the engine output to an optimal twenty-six and a half percent, checked the energy levels in the thorium reactor, and assessed the rotor speed.
Then, at last, I pressed the ignition…
The machine ran silently.
Only a faint, nearly imperceptible vibration betrayed that the truck’s functions were active.
Once the entire group had climbed inside, we finally set off for our destination: the Black Ruins, a city that was once a bastion of human thought and engineering genius.
.
.
.
Even the remnants of its former glory showed that the long-forgotten city had been an incredible place.
Reaching it relatively quickly, we noticed from afar the remains of mile-high steel blocks that towered over the wasteland like dead mountains.
Human minds had built these structures, but thousands of years had passed since living people walked within them.
Former plants and factories were covered in dust and black snow that filled the gaps in the buildings.
The scars of an ancient war were still visible here.
There was a particularly strong scent of doom and decay.
But this was only the outskirts.
Moving forward across the uneven stony surface that once served as a road, we soon encountered the first residential districts.
Tens of thousands of black metallic constructions of various shapes and sizes lined the path—from tiny steel booths full of scorched wiring and generators to entire estates that looked as if they were made from solid alloys of gold and silver.
There were ruined kilometer-tall skyscrapers and the remains of thick silicon-crystal cables lying in heaps here and there.
And yet, everything stood in absolute silence—even the machines here were as quiet as the dead.
This was likely due to the primary feature of this former forge-world, rich in volcanoes and ores.
According to the legends preserved by the giants, it was here that metal was once mined in incredible quantities to create machinery of all kinds—from perfect mechanical servants to titanic starships that once roamed the interstellar void.
Sthenelus even had its own Mega-structure.
An incredible steel ring in the exosphere surrounding the planet.
it served as a specialized platform where thousands of void-ships were constructed, earning the world a reputation as the primary workshop of all humanity.
But for that very reason, when the Men of Iron – the sentient machines serving humanity – rebelled, the planet suffered more than most.
There were billions of machines here that rose against humans in a bloody war.
According to legend, humans somehow won in the end, but no one could restore the galactic forge.
Interstellar travel gradually withered away, and the dying world was left in total darkness…
“…Move northwest, toward the densest cluster of ruined high-rises. That’s where the power generators were manufactured before being sent to the atmosphere via the space elevator. You can find plenty of interesting things among its wreckage. But be careful; this place is crawling with threats. We’ve only been here a few times, and it’s been over fifteen hundred years since our last visit. Everything could have changed,” Dorogan said as we finally entered the city proper.
I simply nodded and tapped several buttons on the control panel.
Essentially, the machine could drive itself; it only needed a route with specific parameters like speed and energy consumption.
I also had to monitor all the cameras to ensure we didn’t miss a lethal threat at the last second.
No one could fit into the machine-gun turrets, so our combat potential was somewhat limited.
By hacking the control panel, I gained hard-access control over all the vehicle’s systems, allowing me to display radiation sensors, motion trackers, and electromagnetic field detectors on the screens.
So far, however, we had found nothing useful.
It was quiet.
No matter how far we traveled, the silence remained unnerving.
This place shouldn’t be so tomb-like.
This was where the chance of encountering mechanical monsters and remnants of the Long Night should be highest.
That meant there was someone here who had dealt with all the other “predators.” And considering that steel monsters like the Subliminate could be found on every corner, our potential enemy had to be truly dangerous.
Finally, after another hour of travel, we reached the location.
A derelict grey building which, unlike the others we had seen, was slightly covered in rust and the marks of plasma-scorched molten metal.
“…We’ll leave four in the truck to watch the perimeter and make sure it isn’t stolen. The rest of us, led by me, will explore the vault. According to the manuscripts, this was an old station for extracting energy from the earth’s core, but there’s a good chance of finding other useful things.”
For a moment, I had the urge to correct Dorogan – to tell him that the process of converting tectonic plate movement into storable power couldn’t be described so crudely – but I changed my mind just as quickly.
My thoughts were occupied by something else entirely.
A suspicious fact occurred to me: if there were dangerous machines here, where better to nest than at the main power station?
While I had no hard proof, and predicting the behavior of unknown machines is impossible without knowing their design, a bad feeling had followed me the whole way…
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.
.
The dark corridors of the long-abandoned factory left an indelible impression.
Absolute silence, a coating of eternal dust, and rare traces of human activity still untouched by the flow of time.
Mostly, only scraps of plastic, treated metal, and occasional handheld electronics remained.
But sometimes there were traces of augmentations, abandoned by their owners after thousands of years of silence.
It wasn’t surprising—flesh and bone are the first to rot.
Four giants stayed behind to guard the truck, while the rest followed Dorogan into the station.
Though the massive blocks of electromagnetic capacitors and batteries were empty and useless, there was still something interesting to find.
I thought I could eventually adapt an antimatter storage unit as a power source for the monastery, but I would need tools.
To save time, it was easier to take what I needed here.
Essentially, the giants were simply acting as my security while I scavenged the ruins.
Approaching a bent and rusted steel kiosk, I ripped the cover off with a single tug and peered inside, investigating a high-end electronics repair kit that had miraculously survived for millennia.
Hmm.
If my memory served me correctly, this version hadn’t been used since the end of the 212th century.
An ancient kit, yet a true specimen of quality craftsmanship that had retained its functionality across the ages.
It likely wasn’t replaced at the factory either out of a desire to save money or out of habit—used for repairing the newest machines whose designs were a nightmare to decipher. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
…Wait, how did I know that?
A near-silent hiss snapped me out of my thoughts.
This was the quietest and most stealthy machine I had ever encountered.
Even I could barely hear its phantom movement, but the sound of something burning betrayed its location.
It felt as if the machine were somehow suppressing its own thoughts, along with the violent flame burning in its every fiber.
A very bad sign.
Tossing the necessary tools into my bag on the move, I bolted toward where the mechanism had to be.
It was moving toward one of my allies, and certainly not with good intentions.
“Sixty degrees, behind the metal wall” Before I could finish the warning, a steel blade passed through the wall with terrifying ease, striking the giant’s head with precision.
He died instantly, but he bought me two seconds as the machine tore through the wall and his corpse.
The machine was made of black-grey metal; only two glowing red eyes stood out against its dull frame.
The mechanical body vaguely resembled a human skeleton, but with added spikes and weapons for maximum intimidation and lethality.
Its right arm was replaced by a mandible-blade, currently coated in blood, bone fragments, and cerebral fluid.
Its left limb was a burning weapon, charging with light and moving rapidly in my direction.
Smoke, fire, and hatred wafted from the machine.
The robot hated more intensely than any other being on earth.
I couldn’t decipher the thoughts of a sentient machine, but its entire essence felt an infinite malice toward all living things.
Especially toward humanity.
The Iron Warrior was fast, but I was faster.
Acting on pure instinct, I drew my plasma pistol, aimed it directly at the creature’s head, and fired before the machine could react.
Formidable as it was, thousands of years without repair had left their mark—the glob of superheated plasma passed through its dented skull without resistance and incinerated its internal electronics.
The steel skeleton collapsed forward, falling over the giant’s corpse.
“…Men of Iron! They’re everywhere! Get out, now!” Dorogan’s shouts and the din of battle filled the previously silent chamber as blood began to spill.
Running back, I instantly spotted two more dead giants and four machines fighting the only surviving warrior, Dorogan.
The giant was strong; with one swing of his blade, he cleaved a machine that had gotten too close, but there were too many of them.
Using the element of surprise, they had instantly killed most of our allies with headshots.
Only the leader had survived, though he had a wide gash across his cheek.
He used his greatsword as a shield, but the mechanically precise beams were hitting his most exposed areas.
This was only the beginning – I felt dozens more such machines moving in, preparing to snuff out more lives.
I wasn’t going to let that happen.
Sprinting from around the corner, I tore a grenade from my belt in one fluid motion and hurled it into the corridor where two machines had gathered, with more arriving every second.
With my other hand, I squeezed the trigger of my pistol several times, melting the head of the last machine just as it reached the giant and pierced his knee with a rusted blade.
The robot moved with extreme speed, its movements almost a blur even to me, but the operative word was “almost.” I only needed a millisecond to aim and strike.
The explosion was loud enough to draw the attention of everything within and beyond the power station.
I hoped our allies understood the signal.
“Leave me! Get out! I’ll hold them off, you can make it!” the group leader roared, swinging his sword with fury and shattering the head of the penultimate machine.
The remaining mechanism managed to twist miraculously and strike the giant’s side with its blade, but even without a weapon, the giant was dangerous—he simply brought his massive stone fist down on the machine’s skull, smashing it to pieces.
Immediately after, Dorogan collapsed to the ground, clutching his wounded knee.
He likely wouldn’t be able to walk without proper augmentics, and his fighting days were certainly over.
Saying nothing, I simply hoisted the giant – who was twice my size – onto my shoulders and sprinted for the exit at top speed.
I heard the movement of the machines and felt their infinite rage as they tried to catch us, but even with the extra weight, the ancient robots couldn’t keep up with me.
Though I had to stop several times to fire back and save the remaining allies, no one else died.
Reaching the truck, I dropped a few more grenades toward the machines to cover our retreat and placed Dorogan inside.
I leaped in after him, dashed to the control panel, and drove out of the city at full speed.
I made a mental note: I would return here once I had acquired more advanced weaponry.
Another fact—this “machine understanding” often appears in canon, yet no one knows if it’s a Warp-based ability or not.
Cawl can communicate with machine spirits as if they were his own and even create new ones.
At the same time, there are Titan and Knight pilots, and other “Saints of the Omnissiah” who can heal machinery with a touch.