I heard Uthor’s footsteps long before he reached the door of my forge-sanctum.
Though I was fully submerged in the cogitation and development of a new device, my mind remained strikingly clear, capable of processing multiple logic-streams simultaneously.
It felt as though I could splinter my thoughts into dozens of individual currents, each attending to a different task without ever becoming entangled.
This process did not bring pleasure; rather, it induced sharp neural aches and mental fatigue.
But holding a mere two or three tasks in my mind at once?
That was child’s play.
I only broke away from my work when he knocked.
Setting aside the newly acquired instruments for studying nano-machine architecture, I stood and called out for the giant to enter.
He did not hesitate, stepping immediately into my workshop.
I rarely receive visitors, and his widening eyes betrayed his astonishment at my findings and prototypes.
In almost every previous instance, my mentor had found me either during formal lessons or studying within the Great Library.
Yet, with each passing year – each passing month – such lessons grew fewer.
There was little left among the giants that I did not already master or know, leading me to focus my efforts on the creation of the new or the dissection of artifacts recovered during my solo expeditions.
Because of this, the steel shelves of my room were crowded with trophies: exotic power generators operating on dozens of scientific principles – some of which gave even me pause; samples of exceedingly rare ores that clearly did not originate on this planet; various fragments of machinery, some of which had been fully sentient; and hundreds of smaller components and vox-thief parts, each with its own history and unique purpose.
My primary cogitator, for instance, was two-thirds comprised of fully formatted logic-plates from Men of Iron that I had harvested through sweat and blood.
They were adversaries dangerous even for me, yet their computational capacity was staggering, justifying every risk taken.
I had to labor extensively over their memory cores to neutralize any chance of data-corruption or subversion, but the archive of data from the bygone Age of Technology contained within them had vastly expanded my understanding of the galaxy.
“I am glad to see you, Ferrus. I see you have not squandered your time, continuing to hone your talent and create wonders. It is gratifying to see the individual you have become. Truly, you are the First among us,” Uthor said with a touch of pride, surveying both me and the chamber.
His words were objectively true.
I was the finest warrior in the temple; I could have bested Dorogan even at his peak, to say nothing of the old veteran’s current state, weakened by his wounds.
I had recently reached three meters in height, and my physical strength was a mathematical anomaly—with effort, I could lift ten tons above my head and hurl them with such velocity that a baseline human eye would see only a blurred silhouette.
This is without mentioning my celerity; to me, any opponent among the giants was no faster than a frozen statue.
In such an equation of power, “skill” almost ceased to matter.
And frankly, I was never a devotee of close-quarters combat using primitive melee weapons.
Ranged weaponry was optimal by all metrics; the risk of being struck from a distance is far lower than the chance of receiving a wound from a blade or spear.
Thus, I studied the arts of the duel only for general development – to understand how a potential foe might react.
It was the same with all other subjects. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
For over a year, no one had been my equal in any discipline.
I was the premier engineer, strategist, tactician, mathematician, researcher, and craftsman…
Only in philosophy and basic art did I lag behind the temple’s inhabitants.
I could not bring myself to create a painting, nor anything purely decorative.
My mind simply failed to grasp the purpose of it; it offered no interesting ideas, eternally prioritizing practicality over aesthetics.
Now, even the giants’ near-infinite library seemed small and confined.
After processing a few thousand of their treatises, one realizes that there is nothing truly useful left within them.
The scientific works are riddled with inaccuracies, foolish hypotheses, and the delusions of a people who preserved a vague memory of the Old World but never truly witnessed it.
This birthed the “myths” and “legends” filled with sorcery.
Though I respected the chroniclers of the past, the time had come to look forward and forge history myself.
“Only because I was taught by the best,” I replied, the only acceptable response in this situation.
“Without you, I would still be wandering the wastes and the tundra, or I would have perished from hunger or a feral machine. Now, I have reached the point where I can begin to repay the world that helped me survive.”
It was obvious that I could not accept the state of this dying world.
It was physically painful to see how far civilization had plummeted, and how soon the final traces of human greatness would vanish into oblivion.
Though my first years were spent in learning, it was a clear investment.
Only now could I approach the next phase of my grand design for the resurrection of life and civilization on the planet.
“Will you not reveal what you have planned? Know that we are always ready to provide whatever aid is required if you truly intend to bring back the light of humanity. We are not fools; we understand that we will one day be erased by the sands of time if nothing changes. That is why we invested so much in you—the child fallen from the stars. What greater sign could there be?”
How does one answer such sentiment?
I simply nodded, maintaining an expressionless face, and produced two adamantine cubes whose contents I had been analyzing for some time.
Placing them on the table before Uthor, I pressed a side-stud.
The top lids of both containers slid open, revealing two metallic powders sealed behind reinforced carbon-glass.
I had been forced to return to the stasis-pod in which I had landed on this world to scavenge components capable of containing a swarm of countless machines.
“At this stage, I require no assistance. I am not yet prepared to begin a Great Crusade against all, but am merely occupied with creating a suitable tool that will help me build the foundation for the future. To be precise, I am attempting to create the Perfect Tool, with which I can forge this world into something better,” I replied calmly, watching his clear surprise.
“A tool? You mean a weapon? Because I have some doubts that a smith’s hammer will help you unify the planet. And what does this iron sand have to do with it?”
Despite his venerable age, Uthor retained the spirit of researcher.
He enjoyed speaking with me, listening to my theories and developments.
At times, he provided useful criticism or the inspiration necessary to overcome a logic-block.
“This is not mere loose metal, but a swarm of microscopic machines possessing incredible capabilities. Here,” I gestured to the cube containing a grey ‘liquid’ I had harvested from a Mecharchnid.
“This is clearly a creation of human genius, though severely degraded after millennia. Billions of tiny machines which, when gathered, could once replicate the form and structure of almost any device, while self-replicating on a near-infinite scale as long as energy and resources were available. However, that time is long gone; too many errors have accumulated in their system code. After seven thousand years of a self-copying cycle and futile attempts to maintain the swarm on minimal resources, they are but a shadow of their former glory.*”
Such technical matters fascinated me; discussing them allowed me to immerse myself in the subject, forgetting the world around me.
“In theory, I could attempt to repair this elementary and flawed technology, but in the task of unifying humanity, one cannot settle for half-measures. I need the best to achieve the impossible,” I said, closing the cube and pointing to the second one, where a grey-black mixture was endlessly attempting to breach its confinement.
The efforts required to capture and successfully store this specimen had been immense…
but the labor was entirely worth it.
“This could also be called a nanite swarm, but in the same sense that a fusion-missile could be called a large grenade. The machines in this metal are magnitudes smaller than those in any other sample; they are only slightly larger than molecules themselves, yet they possess the ability to convert matter into energy and vice versa with fantastic efficiency! In essence, this is artificial matter that can replicate almost anything! A body comprised entirely of this ‘liquid metal’ could copy a living organism down to the individual neurons!” I spoke with a rare flicker of excitement, my emotions unusually vivid.
“It is incredibly resilient, possessing a staggering capacity for self-repair, and is practically immune to the passage of time. And it is about this that I wished to speak.”
Setting the cubes aside, I produced a small orb—half artificial crystal, half an alloy of aluminum and silver—and rotated it clockwise.
A click sounded, and the crystal flared to life, projecting a hololith of the black pyramids and monoliths, terrifying in their very aspect.
“I recovered this swarm from one of the sentinels of that fortress. While I initially believed it to be a relic of humanity left under machine guard since the Age of Strife, detailed study proved how wrong I was.”
Raising my gaze to meet Uthor’s, who still towered over me, I spoke with absolute gravity:
“Analysis shows that samples of this metal date back at least hundreds of thousands of years, if not millions. The makeshift instruments I forged to check atomic decay cannot determine it more precisely, but I guarantee they are older than humanity itself. By a vast margin.”
Uthor immediately began stroking his beard, deep in thought.
“Myths spoke of those deep in the galaxy who were not descendants of the first humans and had no link to the human race, yet even in legends, such things were rarely mentioned. At the very least, I can say that aliens rarely appeared on Medusa. And for them to be so ancient and so advanced…”
“Preliminary analysis suggests their technology surpasses even the height of the Dark Age of Technology, if only slightly. During my research, I realized that many engineering solutions employed by humans are suspiciously similar to attempts by ancient geniuses to copy the incredible achievements of these so-called ‘Precursors.’ The nanite swarm is but a pathetic, unfinished copy of this ‘Living Metal,’ which is, at its core, programmable matter,” I finished.
Uthor exhaled, sinking deeper into thought, and only replied after several minutes of reflection.
I did not interrupt him, running calculations of my own while waiting for the old sage’s answer.
“I suspect you wish to seize the secrets of this astonishing technology for yourself? I can only support you in this, but are you certain you can replicate such complex machines without losing control or causing a catastrophe? A civilization that developed to such a level would not have left its secrets unguarded. And no one truly knows what is kept in those pyramids—all the finest warriors and even sentient machines perished before they could even approach that fortress.”
“I am aware of this, which is precisely why I have spent the last six months developing gear that can cloak me and allow me to study the site. That is why I go alone—developing additional prototypes would be too time-consuming. I suspect I will eventually have to spend years carefully deciphering their language, uncovering the secrets of the Precursors, and reverse-engineering even a single one of their technologies before I achieve anything substantial. However…”
I glanced again at the cube containing the swarm of billions of nanites, still struggling to escape their unbreakable trap, and I clenched my fist.
“…If I master this element, the unification of this world becomes merely a matter of time. And then, the stars themselves shall become my next objective.”
A fun fact somewhat unrelated to Ferrus himself.
In the grim darkness of the 41st Millennium, nanomachines haven’t gone anywhere, and the Adeptus Mechanicus uses them!
Specifically, they are used by the “Micro-Omnissiah” cult.
They aren’t on Mars or some other high-end Forge World, but on the fringes!
On their micro-forges, they create nanomachines that can devour enemy flesh like “Grey Goo” or heal machinery and flesh with incredible ease.
Many Imperial structures, such as the Legio Custodes or the Officio Assassinorum, depend on their technology, so their role cannot be underestimated.