Stepping onto the dead, grey earth, I carefully scrutinized the black pyramids in the distance.
Even from here, I could feel the pressure emanating from those ancient structures, which had guarded the secrets of spent millennia.
It was the feeling of something long-forgotten, slumbering in eternal sleep, yet remaining lethally dangerous.
I had spent many months scouting the periphery of this site, and it was already clear that my expedition would be anything but simple.
Mechanical constructs—vaguely insectoid, a meter long, and equipped with advanced sensors and weaponry—patrolled the pyramids in an endless cycle.
To me, they were not a direct threat, but they could certainly prove troublesome.
I had been forced to capture a dozen specimens just to gain a rudimentary understanding of their composition and how to bypass the local security protocols.
Given that even I—a specialist in technology equipped with the remnants of ancient human archeotech—took so long to decipher them, I could hardly imagine what awaited me inside.
Yet I felt there was no possibility of retreat.
My entire being told me I was forged for this.* I sensed that my destiny was to uncover every secret hidden within these pyramids.
And considering that the future of the entire planet depended on my actions, there was no margin for error.
Glancing one last time at the miniature cogitator on my wrist and re-checking every biometric, I finally engaged my cloaking field.
A faint hum rippled through my carbon-coated black suit as the systems synchronized.
My technology did not render me invisible to the naked eye, but that was unnecessary.
I had long ago noticed that if I simply willed it, no one could detect me through conventional means.
Even the most skilled warriors were unable to perceive me just a few meters away.
I did not truly vanish, but it was as if the world itself averted its gaze from me, dampening all sound in the process.
Experiments with the captured specimens proved that mechanisms were no exception to this phenomenon.
However, practical application revealed that I could not naturally mask other types of radiation utilized by the machines.
Thus, I had to construct a specialized suit that shielded me across almost the entire wave spectrum, save for the visible light.
Even their strange life-form scanners had been thwarted after two months of research and exhaustive trial and error.
Once the shroud was active, I began to move, keeping the patrol routes of these mindless automata in mind.
They were slow and relatively primitive; evidently, their creators prioritized long-term durability over versatility.
Thanks to this flaw, they failed to notice my movement as I ghosted from one rocky outcropping to another.
Occasionally, I encountered the husks of giant machines and fragments of starships, untouched by mortals for thousands of years.
The local sentinels were vigilant, destroying any intruder without mercy, yet they were entirely indifferent to dead, mindless scrap.
At last, I reached the Black Pyramid itself.
At close range, it looked even more somber and oppressive.
The nanite swarm—the foundation of everything here—sounded like a million scuttling insects, focused on a singular, inscrutable purpose.
Using my custom-built magnoculars, I had already studied the architecture from afar and knew my objective.
Nevertheless, every action was heavy with tension.
It felt as if a single misstep would lead to my demise, and that even my formidable abilities would not suffice to save me.
Sensing these doubts, I clenched my fist and purged them from my mind.
Taking a step forward, I headed toward one of the many breaches in the pyramid’s hull.
From a distance they were invisible, but up close, these meter-wide holes with slagged edges—scorched by some unknown weapon—were unmistakable.
Closer inspection revealed a greyish crust on the edges that prevented the nanites from sealing the gaps; judging by the agitated collective hum, the machines found this highly distressing.
I was willing to bet that after millions of years, the restoration protocols were failing, and this glitch would be my path inside.
I had no desire to breach the structure by force—I was certain that doing so would rouse the entire garrison against me.
I deployed my drone into a breach located four meters above the ground.
A ten-centimeter metallic sphere with a single optic-lens, it moved on an anti-gravity drive, transmitting an interior feed while remaining undetected.
Its range was limited, but the archeotech was superb.
After my modifications rendered it nearly invisible even to advanced systems, it had become one of my favorite creations.
The interior revealed its own forms of “life.” Dozens of mechanical spiders and smaller scarabs skittered across the black walls, which were bathed in a sickly, jaundiced green light.
My sensors picked up faint radioactive signatures, though they remained below lethal levels.
While an effective defense mechanism, even machines would face complications at higher concentrations.
The density of mechanisms was high.
Aside from the mindless drones, hundreds of powerful cogitators and defense arrays stood watch.
Resembling black monoliths inscribed with faint green runes and a star-like sigil at their center, they might have passed for mere decoration if I couldn’t hear the humming threat within them—a sound laced with an all-consuming void.
As I guided the drone along the wall to avoid detection, communication interference spiked.
Once the sensor moved ten meters away, the image quality degraded into static.
This route was too dangerous; I needed to scout alternatives.
The drone returned, and I continued the survey.
Moving stealthily from one breach to another, I deployed the robot to map the Precursors’ structure.
Fortunately, I found areas less saturated with hostile mechanisms.
Much of the pyramid was cavernous and empty; even the tiny machines were a rarity in these sectors.
The advanced monoliths were more common, but in some chambers, they were scorched or missing sections, clearly damaged by the same searing weaponry that blocked the nanites.
Such technology was unsettling, but these damaged zones were the easiest way to slip inside unnoticed.
Despite my physical bulk, I possessed immense flexibility and agility.
Vaulting five meters up to catch the edge of the breach was effortless.
Pulling myself inside, I prepared for a confrontation, but was met only with silence.
Whatever slaughter had occurred here was ancient history.
While it was possible this was a result of the war between humans and machines, I suspected it was part of a far older conflict, predating humanity itself.
If the Precursors were so technologically advanced, why did they require such convoluted defense systems?
And why did they build these structures to so closely resemble sepulchral tombs?
Moving deeper, I began collecting data on my cogitator, analyzing the chemical composition of the stale air—filtered by my rebreather mask—and the internal structure of the nanites.
They lacked even a spark of sentience, replaced by rigid programming.
This was likely why the walls hadn’t consumed me yet, but my paranoia did not subside.
Navigating through the chambers and checking for traps, I approached an inner wall featuring an atomically smooth, meter-wide hole.
It was a gateway into the pyramid’s deeper corridors.
Given the infinite branching paths, I realized I would be here for a long time—especially if I moved with the caution each step required.
But this meant more samples, more data, and a superior analysis.
It was better to survive than to perish due to one overlooked detail.
.
.
.
Guided by the drone, I eventually discovered something resembling humanoid remains lying near a mechanical sarcophagus.
It was a metallic skeleton with two arms, two legs, a single head, and a pair of optics.
It possessed a rib cage and other structural “bones,” though the anatomy was distinctly non-human.
The difference was subtle but clear.
The dead machine lay in the corridor with three holes in its chassis—two in the center of the chest and one in the head.
These were the unmistakable marks of plasma fire, but that wasn’t what fascinated me.
Were my calculations wrong?
Was this a human creation?
These “aliens” looked remarkably like humans who had traded flesh for a nanite shell—highly advanced, yet apparently mortal.
Or was it mere convergent evolution?
There was also the possibility that the giants’ chronicles were flawed.
Perhaps it wasn’t the 30th Millennium, but could they have “missed” the date by millions of years?
I needed to repeat my analysis on other specimens.
I felt an instinctive connection to all machines created by humans; I could understand them and, in a sense, commune with them.
Yet all the technology here felt instinctively alien and aggressive, regardless of my approach.
Even the most ancient and dangerous human archeotech, like the Men of Iron, felt “familial” compared to the works of these Precursors.
Satisfied that this sector was clear, I left my cover and approached the mechanical remains.
After a final sweep for self-destruct systems or signs of life, I secured the skeletal frame in my pack for deeper study in more favorable conditions.
It was too early to leave—I was close to the central hub of the ruined Black Pyramid—but I sensed this trophy was more vital than all the others combined…
Primarchs are fundamentally tied to the worlds they landed on.
The master sorcerer (Magnus) landed among psykers, the shadow-man (Corax) on a world of darkness, and Alpharius on Terra.
Ferrus not only landed on one of the most technologically advanced planets but literally within walking distance of Necron tombs with failing stasis-fields.
In canon, Ferrus literally walked into them, tore the pyramids apart, and fashioned a phase-blade with his own hands!
We never hear of the Medusan Necrons again—they were likely purged by the Iron Hands later, but it remains an incredible feat.
“Trans-spatial hiddenness” is a less discussed Primarch ability, but it is possessed by many of the Emperor’s sons.
Beyond Alpharius, Corax, and Curze, even Horus and Sanguinius could mask their presence so effectively that Astartes couldn’t perceive them even at arm’s length.
How?
They are Primarchs.
Why didn’t they use it more often?
They are Primarchs.