On the tenth standard day after the liberation of the agri-world Narindi.
Aboard the Shadow's Sovereignty, Primarch's Office.
Nareth leaned back against his throne, his gaze appraising as he looked at Grandmaster Hurzeler of the Legio Volcanum I standing before him.
Dressed in a red-and-black knightly uniform with an ornate aristocratic longsword at his waist, Hurzeler spoke in standard Vostroyan with a measured, steady cadence.
"Lord Nareth, the God-machines of the Dark Fire await your command."
Etrich, stationed at the doorway of the Primarch's office, kept his muscles relaxed. He had come to understand that even on a vast battlefield or in the petty wars of Vessor, few could ever reach this point.
In fact, none ever had.
Yet he remained vigilant, like an eagle watching its prey, ready to pounce at any moment.
The corner of Etrich's left eye caught Hurzeler going down on one knee. A flicker passed through his gaze.
This man was clearly different now, showing an extraordinary level of respect for Lord Nareth.
Etrich had learned from conversations among the red-robed Mechanicum personnel during brief moments in the corner of the officer's deck that Grandmaster was the title for the 'chieftain' of a Titan Legion.
'He should not be groveling like this.'
Nareth gave an almost imperceptible nod. Over the three-week standard voyage, Hurzeler had been almost completely "corroded."
Only one more crucial moment was needed for him to become utterly loyal to Nareth.
Through this process, Nareth confirmed that abilities like "Majesty" and "corrosion," which are not directly related to psychic powers, are unaffected by Blanks.
He also vaguely concluded that after digesting the "Mentor of Disorder" potion, the effect of "corrosion" overlayed with "Majesty" was three-fifths stronger compared to a true "Baron of Corruption."
This enhancement manifested as a shortened corrosion time.
"Hurzeler," Nareth said with an affable smile, "the time you've been waiting for has arrived. Have the Dark Fire descends upon Hoff Albion!"
"Your command is the path illuminated by the Omnissiah's holy light!"
Hurzeler, striding purposefully, boarded a Stormbird and immediately opened a comm channel, issuing the order to awaken the God-machines.
Two standard hours later, he stepped into the hangar bay. He saw a Magos raising the Staff of the Omnissiah, surrounded by one hundred and twenty Tech-Priests chanting loudly: "Omnissiah, behold Thy great work! Let the God-machines awaken and sweep away the enemies!"
'Win glory, and be worthy of Lord Nareth.' Hurzeler silently intoned in his heart.
Amidst the wafting incense, he walked towards his own Flame's Glory, looking up at the elongated banner inscribed with the Dark Fire's emblem between the massive mechanical feet.
Raging flames reflected in his eyes. Golden laurel wreaths shimmered under the lumen lights.
Hurzeler saw the Magos approach him, raise his hand high, and chant loudly: "...Grant unto It the strength to destroy the enemies of mankind!"
"Awaken, Flame's Glory!"
The plasma reactor roared to life. The acrid smell of engine fuel filled his nostrils.
Boom!
The hatch of the God-machine opened. Hurzeler straightened his collar and walked towards the massive foot, flanked by a crowd.
He ascended rapidly along the passageway and stepped into the command bridge.
The interior compartment of Flame's Glory's steel head was spacious and flat. Numerous control consoles were embedded in layers within the sunken deck of the main walkway.
Hurzeler walked to the front of the bridge and sat on the central command chair, the middle of three seats.
Tech-Priests in red robes appeared to his left and right, moving in perfect synchronization. They fitted him with signal-conducting gloves, the sensor particles bonding tightly with his skin.
Then, an electro-priest who appeared placed the neural sensing device atop his head.
"Grandmaster, please remain still." Accompanying the dull warning, a multitude of silver metal filaments, finer than human hair, coiled out from the neck fixation ring.
The silver tendrils pierced the corners of Hurzeler's eyes, crawled along his optic nerves, entered his skull, and connected to his cerebral cortex.
The cold pain made him shudder once, then he relaxed.
The normally dormant regions of his brain were now fully engaged. A vast torrent of information merged with his consciousness. The entire colossal machine became an extension of his own flesh and blood.
Hurzeler let out a soft, satisfied laugh. He looked down upon all, having transformed into the fiery God-machine. Only Lord Nareth, a demigod walking among mortals, could inflict equally blazing war upon the enemy.
Whoosh!
Flames roared, searing his cerebral cortex.
Hurzeler felt the displeasure of the machine-spirit. "He truly is a demigod."
"Horus is called the Wolf-Slayer God, which I doubt, but Lord Nareth is without question a demigod walking the mortal plane."
As the transports pierced the murky sky amidst billowing dust and erupting fire pillars, Hurzeler could still feel the heat on his scalp.
The wide bay doors exploded open. As the restraining frame disengaged, he strode forward with his head held high, the first off the ramp.
Two Warlord-class Titans followed closely behind him, forming a three-machine formation.
Flame's Glory took heavy, deliberate steps. The shockwaves from its stride traveled through the bedrock, felt kilometers away.
The post-hypnotic implant embedded deep in his subconscious activated. A data stream scrolled within Hurzeler's eyeballs: [Weapons ready, fuel sufficient...]
Enemy targets were telemetrically graded into differently colored runes.
Hurzeler's pupils flared and contracted, locking onto a target.
He had found a target for Flame's Glory: a Valia-Maximal Titan, painted crimson and green.
A God-machine of the Legio Laniaskara.
The instant Hurzeler clenched his gauntlet, a thunderous roar emanated from Flame's Glory's shoulders.
Direct strike missiles screamed out, shrouded in smoke, and slammed into the crimson-green torso.
Jubilant cheers erupted from the consoles on Flame's Glory's bridge. Recoil tremors continued to shake the massive head and steel shoulders.
Without waiting for the command bridge to stabilize, Hurzeler flicked his wrist. The two volcano cannons linked to his gauntlets flared with dazzling light.
Gyro-stabilizers spun, correcting angles, ensuring the blinding white laser beams followed their designated trajectories towards the enemy machine.
Amidst thunderous roars, the two Warlord Titans flanking him eagerly joined the attack sequence.
Rumble!
The blue-green Laniaskara Titan exploded. Its shattered remains scattered, crashing onto hard rock, igniting dozens of fiery craters.
Hurzeler let out a soft, unsatisfied exclamation. He strode forward, heading towards the source of the thermal signals.
The megawatt-level energy released by the volcano cannons, the explosive roars of their blasts, drowned out the rumbling of the earth.
Blue-green Rhino transports flew skyward, leaving charred blackness in the smoke.
Valia-Maximal's alloy fortresses vanished amidst the white steam, as if the mountains they were built into had been hollowed out.
Flame's Glory strode forward. The heavy augur array, including spectral sensors, electromagnetic detectors, radar scanners, echo locators, etc., painted a picture of the entire battlefield.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh...
On both sides of the rocky mountains, hundreds of gun platforms rotated. Fierce tongues of fire surged forward like a tidal wave, blotting out the sky.
Racing shells continuously slammed into the shimmering void shields, creating a series of explosions.
Flame's Glory remained unmoved under the firepower of twelve Auxilia artillery regiments.
Six void shield generators protected the Titan as it calmly launched counterattacks.
Screaming missiles tore apart bunkers. White beams vaporized entire gun platforms.
Just as the three Warlord Titans were relentlessly pounding the artillery positions, a dazzling blue light suddenly erupted from between the mountains.
The searing beam shrieked, piercing through Flame's Glory's void shield, slicing through meters of adamantium armor. The right arm's power system was damaged.
"Divert all power, re-engage the void shield!"
"Fall back!"
Hurzeler ordered. Flame's Glory took large steps backward, retreating behind the two other Warlord machines.
He checked the report, puzzled. The void shield had been overloaded instantly by a single strike.
"Plasma blast gun!"
Reading the report only deepened his confusion.
Plasma weapons are highly unstable, overheating after a few shots, unable to sustain sustained fire. No variant of the Imperium's Warlord-class Titans uses such a weapon.
The sole weakness of the Warlord Titan is the plasma reactor, which is also protected by its void shield.
As Hurzeler pondered this conundrum, a piercing red light flared. The void shield of Dark Smoke on his left flank overloaded.
The Laniaskara Titan was launching continuous attacks.
Hurzeler glanced at the void shield reboot progress: 41 percent.
Not enough time.
"Divert all power. Left arm volcano cannon."
The mechanical arm flared with brilliant light. Breathing on the command bridge became heavy and labored.
Just as Hurzeler was about to issue the attack command, the aether reader suddenly blared a piercing alert tone.
[Warning! Warning! High-energy aether reading. Peak...]
A blinding, brilliant beam streaked past the light sensors. A lightning-wreathed colossal spear descended from the heavens.
Rumble!
A thunderous quake shook the earth. The crimson-green Titan exploded. Shrapnel and debris, wreathed in flames, crashed to the ground.
Hurzeler's eyes widened. He stared at the black-armored, golden-winged figure that had leaped into his field of vision.
Whether a Primarch could match a God-machine had long been a topic of heated debate within the Mechanicum, especially the Titan Legions.
The prevailing thought within Stygies VIII was that a Primarch might only have a chance at close range.
But now.
Lord Nareth had destroyed a powerful Warlord Titan with a single strike.
It proved he could.
Hurzeler gazed up at the majestic form. His mouth and heart chanted in unison:
"Lord Nareth!"
"He is a god descended upon the mortal realm!"
"The avatar of the Omnissiah!"
The warmth on his scalp was present, but not searing.
The machine-spirit of Flame's Glory had also accepted the Grandmaster's declaration.
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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