Axion approached the base of the statue of the Emperor, scanning it from multiple angles. Within his multi-spectral energy sight, this towering effigy possessed no physical power conduits or internal circuitry, yet it radiated an incredible energy signature. Its peculiar circulatory structure left the Iron Man in a state of rare digital bewilderment.
Operating several monitoring modules simultaneously, Axion searched for a potential power source. He found nothing; the energy readings manifested within the statue as if conjured from the void itself.
Seeing Axion raise a hand as if to interact with the holy icon, Guilliman moved quickly to intercept him.
"Iron Man, what are you doing?!"
Axion turned his head to glance at Guilliman, then redirected his sensors back to the statue. But the energy reaction had utterly dissipated. His rays scanned the statue repeatedly, but the results returned only a mundane, inert block of carved stone.
"A singular phenomenon without precedent. Archiving in core data-logs."
"What phenomenon?" Guilliman asked, his gaze turning toward the statue he had contemplated countless times before. He could discern no change whatsoever.
A sudden tremor vibrated through the deck as a veteran Custodian pushed open the chapel's heavy doors.
"Lord Guilliman, we have arrived at the Terran orbital plates."
Guilliman nodded, then turned to Axion. "Come. I shall first escort you to the Imperial Archives."
Axion offered no verbal response, silently falling into step behind the Primarch. The four Custodians cast wary, inscrutable looks at the compact mechanical construct before taking the lead.
…
The moment the party crossed the docking umbilicus, a phalanx of gold-clad Custodians stood waiting within the starport. At their head was Captain-General Trajann Valoris.
Valoris offered Guilliman a formal military salute, though his expression remained glacial.
"Primarch Guilliman. Your deeds and loyalty are beyond question, but the defensive protocols of Terra are inviolable. The presence of this Iron Man breaks every standing security mandate."
"I respect your judgment, my Lord," Valoris continued, "but this is the heart of the Imperium, where the Emperor's safety is paramount. I am aware of your pact with this machine, but the remainder of this journey will be conducted under our supervision. Our duty to the Throne supersedes all other concerns. We cannot allow our defensive perimeter to be compromised by a rash maneuver."
Guilliman looked at the scarred, uncompromising face of the Captain-General. The air of absolute authority was undeniable. He nodded and turned to Axion.
Axion was indifferent to the logistical specifics; he cared only for the outcome. "As the designated contractor, Roboute Guilliman must accompany us."
Valoris gave a curt nod. At Guilliman's signal, his four Victrix Guard returned to the ship. Axion and the Primarch, flanked by Valoris and his retinue, boarded a Stormbird, a craft devoid of all markings save for the Imperial Aquila and ornate gold filigree.
Silence reigned during the flight. The Custodian Guard never took their eyes off Axion.
The transport soon reached a landing zone on the outer periphery of the Imperial Palace. The atmosphere here was one of extreme, suffocating tension. Not since the days when the Emperor walked among men had so many of the Legio Custodes been seen gathered in one place.
Even more ominous was the fact that nearly every Custodian present wore the sacred Allarus-pattern Terminator Armour, their Guardian Spears shimmering with lethality. These suits were masterpieces of gilded power armor, their carapaces etched with complex arcana and fine gold filigree. Beyond their resplendent appearance, these suits were far more massive than the Terminator armor utilized by the Adeptus Astartes, providing staggering physical durability and independent void-shield protection.
Surrounding this golden host stood four even more gargantuan silhouettes, their ornate decorations emphasizing their divinity: two Venerable Contemptor Dreadnoughts and two Contemptor-Achilles Dreadnoughts held the rear.
As the Stormbird touched down, the ramp hissed open. Valoris stepped out first, followed by Guilliman and Axion. Guilliman had intended to lead Axion to the archives first, but Valoris directed the group straight toward the inner Sanctum. He intended to bring the machine directly before the Master of Mankind.
Surrounded by a wall of golden ceramite, the group descended into the lightless depths of the Imperial Palace. As the final, massive vault doors ground open, a hall of titanic proportions was revealed to Axion. The architecture was magnificent and solemn, saturated with a heavy atmosphere of mystery and ritualism. Its soaring vaults and vast spaces were designed to make the individual feel utterly insignificant.
The interior was opulently decorated but shrouded in gloom. By the soft, guttering light of energy crystals, one could glimpse walls encrusted with precious gems, noble metals, and exquisite frescoes depicting the history of the Imperium, the triumphs of the Emperor, and the eternal war against the darkness. It was a visual liturgy of glory and ruin.
The intersecting beams of light created an oppressive, hallowed atmosphere, cloaking the entire hall in a shroud of religious awe.
"The Sanctum Imperialis," Guilliman murmured, looking upon the familiar hall. This was only his third time returning here since his resurrection.
The elite Custodians who normally stood watch along the nave were, today, entirely equipped in Allarus Terminator plate.
Axion stared into the depths of the hall at the colossal machine within. He froze.
Its silhouette matched the data gathered from various sources, a throne for an ancient monarch, but to his eyes, it was a mechanical component of staggering complexity. Its technology seemed to transcend every scientific principle recorded in his memory.
But what truly baffled Axion was the skeletal figure upon it.
The cadaver possessed an impossible biological vitality, as if it were on the verge of total regeneration at every second, yet a strange energy was simultaneously and relentlessly eroding that vitality. In his energy vision, a conflagration of golden power was bound to the throne-machine. The energy burned like a solar flare, dissipating into the void every microsecond.
Below, several conduits functioned like fuel lines, constantly pumping "fuel" into the pyre to maintain the scale of the flame.
"This scenario exceeds my calculations," Axion spoke, his voice echoing in the hallowed silence. "This is the Emperor? A living, suspected-human skeletal remnant? A highly anomalous condition. Saving data."
The question was a supreme blasphemy. Yet the Custodians remained as still as statues, as if they had heard nothing at all.
This eerie lack of reaction surprised even Guilliman, but he answered Axion's query regardless. "This is the Emperor. The greatest of humanity. He has not passed; the Golden Throne sustains His life."
Axion shook his head suddenly.
"Genetic data scan and analysis indicates a structural composition that is ancient beyond measure, yet perfectly aligned with all human markers. This state is statistically impossible; I have no reference samples in my database for such a condition."
"Furthermore," Axion continued, "I cannot designate this entity as a valid subject for service. I could provide specialized automata for hospice care, but it would be a futile endeavor. The moment this individual is disconnected from the underlying mechanical power structure, he will undergo immediate systemic collapse and cease to exist."
"Though this exceeds my projections, I did not expect to glean history from the mouth of this so-called Ancient. It is a regrettable lack of utility."
Axion turned his metallic head back toward the exit. "Proceed to the archives now. Perhaps there, my payment will find its value."
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