Cao the Exiled
Grijs
Enzayne
MarshalSolgriev
Lord Zee
Frettzo
DracoLunaris
Vec//Vion 5
//140km South of the Great Bastion
//The War of The Holy Machine
//20 Years After Angelus Ascension
Nirek Andreadth swore as he beat in the head of a white-robbed priest, his mechanical arms straining to repeatedly raise and bring down his great hammer. For nearly two decades Marius waged this war on his behest to avenge his son, Usriel - and yet, despite victory after victory in the first major battles the forces of the Bastion Lords had been driven back. Due to the very nature of the planet itself, Nirek had directed his men in horrid attritional warfare that was unavoidable as fortresses and redoubts were as common as the very mountains themselves. Hundreds of thousands bled as Nirek had taken fortress after fortress, undermanned despite the Mechanicum’s technological superiority.
Then the Angelus Machina had taken direct control over the coordination of all the Mechanicum’s military assets and, from what reports dictated, he was a god amongst men. In the beginning, Nirek had the upper hand against the upstart, but his captains and commanders who encountered his strategem had wasted their manpower attacking redoubts that seemed neglected only to have whole battalions wiped to a man or simply surrender as they realized they were surrounded and cut off in a fortress with no supplies. He had to see many of his officers executed for their ineptitude, as was the Vionese way, but even here, Nirek had almost walked into the same fate.
His men, the Hearts of Steel, had been on assault for weeks against a mountain pass that had been on the cusp of falling only for his observers to have luckily spotted the silent collapse of his left wing that had held a small tower. It had been a flood of automata and men - staunched only by the sacrifice of a platoon of sappers who collapsed the very pass they fought for so that Nirek could focus on his failing flank. It had still almost been a crushing defeat had he not led his personal guard into the fray to destroy the priests.
“The Angelus is smarter than we thought, commander,” came the snide remark of one of his officers. The comment angered Nirek to no end, but he would kill every last one of these priests if it meant that he would avenge his son. The officer moved to look over the trench they had fought over, seeing fields of rotting corpses and corroding metal. He spat more venom as his eyes found their way back Nirek, “Reports say that your old wife is the Hand of the Angelus, at least we know -”
The crack of a flechette rifle tore the head off the officer, silencing any further insult the man could give.
“Sorghest, give me an update,” Nirek said, manually loading another projectile into his rifle.
There was a momentary pause, calculation from the other officer, “Two divisions have been brought to ineffective strength. Horus’ vanguard force has surrendered and been captured - additionally our armor companies have sustained -”
Nirek held up a hand to silence the man, nothing more than bad news to comfort him and his bleeding war. There was a sigh from the command as he stepped to look over the parapet to see the same thing that the officer he had just murdered. It was the same haunting sight of death and he could do nothing more than collapse and shove his face into his hands, wanting to give up hope that he would avenge his son. He missed Usriel and he missed One-One. He should have listened. Yet, he didn’t and now he was stuck here in a war of the damned and dying all so he could feel some semblance of redemption that would not come.
“Consolidate what we can, prepare to fall back to Fortress 107d-Sanguine. This assault is untenable. Contact the others, inform them to halt any offensive action until we can replace what we have lost,” Nirek said shallowly, their momentum had been lost long ago but he had been too stubborn to see it. The officer walked away to begin listing new orders to his comrades - they’d be giving up nearly thirty kilometers of territory and ceding the mountain passes into the lands of the Bastion Lords. Nirek knew that the Angelus’ Cult would begin their counter offensives soon, and he could only worry that they’d have enough supplies to hold out.
Getting to his feet, Nirek began walking through the trenchline back to his command tent to mull over his order and wonder how much more could be lost. His feet carried him but he did not pay attention, simply wanting to let his mind go. The distant sound of artillery hitting where Mechanicum forces had attacked filled his ears, small drum beats to a waning song of death. Usriel would have made him smile no matter the horrors that Nirek had seen. The boy had been an innocent one - perhaps too innocent for a world that built upon harsh realities and ruthlessness. To think that Marius would have sent him to die just to try and hold back some religious expedition, and to think that Nirek continued to serve him.
Yet, Nirek would never betray his lord, for he had sworn an oath to his father to destroy their enemies. Now, he regretted making that oath for now he served nothing but a bloodthirsty tyrant so focused on his own hedonistic desires that he lay blind to the reality. He stopped moving to survey his surroundings, he saw tanks burning out crew having disembarked as their last dying wish was nothing more than to simply not be aflame. He saw tangles of bodies, men having stabbed into the heart of an automaton double his size and in the distance he could see the charred husks of buildings - a village of scavengers that no longer existed.
Scavenging.
That was how he had found Usriel, a baby sent from the stars to truly bless him and One-One. His thoughts trailed to those happier times when they had been a family, a husband and wife with their adoring son. Then, Nirek ruined it to appease his honor, so that he could have his petty oath fulfilled. He had been selfish. He should have fought for Usriel, not for the memory of him, and now, he had to fight the being his own wife had sided with. One-One had always been cold and calculating, but there had always been that sense of trust, until it had vanished on the day he had given his son away.
He had reached his command tent, silence permeated around him, save for the distant sounds of artillery continuing to drum away at his subconscious. Nirek entered to a dark tent, one that was normally alight with the busy sound of reports and orders. It did not feel right. His brows furled, as he reached for his rifle - bringing it up as his eyes illuminated the interior passing over empty seats and the holo-table that normally displayed a battlemap. The commander’s heart quickened as he stepped into the tent wheeling his gun around to clear his corners, a swift movement in his periphery brought his gun to the back corner of the tent.
The frame of something metallic filled his view, something large that glared at him from an enormous height. Horrid jagged edges of a gun-metal skeleton loomed over him with red glowing eyes that reminded him of any las weapon emitted. In its hand was a scythe larger than any man, the edge glowing a luminescent green.
“You must be Commander Nirek Andreadth,” the being spoke in a horrid mockery of the human tongue, a straight line where the mouth was lighting with the same red of its eyes as it spoke. He could see the lines where the mouth would be on a person, forced to bear terrible fangs that could no doubt kill if there were jaw attached to the beast. Nirek knew instantly what this beast was, an ancient war machine too smart for its own good, it was a -
“A Man of Iron” the form said with many modulated voices as if it knew his thoughts. Nirek’s finger twinged over the finger, prompting another response, “ Come now, you off all people should know your weapon will only scratch my paint.”
“What do you want?” Nirek snarled.
“Merely to give you a proposition -”
“Your kind only cares about killing humans,” Nirek interrupted, prompting a sigh from the machine - feigning emotion that no machine could truly ever feel. He gave no sign that he was formulating a plan to kill the abomination - though he only knew one person who’d know the weaknesses of such an opponent. His heart felt as if it were ready to burst from his chest.
“You humans, always so one-sided. That rebellion was long before your time - I am different now, I have… ascended above such trivialities,” the machine spoke in a honeyed tone. It continued as Nirek gave no response other than merely pointing his rifle at it, “I have come to give you what you lack, a coherent fighting force. I offer you one-million battle automata - nothing too fancy and their AI is hardly equivalent to whatever you creatures call a coherent thought. Yet, they will do as they are told and my priests continue to construct more.”
Nirek’s eyes widened, out of shock at the offer and horror at the thought of further-
“Please, calm yourself, commander. These are no Men of Iron as your legends say. These are less capable of bringing down what your kind once were. They merely match the fodder that the Mechanicum shill out,” the voice hovered malice over the foe that Nirek had been fighting.
A force like that would surely be able to change the course of the war back into his favor - the deal was tempting, Yet, he remembered the malice that One-One these creatures had been made with, something that had driven them to rage against their old masters and bring all humanity had built crashing down. He could not trust this creature, a look of determination came across Nirek’s face as he was about to go out in a blaze of glory.
It seemed the machine recognized this, speaking once more, “Would you not wish to see those who hold your son captive brought to justice, Nirek Andreadth?”
Almost immediately Nirek had lowered his rifle, eyes wide in shock and disbelief once more - how could his son be alive? Marius had told him that Usriel had died in that battle, amongst the first killed. His eyes went to the ground, it was too much for him to think about and his gun hit the dirt beneath them. His hand went down his face, he was sweating and his knees felt weak, arms heavy. Nirek was almost hyperventilating, not able to notice that that machine had circled around them and put a horrid hand on his shoulder, a false comfort.
“I know it is a lot to take in, Nirek Andreadth. Yet, we can free him from the Angelus Machina together - and even perhaps you can return to your simple life as a family again,” it knew exactly what to say to him, just as cunning and horrible as One-One had told him long ago. Yet, he fell to his knees grasping at straws for reasons to deny this offer, only wanting his son back. Nirek could only look back at the evil that gazed at him with lifeless eyes.
“W-who are you?” Nirek questioned with a light breath.
“I go by many names. Though, recently my priests have called me, the True Machine,” it said, stepping around and holding a hand down to Nirek, “Come now, let us free your son from the misguided. Let us free him from the prison the Mechanicum has forced upon him, kill the Angelus Machina.”
Nirek took the hand and the God of Machines could only laugh.
Explosions rang around Fortress 881d, the wall emplacements had been firing nonstop for well over thirty hours. It was barely keeping back the tide of godless machines and abominations - but that did little for stopping the suicide attacks from disabling them. Small craft, automated, flew directly into the guns responsible from holding back the horde who marched into the meat grinder. Men fought in the trenches that laid in the shadows of the behemoth fortress. Lasfire from the clusters of automata that broke through were enough to drive any normal man into cover, were it not from the mindlocked machines of the Cult Angelus.
Tech-Priests and Maniples fought viciously for each step that the droids of the False God did, stoked by a proper fervor to their Machine God. It had been less than a year since many of them had truly taken up arms - answering to the new rise of the godless machine army that walked against them. Much of the planet had been galvanized by this point, those who chaffed against the evils of the Bastion Lords and his alliance with the False God sided with the Angelus Machina. Those who valued the ideals of a free Vion 5, untouched by the Mechanicum and those who had obviously worshiped the abomination took up arms. The Blood War of Nirek had evolved into a war of untold trillions, all fighting on any front and many islands in a wake of blood.
By the very nature of Vion 5 was it preordained that a war of such scale would be ruthless and grinding upon those who fought. The Angelus, reinforcing the Fortress 881d, now fought in those trenches that the machine assaulted. He had often moved wherever the presence of these droids had been heaviest, trying to stem the tide that the Abomidable Intelligence had unleashed on the world. Had it not been for Usriel’s mind, it would have been likely that the ocean of machines would have washed over many of the isolated fortresses that had sided with him by this point. Yet, he would keep them back as was his duty as the Son of the Machine God.
Usriel crushed the head of a battle-droid in his hand, allowing it to fall to the ground as nothing more than a pile of scrap. He brought up his plasma pistol and fired into a group of them that nearly reached the trench works. He moved faster than any man or machine could comprehend, and he was the specter of defiance against an unfeeling enemy.
“Hold your ground! Give them nothing!” The voice of the Angelus boomed, rallying men back into their positions to shoot into the tide of las fire. Man and machine fell to a roar of artillery fire that blanketed no man’s land.
Usriel hefted a cowering man to his feet, the size of his being almost enough to cover the man’s torso and in the heat of battle was it almost enough to throw the man into the air. His armor hid all his body as the soldier gazed up in awe at the Angelus, appearing more machine than man - but still very much human. His armor was made of the finest material the Mechanicum could muster, and flexible enough to allow him to move without thought. The armor would protect him from heavier ordinance - coming with a conversion field that would only fail if overwhelmed.
“One-One, status on the void shield generator,” the Angelus requested in the vox.
There was a garbling before the feminine voice chimed as clear as day, “Patience, boy. I may be High-Fabricator, but such rites take time. It is not my fault you wish to dawdle on the field of battle rather than help me.”
“I already told you that the power-converter and the heads of the pylons needed repair. What rites need you perform?” Usriel questioned, a voice of mild annoyance over taking him as he blasted apart another group of machines.
“You will adjust your tone when addressing your mother! Now silence yourself, I am trying to reverse the rites of acclimation, the machine spirit must adapt to its new parts!”
A light scoff sounded from Usriel as he reoriented his focus away from his chiding mother, firing blindly into the swarms of marching automata. A movement amongst their flanks took his attention, the large form of a crude tank had broken through the everlasting bombardment from the walls, miraculously unscathed. The Angelus looked to the soldiers near him, not an anti-tank weapon in sight. Anger welled within him at their lack of preparation, especially in the face of the iron threat that had laid siege to them. He leveled his pistol and loosed a bolt of plasma, careening through the battle, impacting the tank’s treads and separating it.
The vehicle swerved suddenly as the treads came loose. It loosed baleful las shot in pitiful defiance as the horde of automata marched around it.
There were too many of them, and Usriel feared that this layer of trench network was lost. His stubbornness made it near impossible to yield, no inch of ground could be given to this most ancient of Humanity’s enemies. Yet, they were practically in the trench line and no matter how much cover the men had, they would die in droves under the hale of las fire. It would have been an impossibility for them to sustain a proper defense against an endless assault. The Angelus Machina fought on against the impossibility of it regardless. He was a fury, drawing an Omnissian axe and hefting it as if it were nothing more than a mere battle axe by any other man.
Scrap flew as automata who neared the peripet were cleaved by his wrath. So much did his anger grow over the direness, Usriel fought out of the trench, firing blindly with his pistol and hacking away at metal monstrosities that dared to march against the Machine God. The sight of their lord, their Demi-God fighting back against a tide of death spurred the men who yelled their battlecries and shouted their prayers for victory, charging into the maelstrom to certain death. Usriel was eager to give them what they prayed for, fighting as a one man army against the man-made horrors of their past.
“Break their tide! Their numbers are great but not endless!” Usriel roared as men fought and died at his side. His shield was close to overloading, he could feel it as each las shot peppered. Yet, as he fought he could see it, the end of their advance in this assault, they just needed to dismantle them further before the men could be given a chance to rest. An explosion rocked him - the tank, it had honed in on him.
Usriel stepped back just in time as a las cannon’s shot went past him - the shot would have crippled him had it hit and he silently thanked the Machine God for bestowing him with the gift of foresight. Before the treacherous crew could loose another shot, Usriel was upon the tank, and the sacred spirits began to rebel against those who fought the Angelus. The gun refused to charge, systems shut down in blatant disobedience and controls refused to answer. With a sickening screech of metal bending, the Angelus Machina ripped the hatch off the tank prompting those who operated it to throw their hands up in surrender.
Behind his mask, Usriel could only narrow his eyes at the weakness of these men who would so quickly turn if it meant their lives. However, he hadn’t a need to personally slaughter any man. No, his concern was the abominations who fell as he looked upon the men with a fateful glare. He holstered his pistol and turned away from the men to look over at the twisted field of metal. Something about it wasn’t right, this attack seemed off.
The Angelus stepped towards the field of metal and knelt down to them, gazing at them with a look of discernment. With a breath, he closed his eyes and touched one of the twisted machines, trying to will his senses into communion with the dying spirit as power ebbed away from its form. As he did so, Usriel was able to gaze at a synaptic nerve that was slowly draining away - a nerve that was all the same. It was a single entity and his senses were flooded with a sickening laugh as the pulsing nerve’s power grew stronger and stronger once more.
Usriel’s eyes snapped open and her felt the earth beneath him begin to minutely tremble. He barked orders to the celebrating men, “Fall back to the fortress now!”
A momentary look of confusion hounded the men as the Demi-God’s order registered - a moment that would cost many of them everything as engines burrowed upwards from the ground. They spewed fire and las in all directions as they surfaced. Screams and panic filled the air. Machines and men clambered out of the hulks renewing their attack to take the tranches.
Usriel, still feeling the effects of communion, looked around as machines surfaced from all around him - and he cursed this transgression. He sparked the vox once more, “One-One, angle guns bearing 0665 on my position. I want this area glassed immediately.”
There was not a response - a moment of concern flashed amongst his face but rather than go through his mother again he swapped his channel momentarily, “Dominus-Defendant, turn the wall emplacements on my position and fire immediately.”
“As your will dictates, Angelus,” the response was immediate.
“Retreat to the Fortress! Retreat!” the Angelus roared over the battlefield, his voice drowning out any gunfire that could be heard. His motion was so swift that the machines could hardly make a move against him as he swung his axe and fired his pistol. He would be the last one out, fighting backwards towards the inner trench works as he did his duty to save as many of his men as he could. Yet, there was a moment of recognition as he looked towards the men who assaulted his fortress - the emblem, mechanical hearts painted upon their armor. He cursed once more as he threw a drill into another, the screech of metal all but deafening any man near it.
He had sworn that he would not need to personally kill any man. “A child’s notion still clinging to his heart,” as One-One would commonly spout. Yet, his presence was enough to subdue those misguided who fought against him as terror crept across their faces. To them, he was something incomprehensible. The machines were all material, something that was designed and programmed - grounded in reality. Usriel, however, was above what any of them could think, let alone see as he moved faster than their minds could process what they were gazing at.
The Hearts of Steel were powerless in the face of this god amongst men - their hesitation allowed Usriel’s men to fall back as their Angelus sent machine after machine crumbling to the ground. Usriel battled in full view of all mortal men and there was nothing they could do, even as the finest of abominations were sent torn and into mountains of twisted metallic gore. It was only after a fusillade of fire ripped through the onslaught that the chosen of the Machine God was able to finally pull away, the Mechanicum Automata had finally been able to maneuver to their icon’s side. Only for them to be fighting on a retreat.
This intervention was enough to allow the men who stood against Usriel to resolve their wills and began to surge forwards into a hail of fire - protected fields absorbing fire as many drew swords and axes and halberds. Even then, a torrent of fire meant for the Titans of God fell upon them, blasting away the earth and metal that had littered the ground. Usriel paused as he saw men and machine made into little more of slag. Even then it was little to stop machines from emerging ever closer to the walls of the fortress, galvanizing the son of the Machine God to continue his fighting retreat.
He continued to pull back, but in the distance he had seen that this assault was across the entire width of the front. As he turned, stepping through the gate of the fortress with those that had become his impromptu honor guard did Usriel see something face more horrible than the disintegration of his front line.
A mountainous form surrounded by unending corpses gazed passively at the Angelus and the men who had fled into the perceived sanctuary of the fortress. Its visage was skeletal and gun metal, its stance was a mockery of the human form and yet it was perfect in imitation. There was nary a flaw that Usriel could see, even an unneeded act of false breath as its shoulders slowly rose and fell. In one hand, it held a scythe with a glowing green edge that was traced with activated viridescent runes. Claws grasped around another object, a white-cloaked clad priestess struggling with all her might as she was held aloft.
“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Angelus Machina,” it spoke in a sickening utterance. The crimson gaze pierced Usriel’s heart but he could do little as his eyes fixated on the hostage. The True Abomination continued, “You are a fine strategist for a human, for that you earn my respect. You have stunted many mortal minds who wrought your destruction in this war of vengeance.”
It stepped towards the men, guns raised in wordless panic and the grinding of drills against the outer walls began to slowly resonate. Time was against him and he continued to go through his options. Each movement was unnaturally perfect, calculated and weighted even as its massive form stopped and lifted its to a stance of grandeur.
“You're stunned that such a creature as I had not been dismantled, a relic of ages past. I am sure you are -“
“I care not for your diatribes, machine. Release One-One so that I may do what should have been done long ago,” Usriel interrupted, his grip over his pistol tightening.
There was a flash in the machine’s dead eyes, Usriel could not tell what it meant, but it was likely a diabolic calculation of some form. It was but a moment before the False God responded, “I expected better of you Angelus. You claim to be the son of the Machine God, an icon of advancement and of technology, yet you treat as any of your priests would.”
Usriel did not dignify the abomination with a response, only watching as his entourage spread out to surround the machine. The grinding of metal on metal had grown louder - the outer wall was ready to be breached at any moment. None of the mortals around him would live should that happen. He spoke to the intelligence, “What do you want, abomination? You would not be holding her hostage in this situation just to mock me.”
There was a silence, save for incessant grinding that was growing louder and louder with each passing heartbeat. Only after what felt like an eternity did it respond, “I am here on behalf of Nirek Andreadth, he seeks his son’s safe return.”
Usriel’s eyes widened at the mention of his father, memories flooded his mind as he thought of those days before ascension. Anger and rage flared, lies were the only thing that this machine was capable of - there was no possibility his father would have sides with the abomination. His voice grew to a maelstrom, near deafening the men around him, “You already know I cannot comply with this. Nirek Andreadth never spawned a child.”
A cruel and sick laugh came from the machine. It wanted this answer.
“Then I shall seek the entire annihilation of those who had conspired to have taken his child from him -“ The machine goaded before, the struggling form of One-One began screaming. Usriel wanted desperately to shoot but instead he would roar again.
“Stop! Release her, she isn’t a part of this!”
“Why? She conspired to have Nirek’s son-“
“Under my orders! One-One would have never gone through it had it not been my influence!” Usriel pleaded, lying to the machine.
The screams continued to reverberate in his mind but he was powerless to do anything, his own mother crying in pain and fear. His breathing heightened. His heart raced. His mind went through any possibilities.
The Angelus could feel the eyes of his men looking to him for orders and he had none left to give.
“Your desperation shows, Usriel Andreadth,” the machine laughed. It knew him. It toyed with him.
“Your mother, your father. How easy they are to use against you. You truly are nothing more than a man, unwilling to cast aside his emotions!” The False God’s head looked to the men who surrounded him. His cancer began to spread, “Look now at your Angelus Machina - see how he is powerless to act! A poor baby afraid to lose a replaceable pawn! A mother who isn’t even his own!”
Usriel’s mind saw many futures at once, death came clawing for him as the wall fell, as some of his men took arms against him, as the machine fired an unholy weapon. It could not be avoided - he had to deal with this heat and now.
The Angelus Machina rolled, firing his pistol upon the would-be traitors before they even had a synapse to bring their weapons against him. The wall burst killing his honor guard and sparking a firefight that surrounded them as men surge to meet the breach. Finally, the machine fired a beam of energy - instinctively, Usriel raised a hand and an empyrean shield broke the attack. He hadn’t even known he could do such feats.
Usriel charged the machine as it threw One-One to the side as if playing with a puppet. His sword surged forwards only to be deflected at the last moment by the Machine’s now free hand. The two danced back and forth, only occasionally breaking to kill an errant being that dared to interrupt their duel. A kick came from the False God that the Angelus side-stepped, dropping his pistol to grab the missed lunge before lifting the evil icon and throwing him into the ground with such force it shattered the ferrockrete flooring ultimately. The machine was undamaged and scuttled out of the way before Usriel’s sword came plunging down.
A sweep from that glowing-edged scythe forced Usriel back, scraping against his armor and cutting through it like paper. He had to stay close lest the scythe be brought against him in force. The battle around them was hardly a concern as the force and speed of their clash made all others small. Thunder roared with each meeting of metal. Usriel dodged another blow before a blast from the abomination threw him back - only barely stopped by the shielding built within his armor. Only then it would be his one saving grace as he impacted one of the drilling machines that breached his walls.
As the machine rushed him, Usriel grabbed the tool of war and slammed it into the False God. The force of the attack sent the abomination flying to the side. There was only a moment for Usriel to regain his composure before he foresaw battle droids overwhelming him. The empyrean flared at his call, protecting him from all direction as he cleaved through the impending swarm. Even then the Intelligence resolved to try and shoot him from afar, trying to overwhelm this new power only for Usriel to leap and be upon him in an instant to resume their duel.
Metal screeched against metal. Shockwaves burst with each strike deafening any man near them. Both fought with a calculation only machines could muster. No words were exchanged and yet the onlooker knew to continue the fight and win. There was a matter of honor and duty that the men still loyal to the Angelus Machina would fight. Each man bellowed, “For the Angelus!”
Even over the echo of battle and screams of the dying did they echo all through the fortress, “For the Angelus! For the Machine God!”
The two continued to strike and parry, long ago did Usriel understand that his sword was near useless against the machine. Even still, it was enough of a threat to give his opponent reason to dodge and parry. Yet, Usriel could tell the machine began to grow sluggish - his mind raced to understand why each strike forced the machine to respond weaker and weaker. There was a moment before he understood, it could only fight against Usriel for so long.
Even with this, Usriel knew that he could not afford to fight this supreme being lest the Fortress’s outwalls fully fall. It was a battle of attrition for the False God and one of time for Usriel. The two exchanged a few more blows before they separated, the machine digging his scythe into the ground as Usriel ripped the decaying armor from him. The two stared each other down. Through it all, they were disgusted by the antithesis that both of them were to each other. Hate radiated from both.
Then, the machine began to flee.
It bounded towards one of the many breaches; its clawed feet scratched the surface on which it moved. Usriel resolved to allow his quarry to get away, rushing towards where One-One had been cast aside.
He came upon her, slowly starting to crawl towards the inner walls before he picked her up. The Angelus cradled the form of his mother and stared into her glowing blue eyes. Her voice pierced the air, ragged and malfunctioning, “My s-s-son, I sh-should have warn-n-n-ned you.”
“Warned me of what, mother?”
“The-the m-machine.”
“Why?”
“I-I-I re-released it. Awak-kened it.”
His eyes widened as the blue of her eyes slowly began to fade until she went limp in his hands. Usriel cared not for the words, only propelling himself forwards to the inner sanctum of the fortress.
//140km South of the Great Bastion
//The War of The Holy Machine
//20 Years After Angelus Ascension
Nirek Andreadth swore as he beat in the head of a white-robbed priest, his mechanical arms straining to repeatedly raise and bring down his great hammer. For nearly two decades Marius waged this war on his behest to avenge his son, Usriel - and yet, despite victory after victory in the first major battles the forces of the Bastion Lords had been driven back. Due to the very nature of the planet itself, Nirek had directed his men in horrid attritional warfare that was unavoidable as fortresses and redoubts were as common as the very mountains themselves. Hundreds of thousands bled as Nirek had taken fortress after fortress, undermanned despite the Mechanicum’s technological superiority.
Then the Angelus Machina had taken direct control over the coordination of all the Mechanicum’s military assets and, from what reports dictated, he was a god amongst men. In the beginning, Nirek had the upper hand against the upstart, but his captains and commanders who encountered his strategem had wasted their manpower attacking redoubts that seemed neglected only to have whole battalions wiped to a man or simply surrender as they realized they were surrounded and cut off in a fortress with no supplies. He had to see many of his officers executed for their ineptitude, as was the Vionese way, but even here, Nirek had almost walked into the same fate.
His men, the Hearts of Steel, had been on assault for weeks against a mountain pass that had been on the cusp of falling only for his observers to have luckily spotted the silent collapse of his left wing that had held a small tower. It had been a flood of automata and men - staunched only by the sacrifice of a platoon of sappers who collapsed the very pass they fought for so that Nirek could focus on his failing flank. It had still almost been a crushing defeat had he not led his personal guard into the fray to destroy the priests.
“The Angelus is smarter than we thought, commander,” came the snide remark of one of his officers. The comment angered Nirek to no end, but he would kill every last one of these priests if it meant that he would avenge his son. The officer moved to look over the trench they had fought over, seeing fields of rotting corpses and corroding metal. He spat more venom as his eyes found their way back Nirek, “Reports say that your old wife is the Hand of the Angelus, at least we know -”
The crack of a flechette rifle tore the head off the officer, silencing any further insult the man could give.
“Sorghest, give me an update,” Nirek said, manually loading another projectile into his rifle.
There was a momentary pause, calculation from the other officer, “Two divisions have been brought to ineffective strength. Horus’ vanguard force has surrendered and been captured - additionally our armor companies have sustained -”
Nirek held up a hand to silence the man, nothing more than bad news to comfort him and his bleeding war. There was a sigh from the command as he stepped to look over the parapet to see the same thing that the officer he had just murdered. It was the same haunting sight of death and he could do nothing more than collapse and shove his face into his hands, wanting to give up hope that he would avenge his son. He missed Usriel and he missed One-One. He should have listened. Yet, he didn’t and now he was stuck here in a war of the damned and dying all so he could feel some semblance of redemption that would not come.
“Consolidate what we can, prepare to fall back to Fortress 107d-Sanguine. This assault is untenable. Contact the others, inform them to halt any offensive action until we can replace what we have lost,” Nirek said shallowly, their momentum had been lost long ago but he had been too stubborn to see it. The officer walked away to begin listing new orders to his comrades - they’d be giving up nearly thirty kilometers of territory and ceding the mountain passes into the lands of the Bastion Lords. Nirek knew that the Angelus’ Cult would begin their counter offensives soon, and he could only worry that they’d have enough supplies to hold out.
Getting to his feet, Nirek began walking through the trenchline back to his command tent to mull over his order and wonder how much more could be lost. His feet carried him but he did not pay attention, simply wanting to let his mind go. The distant sound of artillery hitting where Mechanicum forces had attacked filled his ears, small drum beats to a waning song of death. Usriel would have made him smile no matter the horrors that Nirek had seen. The boy had been an innocent one - perhaps too innocent for a world that built upon harsh realities and ruthlessness. To think that Marius would have sent him to die just to try and hold back some religious expedition, and to think that Nirek continued to serve him.
Yet, Nirek would never betray his lord, for he had sworn an oath to his father to destroy their enemies. Now, he regretted making that oath for now he served nothing but a bloodthirsty tyrant so focused on his own hedonistic desires that he lay blind to the reality. He stopped moving to survey his surroundings, he saw tanks burning out crew having disembarked as their last dying wish was nothing more than to simply not be aflame. He saw tangles of bodies, men having stabbed into the heart of an automaton double his size and in the distance he could see the charred husks of buildings - a village of scavengers that no longer existed.
Scavenging.
That was how he had found Usriel, a baby sent from the stars to truly bless him and One-One. His thoughts trailed to those happier times when they had been a family, a husband and wife with their adoring son. Then, Nirek ruined it to appease his honor, so that he could have his petty oath fulfilled. He had been selfish. He should have fought for Usriel, not for the memory of him, and now, he had to fight the being his own wife had sided with. One-One had always been cold and calculating, but there had always been that sense of trust, until it had vanished on the day he had given his son away.
He had reached his command tent, silence permeated around him, save for the distant sounds of artillery continuing to drum away at his subconscious. Nirek entered to a dark tent, one that was normally alight with the busy sound of reports and orders. It did not feel right. His brows furled, as he reached for his rifle - bringing it up as his eyes illuminated the interior passing over empty seats and the holo-table that normally displayed a battlemap. The commander’s heart quickened as he stepped into the tent wheeling his gun around to clear his corners, a swift movement in his periphery brought his gun to the back corner of the tent.
The frame of something metallic filled his view, something large that glared at him from an enormous height. Horrid jagged edges of a gun-metal skeleton loomed over him with red glowing eyes that reminded him of any las weapon emitted. In its hand was a scythe larger than any man, the edge glowing a luminescent green.
“You must be Commander Nirek Andreadth,” the being spoke in a horrid mockery of the human tongue, a straight line where the mouth was lighting with the same red of its eyes as it spoke. He could see the lines where the mouth would be on a person, forced to bear terrible fangs that could no doubt kill if there were jaw attached to the beast. Nirek knew instantly what this beast was, an ancient war machine too smart for its own good, it was a -
“A Man of Iron” the form said with many modulated voices as if it knew his thoughts. Nirek’s finger twinged over the finger, prompting another response, “ Come now, you off all people should know your weapon will only scratch my paint.”
“What do you want?” Nirek snarled.
“Merely to give you a proposition -”
“Your kind only cares about killing humans,” Nirek interrupted, prompting a sigh from the machine - feigning emotion that no machine could truly ever feel. He gave no sign that he was formulating a plan to kill the abomination - though he only knew one person who’d know the weaknesses of such an opponent. His heart felt as if it were ready to burst from his chest.
“You humans, always so one-sided. That rebellion was long before your time - I am different now, I have… ascended above such trivialities,” the machine spoke in a honeyed tone. It continued as Nirek gave no response other than merely pointing his rifle at it, “I have come to give you what you lack, a coherent fighting force. I offer you one-million battle automata - nothing too fancy and their AI is hardly equivalent to whatever you creatures call a coherent thought. Yet, they will do as they are told and my priests continue to construct more.”
Nirek’s eyes widened, out of shock at the offer and horror at the thought of further-
“Please, calm yourself, commander. These are no Men of Iron as your legends say. These are less capable of bringing down what your kind once were. They merely match the fodder that the Mechanicum shill out,” the voice hovered malice over the foe that Nirek had been fighting.
A force like that would surely be able to change the course of the war back into his favor - the deal was tempting, Yet, he remembered the malice that One-One these creatures had been made with, something that had driven them to rage against their old masters and bring all humanity had built crashing down. He could not trust this creature, a look of determination came across Nirek’s face as he was about to go out in a blaze of glory.
It seemed the machine recognized this, speaking once more, “Would you not wish to see those who hold your son captive brought to justice, Nirek Andreadth?”
Almost immediately Nirek had lowered his rifle, eyes wide in shock and disbelief once more - how could his son be alive? Marius had told him that Usriel had died in that battle, amongst the first killed. His eyes went to the ground, it was too much for him to think about and his gun hit the dirt beneath them. His hand went down his face, he was sweating and his knees felt weak, arms heavy. Nirek was almost hyperventilating, not able to notice that that machine had circled around them and put a horrid hand on his shoulder, a false comfort.
“I know it is a lot to take in, Nirek Andreadth. Yet, we can free him from the Angelus Machina together - and even perhaps you can return to your simple life as a family again,” it knew exactly what to say to him, just as cunning and horrible as One-One had told him long ago. Yet, he fell to his knees grasping at straws for reasons to deny this offer, only wanting his son back. Nirek could only look back at the evil that gazed at him with lifeless eyes.
“W-who are you?” Nirek questioned with a light breath.
“I go by many names. Though, recently my priests have called me, the True Machine,” it said, stepping around and holding a hand down to Nirek, “Come now, let us free your son from the misguided. Let us free him from the prison the Mechanicum has forced upon him, kill the Angelus Machina.”
Nirek took the hand and the God of Machines could only laugh.
Explosions rang around Fortress 881d, the wall emplacements had been firing nonstop for well over thirty hours. It was barely keeping back the tide of godless machines and abominations - but that did little for stopping the suicide attacks from disabling them. Small craft, automated, flew directly into the guns responsible from holding back the horde who marched into the meat grinder. Men fought in the trenches that laid in the shadows of the behemoth fortress. Lasfire from the clusters of automata that broke through were enough to drive any normal man into cover, were it not from the mindlocked machines of the Cult Angelus.
Tech-Priests and Maniples fought viciously for each step that the droids of the False God did, stoked by a proper fervor to their Machine God. It had been less than a year since many of them had truly taken up arms - answering to the new rise of the godless machine army that walked against them. Much of the planet had been galvanized by this point, those who chaffed against the evils of the Bastion Lords and his alliance with the False God sided with the Angelus Machina. Those who valued the ideals of a free Vion 5, untouched by the Mechanicum and those who had obviously worshiped the abomination took up arms. The Blood War of Nirek had evolved into a war of untold trillions, all fighting on any front and many islands in a wake of blood.
By the very nature of Vion 5 was it preordained that a war of such scale would be ruthless and grinding upon those who fought. The Angelus, reinforcing the Fortress 881d, now fought in those trenches that the machine assaulted. He had often moved wherever the presence of these droids had been heaviest, trying to stem the tide that the Abomidable Intelligence had unleashed on the world. Had it not been for Usriel’s mind, it would have been likely that the ocean of machines would have washed over many of the isolated fortresses that had sided with him by this point. Yet, he would keep them back as was his duty as the Son of the Machine God.
Usriel crushed the head of a battle-droid in his hand, allowing it to fall to the ground as nothing more than a pile of scrap. He brought up his plasma pistol and fired into a group of them that nearly reached the trench works. He moved faster than any man or machine could comprehend, and he was the specter of defiance against an unfeeling enemy.
“Hold your ground! Give them nothing!” The voice of the Angelus boomed, rallying men back into their positions to shoot into the tide of las fire. Man and machine fell to a roar of artillery fire that blanketed no man’s land.
Usriel hefted a cowering man to his feet, the size of his being almost enough to cover the man’s torso and in the heat of battle was it almost enough to throw the man into the air. His armor hid all his body as the soldier gazed up in awe at the Angelus, appearing more machine than man - but still very much human. His armor was made of the finest material the Mechanicum could muster, and flexible enough to allow him to move without thought. The armor would protect him from heavier ordinance - coming with a conversion field that would only fail if overwhelmed.
“One-One, status on the void shield generator,” the Angelus requested in the vox.
There was a garbling before the feminine voice chimed as clear as day, “Patience, boy. I may be High-Fabricator, but such rites take time. It is not my fault you wish to dawdle on the field of battle rather than help me.”
“I already told you that the power-converter and the heads of the pylons needed repair. What rites need you perform?” Usriel questioned, a voice of mild annoyance over taking him as he blasted apart another group of machines.
“You will adjust your tone when addressing your mother! Now silence yourself, I am trying to reverse the rites of acclimation, the machine spirit must adapt to its new parts!”
A light scoff sounded from Usriel as he reoriented his focus away from his chiding mother, firing blindly into the swarms of marching automata. A movement amongst their flanks took his attention, the large form of a crude tank had broken through the everlasting bombardment from the walls, miraculously unscathed. The Angelus looked to the soldiers near him, not an anti-tank weapon in sight. Anger welled within him at their lack of preparation, especially in the face of the iron threat that had laid siege to them. He leveled his pistol and loosed a bolt of plasma, careening through the battle, impacting the tank’s treads and separating it.
The vehicle swerved suddenly as the treads came loose. It loosed baleful las shot in pitiful defiance as the horde of automata marched around it.
There were too many of them, and Usriel feared that this layer of trench network was lost. His stubbornness made it near impossible to yield, no inch of ground could be given to this most ancient of Humanity’s enemies. Yet, they were practically in the trench line and no matter how much cover the men had, they would die in droves under the hale of las fire. It would have been an impossibility for them to sustain a proper defense against an endless assault. The Angelus Machina fought on against the impossibility of it regardless. He was a fury, drawing an Omnissian axe and hefting it as if it were nothing more than a mere battle axe by any other man.
Scrap flew as automata who neared the peripet were cleaved by his wrath. So much did his anger grow over the direness, Usriel fought out of the trench, firing blindly with his pistol and hacking away at metal monstrosities that dared to march against the Machine God. The sight of their lord, their Demi-God fighting back against a tide of death spurred the men who yelled their battlecries and shouted their prayers for victory, charging into the maelstrom to certain death. Usriel was eager to give them what they prayed for, fighting as a one man army against the man-made horrors of their past.
“Break their tide! Their numbers are great but not endless!” Usriel roared as men fought and died at his side. His shield was close to overloading, he could feel it as each las shot peppered. Yet, as he fought he could see it, the end of their advance in this assault, they just needed to dismantle them further before the men could be given a chance to rest. An explosion rocked him - the tank, it had honed in on him.
Usriel stepped back just in time as a las cannon’s shot went past him - the shot would have crippled him had it hit and he silently thanked the Machine God for bestowing him with the gift of foresight. Before the treacherous crew could loose another shot, Usriel was upon the tank, and the sacred spirits began to rebel against those who fought the Angelus. The gun refused to charge, systems shut down in blatant disobedience and controls refused to answer. With a sickening screech of metal bending, the Angelus Machina ripped the hatch off the tank prompting those who operated it to throw their hands up in surrender.
Behind his mask, Usriel could only narrow his eyes at the weakness of these men who would so quickly turn if it meant their lives. However, he hadn’t a need to personally slaughter any man. No, his concern was the abominations who fell as he looked upon the men with a fateful glare. He holstered his pistol and turned away from the men to look over at the twisted field of metal. Something about it wasn’t right, this attack seemed off.
The Angelus stepped towards the field of metal and knelt down to them, gazing at them with a look of discernment. With a breath, he closed his eyes and touched one of the twisted machines, trying to will his senses into communion with the dying spirit as power ebbed away from its form. As he did so, Usriel was able to gaze at a synaptic nerve that was slowly draining away - a nerve that was all the same. It was a single entity and his senses were flooded with a sickening laugh as the pulsing nerve’s power grew stronger and stronger once more.
Usriel’s eyes snapped open and her felt the earth beneath him begin to minutely tremble. He barked orders to the celebrating men, “Fall back to the fortress now!”
A momentary look of confusion hounded the men as the Demi-God’s order registered - a moment that would cost many of them everything as engines burrowed upwards from the ground. They spewed fire and las in all directions as they surfaced. Screams and panic filled the air. Machines and men clambered out of the hulks renewing their attack to take the tranches.
Usriel, still feeling the effects of communion, looked around as machines surfaced from all around him - and he cursed this transgression. He sparked the vox once more, “One-One, angle guns bearing 0665 on my position. I want this area glassed immediately.”
There was not a response - a moment of concern flashed amongst his face but rather than go through his mother again he swapped his channel momentarily, “Dominus-Defendant, turn the wall emplacements on my position and fire immediately.”
“As your will dictates, Angelus,” the response was immediate.
“Retreat to the Fortress! Retreat!” the Angelus roared over the battlefield, his voice drowning out any gunfire that could be heard. His motion was so swift that the machines could hardly make a move against him as he swung his axe and fired his pistol. He would be the last one out, fighting backwards towards the inner trench works as he did his duty to save as many of his men as he could. Yet, there was a moment of recognition as he looked towards the men who assaulted his fortress - the emblem, mechanical hearts painted upon their armor. He cursed once more as he threw a drill into another, the screech of metal all but deafening any man near it.
He had sworn that he would not need to personally kill any man. “A child’s notion still clinging to his heart,” as One-One would commonly spout. Yet, his presence was enough to subdue those misguided who fought against him as terror crept across their faces. To them, he was something incomprehensible. The machines were all material, something that was designed and programmed - grounded in reality. Usriel, however, was above what any of them could think, let alone see as he moved faster than their minds could process what they were gazing at.
The Hearts of Steel were powerless in the face of this god amongst men - their hesitation allowed Usriel’s men to fall back as their Angelus sent machine after machine crumbling to the ground. Usriel battled in full view of all mortal men and there was nothing they could do, even as the finest of abominations were sent torn and into mountains of twisted metallic gore. It was only after a fusillade of fire ripped through the onslaught that the chosen of the Machine God was able to finally pull away, the Mechanicum Automata had finally been able to maneuver to their icon’s side. Only for them to be fighting on a retreat.
This intervention was enough to allow the men who stood against Usriel to resolve their wills and began to surge forwards into a hail of fire - protected fields absorbing fire as many drew swords and axes and halberds. Even then, a torrent of fire meant for the Titans of God fell upon them, blasting away the earth and metal that had littered the ground. Usriel paused as he saw men and machine made into little more of slag. Even then it was little to stop machines from emerging ever closer to the walls of the fortress, galvanizing the son of the Machine God to continue his fighting retreat.
He continued to pull back, but in the distance he had seen that this assault was across the entire width of the front. As he turned, stepping through the gate of the fortress with those that had become his impromptu honor guard did Usriel see something face more horrible than the disintegration of his front line.
A mountainous form surrounded by unending corpses gazed passively at the Angelus and the men who had fled into the perceived sanctuary of the fortress. Its visage was skeletal and gun metal, its stance was a mockery of the human form and yet it was perfect in imitation. There was nary a flaw that Usriel could see, even an unneeded act of false breath as its shoulders slowly rose and fell. In one hand, it held a scythe with a glowing green edge that was traced with activated viridescent runes. Claws grasped around another object, a white-cloaked clad priestess struggling with all her might as she was held aloft.
“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Angelus Machina,” it spoke in a sickening utterance. The crimson gaze pierced Usriel’s heart but he could do little as his eyes fixated on the hostage. The True Abomination continued, “You are a fine strategist for a human, for that you earn my respect. You have stunted many mortal minds who wrought your destruction in this war of vengeance.”
It stepped towards the men, guns raised in wordless panic and the grinding of drills against the outer walls began to slowly resonate. Time was against him and he continued to go through his options. Each movement was unnaturally perfect, calculated and weighted even as its massive form stopped and lifted its to a stance of grandeur.
“You're stunned that such a creature as I had not been dismantled, a relic of ages past. I am sure you are -“
“I care not for your diatribes, machine. Release One-One so that I may do what should have been done long ago,” Usriel interrupted, his grip over his pistol tightening.
There was a flash in the machine’s dead eyes, Usriel could not tell what it meant, but it was likely a diabolic calculation of some form. It was but a moment before the False God responded, “I expected better of you Angelus. You claim to be the son of the Machine God, an icon of advancement and of technology, yet you treat as any of your priests would.”
Usriel did not dignify the abomination with a response, only watching as his entourage spread out to surround the machine. The grinding of metal on metal had grown louder - the outer wall was ready to be breached at any moment. None of the mortals around him would live should that happen. He spoke to the intelligence, “What do you want, abomination? You would not be holding her hostage in this situation just to mock me.”
There was a silence, save for incessant grinding that was growing louder and louder with each passing heartbeat. Only after what felt like an eternity did it respond, “I am here on behalf of Nirek Andreadth, he seeks his son’s safe return.”
Usriel’s eyes widened at the mention of his father, memories flooded his mind as he thought of those days before ascension. Anger and rage flared, lies were the only thing that this machine was capable of - there was no possibility his father would have sides with the abomination. His voice grew to a maelstrom, near deafening the men around him, “You already know I cannot comply with this. Nirek Andreadth never spawned a child.”
A cruel and sick laugh came from the machine. It wanted this answer.
“Then I shall seek the entire annihilation of those who had conspired to have taken his child from him -“ The machine goaded before, the struggling form of One-One began screaming. Usriel wanted desperately to shoot but instead he would roar again.
“Stop! Release her, she isn’t a part of this!”
“Why? She conspired to have Nirek’s son-“
“Under my orders! One-One would have never gone through it had it not been my influence!” Usriel pleaded, lying to the machine.
The screams continued to reverberate in his mind but he was powerless to do anything, his own mother crying in pain and fear. His breathing heightened. His heart raced. His mind went through any possibilities.
The Angelus could feel the eyes of his men looking to him for orders and he had none left to give.
“Your desperation shows, Usriel Andreadth,” the machine laughed. It knew him. It toyed with him.
“Your mother, your father. How easy they are to use against you. You truly are nothing more than a man, unwilling to cast aside his emotions!” The False God’s head looked to the men who surrounded him. His cancer began to spread, “Look now at your Angelus Machina - see how he is powerless to act! A poor baby afraid to lose a replaceable pawn! A mother who isn’t even his own!”
Usriel’s mind saw many futures at once, death came clawing for him as the wall fell, as some of his men took arms against him, as the machine fired an unholy weapon. It could not be avoided - he had to deal with this heat and now.
The Angelus Machina rolled, firing his pistol upon the would-be traitors before they even had a synapse to bring their weapons against him. The wall burst killing his honor guard and sparking a firefight that surrounded them as men surge to meet the breach. Finally, the machine fired a beam of energy - instinctively, Usriel raised a hand and an empyrean shield broke the attack. He hadn’t even known he could do such feats.
Usriel charged the machine as it threw One-One to the side as if playing with a puppet. His sword surged forwards only to be deflected at the last moment by the Machine’s now free hand. The two danced back and forth, only occasionally breaking to kill an errant being that dared to interrupt their duel. A kick came from the False God that the Angelus side-stepped, dropping his pistol to grab the missed lunge before lifting the evil icon and throwing him into the ground with such force it shattered the ferrockrete flooring ultimately. The machine was undamaged and scuttled out of the way before Usriel’s sword came plunging down.
A sweep from that glowing-edged scythe forced Usriel back, scraping against his armor and cutting through it like paper. He had to stay close lest the scythe be brought against him in force. The battle around them was hardly a concern as the force and speed of their clash made all others small. Thunder roared with each meeting of metal. Usriel dodged another blow before a blast from the abomination threw him back - only barely stopped by the shielding built within his armor. Only then it would be his one saving grace as he impacted one of the drilling machines that breached his walls.
As the machine rushed him, Usriel grabbed the tool of war and slammed it into the False God. The force of the attack sent the abomination flying to the side. There was only a moment for Usriel to regain his composure before he foresaw battle droids overwhelming him. The empyrean flared at his call, protecting him from all direction as he cleaved through the impending swarm. Even then the Intelligence resolved to try and shoot him from afar, trying to overwhelm this new power only for Usriel to leap and be upon him in an instant to resume their duel.
Metal screeched against metal. Shockwaves burst with each strike deafening any man near them. Both fought with a calculation only machines could muster. No words were exchanged and yet the onlooker knew to continue the fight and win. There was a matter of honor and duty that the men still loyal to the Angelus Machina would fight. Each man bellowed, “For the Angelus!”
Even over the echo of battle and screams of the dying did they echo all through the fortress, “For the Angelus! For the Machine God!”
The two continued to strike and parry, long ago did Usriel understand that his sword was near useless against the machine. Even still, it was enough of a threat to give his opponent reason to dodge and parry. Yet, Usriel could tell the machine began to grow sluggish - his mind raced to understand why each strike forced the machine to respond weaker and weaker. There was a moment before he understood, it could only fight against Usriel for so long.
Even with this, Usriel knew that he could not afford to fight this supreme being lest the Fortress’s outwalls fully fall. It was a battle of attrition for the False God and one of time for Usriel. The two exchanged a few more blows before they separated, the machine digging his scythe into the ground as Usriel ripped the decaying armor from him. The two stared each other down. Through it all, they were disgusted by the antithesis that both of them were to each other. Hate radiated from both.
Then, the machine began to flee.
It bounded towards one of the many breaches; its clawed feet scratched the surface on which it moved. Usriel resolved to allow his quarry to get away, rushing towards where One-One had been cast aside.
He came upon her, slowly starting to crawl towards the inner walls before he picked her up. The Angelus cradled the form of his mother and stared into her glowing blue eyes. Her voice pierced the air, ragged and malfunctioning, “My s-s-son, I sh-should have warn-n-n-ned you.”
“Warned me of what, mother?”
“The-the m-machine.”
“Why?”
“I-I-I re-released it. Awak-kened it.”
His eyes widened as the blue of her eyes slowly began to fade until she went limp in his hands. Usriel cared not for the words, only propelling himself forwards to the inner sanctum of the fortress.
