That was when Osiris was a young Priest, following his mentor while researching on Holy Terra.
During an expedition to the lower levels of a hive city, he stumbled upon a group of gang members ambushing a teenager.
The teenager was covered in blood, yet he resisted fiercely like a cornered beast, clutching a broken metal pipe—his only weapon.
What impressed Osiris most were the teenager's hawk-like sharp eyes—even in a desperate situation, an unyielding fighting spirit burned within them.
Osiris immediately intervened.
He precisely fired several laser blasts, taking down the most ferocious thugs, while the rest scattered and fled.
After chasing away the thugs, he approached the gang kid, who was huddled in a corner gasping for breath, and treated his wounds with the medical tools he carried.
The teenager watched him warily until Osiris was genuinely treating his injuries, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Sigismund," the teenager rasped, his gaze briefly lingering on Osiris' mechanical prosthetics and red robe, curiosity in his eyes.
Osiris merely nodded, completed the necessary emergency treatment, and then got up to leave.
This brief encounter was merely an insignificant interlude in his long research career.
Later, he accidentally learned that the hive city kid had been noticed and recruited by an Imperial Fists recruitment officer.
After that, Sigismund's name began to spread within The Legion—he quickly rose through the ranks with unparalleled swordsmanship and absolute loyalty, eventually becoming the First Captain of The 7th Legion, one of the Emperor's most loyal warriors, and Primarch Dorn's most trusted sword and shield.
The turning point of fate occurred when Osiris' mentor and his faction were purged due to heresy accusations.
As a member of that faction, Osiris was naturally implicated.
At a critical moment during the review, a strongly worded but clear-cut guarantee document from the high command of the Imperial Fists Legion was delivered to the Adeptus Mechanicus tribunal responsible for the review.
The document emphasized Osiris' past technical contributions and vouched for his loyalty, citing his indirect assistance in a marginal technology cooperation project within The 7th Legion.
This guarantee largely offset the intensity of the accusations against Osiris, allowing him to escape the core charges and only receive a certain degree of monitoring and restrictions.
Osiris later learned through clandestine channels that the person who pushed for this guarantee was none other than Sigismund, who was already highly influential at the time.
The First Captain had not forgotten the Tech-Priest who had helped him in the lower levels of the hive city.
—
Osiris did not linger at the starport.
After completing the necessary docking document verification and access permission registration, he led everyone onto the designated ground shuttle.
The shuttle smoothly detached from the starport's docking arm, adjusted its posture, and began to descend towards the surface of the industrial-scarred planet below.
After a period of flight, the shuttle landed in a relatively isolated area on the Forge World's surface.
Here stood Osiris' private research facility, a fortress-like building constructed from thick alloy, its surface etched with binary prayers and gear-shaped holy symbols.
The towering spires were sensor arrays, and behind the heavy gates lay a heavily guarded interior space.
As the heavy alloy gate closed behind them, the hustle and bustle of the starport were instantly cut off.
The interior of the laboratory presented a completely different scene—there were no exposed pipelines or deafening mechanical roars, replaced instead by a breathtaking precision and order.
Countless uniquely shaped instruments were neatly arranged along the smooth floor, their surfaces glowing with faint blue indicator lights.
Several servo-skulls floated silently in mid-air, their eye sockets flashing with rhythmic red light, silently recording everything within the facility.
Thick cables were perfectly housed in metal conduits along the side walls, and the air was filled with a unique scent of ozone, coolant, and holy oil, purer and crisper than what they had smelled in the starport.
Osiris' massive dark red mechanical body appeared extremely imposing under the cool white light.
He turned to the group, his synthesized voice calmly echoing in the spacious hall: "Remember where you stand at this moment."
His mechanical finger swept through the air, pointing to the silently operating equipment around them, "This is not only my private laboratory, but also a consecrated technological sanctuary. Every instrument has been calibrated ten thousand times, and every process carries the will of the Omnissiah."
His crimson optical lenses slowly scanned each person's face, as if reading their physiological data.
"Next, you will undergo a comprehensive assessment and necessary upgrades here." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink into everyone's hearts, "Sekhmet will take you to the temporary living quarters and inform you of the basic rules."
His voice suddenly took on a metallic sharpness: "Pay special attention—all areas marked in red are strictly forbidden, and any unauthorized operation will be considered a serious violation. Here, discipline is not a suggestion; it is a prerequisite for survival."
Everyone nodded.
Maine unconsciously rubbed the scar on his chin, his gaze cautiously sweeping over the precise instruments he had never seen before.
Valerie quietly observed her surroundings, paying particular attention to the locations of several devices that clearly had weapon characteristics.
Jackie, for once, reined in his usual boisterousness, standing respectfully in place, only the slight movement of his eyeballs betraying his curiosity.
David's breathing quickened as he stared at an automatically operating analyzer in the distance, his eyes gleaming with longing.
Lucy gently touched his arm, signaling him to remain calm.
Osiris' mechanical tentacles input the final command on the control panel, his deep voice reverberating through the laboratory: "The changes you are about to experience will far exceed your imagination. Remember: here, efficiency is a virtue, and obedience is survival."
As if to confirm these words, the hum of equipment starting up echoed from deep within the laboratory, like a solemn declaration.
As Osiris turned and walked towards the main console, Sekhmet immediately stepped forward, silently gesturing for everyone to follow.
They took one last look at Osiris' massive dark red back before being led out of the main laboratory by the Skitarii Corps commander.
As the alloy door silently closed, Osiris' data interface was already connected to the system.
He input everyone's detailed physiological data, modification records, and combat performance analysis recorded by the administrator during their time in Night City, all into the laboratory's cogitator array.
A torrent of information instantly flooded his consciousness like a waterfall; every parameter, every combat performance was precisely analyzed within his logical core.
Based on his profound understanding of Adeptus Mechanicus standard enhancement technologies, he began to construct the preliminary framework for the modification plan.
Each person's potential and flaws were clearly revealed in the data stream, like raw materials waiting to be sculpted into a more perfect form.
Just as he was fully immersed in data analysis and plan formulation, the communication indicator light at the main entrance of the laboratory suddenly lit up, breaking the silence in the room.
An encrypted and verified identity identifier flashed on the communication interface—it was Sigismund.
Magos Osiris' mechanical finger tapped lightly on the edge of the control panel, his crimson optical lens flickering slightly. He pondered for a moment, then connected the communication.
"Magos Osiris." The voice from the communicator was steady and powerful, like a blade forged from adamantium, "I heard you've returned to Neksum and completed your promotion ceremony."
He paused, then continued in a calm tone, "If you are available now, I would like to pay my respects in person."
Even through the communication device, Sigismund's voice carried his characteristic authority.
"You are always welcome, Lord Sigismund." Osiris' synthetic voice was as steady as ever, but there seemed to be a subtle, almost imperceptible fluctuation within it, "Please come in."
The heavy laboratory blast door silently slid open, and a tall figure appeared in the doorway.
With his arrival, the atmosphere of the entire laboratory shifted, as if even the air became several shades heavier.
Sigismund stood nearly two and a half meters tall, clad in ceramic steel power armor painted in the Imperial Fists' iconic yellow.
His armor was heavy, with rigid lines, and his shoulder pads were etched with the unique insignia symbolizing his status as the First Captain.
Sigismund stood at the doorway, not wearing his helmet.
His weathered face was etched with the marks of time, each wrinkle like a scar left by battle.
His close-cropped, grizzled hair accentuated his hawk-like, sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through all disguise.
Simply standing there, he naturally exuded the magnificent aura unique to a seasoned warrior.
The power sword at his waist appeared unadorned, but the wear marks on its hilt silently spoke of countless life-and-death struggles.
Sigismund's gaze slowly swept across the laboratory, pausing briefly on Sekhmet and the Skitarii Corps, finally settling on Osiris' dark red mechanical body. His sharp eyes narrowed slightly, revealing a hint of almost imperceptible satisfaction.
"Explorer Magos." Sigismund's voice was deep and clear, standing out distinctly in the quiet laboratory, "It seems you have traveled further on this path of knowledge than many anticipated."
Osiris' mechanical body emitted a faint hydraulic hiss, and he nodded slightly: "Captain Sigismund. This promotion also owes credit to your guarantee back then."
Sigismund's lips moved ever so slightly, that momentary expression almost a smile. "I was merely repaying an old debt." His gaze became distant, "Many years ago, in that alley on Terra, you already displayed unique potential."
"I was just an apprentice then," Osiris' synthetic voice remained steady, "And you, too, already showed the shadow of a future warrior."
The laboratory fell silent for a moment, the air seemingly congealed amidst the unspoken past between the two.
"This visit," Osiris broke the silence first, "is it about the splitting of The 7th Legion?"
Sigismund's expression became serious again, a deep shadow clouding his brow. "The 'Second Founding' pushed by Lord Guilliman before his fall is now a foregone conclusion."
His voice was low, every word carrying weight, "Lord Dorn… though he harbors complex feelings about splitting the Legions, after Lord Guilliman was gravely wounded and entered stasis, he believes this plan must be continued. It is to complete his brother's unfinished work."
He paused for a moment, a hint of solemnity flashing in his sharp eyes: "Lord Dorn once said that after Guilliman fell, continuing this plan was a respect for his brother's ideals, even if it meant The 7th Legion would cease to exist."
He paused for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly: "The 7th Legion is about to become history. In its place will be several independent Chapters inheriting the traditions of the Imperial Fists."
His fingers unconsciously caressed the hilt of his sword at his waist, this subtle movement betraying the turmoil within him.
Osiris' mechanical body emitted a faint hum: "Splitting means each new Chapter will need to rebuild its armory. You represent Lord Dorn, coming to ensure Neksum can undertake these orders?"
"Precisely." Sigismund nodded, "Neksum and The 7th Legion have a long history of cooperation. Lord Dorn hopes that even with the Legion's reorganization, this connection can be extended to the new Chapters."
His tone carried a hint of imperceptible reservation, "We need reliable sources of equipment supply, not only requiring quality standards but also ensuring stable supply. Archmagos Vox has agreed in principle, and I am here to finalize the specific details and initial orders."
His gaze once again fell on Osiris: "Learning of your promotion to Magos and that you've established your own laboratory here is also one of the purposes of my trip. It seems you now have a broader stage."
"Resources and authority are indeed the cornerstones of exploration." Osiris' synthetic voice was as steady as ever, "The orders from the new Chapters are precisely the urgently needed opportunity for the Forge World. Archmagos Vox has recently been troubled by shrinking orders."
A faint, almost imperceptible wry smile crossed Sigismund's lips: "Opportunities always coexist with challenges. Splitting the Legion into smaller units… this goes against Lord Dorn's initial beliefs."
His voice deepened, "But now, he has become the most resolute enforcer of this policy, believing it is to complete Guilliman's unfinished work."
The First Captain shook his head slightly, a complex expression flashing in his eyes: "New organization, new command structure… everything is still being explored. Whether dispersed forces can cope with future threats is an unknown."
His voice carried clear distrust, but it was immediately replaced by a resolute tone, "However, since it is Lord Dorn's decision, the Imperial Fists will certainly implement it."
Osiris' mechanical tentacles tapped lightly on the control panel: "Political realities often require compromise. What's important is to ensure the new Chapters can receive equipment support of the same standard as the former Legion."
"That is precisely the purpose of my visit." Sigismund nodded, "To ensure that tradition can be continued, even if the form has changed." He took half a step back, his mechanical joints emitting a faint sound, "I won't disturb your research, Magos Osiris. May the wisdom of the omnissiah guide your path. I still need to return and continue discussing the details with Archmagos Vox."
Before turning to leave, he looked deeply at Osiris once more: "Stay in touch. The Imperium… needs the strength of every loyalist, no matter what form they take."
"It is my duty." Osiris replied succinctly.
Sigismund nodded slightly, turned, and walked away with steady steps. The heavy blast door silently closed behind him, re-isolating the laboratory in silence. Only a faint, lingering sense of gravity remained in the air, as if speaking of the choices and perseverance everyone must face in an era of change.
The orders brought by Sigismund were like a powerful stimulant injected into a weary body, reigniting a more vigorous activity in the main foundries within the core areas of the Neksum Forge World.
Thick chimneys spewed denser columns of smoke into the sky, which was perpetually shrouded in industrial haze, and the frequency of transport vehicles on the rail network also significantly increased.
The roar of forging hammers from deep within the Forge Temple seemed to gain a long-lost intensity.
However, beneath this seemingly revitalized scene, Archmagos Fabricator Kasper Vox, analyzing data screens in his private sanctuary, calmly discerned a far more severe reality.
On the star map, the data stream representing the orders, a symbol of the historical ties with The 7th Legion, had undergone a fundamental change in its internal structure.
It was no longer a stable and robust band of light exclusive to Neksum but had split into dozens of slender tributaries, dispersing to the nascent, much smaller Imperial Fists successor chapters across the galaxy.
Of these, only a portion flowed to Neksum.
While the total order volume was substantial compared to the scattered requests before the split, it was still a world apart from the almost endless, massive consumption and equipment demands generated during the Great Crusade era, when the Legion fought across the galaxy as the Empire's main force.
After the Great Heresy, the Empire no longer engaged in large-scale wars of conquest, and the astartes chapters transitioned to a more defensive and independent Chapter model, their equipment needs naturally shifting from supporting large-scale Legion operations to maintaining basic security and regional deterrence.
The overall scale of the Empire's military demands had irreversibly and severely shrunk, reflected in the drastic reduction of overall order volume.
"Every fifty years, one hundred Mark IV Power Armors, ten Indomitus Terminator Armors, and corresponding weapon accessories..." Vox's deep, hoarse voice echoed in the sanctuary, carrying a hint of imperceptible fatigue, "This is enough to keep the core foundries warm, allow the Skitarii Corps' equipment upgrade plan to continue, and prevent the starport from falling into complete silence. But, it is far from enough."
His mechadendrites weakly glided over the floating data streams, and dark areas on the screen silently revealed the predicament—stalled star-ring expansion plans, cooled secondary foundry complexes, and new battleship construction projects indefinitely postponed due to resource shortages.
"These few orders can only keep Neksum 'alive,' but they cannot make it 'grow.'" His deep voice echoed in the empty sanctuary, his sole remaining human eye turning to the observation window, gazing at the magnificent yet incomplete orbital megastructure, "Nor can they allow this star-ring to regain the glory envisioned in its design blueprints."
Just then, the sanctuary's visitor communication indicator lit up, showing that Explorer Magos Osiris was requesting an audience.
Vox's single eye flickered slightly, quickly reining in his outward emotions, and the charts on the data screen also faded away.
His massive body adjusted to a more authoritative posture on the track platform, and his voice returned to its usual astute and steady tone: "Permission granted."
The heavy metal door slid open silently, and a tall, dark-red figure entered the sanctuary, its silhouette appearing particularly solemn in the dim light of the sanctuary.
Osiris' steps were steady and precise, the faint whirring of his power joints rhythmically sounding in the quiet space.
His crimson optic lenses swept across the interior, finally settling on the Archmagos Fabricator seated behind the adamantium desk, then offered a precise nod of greeting, in accordance with Adeptus Mechanicus etiquette.
"Archmagos Vox."
"Magos Osiris," Vox responded, his tone formally steady, but a hint of imperceptible scrutiny flashed deep within his human eye, "It seems you adapt quickly to your new identity. Is this visit regarding the production progress of your 'ancient logic core'?"
"That is one of the purposes." Osiris' voice was equally steady, yet less deliberately smooth than Vox's, and more direct, "I want to understand the specific progress of the project."
One of Vox's mechadendrites lightly tapped the control console, and a pale blue data stream of production information then appeared in the air between them.
"The review process is complete," he said, his tone carrying a hint of relaxation after completing a complex procedure, "The representatives from Mars, you know, are always particularly fastidious.
However, they finally gave their approval. One of them even privately pre-ordered a Cogitator array equipped with this core."
He paused briefly, allowing the weight of this news to settle, then continued: "Currently, the designated production line has completed initial debugging, and the first batch of units has officially entered the manufacturing phase.
If all goes well, the first batch of products is expected to roll off the line within three standard months."
His gaze lingered on Osiris' unmoving optic lenses, and he added: "This batch of products will be prioritized for installation in the Cogitator arrays we provide to several surrounding Imperial worlds, as well as in the new batch of Demios-pattern Predator tanks and Stormeagle gunships."
Vox's tone returned to caution, with the calm expected of a leader, "We need to collect the most authentic battlefield data and user feedback from these frontline units.
Although both I and the representatives from Mars are optimistic about its potential, the value of technology ultimately needs to be validated by the battlefield and practice. Final market acceptance is key."
Osiris listened quietly, and in his crimson optic lenses, subtle data streams flickered like stars, as if synchronously processing every piece of information Vox provided.
Only when Vox finished did he calmly respond: "I understand, practice is the only touchstone."
No emotional fluctuations could be discerned in his voice, only a certainty based on the technology itself; he seemed to have never doubted the inherent superiority of the "ancient logic core" over conventional models and its inevitable performance after thorough testing.
The conversation naturally turned to the current state of the Forge World.
Vox did not hide the current predicament; he waved a mechadendrite, highlighting the data stream on the star map representing the Imperial Fists' orders.
"Captain Sigismund's orders did indeed provide immediate relief, allowing our most core production lines to operate at full speed for a period. However," his voice deepened, "one hundred sets of power armor and ten sets of Terminator armor every fifty years are barely enough to maintain the basic operation of a Forge World, but for reigniting the industrial potential of the entire planet and continuing grand plans like the orbital star-ring, it is undoubtedly a drop in the ocean.
If the furnace fires are to burn as fiercely as they did during the Great Crusade, we need more, more stable fuel, and new growth points."
_________
I completely forgot, is Neksum an OG forge world?