For an Imperial world, a catastrophic upheaval lasting a mere few hours was more than enough to invite pure terror.
Orbital defense platforms were devoured by warp-spawned monstrosities summoned via the profane sorcery of Chaos, ultimately falling into the hands of the Great Enemy. Vox-communications suffered severe, choking interference. The identity of the invaders was swiftly confirmed: they were vile traitors who had turned their backs upon the light of the God-Emperor.
Concentrated orbital bombardments tore through the void shields safeguarding the planet's only two hive cities. Grotesque, warp-twisted aberrations and Chaos Renegades flooded the hive world. Within a staggering span of time, the local Planetary Defense Forces lost nearly a quarter of their strength. The outer curtain walls of the hive were breached directly by the onslaught.
A mass of Imperial aristocrats fled immediately, scrambling toward the secret family vaults and hidden bunkers constructed for their private salvation. Meanwhile, the Planetary Governor retreated to the deepest, most secure bastion buried in the roots of the hive, preparing to entrench himself and await reinforcement.
Yet, it was at this darkest hour that an army of Iron Men, creatures hitherto known to this world only through whispered myth and ancient rumor, descended upon the planet for the very first time.
The Chaos daemons and twisted warp-beasts were utterly annihilated with clinical ease. Even the Heretic Astartes were torn to bloody shreds as effortlessly as mortal infantrymen. The traitors' bolt-shells struck the silver-white chassis of the mechanical legionaries in dazzling sprays of sparks, yet failed utterly to break the automatons' relentless, advancing stride. Searing plasma fire, melta beams, and a barrage of other heavy ordnance left nothing more than ugly, superficial scorching upon their pristine plating.
The lasgun fire unleashed by the mortal cultists fractured and scattered haphazardly across the mirror-sheen of the silver armor. Even the horrific sonic weaponry, capable of reducing entire trenches of mortal soldiers into a crimson mist with a single resonant blast, failed to inflict the slightest structural harm upon the metallic frames.
The entire slaughter was executed with a chilling, dispassionate efficiency. The betrayers' counterattacks yielded virtually no effect. Right before the eyes of the stunned PDF, these metallic constructs enacted a swift and absolute massacre of the enemy. The shroud of impending doom shifted away from the defenders of the Imperium, settling entirely over the forces of Chaos, providing the ultimate, unexpected catalyst for Imperial morale.
Huddled deep within his subterranean command bunker, the Planetary Governor, who also held the rank of Planetary Defense General, remained entirely ignorant of the miraculous turn of events on the surface.
Under the desperate orders of loyal, mid-level PDF officers, the mortal defenders utilized their superior numbers to fortify the remaining trenches, holding the line against the encroaching dark. Lacking formal combat experience and adequate training, they did not attempt to charge or rout the enemy. They needed only to dig into their positions, hunker behind solid cover, pour out as much suppressing fire as possible, and wait for the Heretics to be completely swallowed by the unstoppable tide of their mechanical allies.
The reality unfolded precisely as they had envisioned.
The machine army rapidly pushed the frontline forward, systematically cleansing every trace of the foe. Then, in blinding flashes of cascading arc-light, the silver constructs vanished from the battlefield as abruptly as they had arrived. Were it not for the foul-smelling crimson mist settling over the torn earth and the lingering, nauseating tang of empyrean energy in the air, the entire engagement would have seemed nothing more than a fever dream.
As celebrations erupted across the saved world, Axion escorted the rescued Adeptus Astartes back to the planet's surface, notifying the local Inquisition to handle the recovered warriors.
A High Inquisitor, accompanied by an elite detachment drawn from the local Inquisitorial Fortress, arrived to receive the dozen or so Angels of the Emperor. Though these Space Marines had been stripped of their power armor and bore extensive physical trauma, their towering statures and unmistakable aura commanded immediate reverence and submission from the mortal authorities.
As for the baseline mortals rescued alongside the transhumans, they were corralled into a temporary containment compound erected near the military encampments.
Waiting for them would be the execution squads of the PDF. The Inquisition held no illusions; they knew all too well that no baseline mortal could endure captivity under the Archenemy without suffering soul-deep corruption. Furthermore, the common citizenry could never afford the staggering toll required for the Ecclesiarchy to perform cleansing rites of exorcism. Rather than squandering valuable time and energy attempting to sift through the souls of these wretched civilians, delivering them directly to the Emperor's Judgement via a firing line was deemed the most cost-effective and secure protocol.
With a minor pen-stroke to slightly inflate the casualty figures in the official campaign ledger, no one in the administration would ever care about a few missing refugees from an unknown world.
None of this, however, concerned Axion.
Axion transferred his conscious awareness into the frame of an Automated Sentry-Trooper, stepping into the secure holding bay where Fabius Bile was contained. Given the Primogenitor's unnervingly composed demeanor, Axion immediately initiated a comprehensive physiological scan of his prisoner.
The deep-tissue sequencing arrays quickly unraveled the secrets of the heretic's flesh.
"Clone designation: Fabius. According to historical records, your consciousness has operated within the galactic theater for over ten millennia. Yet, the biological markers of this specific vessel indicate a chronological age of merely one hundred and thirty-three terran years."
"The subject exhibits multiple vectors of genetic degradation, presenting degenerative manifestations. Signs of localized cellular collapse detected."
Fabius's rheumy, chem-harrowed eyes gleamed with sudden intellect. He watched the silver iron-clad automaton with genuine amusement as it mechanically listed the systemic flaws of his current clone body.
"Tell me, scrap-iron," Fabius sneered, his voice dripping with condescension, "what is your intent?"
Axion raised a metallic arm. A pale, silvery light began to coalesce around the Sentry-Trooper's neutron beam emitter. With a brief flicker of chronal displacement, the primary weapon module vanished, replaced instantly by a complex, circular toroid apparatus.
"Prisoner. Your amassed data-stores possess projected utility for this unit. Consequently, this unit will proceed with memory extraction, followed by the administration of final cessation. Do not attempt extraneous resistance; it will only serve to prolong your neurological distress."
Discovering that the ancient machine-mind was after the secrets locked within his mind caught Fabius visibly off-guard. Though he could not fathom how an Iron Man intended to siphon knowledge directly from a transhuman brain, he had absolutely no intention of surrendering his life's work.
Furthermore, the bizarre, humming ring in the automaton's grip triggered an instinctual alarm within him.
"This vessel is merely a distant biological node, remotely anchored through a neural-circuit matrix," Fabius countered, masking his apprehension. "You will harvest nothing of substance from this brain. However, I am amenable to a mutual exchange of data, machine."
Axion's mechanical chassis did not hesitate.
The toroid apparatus descended, encircling Fabius's skull as a low, piercing hum began to vibrate through the chamber.
An agonizing, alien sensation tore through Fabius's rapidly overheating brain, a harrowing feeling as if his very soul were being violently unraveled and broken apart piece by piece. The sheer, metaphysical agony radiating from the depths of his spiritual essence forced a ragged, desperate shriek from the lips of the self-proclaimed Spider.
Yet, it was the sound of Fabius's agonizing screams that caused Axion's movements to abruptly halt.
Through the internal logic-streams of the machine, a cold, synthesized diagnostic voice echoed:
[Error: Technical project upgrade failure.]
[Revised Mind-Usurper Model II, based on recent psychic-extraction methodology, exhibits anomalous behavior. Potential for deep-data corruption detected.]
[Resetting technical blueprint to default. Executing emergency recovery protocols to restore organic vessel status. Awaiting re-read segment.]
A single dose of a Panacea compound was automatically injected into Fabius's crashing physiology.
Instantly, the rapidly failing clone body underwent an accelerated, miraculous cellular regeneration. For a fleeting moment, Fabius felt as though he had been plunged into a warm, sterile womb, entirely divorced from physical suffering.
The agonizing sensation of his soul cracking apart vanished. It was replaced by an overwhelming, serene comfort.
The sparse, bald contours of his head shifted as a thick mane of silver-white hair rapidly sprouted from his scalp. His scarred, gaunt visage smoothed into aristocratic symmetry, while the corrupted genetic sequences inherited from Fulgrim's flawed lineage were systematically purged and overwritten. A soft, luminescent shimmer pulsed rhythmically across his skin.
"What... what have you done to me?!"
The moment his cognitive functions stabilized, Fabius attempted to forcefully sever his consciousness from the clone vessel. The horrific sensation of having his soul peeled away was an experience he refused to endure a second time.
But as his thoughts raced, a cold dread gripped him; he discovered that his conscious ego was utterly locked within the flesh of this clone. He could no longer break the connection.
The circular device within the metallic hands of the automaton hummed once more, its internal configurations shifting subtly. As Fabius watched the device descend toward his head for a second attempt, the arrogant gene-wright let out a raw, uncharacteristic cry of pure panic.
"Stop! Whatever data you require, I will facilitate compliance! I will not experience that torment again!"
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