Solomon walked along the several-meter-wide tread tracks carved into the red sand, gradually approaching the iron-gray fortress that stood solemnly amid the Martian dust. Unlike the smaller mobile fortresses assembled later through modular units, this bastion—built against a mountain—had been constructed using prefabricated steel frames personally engineered by Malbus and poured concrete. It featured multiple steel airlock gates dozens of meters tall and numerous smaller hatches used to dock with mobile units of various functions, forming the central hub of the Martian Foundry complex. On its exterior, automatic anti-air gun turrets and plasma batteries had been installed to repel aerial threats.
So far, no hostile force had posed any threat. The only recorded kill of the automated turrets was an unfortunate Martian rover. Its charred remains still sat in the crater carved by autocannon rounds, the scorched American flag barely recognizable. Solomon didn't care whether Earth's governments discovered the foundry—they had no means to intervene.
The Fifth Demon Pillar was this project's chief operator, though no one on Mars knew Malbus's true identity. The only hint lay in the golden lion statue outside the iron-gray concrete fortress. As the steel doors slowly parted, the golden steel eagle emblem split down the center, and pale light spilled from the narrow opening. Malbus, dressed in a deep crimson robe, stood at the threshold to greet his master. All Demon Pillars possessed the ability to take human form—Phoenix did too. Malbus's chosen shape was a middle-aged man laden with mechanical gear, a form fitting his disposition. Lower-plane demons and devils had no use for machines; they preferred armor and blades. Before being recruited by Solomon, Malbus had only been able to forge swords and armor. The opportunity to fully exercise his mechanical genius here on Mars delighted him. That was Solomon's promise when he descended into the lower planes to recruit him.
"Happy Halloween, my friend."
Solomon smiled as he handed over a neatly wrapped gift upon entering the steel gate. Inside stretched a vast foundry plaza, with massive overhead rails crisscrossing the space. Deep in the darkness, beyond the sweeping shadows cast by cranes, stood the towering, vacuum-sealed ESR (Electroslag Remelting) furnaces. Each weighing over a thousand tons, these industrial behemoths and the metallurgical lines connected to them had not yet been activated. The electrical trolleys on the tracks remained idle, sparkling clean—protected from Martian dust by static shields. The massive foundry floor was eerily silent, with only the soft hum of low-power air exchangers dispersing oxygen laced with chemical agents, mixing with the scent of machine oil.
This was just one of many standard foundry plazas, and many more were planned. In time, these industrial fortresses would sprawl across the Martian surface in a vast grid. Once the automated mining fields came online, these foundries would operate with unimaginable efficiency, refining ores into steel and shaping them into engines of war, all according to Malbus's exacting production processes. Even more critical was the soon-to-begin construction of the orbital foundry—destined to become the manufacturing and maintenance hub for titanic starships.
Alongside this, agricultural facilities and gene research labs were slated for construction. Once the arriving mobile fortresses delivered the necessary personnel and equipment, work would commence. On this planet, only efficiency mattered. Gender, race, sexual orientation—none of it held relevance. Here, there was only work and learning. Extended lifespans and mechanical augmentation would gradually erase all identity markers. The inane nonsense of Earth would find no foothold here.
"My lord," Malbus said, bowing slightly as he accepted the gift. He didn't open it immediately. Instead, he activated the olfactory analyzer embedded in his mask. A small green LED blinked erratically beneath the crane's shadow, casting an eerie glow. "I'm guessing it's a data drive. What new tech have you brought me this time?"
"It's just... just a pumpkin cake, my friend. No one can smell silicon crystals."
"I know. That was my attempt at humor," Malbus replied with a blink. He fell in step with Solomon as they proceeded deeper into the foundry. The further they went, the fewer lights shone from the iron ceiling. Darkness crept over them.
"I only hope your sense of humor doesn't cross the line, Malbus," Solomon said. "This is still the early construction phase, and I don't want you using artificial intelligence. I trust Ultron is still securely contained—because one day, this planet may raise the banner of rebellion."
"For us third-generation corporeals, electronic demons pose no threat to my AIs," Malbus said quietly. "I'll conduct exorcism rituals on every AI system to ensure its purity."
"No, my friend." Solomon lifted his tail ring—a subtle warning hidden in his words. "I don't deny AI's power, but its very strength makes it dangerous. We can't assess an electronic lifeform's allegiance. We must find alternatives. But we can regard AI dialectically."
"When destruction is inevitable, AI may be the only force capable of salvaging the situation," Malbus agreed.
"Yes, but only the Martian high command will know of it. No mass production, no research, and no activation unless under direct orders from me. Otherwise, this failsafe will remain frozen." Solomon nodded. "We'll sign a contract outlining every clause. Only those who sign it may enter the Martian command structure. This contract will be one of the ultimate safeguards—"
"—One of many, I assume. I'm sure your wisdom has accounted for countless contingencies. Those gene-modified warriors are just the tip of the spear. And AI is certainly not your final card," Malbus replied calmly.
"Forgive me for keeping them from you. It's not a matter of trust," Solomon said. "The power of a secret lies in its secrecy. Strict compartmentalization ensures no magic or tech can extract this data. The more hidden a secret is, the more valuable it becomes. Our enemies will stop at nothing to find and weaponize such knowledge. The fewer who know, the safer it remains. That's how we win."
"Your vision is our cause, my lord. It was so in the past, so it is now, and so it shall be in the future," said Malbus. "But permit me to speak frankly. Not everyone will understand your ideals. Self-interest lies deep in the soul of all creatures. Their fragile minds need an idea they can accept—something to lift their eyes from petty life toward the stars. May I be allowed to reprogram the minds of the first-generation foundry workers, instilling loyalty? Only such individuals are worthy of your future."
Solomon glanced at Malbus. The mechanical mask concealed much of his face, making him unreadable. He found himself curious—when had Malbus become so adept at reading others? According to Phoenix, Malbus was little more than a reclusive mechanical otaku. Then again, Phoenix considered almost everyone uninteresting, and a man who preferred the company of steel was likely the dullest of all to a romantic soul like hers.
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I Am Zeus, KING OF GODS (Chapter 79)
Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 391)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 471)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 677)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 1059)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1418)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1422)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1452)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1504)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld!(Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 703)
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