Chapter 25: Arrival
The Interrogation Chamber
Lucas Chrome's crimson robes failed to conceal the extent of his mechanical transformation. Respirator tubes emerged from his ribcage in precise rows, while power cables snaked around his torso like metallic serpents, feeding into the hissing energy pack that spread across his shoulders like mechanical wings.
Where flesh once formed a face, a grinning skull mask stared out, neural cables threading through the jawline while crimson lights pulsed in hollow sockets.
He accepted the helmet from Ke'erbo with reverent care, feeling it settle against his cranium with a soft click. Neural interface spikes pierced through to his skull with surgical precision.
"What are my operational parameters, Fabricator-General?"
Lucas trembled, not from fear, but from the intoxicating rush of surrendering control to the machine-spirit.
"The parameters are simple," Ke'erbo said, finding the remote control unit Francis had misplaced. His enthusiasm was barely contained. "Falsehood triggers detonation. Silence triggers detonation. Delayed response triggers detonation. Are these directives clear?"
"Perfectly clear, Fabricator-General."
Ding, ding, ding~
"Evidently not, since you failed to process them completely." Ke'erbo activated the musical function with barely concealed glee.
"I did process them!" Lucas protested.
In response, Ke'erbo quietly engaged the thermal element. Lucas felt heat building around his skull and quickly amended, "I didn't process them clearly! Forgive the error!"
The helmet cooled with a soft hiss, and one neural hook retracted.
"Confess your recent transgressions," Ke'erbo commanded.
"I have committed none."
Ding, ding, ding~
"I... I performed unauthorized vivisection on Astartes specimens and attempted gene-seed implantation into my own biology. The procedure failed catastrophically."
The assembled tech-adepts erupted: "By the Omnissiah! You conducted such sacred work without inviting us to observe? Highly inequitable!"
Suddenly, the helmet's mechanical interface began vibrating erratically. The device's behaviour diverged from Ke'erbo's previous tests; something fundamental had changed. Heat pulsed on and off in rapid succession: hot, cool, hot, cool.
"Fabricator-General, this exceeds your stated parameters!" Lucas's optical sensors flared as the device's temperature spiked beyond tolerance levels.
Ke'erbo frantically cycled the power systems, attempting to diagnose the malfunction. Nothing worked.
"Fabricator-General!" Lucas's voice cracked with electronic distortion. "The device is approaching critical mass! I cannot remove it!"
His mechanical fingers clawed desperately at the helmet, but the device had somehow fused with his cranium.
Realization dawned on Ke'erbo. With a single mechadendrite flick, he found the problem, a tiny restraining bolt that should have remained in place.
Click~
The bolt clattered to the floor.
Ding, ding, ding~
"EVACUATE!" Ke'erbo's shriek echoed through the chamber. "This device contains explosive yield equivalent to a tactical nuclear warhead!"
"The helmet cannot be removed without complete cranial separation!"
The other tech-adepts fled immediately, their robes billowing as they scrambled for safety.
As they prepared to seal the blast doors, they watched Lucas grasp his mechanical skull with both hands and twist it free with a sharp click. His headless body followed quickly behind them, skull tucked under one arm.
Ke'erbo sealed the chamber without hesitation and jettisoned it directly into the void.
BOOM!
The explosion bloomed like a miniature star, its mushroom cloud stretching hundreds of meters across space. Debris tumbled through the expanding plasma, fragments of what had been a battleship bearing the black eye symbol of the Sons of Horus.
Every optic focused on Lucas, who now stood headless among them.
"My cranium is purely decorative," he explained with electronic calm, patting the power unit on his back. "My actual cogitator systems reside here."
Silence stretched uncomfortably.
"Fabricator-General, we have inadvertently destroyed a vessel belonging to the Warmaster. This should not present... complications, should it?"
Ke'erbo's response was measured. "First, we determine if there are survivors."
The recovery servitors found none. The helmet's yield had been precisely calibrated—no organic matter survived the initial blast, and secondary explosions in the battleship's engines had reduced the vessel to scrap metal.
"The weapon system demonstrates exceptional efficacy," Lucas observed without hesitation. "Mass production protocols should be considered."
Ke'erbo contemplated this for a long moment. "Set course for Mars immediately. If anyone inquires, we are in lockdown for xenotech research."
"And if the Warmaster objects?"
"Tell Horus it was an accidental injury. If he wishes to express displeasure, he may do so on Mars. In person."
The Hrafnckel
The ship's exist from the Warp was smooth, leaving Francis to enjoy a rare moment of solitude. That peace was shattered when Magnus requested an audience.
The Crimson King entered with unusual hesitation, his massive frame rigid with discomfort.
Francis checked his chronometer and sighed. "When a primarch stands in my chambers looking like a guilty child, I know disaster approaches. What did you do, Magnus?"
"The situation is... minor." Magnus shifted awkwardly. "I extended an invitation to Angron to visit Terra. He... declined."
"If he doesn't want to come, that's his loss." Francis waved dismissively. "Why the dramatics?"
Magnus visibly relaxed. "Of course. A trivial matter." He departed with unseemly haste.
Francis secured the chamber and summoned the Soul Drinkers. The medical bay seemed cramped with their presence, and the faint scent of blood lingered around them.
"Have you been in combat?"
"No, my lord," they replied somewhat sheepishly. "We have been treating citizens afflicted with flesh mutations."
His Legion had become field medics. Francis wasn't sure whether to be proud or concerned.
He settled cross-legged on the treatment bed, his expression unusually grave. "Brothers, listen carefully. When we return to Terra, I may face imprisonment."
The Soul Drinkers erupted in protest.
"The Emperor would never permit such injustice!" "He possesses perfect wisdom!" "What grounds could exist?"
Francis raised his hand for silence. "It remains only a possibility. Should it occur, remember to find me in the deepest dungeons."
Every Soul Drinker's eyes widened in horror. "My lord, surely you do not contemplate betraying the Imperium?"
"We cannot betray our gene-father!" "Everything we are belongs to the Emperor!"
Before Francis could respond, the ship shuddered as they dropped from the Warp.
Bang, bang, bang~
"Francis! We have reached Terra. The Emperor commands your immediate presence!" Valoris called through the sealed portal.
The Custodian Guard and Silent Sisters formed an escort as Francis emerged. When the Soul Drinkers moved to follow, Space Wolves blocked their path.
"Only the primarch has been summoned. Return to your quarters and await orders."
The Soul Drinkers watched their gene-father disappear, uncertain whether duty demanded obedience or rebellion.
The Imperial Palace
Terra's night cycle cast the Imperial Palace in magnificent shadow and light. Ancient carvings covered the fortress walls, histories of glory, legends of heroism, whispered tales of victory and sacrifice. Majestic spires pierced the darkness, their golden peaks gleaming like distant stars against the void.
Magnus trembled with nervous energy, preparing to speak, when Leman Russ interrupted with a heavy sigh.
"Brother, are you aware that several days ago, Angron was maintaining ceasefire protocols on Nuceria when something triggered his rage? Two massive psychic assaults, according to reports."
"Now he hunts every living thing on that world. Half the native fauna lies dead. Even insects that cross his path are carved into precise segments." Russ's eyes fixed on Magnus. "What manner of being would perpetrate such malicious acts against a primarch?"
Francis slowly turned toward Magnus, who had developed an intense interest in the ceiling architecture.
"From here, only you may proceed," the Custodians announced. "The Emperor awaits."
The Golden Gate towered before them, flanked by massive statues of the Emperor's most loyal guardians. Their torch-bright eyes seemed to pierce mortal souls.
Ancient mechanisms groaned as the gate began its ponderous opening, revealing soft, warm light beyond.
"Enter."
[End of Chapter]
Okay, now for what you waited for, let me share an idea.
If you can see I took inspiration from lots of places.
Hear me out.
New novel /Fanfiction? Idea
"Nuceria — a world without origin or natives, where the night remembers the sun and lost fragments of every reality fall from the sky. Among the first to ever arrive, one traveler rides through the golden sands beneath a sky that refuses to darken."
You know, I have been thinking about this idea for few days, imagine a world.
Basically, with no end, it just never ends. Who knows what reality is? But till now, no one has found whether it's round or flat, whatever.
Now, imagine you have MC obviously, but this world of Golden Sand is connected to a fictional universe, and many times it pulls these characters into this world. For now, let's call it (Nuceria).
And that's how we build this up, like people getting dropped from all background normal anime characters, movie characters, Eldritch, I, and it's everyone, just not people sometimes even things.
Imagine you are on a camel riding the land on a glowing night, and suddenly a fucking Star Destroyer drops from the sky slowly and loudly, burning, and you are the only one who knows what it is.
And did I tell you about one of the most beautiful aspects of this world, that unlike our world, the night (Nuceria) doesn't really happen like night, I mean, yes, there is dim light, but still it is very much observable, the sun has set, but the land is still glowing.
Nuceria's night isn't glowing unnaturally, it's just brighter than any natural night we've known, like stepping back into an age before artificial light ruined the world's darkness.
The sky is deep and cosmic, but the land softly holds the memory of day, enough that you can see every dune's curve, every shadow's edge. You don't squint, and you don't need a torch; the air itself feels like it wants you to see.
It's that pre-electric, mythic kind of night, the kind travelers, poets, and ancient wanderers used to write about when they said the moonlight painted the earth. Only in Nuceria, the land itself seems to return that light.
....
Well, that's all from me. How do you like the idea? I mean, it has potential even as an original novel.
What do you say?