Forge Cathedral — Core Assembly Hall
The heart of Belgaris Omicron's forge was a cathedral of iron and steam. Colossal statues of the Omnissiah loomed over a circular arena, its floor etched with circuitry runes glowing red from the heat below.
The Fabricator-General stood atop a dais of cogwork thrones, mechadendrites twitching. "Outsider," his vox boomed, "you claim strength. But the Machine-God demands proof. You will face a creation born from the fusion of flesh, steel, and the Warp itself."
A great hatch in the arena floor opened. Steam hissed. The thing that rose made even Grey Knights tense.
It was a Warpforged Thanatar Siege-Automata, its chassis pulsing with daemonic runes, its weapons bristling with blackened plasma coils. Where machine spirits should have been, a Warp-thing's laughter echoed.
Shawn POV
The air pressed down, heavy with corruption. My Observation Haki felt its every movement — erratic, unclean. Its presence clawed at the edges of my mind.
Valen stepped to my side. "That thing isn't bound for long. Kill it before the daemon inside breaks free."
I nodded. My liquid Haki surged, coiling around my arms and hardening into a spear. "Cover me. I'll hit the core."
The Battle
The Thanatar fired first — a beam of corrupted plasma scorching across the arena. The Custodes locked shields, their Armament Haki flaring black over gold, absorbing the impact. Behind them, Grey Knights chanted psychic wards, feeding their own Haki into their halberds.
"Move!" Vulkar roared, breaking formation and charging. His hammer rang against the daemon-machine's knee joint, sparks and ichor spraying. Basur followed, his Haki-coated fists pounding dents into armor thicker than tank plating.
The daemon inside shrieked — an inhuman, wet sound — and lashed out with a warp-charged tendril, throwing Basur across the arena.
I leapt. My Spirit Projection expanded — not just the spear, but chains lashing outward, pinning the beast's gun arm. "Valen, now!"
Valen's power exploded in a storm of blue psychic lightning, wrapped in the pitch-black of his Haki. It punched through the Thanatar's shoulder, severing pistons and warp-flesh alike.
Pushing the Limit
The daemon-machine staggered but didn't fall. It vented steam, claws tearing into the floor to launch itself at me.
I met it head-on, forcing my Spirit Projection to its limit — a massive warhammer forming in both hands. Every swing felt like dragging my soul through molten iron. My vision blurred. My lungs burned. But each strike crushed daemonic wards, splintered armor, and shattered the machine spirit's screams.
"Shawn!" Tahak's voice cut through the noise. He was in its blind spot, sliding between its legs. His blade flashed, Armament Haki edge biting into the power cables feeding its reactor. Sparks burst.
The Kill
Valen's voice roared inside my head, a psychic push: "Now!"
I leapt high, every ounce of willpower burning in my muscles. My hammer crashed down on the reactor housing, liquid Haki drilling through steel. The Thanatar convulsed, its daemon screaming as the projection burst through into its corrupted heart.
Light swallowed the arena in a violent detonation of Haki and psychic force. When it faded, the machine was nothing but slag and smoking chains.
Aftermath
The Fabricator-General's mechadendrites froze. Then, slowly, he inclined his head. "The Omnissiah has witnessed your might. Belgaris Omicron will aid you. Our forges are yours to command."
I stood there, chest heaving, sweat mixing with the soot on my face. My Haki still flickered in faint arcs around my hands.
Inside, I thought: One more piece for the army. One more step toward Terra.