"My Lord, a few days ago I heard the Sisters' sermon, saying that you are original power, one of the threefold wills of the Omnissiah."
Tieron hurried alongside Alexander, complaining, "Can you talk to the Fabricator-General General and ask him to make himself a little smaller?"
"Even if he's as small as Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, that would be good."
"His body is too big. When the High Lords usually have meetings, they have to dismantle the entire roof of the venue, use six cranes to put him in, and then seal it up again."
"Often, other High Lords occupy half the space in the meeting hall, and he alone occupies the other half."
"Every time he comes to a meeting, it's a sky-high expense."
As he spoke, the expression on Tieron's face turned bitter.
As the Imperial Chancellor, he was the convener of the entire High Lord Council. Although he did not have voting rights, the entire High Lord Council was his direct responsibility; he was the gatekeeper of the High Lord Council.
This also made Tieron quite troubled by the massive, troublesome-to-transport Fabricator-General General, Wu Wula, or whatever his name was?
Alexander pondered for a moment and also recalled the Mars Fabricator-General's full name. It was a very long, high gothic name, extremely difficult to pronounce.
In short, that Fabricator-General gave Tieron a lot of headaches.
This visit to Oudia was also mediated by Tieron.
The Mars Fabricator-General had submitted a letter of condemnation to Guilliman almost as soon as he arrived on Terra, accusing Guilliman of being ambitious, using Belisarius Cawl to spread the false faith of the Saint Doraemon Sect, attempting to interfere in Mars' politics, and shaking the 'Olympian Treaty' personally signed by the Omnissiah.
Therefore, facing Alexander, a false god, he naturally would not be as enthusiastic as Kania Danda, the Rogue Trader Representative.
In fact, his attitude was rather cold, with almost no welcoming ceremony.
Only a few mechanically behaving Cult Mechanicus guards stood at the entrance, waiting for Alexander and Imperial Chancellor Tieron.
This made Tieron feel a little apprehensive.
The Mars Fabricator-General, by virtue of the Adeptus Mechanicus' unique position, always maintained an arrogant attitude.
Other High Lords, even if they opposed the Primarch in their hearts, dared not reveal it in their outward demeanor.
But the Mars Fabricator-General was different. The Fabricator-General held the 'Olympian Treaty' and did not show due respect even to the Primarch.
Or rather, in the eyes of the Fabricator-General, the only one he should respect was the Omnissiah.
Visiting the Mars Fabricator-General directly like this could easily escalate tensions and even further alienate Terra and Mars.
With the return of the two Primarchs, everything was in flux. If it were normal times, Tieron would have cried out that this was political suicide.
But this was the decision of the Primarch and Saint Doraemon.
Tieron looked at Alexander with trepidation, wondering if Saint Doraemon was about to display his authority as the Omnissiah.
If that were the case, he hoped Oud Oudia Raskian would not be blinded by pride and fail to see the light of Saint Doraemon.
The heavy sliding door, guarded by the Cult Mechanicus, slowly opened. Alexander, accompanied by Nobita and Tieron, walked into the dimly lit room behind the door.
Hot, yellowish steam brushed past Alexander's ankles. The surrounding walls were devoid of the Gothic decorations of the Imperium, featuring only pipes, valves, and gears twisting. All the sounds produced by these mechanical structures resounded in a harmonious, orderly, and precise rhythm.
Combined with the scraping sounds of the Mechanicus Priests' non-human bodies gliding across the floor, the gurgling of lubricant mixed with holy oil, and the murmuring of the half-human, half-machine servitors, it all blended into a low, mechanical hymn.
And at the center of this mechanical hymn was a pathetically small dwarf.
The dwarf wore a heavy, blood-red Adeptus Mechanicus robe, emblazoned with a twelve-toothed cogwheel. Beneath the robe were two grotesque faces.
One was festering and decayed, black flesh held by iron wire, while the other was covered in smooth bronze, with translucent green glass for eyes.
His two shriveled claws were tucked beneath his robe, and he turned his two heads to look at Alexander.
"Lord of the Omnissiah's faithful, Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, His Excellency Oud Oudia Raskian, Mars Fabricator-General."
The Mechanicus Priests standing around, precise as machines, spoke in unison, introducing the dwarf's identity.
This made Alexander pause slightly.
According to the information Tieron and Alexander had gathered from others, this Mars Fabricator-General had already progressed very far down the path of mechanical modification, his body as massive as a mechanical fortress, even more grotesque than Belisarius Cawl, and almost impossible to call human.
Alexander was thus emboldened.
Many mechanical modifications? That's great. He possessed power in the Malicious Art domain, with unparalleled control over machines and the machine spirit. With just a slight mental effort, he could manipulate the operation and power of machinery.
A heavily modified person like the Mars Fabricator-General was a hardworking slave in front of Alexander, not even needing a whip.
However, standing before Alexander was a small dwarf with few mechanical modifications. The power of the Malicious Art domain had little control over someone with so much flesh.
Just as Alexander was about to reach into his four-dimensional pocket for the Heavenly Punishment Whip to physically subdue this Fabricator-General General, he suddenly noticed numerous cables extending from behind the dwarf.
These cables, like pythons, intertwined, converged, and writhed, inserting into hundreds of nodes on the wall behind the dwarf. Various bizarre and strange machines writhed on that wall: energy converters, oxygen purifiers, cogitator arrays, electrical coils, and steam engines collectively formed this machine hidden behind the room's wall.
In an instant, Alexander understood. This entire room was the true Mars Fabricator-General.
For hundreds of years, he had continuously modified himself, expanding his body, eventually accumulating into the massive, heavy, and peculiar cogitator-box before him. The dwarf's fleshy body was merely a terminal he had extended.
But this made things much simpler.
"Fabricator-General Oudia," Alexander said softly.
The massive machine emitted a humming vibration, as if this Fabricator-General was expressing his displeasure to Alexander.
But Alexander's will also permeated the Mars Fabricator-General's body at this moment, entering the thousands of complex mechanical components.
Suddenly, every cable, every component, every coil of the Fabricator-General was exposed before Alexander.
The Fabricator-General's will and the machine spirit were intertwined, so powerful and intense, even stronger than the machine spirits of the ships and Titans Alexander had tamed before.
But Alexander now had the support of almost all of Terra's faith. He used a little strength and directly enveloped the Fabricator-General General's will with his own.
Alexander felt everything about this Fabricator-General General. His original fleshy tissues, still floating in an iron tank, trembled slightly.
Delicate cables pierced into the Mars Fabricator-General's remaining one-fifth of a brain, extending his thoughts throughout the entire cogitator-box.
Alexander could read these thoughts, cut these thoughts, and empower these thoughts.
He read the Mars Fabricator-General's deepest fear.
"The Golden Throne is about to fail."
This Mars Fabricator-General had discovered this hundreds of years ago, and he was terrified by it.
"In 537 standard Terran years, I have made no progress, and the Golden Throne's functions continue to degrade."
"I estimate that, in the best-case scenario, it will completely fail within a few centuries."
"If it fails, then it's over."
"The end of everything."
Alexander read the Mars Fabricator-General's thoughts.
"In the name of the Omnissiah, I will never let the Golden Throne fail, and I will never let the end of everything come."
"I need wisdom, I need more, more, more wisdom. I need to be closer to the Omnissiah."
For hundreds of years, the Mars Fabricator-General had continuously tried to repair the Golden Throne. He had made many sacrifices, consumed many resources, and even resorted to the Malicious Art of xenos, but ultimately achieved no results.
So he believed this was because his wisdom was insufficient, that he was not close enough to the Omnissiah. He had to gain more wisdom, he had to further modify his fleshy body, using machinery and cogitator arrays to expand his mind.
His body was discarded, unimportant parts of his brain were excised, countless machines were implanted around him, constantly expanding his mind.
He was like a bloated, grotesque queen bee, immersing himself in the cold, dark center of a Hive, merely producing thoughts outwards.
He could not move, could not feel, and could only survive with the care of servitors, no different from an Astartes sealed within a Dreadnought.
These were not what caused the Fabricator-General the most pain. The act of transforming himself into a machine was undoubtedly approaching the Omnissiah, which was an honor for members of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Even if physically painful, he was spiritually satisfied.
What truly made the Mars Fabricator-General despair was that he had come so close to the form of a machine, yet still could not touch true wisdom.
He still knew nothing about how to repair the Golden Throne; he couldn't even find the real problem.
This was not his fault, not the Fabricator-General's fault.
Because the mechanical parts of the Golden Throne actually had no problems. Alexander had already confirmed this with the Emperor. If there were problems, he would have fixed them with tools long ago; it wouldn't have been difficult for him.
Alexander continued to observe the Mars Fabricator-General's thoughts.
He worried that Belisarius Cawl would seize his power, because once he lost his positions as Fabricator-General and High Lord, he would not be able to obtain enough resources to maintain his massive body and continue searching for a way to repair the Golden Throne.
He despised the Saint Doraemon Sect spread by Cawl, but Alexander still found a flicker of hope, a bit of fantasy, deep within his heart: if Saint Doraemon truly was original power, then he would surely be able to repair the Golden Throne and prevent the end of everything, wouldn't he?
Alexander subtly grasped this thought, and using the power of the Malicious Art domain, he empowered it.
Soon, this thought, this idea, expanded continuously, occupying the vast majority of the Mars Fabricator's mind.
"Mars Fabricator-General Oudia!" Alexander shouted loudly.
The Mechanicus Priest beside him showed an angry expression: "How dare you call the Fabricator-General General Oudia?! How dare you—"
"I am Fabricator-General General Oudia!"
An excited voice echoed from the room. The dwarf body knelt before Alexander:
"My Lord! Fabricator-General General Uula salutes you. For ten thousand years, the Adeptus Mechanicus has lacked the guidance of the Omnissiah's will, like children without a father."
"Yet today, you have finally descended before us."
"Please bestow the great authority of the Omnissiah, repair the damaged Golden Throne, and postpone the coming of the final hour."
"..Uh."
Alexander hesitated:
"It's not your fault that you can't fix the Golden Throne."
"Have you ever considered that the problem isn't with the mechanical parts, but with the wetware?"