The fall of a single fortress—an impact that looked like it shattered heaven and earth—didn't stop the war.
If anything, it only made it worse.
The remnants of both sides that hadn't been annihilated by that world-ending collision went even more insane, tearing into each other with heightened fury.
In the skies, once a fighter ran out of ammunition, it turned itself into a giant bullet. Engines pushed past safe limits, and it threw itself into a suicidal ramming run, smashing into the enemy.
And in a battlefield that had completely lost its mind, a modified Thunderhawk gunship that refused to join either side might as well have been an enemy to everyone.
So it wasn't just dodging Tyranid attacks.
It also had to evade Imperial fighters' gunfire.
At first, it hated having to dodge like this.
Even without a proper weapons system, that didn't mean it couldn't fight. It could, for example, lure enemy fire and trick it into hitting their own allies.
But gradually, it discovered that this was fun, too.
Being hunted by both sides, weaving through lethal crossfire in a situation this vicious—it was a thrilling, high-stakes challenge.
And the way it kept slipping away, over and over, like nothing could hit it, watching its pursuers grow furious and frantic…
That was entertaining as well.
So let it dance through the storm with its pilot.
Come on.
Use even more firepower to force its flight path into an even more beautiful choreography in the sky.
"BOOM—!"
A warhead detonated nearby. The shock made the airframe let out another ominous sound, like it was about to come apart.
But the strange thing was… it felt like they were in a trap.
According to the status readouts, some maneuvers should've been impossible for this craft—yet it pulled them off.
And sometimes, when it should've been able to avoid a denser kill-zone, it would suddenly act like the yoke had been slammed hard over—like it couldn't change course at all—and it would dive straight into the thickest fire.
Then, a moment later, it would "recover," and the gunship would fight like hell, threading between beams, lasers, and missiles—where a single lapse meant destruction and death.
So if this Thunderhawk really did have a Machine Spirit influencing it…
Then it was absolutely the kind that lived for extreme sports.
It was probing the edge of death on purpose, walking a razor wire at full sprint, drifting along the boundary between life and oblivion, savoring the thrill.
Thankfully, in the big picture, it was still advancing toward Kain's intended destination.
As for what a Machine Spirit actually was, there were many explanations.
In the Imperium's official definition, a "Machine Spirit" was simply what they called the automatic systems and operational mechanisms within their technology.
But a Machine Spirit wasn't the same as forbidden Abominable Intelligence, because it didn't possess the ability to self-upgrade.
And Abominable Intelligence was, in practical terms, AI—artificial intelligence with true self-awareness.
Humanity's Golden Age had ended with an AI rebellion that dragged mankind down from its "throne," so now AI carried that name and was treated as taboo—strictly forbidden to develop.
Back to the Machine Spirit.
The Adeptus Mechanicus believed Machine Spirits could be influenced through ritual, and that their nature was beastlike—capable of hatred, stubbornness, and other emotions.
So through rites, you could "calm" or "guide" a Machine Spirit, synchronize it more cleanly with its user, and sometimes even coax it into producing performance beyond its limits.
For example, even after the ammunition was supposedly exhausted, a weapon might still keep firing—purely because the Machine Spirit was "delighted."
Absurd, almost mystical.
So if a phenomenon like this was happening here, then whatever was "inside" this Machine Spirit, Kain didn't believe it was merely a label for automation and mechanisms.
In his eyes, this felt closer to an explanation he'd once read that actually fit.
A simple analogy: the mythic concept that "all things have spirit."
An object, after enduring certain experiences—or simply after existing for a long time—could develop a spark of awareness.
Or you could understand the Machine Spirit as something like a "vital essence lifeform," or a "primal spirit body," or a "resident wraith"—something that could lodge itself within a physical object, gaining a will through that object.
And if an item truly did develop a self-willed Machine Spirit…
Then if the user displeased it, they were going to suffer for it.
Suddenly, Kain's vision caught something beyond the atmosphere, and his expression tightened.
In the next instant, the fortress that looked like it was skipping along the upper air like a stone on water sent a violent shockwave rippling through the atmosphere.
The region glowing red-hot from friction expanded by more than a hundredfold in a blink, as if the fortress had suddenly sunk halfway down.
And the cause was obvious.
It had been struck by a heavy weapon.
A macro-cannon, most likely. As for what kind of macro-cannon, he had no idea.
He only knew that if it took a few more hits, it would probably be shot down outright—and he'd be caught in the blast radius.
The next moment, the friction-scorched region suddenly "bloomed," like something inside had erupted.
But it looked less like an internal detonation and more like it was being punched through by macro-cannon fire.
Then an unnatural flare of light burst outward.
A miniature sun formed.
A few seconds later, the sky itself looked like it was burning.
With the naked eye, you could see the atmosphere had been blasted open—like a sheet of paper ignited at the center, the burned hole continuously expanding as it kept burning wider.
Was there some kind of special weapon aboard that fortress?
One capable of igniting an atmosphere?
But the flames seemed to be weakening. The hole had already grown too large—so it was more likely that some enormous internal power source had detonated and caused this effect.
And beyond the burning atmosphere, the fortress's explosion had thrown out countless fragments—forming a dense meteor swarm that now rained toward the ground.
BOOM—!
BOOM—!
More macro-cannon strikes slammed into the mass, shattering large fragments into smaller ones.
One macro-cannon shot missed and kissed the surface directly.
The blast-light excavated the crust. Vaporized earth became a red haze, and superheated soil and debris were hurled thousands of meters into the sky in an instant.
It looked like something heavy dropped into still water—spraying up mist and foam—except this time it was the earth itself making waves.
That entire region was absolutely going to be "rewritten."
What had been a mountain range stretching hundreds of kilometers was pulverized by that single hit, transformed into a horrifying ring-shaped crater.
It looked like the strike had also hit near a continental plate boundary, splitting the ground open and creating a massive rift—so deep you couldn't even see the bottom.
A hive city built nearby, sitting right at the rift's edge, began sliding down into the abyss.
If this planet kept getting pounded like this, and the situation deteriorated to its absolute worst…
Then Kain was afraid of the most brutal outcome possible.
An Imperial—
Exterminatus.
(End of Chapter)
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