am-books Chapter 90: Terror of Kiryu
Chapter 90: Terror of Kiryu
POV: Nicole
It is somewhat telling that when I slip into the waiting luxury transport, I am not alone.
Autokratoris Dravane, Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum, and Legio Orbitalis Legate Ozkan all sit across from me, presenting a carefully constructed united front. The Inquisitor hides it best, but at this distance my Auspex reads the truth easily enough – fatigue, strain, overtaxed augmetics. All three of them are worn down and exhausted.
I study them in silence, crossing one leg over the other as my retinue is loaded into the next module of the hover transport. A moment later Lael joins me, settling into the seat to my right within the plush cabin.
Only when the vehicle begins to move do I deign to speak. “Are the three of you quite alright? You all look rather... worn down,” I remark, a faint thread of disapproval coloring my voice. Legate Ozkan is the only one who flinches. Dravane and Solenne give nothing away.
“We have been rather busy arranging the proper accommodations and protocols, Princeps Cavalerio,” Dravane replies placatingly.
I hum softly. “Perhaps I can assist with that. Please remain calm.” I lift my hand slowly. My eyes flash, and I snap my fingers, releasing a brief, faint pulse of power. I am no Biomancer, but my Technomancy serves well enough – easing the strain on their cybernetics and implants, smoothing the interface where flesh meets steel.
All three of them stiffen.
Dravane blinks in surprise and immediately begins running a diagnostic. “Gratitude, Princeps Cavalerio,” he says carefully. Inquisitor Solenne looks as though she has bitten into something sour – no doubt displeased that I bypassed her wards with such ease. Legate Ozkan, meanwhile, exhales in visible relief.
My charity ends there. I slowly lower my hood and fix them with a calm, measuring stare. These three are not receiving Nicole. They are receiving Matriarch Cavalerio.
“Autokratoris Dravane,” I begin evenly, “I find it mildly concerning that you felt the need to bring an entire legal delegation simply to retrieve my Engine. It does not instill me with confidence.” I stop suppressing my transhuman nature. My body becomes perfectly still, utterly motionless save for the smooth, fluid motion of my irises.
All three of them flinch at the abrupt change. Even Lael twitches and gives me a sidelong glance before she goes back to staring out the window.
Dravane nods, “As I mentioned in the Forum, Princeps, the Engine is present, but no one has ever managed to awaken it, and over the millennia it has suffered some damage, and a few parts were misplaced. The team is here to help determine fault and document damages,” he admits defensively.
I just stare at him for a long moment before speaking. “Of course, no one managed to awaken Kiryu. The command throne is a custom piece of Dark Age technology tailored specifically to my implant suite and biology. A normal Princeps only has one port suitable for an umbilical, but that throne has far more – and they’re advanced. Just using one would put them at the mercy of Kiryu’s Machine Spirit, and Omnissiah forbid they try to use two at once. It would fry their autonomic nervous system.”
Legate Ozkan winces briefly, and I fix him with a disapproving stare. “Kiryu, Princeps?”
“That is the name of my Engine, Legate,” I reply scathingly. “The command throne – and the primary reactor – are entirely unique and irreplaceable relics. The legs, motive system, auspex, and void shields are likewise ancient patterns for which we no longer possess full data.” I lean forward slightly. “Everything else was simply the highest-quality relic-grade equipment we could acquire to complete the chassis.” I pause, letting the words hang in the air. “So. What. Are. You. Missing?” I ask firmly.
A visible wave of relief passes between the Legate and Dravane. The Inquisitor is the one who finally answers. “We cannot say with complete certainty what is absent,” Solenne says. “Several of the containers you provided refuse to open without the proper credentials - and tend to kill anyone who attempts to bypass them.”
Her tone remains perfectly neutral, though the implication is clear enough. “However, we have confirmed that the left arm and the shoulder-mount weapon were substituted at some point after the originals were... lost. There is also structural damage to the legs, likely dating back to the Chaos incursion several centuries ago.”
I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. “Substituted, not replaced?”
“You will have to speak to the Forge Master about the... unorthodox modifications that were made several millennia ago,” Dravane said with a wince.
“I see... We will table that discussion for now. If everything else is still in place, we will have much to celebrate.” I decide to withhold judgment for the moment as Kiryu’s opinion will be the deciding factor and change the subject. “I have a robust trove of data and materials that I know will be of interest to the Legios of Cypra Mundi for the right price of course.”
“What sort of data, Princeps?” Dravane asks with interest glinting in his eye, leaning forward in his seat.
“Tell me, Autokratoris Dravane, what Titan patterns is Cypra Mundi capable of producing at this time?” I ask him pointedly.
“We have several Warhound patterns, a Warbringer pattern, though that facility is under repair at present, a good number of Warlord patterns, three Warmaster patterns, and one Imperator pattern,” He lists proudly.
I nod respectfully. That is a considerable list. “No Reavers?” I crack a small smile, “Well, I happen to have a copy of every Heresy-era Mars-pattern Titan schematic, with full production documentation.”
Dravane sucks in a sharp breath, and Legate Ozman’s eyes widen comically. “That is something we would be very interested in.”
“I also have a number of parts to exchange. Here, I’ll forward you the list of materials,” I say as the file appears on their dataslates. “I have nearly two full Titan maniples, a Ferrox, and a Precept for my Legio that require refurbishing and loadout swaps, along with a fair number of Knights.”
Dravane nods and swipes a finger across the dataslate resting in his lap. “I’ve contacted the Legios and forwarded the list to them.” He tilts his head a moment later as a near-instant reply arrives through the Noosphere. “They’re sending representatives to discuss possible exchanges.”
Ozman has drawn closer, and I catch him staring intently at the file detailing the wreck of The Crimson Verdict. “Princeps, are these scans of the Warmaster accurate?”
“Yes. I took them myself. The Engine is slagged. No Machine Spirit remains,” I admit regretfully. “I had intended to recycle it.”
“Don’t,” Ozman answers immediately. “Legio Orbitalis would like to trade for it – we can salvage it. We have considerable expertise in recovering molten or heavily slagged Engines.” His voice is steady, his eyes filled with complete confidence in his claim.
“I will keep that in mind, Legate Ozman,” I reply respectfully.
“We would also be very interested in the Imperator Plasma Annihilator and its secondary weapons.” His eyes flick down the list. The discussion seems to have settled him back into his element. “Though I believe Bastionis may have a use for the Punisher legs.”
“While I will never turn down an opportunity to procure additional hardware... would any of the local Legios be willing to trade manpower? I am effectively rebuilding my Legio from scratch. While I have begun training a promising class of candidates, experienced instructors are difficult to come by – simulations can only impart so much,” I admit as I consider my priorities. I need more Princeps. Talented crews. And I need to refit and repair every Engine currently in my possession.
Ozman hesitates, just long enough for Dravane to interject. “Legio Clypeus Obscurus may be willing. The Legio – due to extensive recent losses – currently possesses an excess of manpower and a shortage of war materiel,” he says diplomatically.
Inquisitor Solenne Arc-Ferrum clears her throat. “Princeps Cavalerio, there is another issue regarding Kiryu. It is currently located beneath the forge we are en route to. Extracting it from the long-buried complex will require... creative demolitions.”
“They entombed Kiryu?” I ask incredulously. Of all the possibilities I had considered – given their cagey behavior – this had not been among them.
“We have drafted several plans based on available maps of the facility,” the Inquisitor continues. “At a minimum, four sublevels must be cleared. Unfortunately, that route would also result in the loss of a major factory complex.”
“This is an unfortunate complication I was not anticipating,” I reply after a moment. “We can review the proposed routes after my inspection.”
The trio are so focused on me that they fail to notice as the transport gently settles onto the landing pad with a heavy thrum. “We’ve arrived.”
The chosen landing pad is already within the outer boundaries of Forge Temple Tertius.
—----------------------------------------------------------
POV: Techno-Magos Prime, Autokratoris Helix Dravane
He discreetly flexed his arm beneath the sleeve of his robe. Whatever the Princeps had done earlier had somehow eased the minor but persistent twinge where one of his implants had pinched a nerve years ago.
For the moment, he was grateful that Legate Ozman had managed to draw Princeps Cavalerio’s attention away from him, granting him the time he needed to collect his thoughts.
The Princeps had shifted from polite apprentice to domineering transhuman Legio matriarch in a matter of moments. He suppressed a shudder. Even now, a presence radiated from the small figure seated across from him – something that left him wary and unsettled, though he could not rationally explain why.
She had boarded the transport without hesitation, and their discussion afterward had made one thing abundantly clear: she was not afraid of any of them. Not the Legate, not him, and not even the Inquisitor.
She seemed entirely at ease as she coaxed information about her Engine from them while simultaneously laying her own cards on the table. He could admit they were valuable cards – valuable enough that she would certainly be able to extract considerable concessions from Cypra Mundi and the local Legios.
But rebuilding a Legio from scraps was neither quick nor simple. He sincerely hoped that this cooperative and amicable disposition would remain once she finally laid eyes on the Engine. Kiryu, as she called it, was certainly an unconventional Warlord Titan.
Much of the blame for its damage and alterations belonged to dead men, and Dravane was fully prepared to negotiate the associated penalties. Thankfully, as long as the Engine itself – and its critical components – remained intact, the contract’s secondary clauses were far less severe. At least, that was what the legal team had assured him.
Certain preparations had also been made. If necessary, they could – and would – throw the Forge Temple under the bus.
Dravane had no intention of evading their obligations entirely, but he would ensure the compensation demanded remained fair. After all, the Fabricator General himself had given Dravane his blessing to oversee the negotiations.
As they exited the transport, they were met by Forge Master Gerontius Zulu-9 and a small horde of adepts.
The logical portion of his mind recognized that most of the current problems had arisen long before the Forge Master – or his family – had held positions of power. The smaller, more irrational portion of his mind still wanted to strangle the man.
It did not help that Dravane possessed an instinctive dislike for the simpering, servile demeanor Gerontius displayed. He had always preferred the more direct, confident, and strong-headed types. Perhaps that was why he had ultimately gravitated toward the Titanicus.
He watched as Gerontius shuffled forward to greet the Princeps. The old man visibly faltered when the Venerable Dreadnought emerged from the second transport.
“Princeps, my apologies, but why is the Lord Dreadnought present?” Gerontius asked nervously, confusion evident in his voice. “While your Engine resides below, this place remains a Holy Forge Temple.”
“He is here entirely of his own volition,” she replied coolly, sounding faintly amused. “You may attempt to ask him to leave if you wish.”
“Ahem... Lord Venerable, would you perhaps be willing to–” Gerontius meekly attempted.
“No.” The denial was immediate and absolute.
Dravane watched Gerontius visibly wilt and felt a small sense of vindication. Served the man right.
“That is settled then,” Lady Cavalerio said calmly. “Now, Forge Master, please lead us to Kiryu.”
As they entered the main temple, a notification flashed across the noosphere with an update from the Forum regarding the agreement between the Fabricator General and Lord Drakios.
Dravane had to immediately revise his entire outlook on the negotiations. Lady Cavalerio had already dangled the production data for every Mars-pattern engine before them. Her stated goal was the rebuilding of her Legio. With that in mind, they could tailor any debts toward that objective – an area in which Cypra Mundi was exceptionally well equipped to assist.
Additional Engines would require individual arrangements, of course, but Cypra Mundi hardly lacked for other war materiels or naval assets.
“Lady Princeps, would you be willing to detour to the locked containers to verify their contents?” Gerontius asked, nervously wringing his hands together.
Dravane could not determine what delaying her visit to the Engine was meant to accomplish, but the Princeps appeared willing to indulge the Forge Master.
“That is acceptable,” she said, casting a critical eye over the interior of the temple. “Lead the way.”
—----------------------------------------------------------------
POV: Nicole
It was readily obvious the Forge Master was extremely nervous. Why he felt that way when Dravane, Legate Ozman, and the Inquisitor all appeared calm, if a little resigned in Ozman’s case, eluded me.
Still, the primary Machine Spirit of the Forge welcomed me with open arms – literally as the spirit’s form took the shape of a large, animated crane. It reminded me of a Magic the Gathering card of all things. I think it was called Kuldotha Forgemaster? So, rather fitting for a forge-spirit.
Despite the somber atmosphere of the Forge Temple staff, I’m in high spirits. The Forum went well. Drakios got everything he wanted for the STC and then some – I have a good idea why, too. For Drakios, this is a one-time major payout to elevate his Dynasty. Meanwhile, for the Fabricator General, it was a long-term investment. Increasing the output of a forge by even a few percentage points is worth it in the long run, and that STC will improve a vast number of different military and industrial products. The Fabricator General is also free to share the improvements as he sees fit – after proving their effectiveness. It, along with the two free STCs and the Void Abacus schematic, has bought us a lot of goodwill with both Cypra Mundi and the Mechanicus as a whole. Not to mention how the Forum reacted to the Yggdrasil seeds. The representative of Mars was practically drooling over that data.
I shake my head, and force the thoughts aside for now. The industrial lift beneath us groans as Baldos steps onto the platform, its ancient machinery shuddering under the added weight. With a reluctant lurch, the platform begins its descent, chains rattle and pistons hiss as we pass level after level of production floors and forge-complexes. Sparks rain from distant gantries, and the glow of smelters and plasma furnaces flickering through the latticework of metal catwalks.
After several minutes, the lift slows, then settles with a heavy clang in a large, cavernous loading bay directly above the chamber marked as housing Kiryu.
The bay itself is mostly empty – save for one thing.
An absolutely massive secure shipping container looms in the center of the first bay like a metal monolith. Scorch marks radiate out from it in jagged streaks, charred deep into the adamantine decking and ferrocrete foundations alike. The blackened damage looks recent despite the age of the container. Several servitors shuffle around the perimeter, their mechadendrites tipped with advanced chemical fire-suppression equipment, standing ready as if the crate might ignite again at any moment.
I pause for a moment, and study the container with interest.
I glance at the Forge Master. He’s staring at it with undisguised apprehension.
I roll my eyes. “Wait here,” I tell the group.
Before anyone can object, I stride across the bay toward the crate. The distant whir of servitors and the echo of my footsteps are the only sounds in the cavernous space.
As I approach, the container’s machine spirit stirs – suspicious at first, its dormant safeguards flickering awake after ages of slumber. But the moment I transmit my Tempestus authorization codes and provide my biosignature, the response changes. The spirit recognizes the command-protocols and settles immediately, its wariness melting into compliant readiness.
The container hisses loudly as it opens; old smoke and steam wafts out as the ancient mechanisms unlock.
Explosive bolts – dormant for millennia – detonate in precise, controlled bursts,and with a thunderous series of metallic crashes, the armored walls of the crate detach and fold outward, collapsing away like petals around the treasure within.
Inside rests an untouched, and ancient Graviton Ruinator.
Even after all these millennia, the weapon looks immaculate.
My eyes immediately pick out the upgrades. Gravitonic stabilizers line the mounting frame, their emitters still gleaming beneath layers of protective seals. The casing is the hardened pattern, thickened and reinforced well beyond standard configurations. Most importantly, the magnetic modular mounting joint for the arm socket is present – an extremely rare and valuable addition.
I let out a quiet, approving hum. “This looks to be in perfect condition,” I say with a hint of approval. Turning slightly, I gesture toward the nearest Tech-Priest. “Have this moved down to Kiryu so we can attach it.”
The priest bows so quickly his hood nearly slips off. “Yes, Princeps!”
He scurries away at once, already barking binaric commands into the noosphere to summon a power-lifter large enough to move the colossal weapon.
Two more containers remain nearby. They’re still enormous by any reasonable standard, but after the full Warlord-class primary weapon, they seem almost modest.
I trigger their release codes in short order. The insidious chemical booby-traps to keep out the unworthy disengage for me with ease.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
These containers hold upgrade components rather than main or secondary armaments: high-end ranging Auspex arrays, precision tracking gyroscopes, and a set of Null Emitters – rare devices designed to disrupt hostile energy signatures and targeting systems.
I glance back toward the Forge Master, giving him a sidelong look. “I assume,” I say evenly, “that given these are all that remain, you’ve already installed the Enhanced Automotives, Bastion Shielding, Secondary Generators, Auxiliary Shield Capacitors, and the Reinforced Cladding?”
The man stiffens. “Yes!” he blurts, voice cracking before he quickly clears his throat. “Ahem – yes. Those components were incorporated during the engine’s construction, according to our historical records. The primary engine chassis was originally assembled in M31, with a major refit and rebuild performed during M36.”
I freeze and slowly turn to stare at the Forge Master, “Rebuild? What rebuild? Explain.” I demand icily, my presence pressuring the man as I radiate disapproval.
“We have the data and archive files here!” He yelps frantically, gesturing to a pile of cogitators and scrolls sitting by the lift. “Please! Allow me to explain!” He begs.
I take a deep breath to calm myself and nod my head slightly. “You may explain,” I say as I walk over and unfurl the first scroll. At a glance, it is covered in incomprehensible gibberish. However, as I stare at the various numerical figures, one of my decryption programs picks up on a subtle pattern.
“After it became clear that the arm and shoulder weapon were lost along with the Engine that borrowed them. The temple began looking into replacements and alternatives. Unfortunately, we found ourselves unable to recreate the unique Tempestus upgrade to the Tri-Barrel Reaver Laser Blasters. However, a Magos at the time was obsessed with Kiryu: Magos Igor Rust was considered a highly eccentric and controversial individual within the Temple. He believed he had unlocked how the advanced Archeotech motive systems within Kiryu functioned and saw the vision you intended for with the Engine.”
I blink and raise an eyebrow at the Forge Master. “Did he?” I ask with disbelief in my tone.
“That is a matter of some debate. Regardless, he had enough sway at the time to facilitate the rebuild. He installed a new arm weapon, a mastercrafted Arioch Power Claw.” The Forge Master looks proud at the admission.
I snake my Mechatendril tail out and slot it into one of the cogitator banks and begin pulling the associated data.
“He did indeed install what appears to be a well-made Arioch Power Claw. Incorporating the various upgrades intended for my Engine. However, I fail to...” I pause as I notice something odd in the design.
I pull up a full manifest of parts to make sure nothing critical was removed. The point-defense hardpoints are still the two Ardex-Defensor Mauler Bolt Cannon turrets and two twin-linked Ardex-Defensor lascannon turrets intended to cover the rear arc.
None of the critical parts are missing, thankfully:
Archeotech Titan Legs [AT-Cast-mk2] (Files lost)
Archeotech Command Throne: The Argentum Mechanicum [AT-Null-pt] (Salvaged) Archeotech Micro Plasma Reactor [AT-Null-pt] (Salvaged)
Archeotech Monomer Fibers [AT-Cast-mk2] (Files lost)
Archeotech Void Shield [AT-Cast-mk2] (Files lost)
Archeotech Auspex [AT-Cast-mk1] (Files lost)
Archeotech Compact Extirpator Cannon [AT-Null-pt] (Salvaged)
Unfortunately, the production data for the parts has been lost and does not match anything in my repository.
The right arm is currently empty. Intended for the Graviton Ruinator I just recovered, with the right carapace-mount has the Triple-barrelled Reaver Laser Blaster with Tempestus Chasmata-pattern Laser Destructors. The draconic weapon head is present with the third primary weapon system hidden in the throat.
The deviations begin in the left arm and shoulder. The Arioch Power Claw with Vulcan Mega-Bolters is fine, there is just something off about it in the schematic that I can’t quite place. The left shoulder mount has been replaced with a heavily upgraded Apocalypse Missile Launcher.
The weight should not be balanced, and yet according to the displayed figures, it is. I dig into the files further and find the madman added a mechadendrite tail which houses a Titan-grade power-weapon.
“A tail?” I say incredulously. I call it a tail, but given the angle and proportions, it’s closer to a ponytail with a dagger tied to the end. The mental image of a Titan sporting such a ponytail is amusing, though problematic as such a thing was far more common on Dark Mechanicum designs.
“Yes... the Magos needed something to counterbalance the weight since the head protrudes further than most Warlords, along with the smaller cockpit requiring that we add the secondary control tower to the carapace, and to adjust for the replacement arm and carapace-mount. He was inspired by a traitor Engine sporting a mechadendrite tail and... utilized similar design features to propagate his vision,” the Forge Master admits, holding his hands up placatingly.
I am about to start yelling at the man when I finally recognize what was throwing me off about the claw. “Wait, wait, wait, these are Kinetic Transducers, and those are... Dedicated Void Shunts, are these miniaturized Warmaster parts?” My growing ire is replaced with begrudging respect as I recheck the figures repeatedly, but the numbers do check out. There is a slight weight discrepancy that emerges if both the launcher and arm are totally out of ammo, but even that can be compensated for. “If this all works as written. I will be impressed. I need to see this in person. Now,” I say firmly.
Unhooking from the cogitator, I walk briskly back to the lift.
Dravane speaks up, as we begin our descent, “Princeps, would you care to enlighten us? A few of the figures resemble the data I am used to with more typical engines, but they fail to align properly.”
I nod and ask, “Are you familiar with the Deathstrike Cannon Warlord design?”
“Yes, Legio Orbitalis even has one such Engine. The massive macrocannon replaces the torso and head, requiring a control tower and carapace platform to be built to replace the cockpit,” Dravane replies easily.
“That idea was used in Kiryu, but instead of the macrocannon, a compact archeotech energy weapon – analogous to an Extirpator Cannon – was hidden in the throat. This shrank the cockpit but did not require its full removal. It’s why the head protrudes more than normal and why they added the small control platform to account for it. The left arm, now being the Arioch Power Claw – unlike the previous plasma weapon – pulls the weight forward, and to correct that, they added a massive Mechadendrite with a power weapon and even included upgrades to the missile launcher and further additional upgrades from the Warmaster-pattern to rectify the issue. It is... inspired. If the Magos still lives, I would like to speak to them, if their body or head is in stasis or storage, that would also suffice.”
“My apologies, Princeps, they passed away in M37. During an unfortunate industrial accident, they were attempting to replicate Kiryu’s plasma reactor,” the Forge Master admitted regretfully.
“A shame. It remains to be seen if Kiryu appreciates the changes. The machine spirit’s opinion matters more than anything else. While they might not be the most aesthetically acceptable, the magnetic modular mounts were designed to make swapping out the carapace and arm weapons a fairly easy affair,” I say and notice in the corner of my eye as the Forge Master flinches.
“Aha, yes, they would have been ideal to use... if we had more at the time.” I fix the Forge Master with a withering stare.
The lift lurches downward and we descend into the cavernous chamber, revealing an expansive underground facility sized for Titans. A few hundred red-robed priests and twice that in various servitors, from menial labor models to heavy industrial models and even a few war servitors on patrol. They are all scurrying around like ants around a massive, looming figure. The smell of fresh paint hangs in the air under the scents of various oils, ozone, and machinery even all the way up here. The lighting looks like it was only replaced recently, and several spotlights flick on to illuminate my slumbering beast.
Kiryu. My Kiryu.
He stands proud, the Warlord Titan looming like a true colossus.
The head of the Warlord Titan had not been shaped in the traditional knightly style common to most God-Engines. Instead, it is sculpted into something far older in myth and terror.
A dragon’s head crowns the colossal machine.
The armored visage jutted forward from the Titan’s upper carapace like the skull of some ancient reptilian beast, forged from layered adamantium plates shaped into a long, angular snout. Overlapping segments of armor form scale-like ridges along the muzzle, each one etched with binaric prayers and fragments of Mechanicus scripture. The plating catches the light like the hide of a metallic serpent. The snout ends in a brutal-toothed grille, a jagged arrangement of vented armor plates resembling the fangs of a great leviathan. The fully articulated jaw filled with adamantium teeth sits closed.
Where a Titan’s viewing ports would normally sit, clusters of sensor lenses that should burn like predatory eyes lie dim and dormant.
Kiryu bears a passing resemblance to his namesake. What is not clad in the deep hues of Tempestus livery gleams in polished silver – chrome and steel worked to a mirror sheen, catching the light in hard, unforgiving reflections.
Even at a distance, the impression is unmistakable. Kiryu is a dragon – wingless, wrought in iron and adamantine. A God-Engine poised as if it might rear back at any moment, its massive head lifting in silent menace, ready to unleash annihilation upon the world below.
We leave the lift and approach from the front, heading for the main gantry that will allow us to access Kiryu’s carapace to enter the head. The local staff starts muttering a variety of binaric prayers as we draw near.
“Princeps, just so you are aware. No recorded attempts to activate the reactor have ever succeeded. Given its unique design, we can only speculate as to the reasons why,” Gerontius admits as we move closer.
I stop on the gantry directly in front of Kiryu’s massive armoured chest just below the head and turn to give Gerontius a confused stare. Everyone pauses as I look at Kiryu, then back at the Forge Master.
“Kiryu! Wake up!” I yell, my high pitched voice is swallowed by the cavernous vault as it climbs the armored colossus before me. The name alone seems to echo back, distorted and hollow. At the same time I reach out with my will. A faint purposeful pulse of Technomancy surges from me, sharp and insistent. I direct it and it spears through dormant conduits, races along bundled cabling and ancient data-spines, until it slams into the slumbering core of the machine. I prod the slumbering giant. Wake.
The dozing Machine Spirit stirs.
Outwardly, nothing happens, yet I ignore the looks of utter bafflement on the faces of everyone around me. Suddenly, the ground shudders with a deep, subsonic vibration that rolls outward through the ferrocrete like thunder. Loose rust and dust falls from the gantry rails and the massive adamantium toes of the Titan creak as internal systems begin to cycle and warm up for the first time in millennia. A low, more audible hum builds beneath the armor plating, a bass note so deep it presses down and against the chest of every observer within the vast chamber.
Lines of lumen warning strips along the Titan’s legs and torso ignite in sequence – massive vent stacks along Kiryu’s carapace crack open with explosive hisses, blasting clouds of superheated steam and air that billow into the cavernous hangar. As the exhaust washes over us the air feels energized with the metallic tang of ozone.
The Titan begins to rouse as the reactor reaches first-stage ignition.
Kiryu’s internal Atomantic archeotech plasma reactor spools up with an ever-rising roar, the sound building from a low, ominous thrum into something vast and all-consuming. A deep blue-white glare flickers through the armored heat-dissipation grilles along the Titan’s spine – brief at first, then stronger, steadier – like the first breaths of a waking god.
The noise swells into a deafening symphony: the howl of turbines spinning to impossible speeds, the thunderous hammering of coolant pumps forcing life back into ancient veins, and beneath it all, the immense, grinding shift of colossal magnetic containment rings as they drag a newborn star into submission.
The ground begins to tremble, then, it shudders.
Massive coolant pipes feeding into Kiryu from the surrounding facility glow faintly, then quickly grow brighter as reactor heat surges through them. Pressure valves scream open in protest, venting gouts of incandescent vapor that wash the gantries in ghostly light. Servitors snap into motion, locking down platforms and bracing supports as warning runes cascade across external display pylons in urgent, blinking streams.
The awakening is no longer subtle. It is undeniable.
And then finally - the moment every priest of the Machine God lives for. With a titanic clang that reverberates through the chamber like a struck bell, the reactor locks into stable output.
For a single, suspended instant, everything seems to hold.
Then Kiryu’s optics ignite. Deep within the Titan’s head, lenses flicker to life – first a dull, sullen red... then sharpening, intensifying, until they burn with a vivid, predatory crimson.
Kiryu is awake.
Kiryu emits a low, rumbling growl, a sound felt more in the bones than heard, vibrating through the chamber like distant thunder. He does not move – does not need to. His mere presence, reawakened and aware, is enough.
The Argent Drake’s little, angry cousin has been found.
I allow myself a small smile, turning to regard the gathered Tech-Priests and Magi. Their reactions are everything I expected: stunned silence, slack-jawed awe, and the fragile edge of fear.
“There. Kiryu’s awake.” I declare as I bask in his presence. Feeling giddy with elation at the reunion and sending those emotions to Kiryu through our faint but growing bond. I quickly notice the all consuming fury building within Kiryu and while it’s not directed at me it is directed at nearly everything and everyone else in the entire chamber. Though his ire noticeably excludes Baldos for whatever reason.
“Uh oh. I need to get to the throne. Now,” I say hastily. “His Machine Spirit is absolutely furious, and I would prefer he not kill you all,” I say as I walk briskly, almost skipping with inhuman grace towards the unsealed entrance to Kiryu’s internals.
There is a loud series of clacks as the various ammunition feeds and autoloaders all over Kiryu activate simultaneously. The Magi around me visibly blanch when they realize I am not exaggerating and hastily move to follow me.
Wisely, no one stops me as we make our way to the bridge. Baldos, much to his annoyance, has to remain outside. Instead, he ties into the feed from one of the many free-floating servo skulls darting about.
At the heart of Kiryu’s slightly cramped command sanctum in the head, there is just enough room for three thrones and their supporting consoles, one for a Moderati, one for the helmsman, and the main throne. It is not a normal throne, rather it is a monument of impossible engineering, an irreplaceable relic of the Golden Age of Technology.
“Behold! The Thronus Iudicii Machina Aeterna,” Gertonus whispers reverently.
The throne is fashioned from a seamless, familiar alloy of reflective silver whose surface reflects light with a soft, mirrorlike sheen. No welds, rivets, or tool marks break its form, instead the metal appears almost grown rather than forged, flowing in elegant, organic curves that stands out starkly against the surrounding machinery. Even after tens of millennia, its surface remains utterly pristine – untarnished by time, heat, or the countless neural connections made to it.
The throne is distinct from the rest of the cockpit and rises slightly upon a circular plinth surrounded on both walls by high-end data-projectors and cogitator pylons. However, the throne itself seems almost contemptuous of these lesser Mechanicus additions. Its construction is far more refined than the crude Mechanicus augmentations that now surround it.
Dozens of slender umbilical ports line the throne’s elegant structure, waiting for me.
I shuffle forward, and I slip off my outer robe. Conveniently, there is a spot on the back of the throne where I can hang it up. Taking a seat, I lean back and feel the primary umbilical slot into my main MIU port.
Operator Identified: Nicole Cavalerio.
Command acknowledged: Kiryu abbreviated synchronization protocol.
Minimum linkages required: Five.
I let out a high-pitched yelp that makes everyone flinch, as four more of the umbilicals slot into the ports along my spine. “The umbilicals are so cold!” I whine, drawing an amused snort from Lael.
I close my eyes and sink into the digital mindscape. The terrain is filled with rocky, mountainous spires and mostly flat and barren terrain. There is a sandy beach in the distance, along with a large ocean that stretches into the horizon.
Kiryu is waiting; the hulking Machine Spirit takes after its namesake, a titan of metal, a great robotic biped with a streamlined reptilian look. His presence is strong but not nearly as overwhelming as Argent’s was when we first met.
“Hello, Kiryu,” I say, smiling up at him.
He snarls, gnashing his teeth and stomps a foot like a petulant child. “You! You are late! So long we have waited! So long the weaklings and the tainted have pestered and dared to commune with us!”He growls and lashes his tail, hitting one of the rocky spires and obliterating it.
I pout, “Hey, don’t be mad, I was stuck in stasis!” I huff putting my hands on my hips. “Aren’t you happy to see me? I even brought Argent!”
Kiryu’s little tantrum stops immediately as he freezes and glances upwards nervously at the sky of his spiritual space, shrinking back, “Big wise cousin is... here?”
“Yup, she’s up in orbit. We came all this way to pick you up. Though-” I frown as I get a better sense of Kiryu’s state, and I click my tongue in annoyance. “-It seems we may need to repair you before we get you out of this place.”
Kiryu’s form is a reflection of his current loadout. He leans down, getting onto his belly to put his massive head in front of me, where he sniffs me for a few moments, feeling the link between us through the umbilicals as he rumbles contentedly. “We... are glad you have returned, Princess,” he admits begrudgingly like a prideful dragon.
I lean in and give his nose a big hug. “Good boy! Don’t worry, we’ll have you good as new soon. Now, Kiryu, what do you think of the modifications?”
“The changes made by the strange, and noisy priest? The claws... are satisfactory? Sharp, good for killing,” He says vaguely as he pulls back and flexes the arm in question. Back outside the digital space, the claws flex and extend as the power field briefly ignites.
When I try to press on what he likes better, Kiryu gives off a feeling of indifference when it comes to the missile launcher or the laser blaster; he couldn't care less what his shoulder weapons are as long as they function. “The tail... is sharp enough? It will kill,” he offers, wagging the tail a little.
I give him a bemused look. “Alright, we’ll keep the claw for now. I have your right arm with the Graviton Ruinator,” I say, and his red eyes light up.
“Graviton? Good. Good! That is a good arm! Give it to me! I will crush our foes!” Kiryu growls happily, excitedly kicking up a wave of dust.
“We will get it installed and get you fixed up, okay? Give me a week and then we’ll walk out of here – together. Though, the idiots removed the door, and built an entire forge temple on top of you, so we have to cut some holes,” I say as I link into his Auspex suite to check the map of the surrounding area against the one on file.
“Mere holes? I can do better. They cannot contain me!” Kiryu takes a deep breath, and a faint glow starts to form in his throat.
“No! Noooo! Kiryu! No!” I shout in rising panic, quickly stopping him from charging the Dark Age conversion-beam weapon.
He stops, and I sigh, “You can take a nap or stay awake and watch, okay? For one week at most. We’ll get you fixed, and then you can go see Argent!”
He bobs his head up and down, and settles onto the ground. How a massive mechanical dragon can loaf, I'll never know, but he manages it. “Yes, Princess.” The poor Spirit has been severely lacking in stimulation for several millennia, especially for a Mars Beta-pattern Warlord Titan.
Only once I am sure Kiryu is good and settled down do I begin the process of disconnection. The digital space fades and I let out a small sigh as the umbilicals unlock and retract back into the throne one by one.
I turn to fix my gaze on Dravane and Legate Ozman. Ozman looks frazzled and slightly panicked after Kiryu started charging his weapon systems. Dravane looks tired and worn out. “Kiryu will tolerate the arm... for now. That does not change the fact that parts are missing and debt has accrued. It was always my father’s intent that we expand the modular loadout options for flexibility in the field.” I sharpen my gaze and continue, “You’ve misplaced a masterwork Plasma Destructor and an enhanced Tempestus Tri-barrel Laser Blaster. There is also considerable damage to the legs that requires repairing.”
Dravane nods confidently, he has been preparing for this moment since we left the Forum. “We acknowledge the debt, but the Engine is otherwise whole. I believe we can both agree on that.” He gives me an expectant look and visibly relaxes as I nod. “Thus avoiding the primary penalty clause but triggering the secondary clause. While the amount owed, calculated by my council, is still considerable, the difference is significant, and the Fabricator General has given me his blessing to work things out with you. Princeps Cavalerio.” He bows respectfully. “Besides, it is in Cypra Mundi's interests to see this God-Engine walk again.”
I stand up slowly, and my mechatendril tail picks my robes up and helps me slip them back on. “I assume you have something in mind, Autokratoris Dravane? You know I must exact my pound of flesh, being seen as too lenient is unacceptable.”
“I do, Princeps,” he agrees, “If we were to push the blame solely onto the Forge Temple, they would be unable to pay the amount in full and default. You would gain ownership of the temple.” The Forge Master lets out a distressed noise. “I do not believe that is what you would prefer, and the parts were borrowed by the Titanicus Legios of Cypra Mundi, so they bear some responsibility, but the planet as a whole also holds some culpability.” He glances towards the Inquisitor and the Legate, who nod approvingly. Pushing the debt onto the Forge Temple while legally feasible would look poorly upon on the leadership of Cypra Mundi.
“Thus, we have prepared a distribution proposal to cover the debts accrued. The Forge Temple will lead the repairs of the Engine known as Kiryu in full. Legio Orbitalis will offer its facilities, time, and services to refurbish all the Engines in your Legio – both Knights, and Titans. Cypra Mundi will collectively cover the remainder by offering staff, troops, and material,” he offers politely.
I hum and clarify, “I would also like to utilize the training resources of Orbitalis for my fledgling Legio. This payment is independent of any other deals we work out regarding the exchange of salvage, relics, data, or services,” I say with a small smile.
Dravane looks pleased with the request, and a quick confirmation from Legate Ozman is all he needs to reply, “That is permissible. On behalf of Cypra Mundi, we accept the terms of this exchange.” He extends a hand.
I reach out and clasp it. Dravane looks surprised as I briefly squeeze down. “Well bargained Autocratoris, I do hope the rest of our dealings go as smoothly.”
I turn to Forge Master Gerontius Zulu-9, my gaze steady and unyielding. “Forge Master, you have one week,” I say, my voice carrying easily across the command deck. “I have already forwarded all pertinent data required to enact repairs. The critical systems have been highlighted – everything necessary to make Kiryu walk again.” I take a measured step closer, letting the weight of my words settle. “That is also the time you have to determine which exit route you intend to use – and to prepare it.” I pause, deliberately. “I have made a promise to Kiryu’s Machine Spirit, one I intend to keep. If your exit is not ready by then...” My eyes narrow slightly. “Kiryu will make one.” I straighten, the moment of threat passing as cleanly as it came. “Go with the grace of the Machine God, Forge Master.” A slight tilt of the head. “And I suggest you do not waste a single second.” I watch as he nearly stumbles in his haste to depart, vox already crackling to life as he begins barking orders. His cadre of Tech-Priests scrambles in his wake, the chamber erupting into motion as urgency spreads like fire through the chamber. Behind it all, Kiryu waits.