Chapter 487 - 487: A Twisted Devotion

Boothe stood there, ears ringing, dumbstruck, like a netizen who'd just stumbled onto some baffling meme.

"My lord, wha-wha-what are you saying?!"

The mechanical worm answered flatly:

"Estimated arrival of the xenos battlegroup at the Titan Temple: twenty-four hours.

Our remaining assets are two hundred thousand elite templar-guard, five hundred thousand combat servitors, and over one million mobilizable workers, backed by three layers of steel walls and our gun emplacements. Probability of successfully repelling the xenos assault: under 0.0000001%.

The moment the xenos battlegroup engages, our defenses will hold for, at most, three hours."

At that, a flicker of something like genuine pain passed through his mechanical eyes.

"A creation of the Omnissiah. A sacred Titan. It must never, under any circumstances, be defiled by xenos hands!!

I will oversee the Titan's final twenty-four hours of prayer, and then I will drive it into the molten lava pool myself.

The lava will purify everything. The Titan's sacred form will never be touched by the xenos. Its machine spirit will pass through the flame and return, at last, to the Omnissiah's embrace!!"

Boothe stared at him, thoroughly unable to process what he was hearing.

"M-magos! But look at him, his psychic strength, it's genuinely extraordinary. If we just gave him a chance, let him try to ascend to the Titan..."

"SILENCE!!!"

Before Boothe could even finish his sentence, Ferrocore's demeanor snapped instantly, like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

"Protocol is protocol. To ascend to the sacred Titan and face the trial of its machine spirit, a candidate must FIRST withstand the shock of five thousand cogitator arrays on the Ascension Throne. This was the rule set by the previous Principal himself. That rule does not change!!"

Boothe stumbled back two steps, his eyes filled with utter, dissolving confusion.

"My lord, I don't understand!

You would rather... you would rather drive the sacred Titan into the lava than let Count Voss even attempt to pilot it, attempt to solve this extinction-level crisis facing us right now?!"

A flare of pure irritation flickered through Ferrocore's processing core.

"Acting Magos Boothe! Your conduct just now suggests to me that you lack the professionalism expected of your role!!

Effective immediately, I am revoking your authority as acting Magos, stripping you of your right to command the templar-guard, and forbidding you from martyring yourself alongside the sacred Titan!!"

With that, he turned and walked away, his twelve mechanical legs clacking against the floor in a rapid, rhythmic clatter.

He didn't look back, leaving behind one final, mocking remark:

"That pitiful little worm, jolted half out of his senses in that chair, thinks he can pilot the sacred Titan? Let's see if he can even withstand the full shock of five thousand cogitator arrays first, shall we?"

With that parting shot, Ferrocore was gone, and Boothe collapsed to the floor.

He simply could not understand it. Why would Ferrocore rather sink the Titan into a lava pool than give Kian even the slightest chance to try piloting it?

Even a 0.1% chance, if Kian somehow passed the machine spirit's trial and got the Titan moving, wouldn't that solve this entire extinction-level crisis?

Boothe couldn't wrap his mind around it at all, and felt a deep, searing ache settling into his chest.

His brain had never been mechanically augmented. He still thought entirely as a human being, and he understood with terrible clarity that his homeworld was about to be destroyed.

His elderly parents, still living in the hive. His sister, Lieutenant Colonel Noa, serving in the Astra Militarum. These people mattered to him. These were his family.

And right now, all of them were about to die. The xenos would slaughter every human on this planet, render their flesh into food, their bones into trophies, their skin into leather.

The weight of that impending annihilation nearly buckled Boothe's legs beneath him.

What hurt even more was that there had been a chance, even a small one, to save it all, and Ferrocore had turned it down without a moment's hesitation.

Knowing there was a fight still worth taking, while your own superior had already surrendered entirely and prepared to die, left Boothe's mind genuinely reeling, close to breaking.

After a long while, nearly drained of all strength, Boothe forced himself up off the floor, staggered over to the console, and reached to shut down the Ascension Throne.

He knew Ferrocore's stubbornness well enough. No matter how extraordinary Kian's psychic strength had proven to be, if he failed to hit the exact benchmark, the full shock of five thousand cogitator arrays sustained for at least twenty-four hours, Ferrocore would never permit him to ascend to the Titan, full stop.

But just as he was about to power down the device, ending the trial, Kian spoke.

"DON'T STOP IT!!"

Kian's eyes had rolled back, drool running freely, the overwhelming data overflow making even forming words a struggle.

Trembling, he reached into his robe, pulled out six black needles, snapped off their caps, and jammed all six directly into his own abdomen at once.

"PUSH IT STRAIGHT TO FIVE THOUSAND!!! START THE TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR CLOCK!!!"

...

Meanwhile, Ferrocore made his way into the Titan Temple's central chamber, standing before the sacred Titan itself.

He addressed the tens of thousands of tech-priests still busy at work around him:

"Everyone. Withdraw from the temple immediately. Bring the lava pool's output to maximum power.

Clear the transit rail from the Temple to the lava pool. Perform a final inspection on the great transport mechanism. I will not tolerate a failure at the final hour.

From this moment forward, sound the bell three times every hour, and play the requiem without pause."

With the order given, the tens of thousands of gathered tech-priests withdrew, leaving the vast Titan chamber empty save for the towering, god-like sacred engine and Magos Ferrocore alone.

Once he confirmed no one remained nearby, Ferrocore approached the Titan's base and reached out, running a hand across one of its massive, skyscraper-sized steel feet.

His mechanical fingers traced gently across the paintwork covering the Titan's leg, his enhanced tactile sensors savoring every faint imperfection in the armour plating, a strange, obsessive light flickering behind his mechanical eyes.

The next instant, his long, sprawling body, worm-like in its movement, climbed up along the Titan's massive foot.

His six mechanical arms and twelve mechanical legs gripped the Titan's plating, his mechanical head pressing flush against the armour, rubbing against it, over and over, again and again.

He murmured, low and quiet:

"I will not let the xenos defile you. I will not let anyone take you from me.

I will walk into the lava with you. The molten stone will melt my steel body first, and then it will melt yours.

The steel that makes up both our bodies will merge together in that fire, you within me, and I within you, until there is nothing left to tell us apart..."

☆☆☆

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