“Could you provide a live demonstration?” Reddito’s voice carried an urgency Robert had never heard before, his optical lenses locked onto him.
Robert didn’t hesitate. With a flicker of thought, he purchased a standard-issue lasgun from the system store.
From Reddito’s perspective, Robert simply reached into empty air—and pulled something out.
A brand-new Imperial lasgun materialized in his grasp, its casing pristine, factory markings sharp and untouched. A faint glow clung to it, like heat still radiating from a fresh forge.
Reddito froze.
One of his bionic arms rose slowly to support his head, servo-motors humming unevenly. Inside his chassis, logic engines spiked into overdrive. Warning signals cascaded through his systems—pressure climbing, circuits overheating, a sharp hiss escaping from strained hydraulics.
This… defied everything.
Not technology. Not the Warp. Not anything he could classify.
A miracle.
He forced the overload down through sheer will, suppressing the cascade of errors. Bit by bit, the tremors in his frame subsided.
And in their place—
Came hunger.
A tidal surge of curiosity. Possession. And something quieter, deeper: ambition.
This secret… this principle…
Only he would understand it.
Only he would master it.
Was it Warp-related? Almost certainly. But what in this galaxy wasn’t? Even if it bordered on forbidden knowledge, he found himself unwilling—no, unable—to turn away.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
“From now on,” Reddito said slowly, “you will perform such… demonstrations inside.”
He gestured toward the towering structure behind him—the Trinity Foundry Workshop.
“And especially,” he added, tone sharpening, “once the Inquisitor of the Order of the Holy Hammer arrives—with the Adeptus Arbites.”
Robert’s expression hardened instantly.
“An Inquisitor? On this planet?”
“No.” Reddito shook his head, expression unreadable. “Not yet.”
Robert frowned. “The warp storm hasn’t cleared. Communication should still be impossible. How can you be certain?”
“Because Perditia is a primary tithe world within the Akterrey system,” Reddito replied flatly. “For thirty years, it has paid nothing.”
He paused.
“The Administratum does not ignore such things.”
Understanding dawned on Robert’s face—and with it, disbelief.
“…That’s your reason?”
“It is sufficient.”
Robert exhaled sharply. Given the Imperium’s obsession with tithes, it really was.
After a moment, he asked, “Then why the Order of the Holy Hammer? Why not the Ordo Hereticus or Ordo Xenos?”
“Deduction,” Reddito replied. “The disruption was caused by a warp storm. Prior to that, there were no reports of ork incursions, genestealer infestations, or internal rebellion. Therefore, the most probable deployment is the Holy Hammer.”
Robert nodded slowly. “Understood. I’ll warn the others. We’ll avoid provoking unnecessary conflict.”
Reddito said nothing—but he could tell Robert didn’t truly care.
If conflict came, these “players” would likely treat it as just another battlefield problem—solvable with sufficient explosives and reckless enthusiasm.
“Ensure the overdue tithe is prepared,” Reddito said instead.
Robert sighed. “We’ll deal with it when we get there.”
Neither of them seemed particularly concerned about the long-term consequences.
To Reddito, the Imperium was a machine drowning in its own bureaucracy. Pay the tithe, and even the death of an Inquisitor could vanish beneath mountains of records. By the time an investigation resumed, centuries might have passed.
As for Robert—
Death meant little to someone who could simply return.
“Come,” Reddito said.
His mechanical form turned, and Robert followed.
Behind them, the massive gates rumbled shut.
Inside the Trinity Foundry Workshop, the world transformed.
Towering machinery stretched endlessly in every direction. Mechanical arms swung with relentless precision, showering sparks across the cavernous space. Heat shimmered in the air, thick with the scent of molten metal. The clang of hammers and the roar of chainswords merged into a deafening, rhythmic chorus—the sacred hymn of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Skitarii guided the other players to designated rest zones. Many stared wide-eyed at their surroundings, excitement barely contained. Some openly examined the Skitarii themselves, already imagining their own future augmentations.
Robert, however, was led elsewhere.
Through narrow corridors tangled with pipes and cables, past servitors and tech-priests who paused just long enough to incline their heads toward Reddito, they eventually reached a quieter chamber.
It was stark and functional.
At its center stood a holographic projector, casting a pale blue glow.
With a light touch, Reddito activated it.
A three-dimensional map unfolded instantly—intricate, precise.
The Mid-Hive.
Every corridor. Every ruin. Every corrupted structure.
And everywhere—
Red.
Clusters of crimson markers spread across the map like a malignant disease: genestealer cult strongholds.
“The Inquisitor can wait,” Reddito said. “This cannot.”
Robert studied the display, brow furrowing.
“At this density… a full purge would take at least a year,” he said. “A frontal assault isn’t viable.”
His hand rose, pointing to several key nodes deep within the network.
“Decapitation strike. Remove leadership. Collapse coordination.”
He paused, then gave a small, humorless shrug.
“Problem is—we don’t have the firepower.”
Reddito’s gaze fixed on him, red optics unblinking.
“What do you require?”
Robert met his stare.
“Supply,” he said evenly. “Weapons. Equipment.”
A beat.
“And bionic augmentation for the Helldivers.”