Farewell, Steel Skull

++All energy routed to the locomotion system. Cut off all weapon power and life-support supplies.++

++Estimated time until chassis failure: 30 standard seconds.++

++Acceptable. Maintain reactor energy transfer.++

One tech-priest after another, already damaged by the particle stream, collapsed and shut down under 5,000% overload. The crackling arcs covering their bodies and the thick smoke pouring from their mechanical frames proved that they had completely returned to the Omnissiah. Based on the integrity of their frames, every overloaded priest unit calculated the time until its body would be completely scrapped. Through such precise overload control and task allocation, no priests failed at the same time. Their shutdowns were perfectly staggered, leaving enough time for them to transmit the detected and compiled data to the next priest's data core.

Within this god's heart, filled with mechanical corpses, Unit 0037, the least damaged and least affected by the particle impact, became the last unit still capable of guaranteed operation. All the data and results compiled through the other priests' overloads were sent into his core, and as he processed them at high speed, his chassis began to suffer the same unbearable damage.

The data filling his core washed away the last traces of his biological consciousness. He was about to become a purely mechanical unit, yet he had no regrets. Baptized by this torrent of data, he only felt himself drawing closer to the Omnissiah, closer to the sacred machine spirit.

Long chains of sacred Binary Cant filled the mechanical lenses used for observation. Sparks of electricity burst from his violently trembling body, and the translator finally broke down under the intense operation. The ceaseless red flashing light vanished at last.

++Bzzzt... Reactor output energy... bzzzt... to... 4.66194%.++

++Locomotion structure has lost... bzzzt... insufficient energy...++

++Estimated... scrapping... 13...++

Unit 0037 was almost unable to hold on. He had already foreseen his own shutdown, and he felt profound guilt and unwillingness.

++Forgive me... Omnissiah... forgive me... sacred machine spirit...++

Just as Unit 0037 had fallen into utter despair, an announcement that resounded throughout the entire chassis was recorded by his receiver.

"Final Loyalty will begin in ten seconds."

"Ten."

"Nine."

++Omnissiah, is this Your final... bzzzt... mercy?++

Unit 0037 watched the reactor core he had served for thousands of years eject limiter after limiter, then lower the high-energy plasma generator into the center of the core. The reactor's hum was replaced by dangerous clanging sounds. More high-energy radiation particles erupted from within, piercing the failing priest's body.

++Reactor stability check: 0.0000000000%.++

"Three."

"Two."

As the countdown neared its end, Unit 0037 struggled to spread every augmented limb he could still control, exposing as much of his body as possible to receive the sacred baptism the Omnissiah and the sacred machine spirit were about to grant him. At the final second of the countdown—

++Glory to the Omnissiah! Praise the sacred machine spirit!!!++

The blazing light of the reactor meltdown explosion completely engulfed him, vaporizing every mechanical component and remnant of flesh on his body into scorching gas in an instant.

A massive explosion erupted from the core of the Imperator Titan, engulfing Gu Juji, who had fired the grappling claws, along with the remaining Ork armored forces and Lootas hoping to claim a share. They had no chance to react before the blue fireball produced by the reactor explosion burned them entirely to ash. Gu Juji and the super-heavy tanks melted away as swiftly as ice and snow beneath the summer sun, evaporating completely along with their crews.

The explosion was so violent that geological monitoring centers across the planet detected the tremor. Hive cities closer to the blast center even suffered a moderate earthquake, further damaging the chaotic structures of their lower levels.

The enormous blue fireball created by the self-destruction of the Imperator Titan shot straight into the sky. The shockwave it unleashed blew away the crimson storm shrouding the battlefield, even scattering the thick, polluted smoke and dust that had blanketed the planet's surface for nearly a century. A vast, blue lens-like sky appeared, and starlight streamed down through the opening, illuminating this silent lake of plasma.

Curtis Mannheim felt that his current state must be what people called a soul. He knew that not the slightest trace of his flesh could have survived such an explosion, yet his vision was undeniably strange. He floated there, gazing up at the beautiful sky blown open by the blast, as blue and lovely as it had been when they held the divine engine parade in Dorlandel Garden World. Beneath that azure sky, all his memories and experiences flashed past in rapid succession, reviewing his extraordinarily long life by mortal standards.

He saw the joy on his parents' faces when he was born, his mother holding his tiny body and smiling gently.

He saw himself in the family library, reading legendary tales of divine machines, engrossed in them as he dreamed of one day being written into such books himself.

He saw his childish self building a crude, rickety "Titan" from cardboard and wooden sticks, only for his older brother to ruthlessly destroy his precious property.

He saw the ecstatic look on his face when he joined the Collegia Titanica, his gaunt figure studying diligently, the overwhelming fervor at the construction of those divine machines, and the godlike perspective he gained when he first linked with a machine spirit.

His memories sped up, and his consciousness grew ever blurrier. At last, all his memories froze on the final few exchanges he had shared with the Titan's machine spirit. He relived the Titan's destruction and self-destruction once more, and nonexistent tears fell from his insubstantial soul.

He felt himself leave the planet Armageddon and saw the light of countless stars glittering across the vast Milky Way. In that haze and blur, he sank into complete darkness. He could see nothing and hear nothing. The Golden Throne preached by the Imperium's armies did not appear, nor did the ultimate holy sanctuary of primordial power and all technological creation believed in by the Adeptus Mechanicus reveal itself before him.

He felt his soul about to dissipate, vanishing into this endless expanse of darkness.

Yet through the haze, he saw a familiar glimmer of light approaching him. It was a red-haired woman whose face he could never make out, with long twin ponytails, reaching out her hand toward him.

Mannheim extended his insubstantial hand and grasped the slender hand flickering with electric currents. A name already confirmed deep within his soul slipped from his lips.

"Steel Skull."

"Hello, Mannheim."