The Iron Hands Legion's flagship, the Gloriana-class Battleship Iron Fist.
Inside the bridge, the once solemn and orderly command center was now covered in countless thick cables and data conduits.
The conduits hung from the ceiling like metallic vines, spread along the walls, and snaked across the floor, turning the entire bridge into a jungle of metal and wire.
The air reeked of ozone, machine oil, and something deeper, like scorched metal.
Obscured by overlapping layers of conduits, the lights grew dim and mottled, casting twisted shadows across the walls and floor.
Ferrus Manus stood before the control console at the center of the bridge, operating it with his arms forged from liquid metal.
His arms gleamed silver-gray beneath the lights, fine patterns of energy flowing across their surfaces. Every movement produced a faint hum.
His fingers flew across the console's keyboard, entering strings of complex commands.
Countless Tech-Priests gathered around the console, forming a wall of red robes and metallic prosthetics.
Their bodies had been extensively modified with machinery. Some had Sensors arrays in place of faces, others had data interfaces instead of arms, and others had exposed spines connected to thick cables.
Their eyes were closed and their lips murmured incessantly. Countless data cables linked them together into a vast, shared consciousness network.
The cables extended from ports all over their bodies, weaving a complex web through the air before converging on a massive device of iron and glass at the center of the console.
Aerion stood beside Ferrus Manus like a silent statue, awaiting his orders.
His body, too, had undergone extensive mechanical modification. His left arm had been replaced entirely by a hydraulic power arm, his right eye by a high-powered telescope, and the exposed metal framework along his spine showed faintly beneath his robes.
He