The desert night was cold and silent, only eternal wind howling like laments through twisted metal and fractured concrete of this forgotten land.
However, inside that sole intact large building at the center of the abandoned town Cairo occupied, time had quietly passed in focused work, the scene completely renewed.
Days later, the once somewhat spacious workshop had been efficiently restructured, every inch of space assigned clear function and order.
Most eye-catching was the preliminary-scale power core at the workshop's center. No longer the initial crude battery array, it was a composite structure of primary fusion reactor and multiple magnetic confinement rings.
Exposed energy conduits and not-yet-fully-encased reaction zones temporarily revealed rugged industrial form, but internal stable low-frequency harmonics and continuously climbing energy readings on operation terminals heralded near-infinite power potential.
The entire workshop thus operated in overload state: lighting systems outputting constant, glaring brightness, tool torque maintained at peak, air purification units running full speed, almost completely filtering metal particles and exhaust.
Against the wall, four combat servitors had completed initialization procedures. They stood silently, reinforced alloy shells gleaming coldly, head optical sensors still dormant, lenses pitch dark.
All weapon systems passed final calibration, energy batteries at full capacity, physical ammunition chains fully loaded, ready to be activated anytime—becoming silent guardians, efficient tactical units, or merciless extensions of operator will.
Cairo stood at the workshop's center, examining his creations. Tools on the workbench arranged with millimeter precision, newly made parts' surfaces flowing with faint light from cold processing, terminal screens' data streams steadily refreshing like waterfalls.
Servo-skull "old friend" hovered beside the energy core executing monitoring tasks, blue light in eye sockets flickering at constant frequency.
Uniform energy fields permeated the space. All systems in precise control and optimal operation, presenting deep satisfaction from near-perfect integration.
His gaze finally fell on the wall—a high-precision regional map real-time surveyed and updated by servo-skull cluster.
Terrain data, resource coordinates, mutant creature nest positions all marked with extremely fine lines; several new tracks radiating from southeast toward town displayed as highlighted red vector lines continuously extending across the map.
Just then, one imitation servo-skull executing outer perimeter patrol monitoring transmitted encrypted data stream.
[Alert: Large-scale vehicle movement signal detected. Direction: Southeast, distance: approximately 22 kilometers. Count: Seven vehicles. Models: Heavily modified armed pickups and one suspected armored personnel carrier. Heat signature characteristics 87% probability match database: "Maelstrom" identification. Behavioral pattern: Low-speed cruise, intermittent stops, conducting wide-area scanning. Estimated intent: Searching for previously missing units and conducting retaliatory force reconnaissance.]
Cairo's optical lenses instantly focused, magnifying those glaring red vector lines, logic core spinning at high speed, cross-referencing data.
"Larger scale, upgraded equipment. Seems not just revenge—more wanting to completely eliminate threats, salvage face."
He calmly analyzed, synthesized voice clearly audible in the spacious, humming workshop, no fluctuation detectable.
"Behavioral patterns still inefficient, but objective threat level significantly elevated."
He felt no fear, only calm of "anticipated trouble finally arriving," even carrying faint expectation of "testing new equipment."
His logic core began rapidly calculating various response plans' success rates, resource consumption, and potential risks.
Notify Maine's crew? This thought barely surfaced before being shelved.
His relationship with Maine was equal employment and cooperation—on technical level, he even held dominant position. Using this force to handle such troubles was both unnecessary and making mountains of molehills.
This was his territory, his trouble—naturally to be resolved by his own hands. Not arrogance, but clear recognition of his capabilities and basic principles of efficiently solving problems.
"I can handle this."
He said to himself and the hovering servo-skull, tone carrying calm confidence stemming from strength.
Thanks to trade channels established with Maine's crew, he'd not only obtained quality batteries and materials but through Maine's covert networks, at considerable yet completely worthwhile expense, successfully purchased a small batch of high-purity, stabilization-treated secondary fusion fuel rods.
These were key to this preliminary fusion reactor core successfully igniting and stably operating beneath his feet.
Though these fuel rods couldn't compare with sacred fusion cores on Mechanicus homeworld, their energy density and stability far exceeded common power sources in this world.
Just yesterday, he'd personally executed fuel rod replacement and injection procedures.
The process was solemn and precise. He shut down reactor's non-core zones. Mechanical tentacles like performing delicate surgery removed old inefficient fuel units, then precisely inserted those ghostly blue-glowing new fuel rods into core chambers.
As deeper humming arose, energy output curves instantly became smooth and robust, leaping several orders of magnitude.
Surging energy flow immediately filled every conduit in the workshop, also filling every energy channel in his own body.
That long-absent feeling of being filled with power had returned.
The creations from Mars on his body—whether the rad-pistol hidden beneath robe sleeves, laser cutter integrated in mechanical arms, or the ferociously styled eradicator pistol hanging at his waist, plus that phosphex weapon capable of melting a Leman Russ tank in the Warhammer universe—had all completely escaped previous energy-strapped "hunger" state.
They now docilely clung to his frame, internal energy capacitors fully charged, radiating faint dangerous heat signals only he could perceive, like sleeping beasts—just one thought away from awakening to spew destructive fury from another dark universe.
Though not a Magos within the Mechanicus, as an experienced Tech-Priest, his complete combat capability had finally recovered here, sufficient to handle most challenges in this world.
"All external monitoring units, elevate to maximum alert level. Continuously track convoy movements, calculate most likely approach paths, estimated contact time, and simulate optimal ambush points."
"Old friend, preload threat response protocol 'Bastion' to all defense units, instructions standby."
He smoothly issued a series of orders, tone remaining steady yet revealing sharpened edge.
"Instructions confirmed. Protocol 'Bastion' ready. All systems responding to highest-level commands."
The servo-skull clicked acknowledgment. On projected light screens, data stream scrolling speed suddenly accelerated.
Cairo steadily walked toward those four static combat servitors.
He reached out, cold metal fingers brushing like petting a loyal hound across one shoulder-mounted rocket launcher, sensing internal mechanisms' slight tremor while on standby.
"Initialization 100% complete. Time for genuine combat efficiency testing."
His tone was calm as arranging routine calibration, yet containing unmistakable destructiveness.
"Activation instructions standby. Deployment plan: Utilize town ruins' complex terrain for multi-layered ambush and mobile blocking, priority concentrated fire destroying mobile vehicles and heavy firepower points, divide and annihilate."
He showed no anxiety about impending conflict, instead becoming more focused, calmer.
He returned to the main workbench, calling up servitor weapon systems interface for final rapid software verification, fine-tuning their coordinated combat instruction sequences and fire distribution priorities.
His movements were meticulous, precise to milliseconds, as if facing not bloody slaughter but precise technical demonstration.
Inside the workshop, atmosphere remained focused and orderly, even adding a trace of cold, poised-to-strike sharpness compared to usual days.
Energy core stably operating, emitting reassuring low-frequency roar; servitors silently standing like ancient warriors in steel coffins; servo-skull soundlessly shuttling—on monitoring screens, those distant red dots representing threats steadily, unhurriedly approaching.
Cairo stood among his creations, dark red robes beneath housing mechanical frame filled with powerful energy, robe hem moving without wind.
Outside the window, sunset was dyeing boundless desert into a tapestry weaving murky yellow and blood red. Eternal wind sounds seemed mixed with something unusual—clamor like metal clashing.
Storm was gathering on the horizon, but he'd already erected technological bastions, sharpened steel blades, awakened sleeping fury.
This was pre-storm calm—supported by absolute technical confidence, thorough material preparation, and just-recovered powerful personal combat capability sufficient to tear through tanks.
He only waited for those uninvited "guests" to unwittingly step into the ultimate testing ground this Tech-Priest had meticulously prepared—fusing ruins, steel, and destructive flames.
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