When Axion uttered the phrase "Human Creators," Thien's incredulity was palpable, while the term "Men of Gold" left him momentarily bewildered.
"Brother, I believe I have seen the term 'Men of Gold' referenced in some historical records. It pertains, perhaps, to the Dark Age of Technology, a history which precedes the very foundation of the Imperium." A Black Templar stepped forward from the line, offering an explanation to Thien.
"However, no historical record offers a detailed account. It is a period of lost history; almost all documentation preceding the Imperium's founding was lost. To my knowledge, many true sacred relics are remnants from those eras."
Thien returned his gaze to Vashur, seeking confirmation from the Magos.
Vashur nodded silently. "Your Battle-Brother speaks the truth. Axion is a construct originating from the Golden Age of Mankind or the Dark Age of Technology. It claims to be a technological pinnacle of the ancient Human Creators and the Engineer race. It has only recently awakened and appears to possess no memory files from after the Imperium's establishment. It is utterly ignorant of both the Imperium and the Emperor."
Axion watched their conversation, unconcerned, its focus remaining fixed on the squad of black-armoured warriors.
"You seem to possess information others do not. This is beneficial. I require these data. Tell me, where have the Humans and the Men of Gold gone?"
Adeptus Astartes are not perpetual engines of war; they are the Imperium's blades, demigods among men, yet they are not without personal interests. Hobbies such as reading are common, and amongst those, a fondness for historical texts is not unheard of.
The Battle-Brother who had just spoken was one such warrior who enjoyed perusing texts and documents in his leisure time.
Yet, this lost history was not within their purview to know. Such knowledge might reside within the Imperial Archives on Holy Terra, but they lacked the time to scour that infinite repository. Furthermore, the Imperium strictly forbids the storage of such records on electronic devices. The countless parchment scrolls and bound books defy even the capacity of the Adeptus Administratum to fully catalogue.
Faced with Axion's query, the Astartes could only shrug in frustration. "We do not know. That history is too ancient. Perhaps only the Great Emperor Himself holds the clarity. Or perhaps some record exists within the Imperial Archives."
"Enough," Thien snapped, roughly interrupting the dialogue between his Battle-Brother and Axion.
As Astartes warriors, the demigods of the Imperium, they possessed not only superhuman physique but also greater-than-mortal intellect. While different Chapters possessed different specialties, this did not denote weakness in other faculties.
Thien's abrupt interjection instantly piqued Axion's ire.
"It seems you have not recognized your error. To interrupt the discourse of others is a most discourteous act. While I chose not to hold you accountable for the responsibility of brandishing your toy at me, that does not grant you leave to constantly repeat such crude errors!"
Thien fixed his gaze intently upon Axion, then drew a Power Sword from the side of a nearby Battle-Brother.
"I believe you are insulting my honour! I demand a duel with you!"
The disparagement of his weapon as a "toy" was almost intolerable to Thien. Even knowing he might be outmatched, Thien made the choice to duel. As a Company Sergeant of the Third Company, he was bound to defend his honour.
"A duel? A peculiar request. My records indicate that such foolish behaviour was only common during the mid-to-late 1K era of human history, enacted for the sake of so-called 'honour' or 'belief.'"
"To encounter such a thing in this age is truly bizarre. History is a cyclical pattern. The ingenuity of the Creators is truly marvelous."
Hearing Axion's words, Thien raised his sword high, pointing the tip directly at the machine's chassis head.
"Will you flee, you mysterious construct of the Golden Age? To play the part of a coward?!"
"Hah, how diverting. An ant challenging a dragon; a genetically polluted, inferior augmented creature? Very well. I shall indulge your vanity, though I see no meaning in it."
Axion's words were laced with an audible sense of amusement. This was an experience it had never encountered; a novel form of experimentation.
"Regarding this duel, are there prerequisites? Specific restrictions? Is the use of ranged weaponry forbidden? Or perhaps all weaponry? Ah, let me see what would grant you the most honour."
As it spoke, Axion abruptly stepped forward with exaggerated speed and, reaching over to the waist of one of the other Astartes who had retreated to the side, snatched another Power Sword.
The Battle-Brother whose weapon was taken looked on in utter shock.
Thien did not fault the warrior; at that speed, even he would have been unable to react.
Axion, clutching the Power Sword, returned to face Thien. The other Astartes had fanned out into a semi-circle, and Vashur had retreated far away. The combat between these demigods was too terrifying for a Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus to be near. The situation had spiraled beyond his control; everything was left to unfold naturally, and he could not, dared not, intervene.
Axion gripped the Power Sword. The nanomachines stored within its mechanical palm swiftly decrypted the sword's genetic identification system. When it effortlessly activated the blade's disruptive field, Vashur was so astounded he nearly popped his sole remaining biological eye out of its socket.
Axion's mechanical arm wielded the Power Sword with effortless ease, as though swinging a slender twig, and then executed a flourished salute. The disruptive field crackled, tearing the air with snaps of energy.
"Are you prepared?" Thien's muffled voice came from within his helmet.
"I grant you the first move," Axion replied dismissively.
Sensing the disdain, Thien hesitated no longer. He swung his Power Sword and surged forward.
His broad, powerful cleaves were met and effortlessly deflected by the Power Sword in Axion's hand.
A subsequent backhand thrust to the flank was easily parried as Axion's wrist rotated a full three hundred and sixty degrees, batting the blade away.
The disruptive fields clashed, emitting constant crackling snaps of energy. The blades themselves began to gradually fragment from the high-intensity impact.
Regardless of Thien's offensive, Axion's sword would appear perfectly positioned for the next attack, easily neutralizing the Astartes' momentum.
In a mere few seconds, the two swords had clashed dozens of times.
Under the high-impact collisions, the disruptive fields of both swords rapidly weakened, the energy cells swiftly decaying.
"Clang!"
A section of the blade spun away, followed by the sound of it landing on the floor. Axion's sword, its disruptive field faintly flickering, was laid across Thien's shoulder joint.
The Power Sword in Thien's hand had been partially broken, again.
"Crude swordsmanship. You possess no honour before me, fragile biological construct."
——————
If you want to read ahead of everyone, go to my pat-reon: pat-re-on.c-om/magnor (remove the hyphen to access normally)
For more free additional chapters, throw some power stones!
100 PS = 1 Chapter.