Axion was indifferent to the struggle outside the compartment.
He stepped toward the threshold, casually lifting the corpse of a Battle Sister. Out of habit, he initiated a biological scan. The action was practiced and mechanical; Axion performed this ritualistic assessment on nearly every Imperial unit he encountered for the first time.
The results deviated little from his projections.
This, too, is not human. At least, not a human that conformed to the genetic records stored within his ancient data-banks.
Having reached his conclusion, Axion tossed the mangled remains of the Sister aside as if discarding refuse. Blood sprayed from the broken form, splattering across the deck plating as the body impacted the bulkhead with a dull thud.
This act of perceived desecration reignited the fury of the surviving Sororitas.
"Such insult! Such blasphemy!"
Driven by righteous rage, the Battle Sisters launched a desperate assault. This time, they bypassed the Aegis Protector at the door, turning their collective wrath upon Axion himself. From both sides of the corridor, Sisters surged forward, huddling behind heavy storm shields to deflect the searing neutron-flux fire.
The Aegis Protector, limited by its current combat protocols, possessed no auxiliary weapons. While it managed to shatter one storm shield with a concentrated neutron burst, another Sister successfully navigated its reach, closing the distance to the machine's flank.
The Protector's weapons were integrated into its chassis; it lacked the articulation to engage enemies on both flanks simultaneously in close quarters. This was the opening the Sisters had prayed for. The broken bodies of their kin still lay cooling on the floor, but they saw Axion standing behind his guardian—a massive frame, seemingly devoid of visible armaments. To them, he was the vulnerability. The breakthrough.
"How... how can this be?"
One Sister, a step behind her siblings, froze as she witnessed the scene that followed.
As the Battle Sisters closed in, Axion did not deploy a blade or a gun. He simply clenched his metallic hand into a fist and lashed out with a casual, sweeping strike.
The lead Sister was punched through instantly.
Her chainsword shattered into a cloud of jagged teeth, and the cold, unyielding sensation of the mechanical limb passing through her torso was the last thing she felt. Her organs registered the freezing touch of ancient metal, or perhaps it was merely the onset of shock.
Axion did not cease his movements. With the first Sister still impaled upon his arm, he used his other hand to systematically execute every assailant within reach. It was a display of mechanical efficiency: a fist to crush a helm and the skull within; a grip to snap a neck like dry kindling.
It was not a battle; it was a slaughter.
Even as he killed, Axion's cognitive processors were divided. He was already calculating modifications for the Aegis Protector.
The shield is perhaps redundant, he mused. Dual-wielding configurations might yield higher combat dividends.
However, power draw would exceed current thresholds. The shield's volume allows for independent capacitors; a second weapon would not. I require materials. Ideally, a dedicated fabrication line for quantum-energy cores. Perhaps I should integrate a rudimentary atomic-pulse cannon...
...
Outside his immediate reach, the remaining Sisters screamed litanies of faith and catechisms of hate. They exhausted every combat maneuver in their repertoire, desperate to inflict even a superficial scratch upon their foe.
The result was invariable.
Axion's reaction speeds exceeded even those of the Adeptus Astartes. To his sensors, the Sisters moved with the agonizing slowness of drowning insects. When the final Sister was decapitated by a casual yank of his hand, the Storm Troopers at the end of the hall began to break.
Calanthus, who had arrived too late to intercept the Sisters' charge, stood rooted to the spot. It had happened too quickly. Even an Angel of Death could not have intervened in time.
High Inquisitor Faral's face was ashen as he surveyed the gore-streaked corridor. He had fought alongside Grey Knights; he had led elite cadres against the horrors of the Immaterium. Even a Helbrute was a familiar foe in his eyes.
But the cold, clinical efficiency of these two machines filled him with a primal dread. The Storm Troopers had lost their will to fight; the "indomitable" Sisters had been slaughtered like lambs. The only hope remaining in the corridor rested upon the shoulders of Calanthus.
Seeing that the survivors no longer intended to strike, Axion saw no reason to pursue. There was no logic in unnecessary expenditure. His sensors immediately locked onto Calanthus, the tallest and most prominent figure in the hall.
Axion tore the impaled corpse of the Sister from his arm and let the remains fall. Crimson blood trickled down his silver-white armored casing as he walked toward Calanthus and Faral.
The surrounding Storm Troopers raised their hellguns with trembling hands. They were terrified, yet they clung to the tattered remnants of their discipline.
"Lower your weapons! Fall back!"
Faral's command was a reprieve. The Storm Troopers retreated toward the aft of the corridor, their weapons still aimed at the metal giant. A sergeant attempted to pull the High Inquisitor with them, but Faral refused; Calanthus was still at his side. He knew that without heavy support, his men were powerless against Axion, and their presence only endangered his life.
"Calanthus," Axion's voice echoed, devoid of malice or heat. "I require an explanation. These fragile soldiers initiated an unprovoked assault. I am unable to identify a breach in protocol on my part."
Faral's eyes nearly bulged from his head as he heard the killing machine address the Ultramarine.
Fragile soldiers? That dismissive, clinical tone! This thing had butchered the Emperor's faithful, yet it spoke with the calm of a logic-engine.
Then, a more terrifying realization struck him.
An ancient construct. A sentient mechanical entity.
"This is... an Abominable Intelligence?!" Faral hissed. "The Adeptus Mechanicus has been harboring a ghost-in-the-machine?! What have those Cog-priests unleashed?!"
But Calanthus's response suggested a complexity that Faral had not anticipated.
"Inquisitor," Calanthus said, his voice cold. "What did your men do to Axion?"
Calanthus understood that this ancient Iron Man was not a mindless engine of destruction. Axion had not pursued those who did not fire. Clearly, the Inquisition had tripped a wire they shouldn't have. Though he knew little of Axion's true nature, he suspected the Ordos had reaped exactly what they sowed.
Calanthus trusted the Primarch's wisdom far more than he trusted the Inquisition's zeal. He had been briefed on the necessity of memory-purging regarding the Grey Knights' involvement, but he had never imagined the Ordos would be foolish enough to hunt Axion.
The Ordo Malleus had treated Axion like a common servitor. The resulting bloodbath was the price of their ignorance.