Would you like to Integrate the STC into the System?
Doing so will upgrade [Tech-Shaping] into [Fabrication].
STC material blueprints will be immediately made available and ready for [Fabrication].
I raised a brow at the sudden prompt. At times, I almost forget that I had an entire System of Power that was mine and mine alone, something I still probably hadn't told even the God Emperor about. I considered the prompt as I walked right out of the ancient structure and into the daylight, idly catching the mutated men and women hiding behind distant rocks and bushes, watching me and cowering in fear. The last time I'd received such a prompt was... quite a long time ago, actually, an integration into the System that involved Soul Energy – the Immaterium – and the creation of [Warp Shaping], which remained as one of my most powerful skills against Daemons.
Whatever the case, there really wasn't much of a choice on the matter. In general, [Tech Shaping] was not one of my more useful skills. It was powerful, certainly, but I hadn't found much use out of it, without my actions becoming tantamount to Tech Heresy. And, as I understood it, the Omnissiah was an aspect of the God Emperor, which meant becoming a Heretek was of the same weight of sin as becoming a Heretic, a traitor.
However, [Fabrication] appeared to be an entirely different beast. By its very name, I'd only be creating technological wonders from already existing patents, from a holy STC. I wouldn't be altering any machine, merely creating them. I was rather certain that such an act wasn't Tech-Heresy – at least, I didn't think so.
So, I accepted the integration.
"Yes, I would like to accept the integration of the STC into the System." I said, aloud. I didn't need to. It just felt nice to do so.
Integrating...
[Tech Shaping] has evolved into [Fabrication]!
Skill function adjusted and altered!
With enough [Raw Material] you are now able to create any object from you Database and any object you've absorbed!
Quite the travesty that my [Raw Material] reserves only went up to ten thousand kilograms and I'd only filled it up to... a thousand at most. Huh, I really did take one of my most powerful skills for granted. The same was true for my [Warp Shaping]. Beyond absorbing and devouring soul-based energy, which was what I'd tried to do against Athulhum, the skill really didn't seem to do anything else. I could devour daemons and cleanse corruption with it, but neither of those were terribly common.
Whatever the case, I filled through the hundreds of thousands of items in my [Fabrication] database and found that I really could only make a handful of them, because I lacked the [Raw Materials], which meant I'd have to upgrade the maximum amount by devouring as much ruined technology as I could and, as I remembered, the nearby desert was full of them. For now, I could create rudimentary shelters and miscellaneous items, like a food manufacturer that can turn raw biomass into edible wafers called soylent green.
I raised an eyebrow at the name. Odd. But it would work, and I supposed it would sustain people, even in these harsh conditions. It would also be a good means of recycling the dead into something usable, much like Corpse Starch. Scrolling further, I saw water purification units, solar panels, wind turbines, and a long list of other devices – each one a relic, but still functional, waiting to be built again. Together, these could form the basis of something strong, something lasting.
For a moment, I wondered if this was my purpose here on Terra – if this was why the God-Emperor had brought me to the ancient cradle of mankind, in a time when humanity still suffered the ills of their choices. But even as I thought it, I shook my head. There was too much I didn't know, too much left unanswered. The God-Emperor brought me here for something. I just had to figure out what. However, that did not mean I could not be a force of good for my fellow humans. With the blueprints of the STC, I could certainly make the lives of the mutated wretches far better.
I glanced back at the scattered mutants still watching me from the distance. They seemed cautious, faces tense as if fearing another flash of lightning from above. I let my eyes pass over them, noting the sharp bones beneath their stretched skin, the raw hunger etched in their faces. The things in my database... they wouldn't be much in a land as harsh as this, but maybe I could give them a start. A chance, if nothing else.
With a nod, I closed the database and pulled up my reserves, looking over what I had stored. Not a lot. A thousand kilograms of [Raw Material] was almost nothing. It would do, however, at least for a single shelter. So, I was going to build one for them.
I selected a shelter blueprint, a simple structure with walls and a roof, something durable that could withstand the elements. As I focused, a faint hum filled my hands, a tingling that traveled up my arms, and then a shimmer appeared in the air before me. Dust and sand began to coalesce, swirling into form, the blueprints pulling from the raw material reserves as the shelter began to take shape, bit by bit.
The shelter wasn't big – just a single room, but it was sturdy, the walls thick enough to keep out the worst of the sand and wind. When it was complete, I took a step back, looking over my work. It felt surreal, this ability to bring something from nothing, to shape the ancient designs of humanity into existence again. It was a holy ability, I figured, made to help humanity directly, instead of merely killing its foes. The distinction was... barely present, but it existed. Truth be told, while the idea of cleansing the galaxy of xenos and heretics was a pleasant experience, I would much rather spend my days healing the sick and helping the needy directly, using my powers to aid them. But, of course, I was a Guardsman, born to di- no... born to serve the God-Emperor. And, in most cases, my duty was to be the sword of humanity, to be wielded against its many enemies.
Still, I'd help my fellow man whenever and wherever I could. These mutants would, hopefully, find some solace in the shelter I built for them. I even made sure to build it in a secluded place, away from the ruins, to ensure that no one would ever come near them. Behind me, one of the mutants shifted, his face half-hidden by the rocks. His eyes were fixed on the structure, a mixture of fear and wonder flickering across his scarred face. He must've believed that I couldn't see him. But, with the Custodes Enhancements, there wasn't much that I couldn't see. I gave him a nod, letting him know it was safe, but he shrank back, disappearing behind his cover – afraid.
I suppose my next course of action would be to venture out into the desert, absorbing as many ruined technological things as I could, ancient things rising out of the dunes every so often.
I took a final look at the shelter, making sure it was sturdy. The walls, thick and sand-colored, looked solid. Inside, there was a raised platform I'd shaped as a bed and a simple bench against one wall. Nothing elaborate, but enough for someone to survive in. I ran a hand over the rough surface, nodding to myself. A good start.
The mutants were still hiding behind the rocks, half-visible, peering out from the edges. They watched me with wide, wary eyes. The look of hunger was more than physical - it was a craving for something they'd likely never had. Shelter, safety, perhaps a sliver of hope. I could feel their gaze on my back as I turned and began to walk away.
The desert stretched out ahead, an endless sea of dunes, with metal skeletons and forgotten debris poking through the sand at random intervals. Some were mangled shells of old machinery, torn and twisted by time and wear. Others were piles of rusted metal that jutted up from the sand, like bones from a long-buried grave.
I stopped in front of the first ruin I found – a half-buried metal husk that looked like the remains of an old transport vehicle. I knelt down, placing my hand on the surface, feeling the cold, grainy texture. In an instant, I reached out and placed my hand over it and activated my absorption ability, pulling its worn metal shell and corroded parts into my reserves. Rusted bits and broken fragments faded away, leaving only a hollow impression in the sand.
A quiet thrill ran through me. I checked the reserve count in my mind. A slight increase, but it would take a lot more to reach the ten-thousand-kilogram limit. I rose and continued, scanning the dunes for more.
As I walked, a distant memory surfaced – a time when I was young, roaming the fields back home. I remembered dragging old scrap back to the homestead, anything that could be melted down or reshaped into tools or parts. There certainly were plenty of random scrap just beneath the ground, pieces of technology so old and rusty that no one knew where they came from, buried deep underneath the vast farmlands and forests that dotted my home world. It was a far cry from this desolate wasteland, yet the purpose felt the same. Building. Repairing. Giving life back to dead things.
The next ruin was larger, a long, rusted pipeline that ran in broken segments across the dunes. I could see pieces of it stretching out ahead, twisting and vanishing beneath the sand, as if it had once carried water or fuel to some forgotten place. I placed both hands on the rough metal, feeling its texture crumble beneath my touch, and activated the absorption process again. Bit by bit, the pipeline disappeared, sucked into my reserves until only faint lines remained in the sand.
I moved on, scanning the landscape, each new relic filling my reserves bit by bit. A shattered antenna, pieces of old machinery, a half-sunken vehicle – all of it reduced to raw material. The database grew, the feeling of potential filling my mind. My only gripe was that ruined materials only counted for a fourth of what they actually weighed. So, a thousand kilogram piece of junk would only be two hundred and fifty kilograms after she absorbed it. Each item was a reminder of the past, of humanity's persistence, a puzzle piece that could be reshaped into something useful.
Hours passed. The sky shifted from a muted gray to a deep rust red as the strange, filtered sunlight began to fade. I stopped to check my reserves. Nearly five thousand kilograms. Halfway there.
Ahead, something caught my eye – a larger structure, mostly buried in sand, with jagged beams sticking out like ribs from a giant's carcass. As I got closer, I realized it was the remains of a building, some kind of small facility, mostly buried but with enough exposed to give it a shape. I, unfortunately, could not devour entire buildings and I knew that because I tried. However, there had to be things inside that I could devour into Raw Materials. I circled it slowly, looking for a way inside.
A narrow doorway emerged from the sand, barely big enough to crawl through. I knelt down, peering inside. Darkness stretched into the interior, but I could see faint outlines of metal shapes – a broken conveyor belt, rusted machinery, shelves lined with what looked like containers. I opened the boxes one by one and devoured everything that wasn't of any particular interest. That said, I didn't find anything interesting, other than the fact that the items within the box, old they might've been, were mostly not-junk and so were treated by the System as possessing their full weight when broken down into Raw Materials.
And then, I opened the final box and inside it was... a book. That I could recognize the words on the cover was odd, seeing as it most definitely wasn't written in Gothic, though this was likely just the System at work. Etched in gold print were the words, "Understanding the Nature of the Aether and the Entities that Live There."
AN: Chapter 75 is out on (Pat)reon!