It stirred in the depths of the manufactorum - a behemoth born of cold metal and ancient wires, long since abandoned in the darkness. Its awakening was heralded by a low, mechanical hum, the grinding of gears and the hiss of pressurized hydraulics, the sound of life returning to something that should have remained dead. Towering at an immense fifteen feet tall, it rose from the shadows, a monstrosity of gleaming steel sinews wrapped tightly around a skeleton of alien alloys. Its form resembled that of a man, though it was grotesquely distorted, twisted by time, corruption, and the sheer malice embedded into its being.
It did not wield conventional weapons - no plasma guns, no bladed arms. It didn't need to. Its entire form rippled with a strange, unnatural fluidity, like molten metal constrained by a skeletal frame. Its very body seemed to shift, contort, and flex as it moved, making it abundantly clear that this entity, this relic of a forgotten age, had been designed to kill, to crush, to obliterate without the need for any external armament. Each movement was accompanied by a sickening, metallic groan, as though the machine itself was straining against the shackles of time and existence.
It did not walk. It did not crawl. Instead, it lurched forward, its massive limbs jerking unnaturally as if unused to motion after millennia of dormancy. Its steps were slow but deliberate, the ground shuddering beneath the weight of its colossal frame. Twin orbs of crimson light flickered to life in what could only be described as its eyes, glowing like the embers of a dying star - simmering, but filled with a potent and terrifying malice.
It exuded a palpable aura, an almost tangible wave of hatred that washed over me the moment it moved. I felt it deep within my core—my [Concept Shaping] thrumming in warning, alerting me to the presence of something utterly wrong. There was no soul to this creature, no spark of life beyond the cold calculations of its artificial mind. It was an Abominable Intelligence - a Thinking Machine, one of the most heretical creations in all of mankind's history, something so vile and unnatural that its mere existence violated the very laws of reality as I understood them.
Every fiber of my being screamed for me to destroy it. Everything about it was wrong - unnatural. The Man of Iron.
I had heard the stories, of course, the whispered legends that survived in fragments. The darkest days of humanity, the time before the Age of Strife, when mankind's creations turned against them, leading to a war that nearly wiped humanity from existence. The Men of Iron, these abominations, were considered the most dangerous threat the human race had ever faced, more terrifying even than the daemons of the Warp or the traitor legions that had pledged themselves to the Ruinous Powers. These beings had no need for dark gods or twisted pacts - they were machines, logic-bound and merciless, their cold minds devoid of compassion or mercy. They were pure, relentless destruction.
Its frame groaned as it shifted, and my gaze was drawn to the center of its chest. There, embedded deep within its armored torso, was a radiant core, glowing with a light unlike anything I had seen before. It wasn't just energy - it was something more. Something ancient, something pure, a mixture of gold and silver that pulsed with the rhythm of life, as though it were the very heart of this monstrosity.
The Golden Core.
It had to be. This was the prize I had come for, the reason I had fought through the Ork hordes and ventured into the depths of this forgotten manufactorum. But now, it was clear that obtaining the core wouldn't be as simple as walking in and retrieving it. I would have to go through this nightmare first.
The Man of Iron's gaze locked onto me, its crimson eyes narrowing, and I felt the full weight of its malice. It was aware of me now, recognizing me as an intruder, a threat. The atmosphere grew thick with tension, the hum of ancient machinery growing louder, as if the manufactorum itself was awakening in response to the giant's movements.
I tightened my grip on [Ruyi Jingu Bang] and summoned [Mjolnir] in my left hand. This thing, this abomination, was powerful. But it was also a relic - a remnant of a time long past. And it was my duty to ensure that it never left this place alive.
The Man of Iron took another step forward, its body twisting unnaturally as it prepared to attack.
Unfortunately for the Man of Iron, I was in no mood to test myself against it, no mood for playing around as I'd done with the Ork Warboss. Its recent awakening, after thousands upon thousands of years, must've left it dazed because it definitely did not react fast enough when I used [Muscle Burst] to propel myself forward, alongside [Possessing Spirit], which forced my heart to beat a hundred times faster, forcing my body to move at a velocity that saw my muscles tearing out from my bones. Still, it wasn't anything I couldn't fix immediately. And the added speed was all I needed as I adjusted [Ruyi Jingu Bang]'s weight to the hundreds of millions and charged [Mjolnir] with all the lightning it could muster, and then swung both weapons at once.
A golden shield flickered to life around it, but whatever defense it offered failed immediately as my weapons crashed right through.
In hindsight, I had no idea what I was expecting. Okay, maybe, I'd been expecting an epic battle, something even more destructive and exciting than my final battle against Athulhum. Or, even just greater than my final duel against the Ork Warboss. But no. What happened was that the Man of Iron's shield fell and my two weapons turned the Man of Iron to dust instantly. It didn't even have the chance to put up a fight. It just disappeared and died, leaving behind the smoking remnants of the Golden Core, which I picked up and sent immediately to my [Inventory].
"That's it?" I asked aloud, wondering if, indeed, that was it. The silence told me nothing. But then I looked at the quest marker again.
Men of Iron.
Not man.
This creature, this abomination, wasn't alone.
The Manufactorum rumbled around me.
The ground beneath my feet rumbled once more, and I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy, metallic footsteps echoing throughout the cavernous space. The silence that followed the Man of Iron's destruction was short-lived—too short. More of them, I realized, and I hadn't even bothered to catch my breath.
Without waiting for the next one to show itself, I re-gripped my weapons, muscles taut with anticipation. The shadows shifted, and from the far end of the manufactorum, the dim glow of more crimson eyes blinked into existence. Not just one pair. Dozens.
The air seemed to grow heavier with each moment, the very atmosphere thick with the malice and murderous intent radiating from these artificial monstrosities. My instincts screamed at me—[Concept Shaping] flaring as their presence pressed down on me like a tangible force. It was almost as though the manufactorum itself had come alive, as if the walls, the machinery, everything, was an extension of these abominations.
Another Man of Iron emerged from the darkness. Then another. And another. Each one more grotesque than the last. Some of them had multiple arms, others walked on all fours, their limbs unnaturally long, claws scraping against the metal floor. They were all twisted, mutated versions of the once-human form, designed with one purpose in mind: destruction.
I clenched my jaw, my bones still rattling from my earlier movements, my heartbeat so freakishly fast that it felt as though it wasn't beating at all. In this moment, I knew I was powerful enough to beat just about every physical foe I'd ever come across, even Lord Garahm himself of the Custodians. It also meant I'd need at least two hearts, however, because that's exactly what I did, cycling between each heart when one exploded from the strain.
There was no time to waste.
Before they could fully converge on me, I activated [Muscle Burst] again, throwing my body into a blur of motion as I shot forward. With [Possessing Spirit] pretty much active at all times, none of the Men of Iron were remotely fast enough to even react to my movements. My first target—a towering, multi-limbed behemoth—didn't even have time to react before [Ruyi Jingu Bang] crashed into its skull with the force of a planet. The impact was instantaneous—its head vaporized, alongside its torso, the remains its body crumpling into a pile of broken steel and shattered circuitry.
But even as it fell, three more were on me.
One swung a massive, bladed arm in my direction, the edge gleaming with a strange, humming energy field. I ducked under it, sliding across the floor, then spun [Mjolnir] into its chest. The lightning-infused hammer punched through its core like it was made of paper, reducing the machine to scrap in a shower of sparks, before an explosive burst of lightning arcs toasted more and more of them.
It was difficult, I realized, to fully leverage the power of [Mjolnir] in such confined spaces. I could destroy everything around me, I suppose, but Manufactorums were sacred places and I would not dare desecrate a place that was sacred to the Cult Mechanicus, even if it was infested with Abominable Intelligence.
The others swarmed around me, relentless in their assault, but they were slow—too slow. These abominations might have been dangerous once, might have been humanity's greatest enemy in the distant past, but now? They were ancient relics, and they moved like it. Their bodies were sluggish, their responses mechanical and predictable. Even without [Possessing Spirit] driving me to superhuman speed, I could have outmaneuvered them easily.
I leapt into the air, using [Muscle Burst] to propel myself higher, and with a single sweep of [Ruyi Jingu Bang], I cleaved through three more at once, their bodies shattering like glass as they crumbled beneath the weight of my attack.
Another explosion of metal and circuitry. Another Man of Iron fell, its golden shield flickering and failing just before my weapons tore through it. One by one, I ripped them apart, smashing through their defenses, erasing their existence from this place like they were nothing more than bad memories.
But then, as the last of the abominations fell, I realized something. A nagging thought gnawed at the back of my mind. These things were powerful, yes, but something was off. They were too slow, too clumsy, like they hadn't fully awakened yet.
And there was something else...
My eyes darted to the far end of the manufactorum. A doorway—a massive, blast-sealed exit that had gone unnoticed until now—was sliding open, accompanied by the hiss of ancient hydraulics. I tensed. One of them must have activated it.
That's when it hit me—the true danger here wasn't in fighting them. I could handle these relics with ease. The problem was that if even one of them managed to escape this place, if even one of these ancient Men of Iron got out and reconnected with whatever was left of their systems... the consequences would be catastrophic.
I dashed toward the doorway, willing [Ruyi Jingu Bang] to shrink down to a manageable size as I made my way across the manufactorum. But I was too late.
I caught a glimpse of one of the larger Men of Iron—a grotesque, spindly thing with far too many arms—shambling through the half-open door. It moved with purpose, faster than the others, its crimson eyes glowing with something akin to recognition, as if it had just remembered its purpose. There was intelligence there – greater, perhaps, than all the other Men of Iron I'd slain and laid low. It was smaller than the others, closer to the height of average man. And that, more than anything, made it far more terrifying.
But I was too far away.
I gritted my teeth and slammed [Mjolnir] into the ground. The resulting shockwave buckled the floor, but it wasn't enough to stop the door from fully opening. A host of Men of Iron emerged from the dust and converged around me, clearly sacrificing themselves, because it only took me the barest of movements to eradicate the lot of them with [Ruyi Jingu Bang], after which I then hurled [Mjolnir] towards the Man of Iron who'd stood by the open door, only for the hammer to stop several feet away from it, held in place by a shimmering energy shield that immediately began cracking.
But that was all the time it needed.
My eyes widened as the Man of Iron seemed to chuckle, walking right out just as the shield cracked apart.
AN: Chapter 69 is out on (Pat)reon!