(New Arc Incoming)

The dirt beneath my fingers was warm, a comforting kind of heat that reminded me of something distant, something almost forgotten. A soft breeze brushed against my skin, carrying with it a peculiar, earthy scent. It was almost like petrichor – the smell after rain – but different, drier, older. My memories of forests or greenery were few and fleeting, given my years in the Imperial Guard, but I still recalled the scent of home. It lingered in the corners of my mind, from a time before war, before duty. Green fields, the smell of damp earth, and the cool droplets of rain falling on the crops. That scent was tied to moments of peace.

I could see flashes of my mother as clear as day. We were in the fields, our feet sinking into the wet soil, dancing and laughing under the rain, letting it wash over us. I remembered her soft voice, thanking the God-Emperor for the blessings of the harvest. For the bounty that filled our bellies and sustained us through each long, hard day. Evenings were spent in the warmth of our small home, the fire crackling softly, as mom ladled out bowls of grox stew, thick with vegetables. The porridge that followed was simple but filling, a comfort in its own right. My father... he was the better cook, though he rarely had the time to prove it. His hands were always rough, always tired, worn from the toil of the day. But on the nights he could cook, there was something special in the air. Something that made our prayers to the Emperor afterward feel that much more... complete.

We would walk, all of us together, through the dimming light of the evening, to the cathedral. There, we would bow our heads in prayer once more, whispering our thanks before returning home, where sleep awaited us. The routine was always the same – each day blending into the next, a blessed purpose in every step, every moment. It was a life of simplicity, of gratitude. And though it felt endless at the time, I knew now that it had been fleeting. All things, good or bad, must come to an end.

The scent... the scent of petrichor stirred it all back into the forefront of my mind. I had almost forgotten what it was like. For just a moment, it felt real again, like I was there. And then... my face was wet.

I blinked.

What?

I snapped my eyes open, the memories shattering as reality came rushing back. A dull, reddish sky loomed above me, its clouds thick and oppressive, hanging low like a shroud. Dark and heavy, they churned and swirled, concealing any sign of the sun. Not a single beam of light could pierce through. I stared at the sky, confused. This wasn't the sky I knew. Sylvia had skies that were different, clearer, brighter – though I couldn't quite remember why. But I knew, with absolute certainty, this wasn't it. Wherever I was, it wasn't home.

I pushed myself up to a sitting position, groaning as I took in my surroundings. The ground beneath me was cold and barren. Dark orange soil stretched endlessly in all directions, a bleak and lifeless landscape as far as my enhanced eyes could see. There was no sign of life, no structures, no familiar landmarks. Just endless dunes, broken only by the occasional swirl of dust storms in the distance.

My armor was in tatters, hanging off my body in pieces. It barely resembled what it once was – scraps of torn metal and shredded fabric clinging to me, useless. With a simple thought, I willed it into my [Inventory] and summoned a new set. The familiar weight of fresh armor settled onto my body, the plates clicking into place as I rose to my feet. I dusted off the lingering dirt and took a few deep breaths. The air was dry, thick with the taste of dust, though it carried none of the comfort I had smelled earlier.

I scanned the horizon again, a deep frown settling on my face. Why was my face even wet?

"By the Emperor," I muttered under my breath, "where am I?"

My mind raced, desperately searching for answers, but all I found were fragments of my last moments. I had been pursuing the Man of Iron, that abominable creation, when it fled into the Manufactorum. It had been a long chase through the broken halls, the echo of my footsteps mixing with the clanking of its metal limbs. I remembered the final moments – cornering it near some ancient machine, something I didn't recognize. The machine had been dormant, covered in dust, its purpose lost to time. But as the Man of Iron stopped moving, frozen mid-stride, something had shifted in the air.

I had destroyed it. I remembered that much. The final blow had severed its wretched existence, its body collapsing in a heap of broken parts. But then... everything after that was blank. Just... nothingness. A void where my memory should be.

How had I ended up here?

I gritted my teeth, frustrated by the gaps in my recollection. It was as if the events had been erased from my mind, leaving only the sensation of something slipping through my grasp each time I tried to remember or forced myself to. The last thing I knew for certain was that I had destroyed the abominable intelligence. And then... here I was.

It made no sense.

Sighing, I decided to check my [Inventory] to see if I'd lost any of the items I held somewhat dear and close to my heart, especially my most powerful weapons like [Mjolnir] or [Ruyi Jingu Bang]. Nearly everything I had was present, exactly as I remembered them, except, however, for one item I'd almost forgotten about, because I'd never made use of it. The [Glass Spoon] was gone. I... don't even remember what it was supposed to be used for or what it did. I did remember receiving it rather early on. But, since I never made use of it, it likely wasn't too important. However, there was another item in there that I did not recall ever receiving from the System or from anyone or anything else.

[Shard of the God-Emperor] – A tiny, but pure fragment of the God-Emperor's soul, given to you by Constantin Valdor, who kept it safe for ten thousand years, before giving it to you for your quest.

My eyes narrowed. I had no idea who Constantin Valdor was, but he must've been someone important, powerful, and utterly devoted to the God-Emperor to have been entrusted with such a task. We also apparently met before, which I did not remember, and I also apparently had a quest, which I definitely did not know, because there were no active quests in my Quest List, which meant this wasn't something assigned or recognized by the System. But, this being a literal fragment of the God-Emperor, I was never taking it out unless I reached whatever or whoever the reason was for my being here-

Quest Received!
Find Out Where You Are!
?
Reward/s:

Hidden Reward/s:

?

Ah, so there was a quest that was attached to my circumstances now. The presence of hidden rewards meant there was a lot more to this than met the eye as was usually the case with these things. I'd long since learned that hidden objectives often represented moments that relied almost entirely on the choices I'd make. I usually just stumbled into these things, honestly.

Right... figure out where I am and, hopefully, how I got here.

With a sigh, I willed forth [Ruyi Jingu Bang] from my Inventory and into my hand. As it stood, this was my most versatile weapon. I altered its length to be somewhat taller than myself; I always liked walking with a staff, like my father used to do when he still lived. If I wanted to erase entire cities, then I'd use [Mjolnir]. But, there were no hostiles anywhere – no cities, either. And that also meant I was terribly lost, with no real sense of direction, because anywhere I'd go could lead me anywhere. And that... was oddly freeing. There were no choices before me and yet I had all the choices. I could choose any direction I wanted.

I liked this feeling, I realized. And, without another word, I began walking in the direction I was already facing.

Hours passed like minutes as day turned to night. And I finally figured out how my face got wet. Every so often, I notice odd pillars forming in the horizon, colorless and mostly transparent, but still visible. Rain. There were pillars of rain coming from the rust sky – poisonous, I realized, and likely even deadly to humans. It was only due to my Custodes Physique that I remained utterly unaffected. And every so often, I'd see ruined structures or great metal things rise out of the dunes for mere moments, before the sands devoured them once again. This planet was old. But I recognized the Terran letters and characters on several of the structures, which told me that, at the very least, this world was or used to be occupied by humanity.

After... what must've been several weeks of walking in a straight line, just enjoying the view and the oddity of my being here, I reached a place, where the fine dunes had hardened into something that was closer to soil than sand, hard enough that my feet didn't sink with every step.

In the distance were tall formations that closely resembled mountains. But what really caught my attention were the faint, but clear signs of people – humans. I caught their scent in the air, just as my ears perked at their voices and footsteps. Ten to fifteen kilometers away, I figured, a gathering of maybe fifty to sixty humans.

I trudged onward, the hardened earth beneath my boots providing a welcome change from the endless dunes. The distant shapes of the mountains rose higher with each step, their dark silhouettes cutting sharp lines against the rust-red sky. But my focus wasn't on the mountains. It was on the scents carried by the wind, faint traces of smoke, food, and people – humans, if my enhanced senses were correct.

Ten to fifteen kilometers, I estimated, and there would be a settlement.

It didn't take long for the outlines of huts to appear in the distance, small and squat, dotting the landscape like bumps on the skin of this barren world. I could make out the shapes of the people, too – moving shadows, some sitting, some standing, others working on what looked like simple tools or tending to fires. As I drew closer, I saw that the huts were made of mud bricks, roughly shaped, likely crafted by hand. There was a rustic simplicity to the settlement, a contrast to the technological wasteland I had trekked through for what felt like an eternity.

The first person to spot me was a child, maybe eight or nine, standing at the edge of the settlement. They stared at me, wide-eyed and frozen, holding a crude wooden tool in their small hands. Their gaze locked onto my flak armor, and I saw their mouth open in shock before they bolted back toward the huts, their shrill voice ringing out, alerting the rest.

Before I knew it, the entire settlement was in motion. People ran back and forth, grabbing what little they had as if to defend themselves. Men armed with spears formed a rough line in front of the village, their faces etched with grim determination. They were brave enough, ready to die for each other and for their families. I noted the malnutrition that appeared common among them, alongside boils and warts and clear mutations along their skin. These people were dying – very slowly.

They think I'm a raider, I realized. Their fear was palpable.

I stopped a good distance away, just at the edge of where their weapons could reach if they threw them. My staff, [Ruyi Jingu Bang], was still in my hand, and I felt its weight more acutely now, aware of how much of a threat I must appear. With a thought, I shrank the staff until it was no more than a slender rod, barely longer than my forearm. I held it loosely at my side, making sure to keep my movements slow and non-threatening.

"I mean no harm," I called out, keeping my voice steady but loud enough for them all to hear. "I'm just a traveler."

The men with spears hesitated, glancing at one another.

An older man stepped forward, his grizzled face lined with age and weather, but his eyes were sharp and wary. He pointed the tip of his spear at me, though his hands trembled slightly.

"You don't look like a traveler," he said, his voice raspy. "And we've had raiders before, ones who said the same."

I nodded slowly, understanding his caution.

"I'm not a raider," I said. "I'm not here for your supplies or your people. I'm just... lost."

The words tasted strange in my mouth, but they were the truth. "I don't even know what planet this is."

The old man raised a bushy eyebrow at that, confusion flashing across his features.

"Planet?" he repeated, as if the word held little meaning for him. I frowned, realizing just how primitive this settlement truly was. They probably had no concept of the wider galaxy, let alone the stars beyond their sky. To them, this barren world might be the only one in existence. Ohhh, that wasn't good. I've heard of primitive humans in far off worlds before and they almost always were cut off from the Imperium. But, then again, the God-Emperor surely sent me here for a reason.

For a long moment, no one spoke. The only sound was the whisper of the wind and the crackling of a distant fire. I could feel the weight of their suspicion hanging in the air like a heavy blanket, suffocating any chance of trust.

Then, a voice called out from behind the line of warriors.

"Grandfather!"

A woman pushed her way through the crowd, cradling a child in her arms. The boy, no older than six, was pale and sickly, his legs wrapped in dirty rags. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. The woman's face was etched with desperation, but also acceptance; because even I knew, from just a look, that the boy would not live to see the morning. She looked at the old man – her father, I assumed – with pleading eyes.

"He..." she whispered. "He won't last much longer."

The old man's grip tightened on his spear, torn between protecting his people and the fear that radiated from his daughter's voice. He glanced at me, his lips pressed into a thin line.

I took a slow breath. I could help the child. I knew that without a doubt. But if I did, these people might still see me as a threat. They might think I was using their desperation to manipulate them. Or worse, they might fear me more for the power I wielded.

"I can help him," I said quietly, but with enough force to make my words carry. "Let me heal him."

The woman's eyes widened, and she looked at me with a mixture of hope and disbelief. The old man hesitated, his spear wavering slightly.

"What are you?" he asked, suspicion still thick in his voice.

"Many things, but you may think of me as a healer – for now," I said simply. It wasn't a lie. Not entirely. "I can fix his legs and... well... everything else that's wrong with him. But only if you let me."

The old man stared at me for a long moment before he slowly lowered his spear. He gestured to the other warriors to stand down, and they reluctantly obeyed, though they kept their weapons close. He gave me a wary nod, and the woman approached, her son limp in her arms.

I knelt down to her level as she gently laid the boy in front of me. His legs were twisted and malformed, likely the result of some injury or illness – or mutation. The rags barely concealed the extent of the damage. His skin was pale and dry. And his muscles were shrunken and weak. Fortunately for everyone in this primitive place, my [Biomass Reserves] were more or less full, thousands upon thousands upon thousands of kilograms of biomatter I could call upon with a flicker of thought. I reached out and placed my hand upon the boy's head and beheld the multitude of problems that plagued him, most of which honestly had little to do with his legs.

His body was riddled with diseases and mutations, cancerous growths and legions of bacteria and viruses. I suspected the same was true for the rest of the village.

However, it wasn't anything I couldn't fix instantly. It only costed me about five kilograms of biomass, given the child's freakishly small frame. I could've enhanced him as well and I actually did so by granting him an extremely robust immune system, which I modeled after the [Astartes Genetic Template]. But, I granted him nothing more beyond that. And so, before their very eyes, the child shifted, his pale skin gaining color, his muscles gaining vigor, his stunted bones becoming as they were meant to be. And, with my hand to guide him, the child stood.

"There," I said, smiling as the child's eyes widened into saucers. The boy kind of reminded me of another child I'd saved and taken care of, Katarinya. I wondered, briefly, if she was doing alright, away from me. I'd spoken with Lord Garahm to have her inducted into the Sisters of Battle, but that was neither here nor there. "All fixed."

And then, the sky above us rumbled and large, dark ships emerged from above the clouds. The villagers panicked almost immediately. One of them pointed. "Martians!"

I raised a brow. "What? Do you speak of the Adeptus Mechanicus?"

"I know not what they call themselves, but they are more machine than man. And, every so often, they'd come down from the sky – from Mars – to search for ancient relics and, at times, slaves to be turned into machines of flesh."

My eyes narrowed. But I understood nothing. I'd have to speak to these "Martians" for myself. More than likely, they were probably rogue tech-priests preying on primitive humans. Hereteks.

AN: Chapter 71 is out on (Pat)reon!