The ships that descended from the clouds were unmistakably of Adeptus Mechanicus design, yet... different. I couldn't pinpoint exactly why, but the differences were there, subtle yet undeniable. The vessels lacked the sacred symbols I'd come to expect—no Imperial aquila, no recognizable Mechanicus iconography. Instead, the hulls bore unfamiliar markings, though the stylized skull and cog symbols told me they were still of Mechanicus origin. Perhaps some offshoot faction or a splinter sect. I didn't know enough about the inner workings of the Tech-Priests to make any definitive judgments. For all I knew, different orders of the Mechanicus might operate like Imperial Guard regiments, each with their own distinct culture and heraldry, yet united in purpose.

The villagers' awe vanished in an instant. Panic swept through them.

"Hide!" someone shouted, and they scattered in all directions, ducking into their small, fragile huts. The thin mudbrick walls would offer no protection against the weapons of the Mechanicus – lasguns, plasma, or worse – but still, they huddled inside. It was instinctual, a desperate clinging to their only sanctuary, even if that sanctuary would crumble under the first volley of fire.

This was their home. They had nowhere else to go.

A sharp pang of anger rose in me. That these Tech-Priests, servants of the same Imperium that claimed to protect humanity, would terrify their fellow humans in this way felt wrong. These villagers were no threat, just simple people trying to survive on a dying world. If these Mechanicus meant to enslave them or worse, then I would not stand by and let it happen.

A man approached me from the edge of the scattering crowd. He was different from the others, not in appearance – he looked unremarkable, almost forgettable – but in presence. He was bald, clean, his face devoid of the grime and exhaustion that marked the villagers. He wore simple clothes, yet they were clean and neat, unlike the ragged garments of the rest. He looked to be in his late thirties or early forties, with sharp eyes and an easy smile that didn't quite reach them.

"Greetings, fellow weary traveler," he said, stopping beside me.

The Mechanicus ships rumbled overhead, their engines roaring like some distant, mechanical beast. They veered away from the village, heading toward a distant point on the horizon. I made a note to follow their path once they had landed. For now, there was no rush. I turned my attention to the bald man.

"You're not from here either, are you?" I asked, my eyes narrowing.

The man shook his head, still smiling, though there was something unreadable in his expression. "One could say that."

His calm demeanor struck me as odd. While the villagers cowered in fear, he stood there, speaking casually, unaffected by the chaos around him. It was clear he wasn't part of the village, but his presence here raised more questions. Why was he here? And what did he know about those ships?

The ships disappeared into the distance, and a heavy silence settled over the village once more. I looked back at the man, who stood quietly, waiting.

"And why are you here?" I asked.

The man shrugged, his smile widening slightly. "I am a traveler, a mangy vagrant, and a merchant."

"A merchant of what?"

"Glass and assorted trinkets, but I sell a lot of mirrors. Perhaps, that is why I have come to be known among the locals as the man of glass – or Master Mirror." he replied, idly gesturing towards a cart that stood at the edge of the village.

I didn't trust him. But I didn't sense any immediate danger from him either. He wasn't with the Mechanicus, that much was clear, but he knew something – more than he was letting on. At least, that's what my instincts told me. But I have been wrong many times before.

I glanced at the sky again, where the ships had vanished.

"I'm going to find out what they want," I said.

The man tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with interest. There was something very odd about this person, but none of my senses or skills told me anything amiss and, if nothing else, he'd done nothing wrong. "And when you do, what then?"

I unleashed and tightened my grip on [Ruyi Jingu Bang], feeling its familiar weight in my hand. "Depends on what I find. If they're Hereteks, then I'll just have to kill them. If they truly are sanctioned priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, then who am I to stop them from performing their duty? That said, I do not believe the Martian Priesthood would stoop so low as to raid and capture innocent lives for their servitors, not when the Imperium has a surplus of inmates to be used for such a thing."

"You'd be surprised by what the Imperium was capable of," said the man known as Master Mirror.

My eyes narrowed at his words. They bordered on heretical, though I could still understand the sentiment. There was no denying the Imperium's greatness, nor the terrible things it had done in the name of survival and dominion. But something about the way he said was gnawed at me. Was? I paused, the word hanging in the air like a shadow over the conversation. My gaze turned back toward the mudbrick huts where the villagers cowered, still hiding from the threat they believed the Mechanicus posed.

"I have a duty to my fellow man before I deal with the Martians," I muttered aloud, more to myself than to the stranger.

But when I turned to confront Master Mirror, to demand an explanation for his choice of words, he was already gone. His cart – odd and intricately crafted – still stood where it had been, yet the man himself had vanished without a trace. My eyes narrowed further. He had slipped away with a speed and silence that should not have been possible. Even in this enhanced form, my perception was near perfect. As a Custodian, I had abilities that outclassed even the fastest Astartes, yet this ordinary-seeming merchant had evaded me with ease.

How?

I swept my gaze over the area once more, looking for any signs of disturbance—none. Just the empty cart, sitting there like a reminder that the impossible had happened. I couldn't afford to be distracted by that mystery now, though. I had more immediate concerns, starting with the frightened people huddling in their fragile homes.

With a shrug, I dismissed Master Mirror's disappearance from my mind and focused on the task at hand. There were too many villagers to deal with individually, and I didn't have the luxury of time. The Mechanicus ships were my priority, but I couldn't leave these people suffering when I could do something about it.

Taking a deep breath, I extended my tendrils – hundreds of them, thin, snake-like appendages that unfurled from my body in every direction. They slithered toward the huts, slipping through the gaps in windows and beneath doorways, moving swiftly and precisely. The moment they entered, the screaming started. I could hear the villagers' cries of fear and panic, their desperate attempts to fight off what they didn't understand.

I didn't care. I knew they were scared, but I wasn't here to harm them. I was here to help. As soon as my tendrils made contact with their skin, I could feel the wrongness in their bodies. Malnutrition, illness, the slow decay that came from living in such a harsh and unforgiving environment. These people were barely surviving, their bodies ravaged by years of neglect and deprivation.

It took nearly a metric ton of my [Biomass Reserves] to fix them all. Muscles that had atrophied from starvation were rebuilt, diseases that had festered in their lungs and blood were eradicated, and bones that had weakened over time were restored to their full strength. But I knew, deep down, that my work would only be a temporary solution. Whatever afflictions I cured would return soon enough, because the real problem was the land itself. This arid, inhospitable place was killing them as surely as any disease. If they stayed here, they would only fall sick again.

They'd have to leave.

That wasn't my problem, though. I could only give them the chance to start fresh. Whether they thrived or perished was up to them.

As I withdrew my tendrils, the air around me was quiet once more. The villagers, now healed, still cowered in their homes. I wasn't expecting gratitude. In truth, I preferred it that way. I wasn't here to be worshipped or revered. I was simply doing what needed to be done.

I turned toward the direction the Mechanicus ships had flown, my mind already shifting focus. If there were answers to be found – about this strange world, about how I'd gotten here, or what the Mechanicus were doing – they'd be with those ships, Heretek or otherwise.

With a thought, I summoned [Mjolnir] from my [Inventory]. The divine hammer materialized in my hand, humming with power. I focused for a moment, tapping into the hammer's ability to grant me flight. With a roar of thunder, the air around me crackled, and I shot into the sky. My ascent was rapid and jarring, and while flying straight up was easy, the moment I tried to shift into a horizontal glide, I found myself struggling. Flying wasn't as intuitive as I'd hoped.

The thick brown clouds that had seemed distant from the ground now rushed toward me. They were denser and more toxic than I'd imagined. As I flew through them, they burned my lungs. I gasped, the acrid air searing through my body. My enhanced form tried to compensate, but even then, the damage was severe. My lungs felt like they were on fire.

I coughed violently, spitting out clumps of charred flesh. The remains of my organs, too far gone to be salvaged, fell from my mouth in blackened chunks. The moment they left my body, I could feel my system working to replace them, drawing from my reserves of biomass.

I couldn't stay in those clouds.

Angling downwards, I broke through the toxic haze and glided just above the surface, my breathing slowly returning to normal. My eyes locked onto the direction the ships had taken. I found them in the distance, still flying, but at a pace I could match easily. [Mjolnir] cackled with restrained lightning, which reminded me of the fact that I could've used it to banish the clouds entirely. But, for now, I chose not to do that as the clouds likely shielded me from the mechanicus scanners.

Their destination was still unclear, but they were definitely heading towards something. A base? A hidden facility? Or were they here to search for ancient technologies as usual? I didn't know, but I had no intention of letting them disappear without learning more.

I focused on maintaining a steady pace. The power of the divine hammer was immense, but I still lacked the finesse to move with true grace. My flight was improving quickly, but I was no Astartes on a jump pack, nor an expert pilot.

The Mechanicus vessels drew closer as I adjusted my trajectory, keeping low, just above the barren landscape. Beneath us were unless dunes and the half-buried remains of blackened and withered structures. Minutes, once more, turned to hours until I saw, up ahead, a place of solid ground, a place full of mountains and ridges, each one dried and barren. Here and there, I noted, I spotted signs of civilization, human beings living in tents and tending to mutated creatures. There were more settlements here, I noted, than the previous place, across the sea of sands. These ones, too, seemed not nearly as primitive as the others as I saw what clearly were guns and other technological bits and pieces among their keeping. Still, they reacted the same way as the primitive men did in the presence of the Mechanicus, screaming and running and hiding.

Fear coursed through them. And it became even worse when the mechanicus ships began descending. I could just make out the faint silhouette of an industrial complex in the distance, half-hidden by the thick atmosphere and rugged terrain. It looked ancient, a crumbling fortress of machinery and steel, its purpose lost to time. I did not recognize the architecture. It was... simpler and sleeker than anything I'd ever seen from the Imperium.

Just... where was I?

AN: Chapter 72 is out on (Pat)reon!