In the brightly lit base hall, the ancient machine spirit put pen to paper with painstaking detail, thodically describing the entire sequence of events to Nolan and David.
The truth, as it turned out, was remarkably straightforward.
Everything began the mont Nolan retrieved the power fist from his simulator. The ancient machine spirit residing within the Fist of Belial had started its gradual awakening process then. However, prolonged dormancy carried side effects. The machine spirit couldn't achieve full consciousness imdiately, managing only a semi-active state, awareness flickering like a light trying to stabilize.
Then the unexplained power fist arrived at the foundry workshop, delivered by an automatic servo robot.
By that point, the ancient machine spirit had achieved complete wakefulness. Its consciousness sharpened, sensory inputs clarified. And the first thing it witnessed was a servo skull exhibiting abnormally manic behavioral patterns, ceaselessly dismantling chanical creations with what could only be described as fanatical enthusiasm.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't have particularly alard the machine spirit. After all, it had experienced considerable ti, witnessed multiple generations of Astartes. More than once, it had observed tech-sergeants or tech-priests within the Chapter displaying similar obsessive characteristics when deep in their work.
However, Raditus was different. Raditus almost never stopped. The servo skull worked with relentless intensity, muttering streams of corrupted machine-code curses that only chanical entities could fully comprehend. The constant verbal assault grated against the machine spirit's consciousness like sandpaper against exposed circuitry, creating genuine ntal torture.
Then, compounding matters, the ancient machine spirit's sensors detected sothing on the casting platform that sent alarm signals cascading through its awareness. The Infinity Gauntlet, completely dismantled, torn into constituent pieces, spread across the work surface like a dissected corpse.
Various factors accumulated, layered one upon another.
A profound sense of existential crisis awakened within the ancient machine spirit. This particular artifact had indeed been forged by the Dark Angels Chapter, and like all things touched by that secretive Legion, it possessed an inherent distrust coded into its very being. Furthermore, having been stolen or perhaps simply lost by the Blood Ravens during one of their notorious acquisitions, the machine spirit carried long-festering resentnt.
Anger that had settled into dormant code during its extended sleep suddenly erupted with the force of a dam breaking. Displeasure, frustration, and survival instinct combined into a singular imperative: escape.
This ultimately precipitated the entire ridiculous incident of the missing power fist.
After docunting everything in careful script, the ancient machine spirit standing balanced on the tal table expressed its unwavering loyalty to the Emperor's existence, each word written with what might have been reverence.
Imdiately afterward, it extended formal apologies to both Nolan and David.
Servo Skull Raditus, which had nearly experienced the chanical equivalent of breaking into cold sweat during the written testimony, seed to undergo a complete attitude adjustnt toward the ancient machine spirit. The servo skull even abandoned its previous indignant posture, settling into sothing approaching grudging respect.
Nolan's curiosity had been thoroughly satisfied. After a brief discussion with David, they reached consensus. They would keep this ancient machine spirit as part of their equipnt roster.
After all, among the weapons and equipnt Nolan currently possessed, this represented the only chanical creation housing a genuine machine spirit. Especially given the entity's demonstrated high-level intelligence, its uniqueness added considerable value.
Following a period of negotiation between all parties involved, the ancient machine spirit proved quite willing to assist everyone in analyzing the overall structure and capabilities of the power fist.
It made only one requirent: under no circumstances would it accept being left alone with Tech-Priest Raditus. The ancient machine spirit simply could not trust what it characterized as the servo skull's "exposed inferior machine processes."
This necessitated Nolan speaking words of comfort to Raditus, who imdiately beca furious again, its eye-lenses flashing with offended red light. Simultaneously, he appointed David as supervisor of the ancient machine spirit, responsible for preventing any unexpected or problematic behaviors.
With that resolution, the incident of the missing power fist transford into an anecdote that spread throughout the base, recounted with varying degrees of embellishnt by amused gang dogs.
David, blue light flickering steadily in its eye sockets, carried the Fist of Belial carefully in its tal grip. It followed behind Raditus, who muttered a stream of complaints under its breath, both entering the foundry workshop to comnce proper research on the power fist's construction.
After taking a brief rest period, Nolan completed his daily physical training routine. The exercises had grown more intense with each successive transformation, his body demanding increasingly rigorous stress to maintain peak condition. Sweat glead on his skin as he moved through the final sets, muscles burning with satisfying exertion.
Afterward, he returned to his books, continuing his systematic study of various Imperial texts. The pages turned steadily, information absorbed and filed away in his increasingly enhanced mory.
Several hours passed. Eventually, hunger gnawed at Nolan's attention with sufficient intensity that he considered summoning an automatic servo robot to retrieve food from the storage room.
Before he could issue the command, a servo robot from the biology laboratory arrived bearing sothing else entirely.
Nolan blinked with mild surprise, accepting the cargo the automatic servo robot extended toward him. Rows of large sealed test tubes rested in the carrying tray, each containing samples of what appeared to be genetic material. The liquid inside caught the light, exhibiting faint prismatic qualities.
He thought for a mont, ntal gears turning. Then recognition clicked into place, connecting to a conversation he'd had with Connors so ti ago.
"Ah, right. I rember now. This must be the alien geno extracted from Compound V."
Nolan waved the automatic servo robot away, dismissing it to resu its regular duties. Then, without hesitation, he opened his simulator interface.
He positioned the rows of test tubes directly beneath the simulator's scanning field.
[Hazardous substances discovered: genes]
[Currently held quantity: 500,000 milligrams (each milligram is approximately equivalent to one minute of resource ti)]
[Convertible resource ti is: 8,333 hours]
[Extract or not?]
Nolan's eyes widened slightly at the substantial number. He imdiately selected the extraction option.
The test tubes in his palm seed to shimr montarily, their contents dissolving into nothing as the simulator absorbed whatever essential quality it required. The glass containers remained, but emptied of their previous cargo.
His resource ti expanded dramatically, climbing from its previous total to 9,133 hours.
Satisfaction settled over Nolan's features. He moved to close the simulator page, task completed.
Then additional prompts materialized, freezing any movent in his hands.
[Hazardous substances currently discovered are: firearms, genes]
[We are still three harmful substances away from unlocking the next new feature of the simulator, so keep working hard.]
[Firearms, genes, ???, ???, ???]
"Huh?" Nolan straightened imdiately, all traces of fatigue vanishing. "Unlock new functions? And there are this many different kinds of harmful substances?"
Energy surged through his entire body. His mind sharpened, curiosity ignited like a fla eting oil. He frowned slightly, studying the prompts displayed by the simulator, reading through them multiple tis to ensure he hadn't missed any nuance.
Then he stood abruptly from the tal round table, his chair scraping against the floor. Without wasting another mont, he strode quickly toward the equipnt room, his pace purposeful.
Nolan entered the equipnt room wearing an expression of intense focus, his features set in concentration. He stood just inside the doorway, letting his gaze sweep across the considerable arsenal stored within. Weapons of various types lined the walls and filled storage racks: firearms, blades, experintal prototypes.
He kept the simulator interface active, beginning a systematic scan of the weapons and equipnt before him, testing each item thodically.
A vague new hypothesis had ford in Nolan's mind regarding the so-called harmful substances the simulator could absorb. The theory crystallized as he considered the evidence available.
The simulator didn't actually absorb the harmful substances themselves, he realized. Rather, it absorbed the "concepts" those substances represented.
Of course, Nolan hadn't studied the specific operational rules thoroughly enough to claim certainty. He'd experinted extensively in the past with many different kinds of items, testing everything he could acquire. None of those previous attempts had triggered any simulator response, forcing him to temporarily abandon that particular line of exploration.
As long as the simulator functioned normally and provided resources, that had seed sufficient. Why waste ti chasing answers that remained elusive?
Now, however, with the simulator issuing direct prompts about additional harmful substance categories, Nolan intended to properly re-examine the device that had brought him everything he currently possessed.
He moved thodically through the equipnt room, passing the simulator's scanning field over weapons one by one. Firearms first: modern rifles, pistols, various calibers. Then lee weapons: combat knives, batons, improvised weapons.
Nothing registered. The simulator remained silent.
Then, abruptly:
[Harmful substances have been found: cold weapons]
[The current number of holdings is one, and the ti to obtain resources is ten hours.]
[Do you want to extract?]
Nolan hurried forward imdiately, checking which item had triggered the simulator's recognition. His eyes found the source.
A sword forged from Uru tal, one of the Asgardian weapons he'd acquired. The blade glead with otherworldly luster, its edge catching light in ways terrestrial tals never quite managed.
"I tested every type of cold weapon available for purchase on Earth before," Nolan muttered, his brow furrowing deeper. "Common knives, swords, axes, everything. Why only cold weapons from Asgard be absorbed and extracted?"
His thoughts accelerated, making connections. "Co to think of it, the sa pattern applies to firearms. Whether automatic rifles, pistols, or sniper rifles, they could only convert one hour of resource ti each. Only firearms that t so specific triggering condition could be fully extracted for their complete value."
He paced slightly, his mind working through the puzzle. "And weapons like RPGs or grenade launchers couldn't be absorbed by the simulator at all. Why? What's the distinguishing factor?"
Nolan stood still, arms crossing over his chest as he sank into deep thought. His eyes tracked across the equipnt room's contents without really seeing them, his consciousness turned fully inward.
After several minutes of intense consideration, he spoke aloud to the empty room, testing his hypothesis through verbalization.
"Specificity. Representativeness. Or perhaps... the uniqueness of the concept itself?"
His voice gained confidence as the theory solidified. "Can only one example of any similar harmful substance category be extracted? And the determining factor is probably whatever I possess at the ti of extraction. It must also be a substance originating from the native universe, not sothing manufactured locally."
Nolan shook his head, which had grown heavy with increasingly complex speculation. He released a slow sigh, letting so of the ntal tension drain.
"It would be trendously helpful if the simulator ca with an instruction manual. Save from all this guessing."
Despite the complaint, a slight smile touched his lips. Puzzles like this engaged him, challenged him in ways pure physical training never could.
Without further hesitation, he picked up the Uru tal sword, feeling its perfectly balanced weight in his grip. Then he confird the extraction.
[Harmful substances extracted: cold weapons]
[Resources obtained: ten hours]
[Currently found harmful substances: firearms, genes, cold weapons, ???, ???]
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