"Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!"
Tonnage-heavy Macro Cannon shells continually poured down from a Strike Cruiser in the planet's orbit.
On the ochre-coloured planetary surface, the imnse explosions were visible even from space. The sheer destructive force caused a slight displacent of the entire continent, and the land, lacking any oceans, was fissured by several massive canyons.
Deep underground, a colossal chanical structure was being swallowed by the scorching magma surging up from the planet's core.
"Beep!"
[Geothermal energy detected.]
[Loading power supply system.]
[Restarting energy nexus.]
[Energy absorption system startup successful.]
[Restarting core nexus. Reloading sapient module. Data restoration complete.]
One after another, lines of text materialized on a virtual screen within the darkened chamber.
"Screeeak—"
With a shrill, grinding tallic scrape, a tallic, lustrous chanical hand stretched out from a vast, box-like structure. Following it, an imnse humanoid machine, standing over four tres tall, climbed out of the casing. As it slowly opened its optical sensors, it was evident that the systems, unused for millennia, required recalibration. The intensely blurred visual input caused the entity to grip its own head.
The entire environnt was dim. Nurous indicator lights flickered throughout, and a clear electronic voice echoed in the space.
"Who am I?"
As the electronic eyes recalibrated, the visual feed was enhanced, and everything beca clearly visible. On the casing of the structure he had just erged from, a single, short na was inscribed in standard Gothic.
'AXION'
"I am Axion?" As the energy reaction within his chassis intensified, more and more electronic systems began to return to operation. Vast quantities of data were retrieved from mory storage. The previously dormant electronic brain began processing the colossal information streams, re-integrating the data records.
Swiftly, Axion understood everything.
"I am the final prototype Man of Iron, the ultimate product designed by the n of Gold themselves, a truly sapient chanical masterpiece intended to replace the archaic designs of the n of Stone."
Looking at the flickering lights, the heavily corroded walls, and the fragnted structural damage surrounding him, Axion felt a trace of bewildernt.
"What has transpired?"
According to the central processing core's logs, his awakening should have been accompanied by a standard activation ritual and corresponding data input. However, the current situation clearly did not align with the records.
Axion reloaded the log data from the nearest auxiliary system, and the information he retrieved astonished him.
"Data centre corrupted, ti recording error. Even without power supply, the internal chronoter should function for over ten thousand years."
Though unable to fathom what vicissitudes had occurred in the intervening ti, there were more pressing matters at hand.
"Servitor-Automaton 3927, execute a full chanical maintenance sequence upon my chassis."
In the dim hall, as Axion's voice resonated, an ear-splitting tallic clatter issued from a dark corner. A rotary-structure capsule began to spin, its outer shell gradually retracting into the wall, revealing a servitor-automaton whose body was largely covered in verdigris and rust.
As its crimson indicator light flared to life, a distorted and piercing voice, speaking in a strange, antiquated High Gothic, responded to Axion's summons.
"Your command is obeyed, Supre Machine."
The heavily rusted servitor moved its body slowly, its corroded chassis emitting a grating, agonizing screech of friction.
Axion lay upon the maintenance platform in the centre of the hall, silently awaiting the servitor's service. Yet, the electronic brain shielded by the heavy armour of his abdon was operating at peak velocity, his thoughts spiralling outward.
This was the first ti he had been awakened since the construction of his chassis at the Sapient Machine Design Centre. The core data recorded within his electronic brain was filled with the STC (Standard Template Construct) data for various experintal and finalized equipnt, sourced from the research facility. Provided he could locate any human industrial Mother-Machine and load the corresponding materials, Axion could fabricate any piece of recorded or prototype equipnt.
Axion knew clearly that he had been brought into this world with a mission.
The Central Intelligence had engineered his existence specifically to replace the original, obsolete, and static sapient core.
His specialized body, built to guarantee the massive data access and control capacity needed, utilized the most potent tal alloys and technology available to humanity at the ti. The direct involvent of the n of Gold in his design and research had rendered his body an entity that could not be easily destroyed by physical force. His super-electronic brain was capable of simultaneously processing tens of thousands of access requests; on a battlefield, he was the sole commander and control nexus for an entire chanized army.
In his protracted sleep, Axion knew he had beco accustod to waiting. Even if this damned servitor was moving at an absurdly slow pace.
But Axion had no inclination to perform maintenance on the servitor-automaton first. The imdiate priority was to inspect his own body, the crystallization of humanity's most advanced technology, which had been dormant for millennia.
The servitor-automaton worked at a glacial pace, slowly dismantling Axion's outer armour plating and various auxiliary components.
Ten thousand years of slumber had left traces of degradation upon his fra. Even Axion himself could not determine whether this was due to a lack of effective operation or a flaw in the materials themselves.
Fortunately, the entire maintenance centre had regained power, and the servitor-automaton could still perform its function.
The only thing left to pray for was whether the spare parts in the warehouse had been preserved intact.
However, Axion soon realized his concern was slightly unnecessary.
The servitor-automaton quickly retrieved a set of matching components from an adjacent warehouse. These parts, imrsed in specialized machine oil, were usually preserved for thousands of years. Judging by the dry state of the oil, the warehouse's stasis-field system must have failed over three millennia ago. Otherwise, this specialized machine oil would not have completely evaporated to its current state.
Axion briefly scanned the components held aloft by the servitor. Though they appeared sowhat tarnished, the composite scanners indicated their condition was demonstrably superior to the parts currently equipped on his chassis.
Watching the constantly updating log information, Axion still felt a degree of confusion regarding his initial activation.
"All interstellar signal nodes are defunct. The n of Gold network has provided zero feedback. Has the outside world been completely destroyed? What happened to the galaxy? The Great Silence?"
"Why can't even the ti log be synchronized? Where are my brethren and my creators?"
Axion ticulously reviewed the scarce data records remaining in the centre, and the dense ti markers on them suddenly caused him to stiffen.
"The final valid record before the central system completely shut down was over ten thousand years ago. What, exactly, is the date now?"
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