Just as the supervising Magos scrutinized Axion, Axion was similarly analyzing the Magos before him.
The biological identification scan clearly inford Axion that the 'human' standing there was incomplete; approximately seventy percent of the body was composed of chanical structures, and even the remaining biological portions exhibited a degree of genetic corruption. Essentially, even ignoring the chanical prosthetics and hypothetically restoring the flesh, the subject could not be classified as Human within Axion's paraters. At best, it was a humanoid life form.
"I assu you are the Magos referred to by the Adeptus chanicus personnel earlier."
Axion had a clear conceptual understanding of the Adeptus chanicus: they were the chanical specialists of Humanity, but they also possessed an abnormal revulsion toward flesh.
The Flesh is Weak, chanical Ascent is Truth.
This maxim was frequently debated by the chanicus personnel. In their quest to chanize themselves and escape the limitations of the biological form, chanicus mbers often underwent extensive augntation.
While Axion found the database's description of the Adeptus chanicus perplexing, he was obliged to respect the choices made by Humanity. However, this particular Magos, whose fundantal genetics did not align with 'Humanity,' clearly fell outside Axion's scope of respect.
Seeing the lack of a direct response, Axion slowly raised his arm. The structure of his limb began to shift; the tallic casing flowed like liquid, and a uniquely-styled weapon materialized on his left forearm.
"Answer . Are you the Magos?"
The supervising Magos, seeing Axion's aggressive posture, spoke with forced tension. The face, barely a quarter flesh, strove to display anxiety. His biological eye, clouded like severe cataracts, trembled violently, revealing his internal unease.
"Yes. If there is no other Magos within this Hive City, then you refer to ."
"Ancient relic of creation, blessed by the Omnissiah, I am the supervising Magos, Vashur Carn. How may I be of service to you?"
Axion slowly lowered the muzzle aid at Magos Vashur.
"I seek answers. Tell , do you consider yourself a true Human?"
Hearing Axion's question, Vashur paused. He had considered countless possibilities, but never this specific inquiry.
His origins were not among the great houses. Several centuries ago, he had rely been the child of an ordinary family in another Hive City. His parents worked fifteen or sixteen hours a day, constantly toiling in workshops filled with toxic air. He also had two siblings.
During a public screening conducted by the Cult chanicus, he was identified as possessing chanical aptitude and was selected by a tech-priest. Thereafter, he studied tirelessly, frantically absorbing the dry and often impenetrable knowledge. morizing binary literature frequently left him dizzy.
But whenever he saw the tech-priests of the Cult, resplendent in their red hooded robes, performing seemingly effortless tasks related to texts and machinery, and constantly receiving the praise his parents never knew, Vashur's heart swelled with anticipation. The zeal that knowledge often extinguished was rekindled again and again by the prospect of a better life.
After more than a decade of study, Vashur beca a Cog-Boy, a designation that others already viewed as belonging to the noble personnel of the Adeptus chanicus. It was then that Vashur realized this was only the beginning.
He studied with even greater intensity. Over the long course of his learning, Vashur unexpectedly demonstrated a profound, innate talent for chanical technology itself. Repair and construction techniques that others struggled to master seed simple to Vashur.
Soon, the local Cult recomnded him for further study on larger forge worlds on nearby planets. For the next century and more, Vashur continuously advanced his knowledge of chanical arts.
It was not until the opening of the Great Rift that Vashur, already an experienced High chanicus, was dispatched to answer the Imperium's call for support. A century of life within the Adeptus chanicus had taught Vashur that the relationship between the Imperium and the chanicus was often strained. Unpleasant, high-risk duties that garnered little gratitude, with the potential for death, were naturally prioritized for those promoted from the common populace, those without powerful connections.
Yet, Vashur was obliged to go. To defy the Cult could result in a terrible fate. A re chanicus technician was deed expendable to the hierarchy.
Ultimately, the Imperial campaign at Vigilus failed. Due to his technical rank, Vashur was granted priority evacuation, for even a re technician required decades, even centuries, of training and was considered more valuable than a rank-and-file Astra Militarum trooper.
This experience, however, greatly bolstered Vashur's resu. While repairing equipnt for the front-line forces, Vashur was fortunate enough to briefly catch sight of the legendary Imperial Regent, Roboute Guilliman. The Primarch had visited the ergency repair depot while inspecting the front lines and assessing equipnt status.
Another towering figure accompanying Guilliman drew Vashur's gaze even more: the legendary Archmagos, Belisarius Cawl.
At that ti, Vashur had not yet taken on as many chanical augntations as he possessed now. His fervent gaze was so intense that it even caught the attention of the Archmagos, the reverence in his eyes unmistakable. No one in the Adeptus chanicus could deny Belisarius Cawl's service to both the Imperium and the Cult chanicus. Vashur even felt that Cawl resembled another great figure he had read about in historical texts during his youth—Malcador the Sigillite.
After that chance encounter, Vashur's technical capacity seemingly unlocked, his rate of improvent becoming astonishingly rapid. After nearly two centuries of waiting, he finally received the opportunity to be assigned to this clandestine world and was granted the title of supervising Magos. If he handled this mission successfully, he would be reassigned upon his return to beco a bona fide Magos, taking charge of an industrial world containing at least thirteen Hive Cities and a population exceeding ten billion.
For this mission, Vashur had brought the only ancient piece of technology he had managed to accumulate over the centuries, hoping to perfectly execute the Cult's directive and achieve true class ascension.
As his life's journey flowed through his mind, Vashur looked up at the colossal, four-tre-tall ancient machine before him, speaking with a slight hesitation.
"Though I do not know the exact cognition of 'Human' that you speak of, I believe I fit the standard of Humanity based on my own self-perception. And I possess a complete life."
Axion visibly paused at the answer.
"Your self-perceived Humanity?"
This response was clearly outside Axion's paraters of expectation.
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