The automaton’s blade screeched as it wrenched free from Teverion’s chest plate and swiveled to block Antarus’s strike. The warrior’s body crumpled uselessly to the floor. Four warriors had now been lost to this thing. Antarus wasn’t sure what to call it now, but it had now taken a far more aggressive strategy in defending itself. With its cannon damaged beyond use, it had transformed its arm to reveal a blade. Whenever the automaton swung it, it gave off a low, droning hum.

Gravitic manipulators.

Antarus tensed. The technology was rare but not unheard of among the denizens of this galaxy, manipulating the force of gravity into an infinitesimally small point of focus. In this case, the edge of a blade. The pressure generated on such a small point could shred any armor exposed to it. Energy shields were the only proper defense against it, and the automaton had just used the better part of an hour draining his.

Fool. You have prolonged this battle for far too long.

The automaton sliced at Beraxes to Antarus’s left, sending a chunk of his shoulder plate soaring into the air. Beraxes leaped backward, narrowly evading the attack. The young warrior cursed over their comms.

“Silence!" Antarus hissed.

So long as the armor was still functional, Beraxes would have to leave the damage alone. According to their creed, none within the Sect of Cleansing may repair cosmetic damage to their armor. To do so would be to hide one’s failure from one's brethren and from the Fallen. Only through great deeds may one earn the right to repair it and, with it, find redemption.

“Back away and form a circle around it!” Antarus commanded over their comms. “Enzos, take it on the left.”

Without a word, Enzos shot forward in a bronze blur, lunging at the automaton’s head. But the machine was faster. And more accurate.

The end of the blade tore through the back of Enzos’s helmet. Antarus had hoped his acolyte would have blocked the blow, but no matter. It had created the distraction he had hoped for.

Antarus surged at his prey, moving so quickly that the world around him melted into a collage of colors, focusing solely on the mass of silver in front of him. He plunged his blade into the machine’s shoulder joint. He twisted the staff and felt the automaton’s carapace yield from the force. With a flick of his wrist, he could pry the thing’s arm from its socket.

“You are an unholy abomination”. He motioned his warriors to close in and restrain her shield arm, which remained free. “I do not require you whole. Move, and I shall take your arm.”

The automaton’s eyes locked onto his faceplate as if it could see his violet eyes behind them and scoffed. “So be it.”

Before Antarus could overcome his bewilderment, the machine jerked its body to the side, severing its own arm. Beraxes lunged in a vain attempt to tackle it, only for it to pirouette around him and seize the opening that the fool had created, charging headlong toward one of the windows that lined the wall.

Antarus felt his fingers brush its back as it burst through the glass and up onto the ledge of a neighboring building. The abomination turned and stood still, watching him. Taunting him. With it now holding the high ground, all he could do was glare and fume.

His communicator beeped. “Holy one, the trains have been restored.”

The voice belonged to Ulleni, the one tasked by Beraxes to remain on watch over the primitives. His fury boiled to a numbing intensity.

“How did this come to be, Acolyte?” Antarus growled.

Her voice was choked with shame. “The humans were able to repair it.”

“Did you not think to alert us of this endeavor?”

“I…I did not wish to distract you from your engagement with what I believed to be a futile escape attempt, Purificant. I tried to kill one of-”.

“Tried? So, you mean to say that you failed.”

“Their numbers were too great, holy one. I thought it better to survive and warn you of the situation…”

During their reconnaissance, they had discovered that humans were capable of operating much of the basic technology in this ancient world. But they had believed the technology used to power the transit system was too arcane for their understanding. Someone was clearly teaching them. He had little doubt of who.

Soon, more of these Interlopers will be here, and if this one was anything to go by, that very well may mean our demise.

Now, having seen what the automaton was capable of, he could clearly see that there was far more at stake than completing the Ashen Sacrament on two irrelevant species. He had thought the Interlopers were merely some elusive band of guerrillas, but given the automaton’s familiarity with technology once thought mastered only by the Idex and its well-demonstrated combat capabilities, he had clearly guessed wrong.

He had been impatient and unprepared, and now he would be returning with half his warband dead and next to nothing to show for it. Reflexively, his mind turned to the First Tenet of the Fallen.

To despair is to fail. To fail is to die. To die is to be damned.

All became clear.

He projected his voice through his helmet’s speaker so all could hear, cutting off Ulleni’s stream of excuses. “We have wasted enough time on this frivolous pursuit. Make for their transit station. Cleanse the vermin.”

He had intended to corner and contain the surviving humans and Korokti so that he might glean the purpose of their presence on this world. But now, with his party’s numbers dwindling, that would no longer be feasible.

But that did not mean their existence was yet devoid of purpose. He would draw out the automaton, just as he had before, by slaughtering enough of the primitives to draw its attention and its ire. It was shameful that he was reduced to repeating the same strategy he had used to begin their assault, but this time, he would not hold back. Before, he had tried to capture the automaton while also honoring the Ashen Sacrament through single combat.

It is ironic that I should stray so close to heresy by following my faith.

And Idex had little use for heretics and failures.

“Ulleni, do you seek the path to redemption?” Antarus asked.

“By the will of the Fallen, I do, Purificant,” the acolyte said with a hopeful note in her voice.

“Then I shall illuminate it for you.”

This failure still has some use.

As Beraxes led their way towards the transit station, he explained to Ulleni her divine role in what was to come. The rest of the warband listened silently as he spoke, but he knew they were taking heed of his every word.

Ulleni spoke in a numb, trancelike voice. “I understand, holy one. I shall remain hidden and watch for my moment.”

“Very good, Ulleni. You honor us all.”

 ***

Antarus waited alone in front of the station’s main doors, admiring the craftwork as each of his remaining warriors positioned themselves at the station’s exits. It was regretful that he would have to damage the art of the ancients. He added it to the growing list of crimes he would punish these insects for.

As soon as the last warrior’s confirmation chimed within his helmet, he fired his sanctifier into the doors’ locking mechanisms. It took but a second to melt. With a single kick, the doors jettisoned open, launching the sad excuse of a barricade behind it into an unfortunately placed human soldier, snapping his neck. Before him lay a densely packed horde of humans and korokti. He would have to pace himself lest he eliminate them all before the automaton’s intervention. The audio filters within his helm muffled their screams.

He heard the sound of energy discharge as his acolytes followed his example, eliminating any immediate threats and then proceeding to lay waste to the survivors, cutting them down like grain in a field. The refugees scrambled over each other towards the half-loaded trains. Antarus took aim towards the operator’s station and scoured its window with his sanctifier. Smoke spilled from its window.

Even still, the primitives fled into the trains until finally, their doors closed, providing a small measure of protection against the inevitable. No matter. Scores of them were now locked out and at his mercy.

He noticed his shields crackle from projectiles impacting his right flank and turned toward their source. It was another of their soldiers, dressed in faded green fatigues and with a tired, yet young, face. He had emerged from a maintenance hatch beneath one of the loading platforms. A clever ambush, yet poorly timed.

With a but a flick of his sanctifier, Antarus granted him rest. His weapon clattered to the ground.

Amidst the sounds of their good work, he heard the shatter of glass and looked up to see the automaton finally deigned to make its appearance. Leaping through the newly formed hole in the glass dome above the station, it directed its fall straight at Antarus.

He locked his eyes into the machine’s and began their now familiar dance of combat, taking great care to dodge its blade. With his shields nearly drained, he may as well have been unarmored against it.

It came at him with quick and hard slashes and jabs at his head, no longer making any attempt to flee or lead him away. It wanted him dead. Right there and right then.

Just as Antarus had hoped.

His warriors kept their distance, feigning swift attacks and then dancing away just as quickly, keeping the automaton’s attention unfocused and ever-shifting. Antarus struck a blow on its leg, knocking it off balance.

It was then that Ulleni chose her moment. Antarus watched as she rolled from beneath one of the trains and stalked towards their foe. As she grew closer, she broke into a sprint and launched herself at the machine, wrapping her arms and legs around it. The two fell to the ground, grappling.

“To join the Fallen, I am named!” Ulleni screamed.

Her body shuddered as she overloaded her armor’s electrical systems, just as she had been instructed. With the grounding mechanism within the armor’s circuitry now disabled, the current flowed freely into both Ulleni and the automaton. Both of them writhed, but to Ulleni’s credit, the machine seemed to be the only one screaming.

For the first time that day, Antarus finally saw the abomination experience pain. He smiled beneath his helm.

After several heartbeats, their writhing stopped. Ulleni was now most certainly dead, but her armor remained locked around their quarry. He noticed that she was missing a finger and yet still had kept her grip.

The machine stirred weakly, its eyes far dimmer than before. Taking no chances, Beraxes and another underling moved to place binders on its remaining hand.

“Make haste. The enemy will soon be upon us.” Antarus stooped down and knelt over his fallen enemy. “Soon you shall reveal many truths, and if you are what…no, who I believe you are, then you will have much to answer for.”

It looked up at him. “You are less than nothing.”

He ignored the barb. “And you defend those who mean nothing. You have the resources to do so much more, and yet, here you are.”

“We are the Penitent. My kind has done much more, is doing much more. It is why we seek atonement," it said in a low voice, “You conquer those who have not even achieved even a fraction of your power and call it conquest. I call it pathetic.”

He sighed. “Once again, you mistake our motives. We grant the creatures of this galaxy a mercy from a fate to which I would not condemn my worst enemy.” He tapped his finger against its faceplate. “By harboring them here, you have merely prolonged their suffering. Look at the madness they succumb to when faced with the mere prospect of death.”

The glowing, blue circles of its eyes widened. “This galaxy?”

Antarus stood. “Indeed. This galaxy is unprepared and untested for what is to come. I am a Purificant, merely an instrument guided by the hand of the Fallen. Through me, they shall sculpt this galaxy of primitives into something that will truly last.

For half a heartbeat, the machine’s eyes flicked away and back to him. “Perhaps you are their test.”

Trying to find what it was looking at, Antarus turned to see each of the trains shoot off to destinations unknown, with every survivor compounding his failure. Antarus whirled towards the molten wreck of the operator’s station; a lone human figure was hunched over the controls.

His face contorted with speechless rage; he unleashed a torrent of energy at the insolent primate.

“Oi!”

He felt a sharp pain in his head as his helmet rang with impact after impact. His shields were drained, and now his armor was taking the hits, likely denting them. It took little effort to find his assailant. It was a squat, bearded human crouched outside of the same hatch that the soldier had emerged from. He had taken up the arms of his fallen compatriot.

“Insect.”

The pointless display ended as quickly as it began in a cloud of ash.