Steel & Oil: Warhammer 32K

More brand-new tanks.

More Astartes, prepared well in advance.

Vashtorr could tell from all this that Lin had been readying himself for a long time — his goal was to launch a surprise strike before Vashtorr even made it back to Magma City!

Wasn't it enough that he'd already stolen the production lines from Skarbrand and forced Mars to yield ground? Now his scheming reached all the way to Vashtorr himself?

This wasn't mere boldness anymore. This was outright arrogance!

The curiosity Vashtorr had once felt toward Lin flared abruptly back into fury, but he understood that recklessness was the one thing he could least afford right now.

Since he'd always intended to return, Vashtorr had naturally left Magma City with sufficient defenses.

The Battle-Automata he had seized from the Fabricator General had never once left the city — those left behind in Magma City were themselves Vashtorr's final insurance policy.

More than a thousand Battle-Automata could match the combat strength of a full Astartes Chapter. Even with a hundred Soul Drinkers wielding Monster Hunter weapons capable of splitting a tank in two, plus two dozen siege tanks besides, Vashtorr believed his Battle-Automata — twice their number — would not come out the worse in this fight.

"As long as the siege tanks can't bring their penetrating shockwave cannons to bear, these Astartes will be held in check. Once Viktor and the others make it back to Magma City, we can encircle the Soul Drinkers inside completely..."

As his thoughts sharpened into clarity, a look of vicious satisfaction crept into Vashtorr's eyes.

If Lin dared to set his sights on Vashtorr himself, he would pay for it!

Though he'd never faced Lin directly, Vashtorr hadn't forgotten the grudge of having his plans thrown into chaos.

Wiping out these Soul Drinkers entirely would teach this reckless Magos a hard lesson. He could also capture the siege tanks and Monster Hunter weapons to study, to see exactly what Lin had cooked up.

With that thought, Vashtorr issued his orders to Augustus.

"Let those Astartes in. Let them get bogged down fighting the Legio Cybernetica through the city streets. The force returning to Magma City will arrive soon — all you need to do is hold until we get there."

Augustus accepted the order.

Resistance at Magma City's outer perimeter was abandoned. The siege tanks, massing their fire, soon punched a breach through the walls with high-explosive rounds that void shields couldn't stop.

They switched back to their standard configuration and stormed into Magma City alongside the Soul Drinkers.

Admidel was first through the breach, where Occam — long since infiltrated into the city — was waiting for him on the other side.

Occam looked them over with a startled expression. "Compared to last time, you all seem quite different."

"We've been through a round of enhancement. That's the confidence behind daring to storm Magma City."

Enhancement? In just these past few days?

Occam swallowed his doubts. "What's your plan going forward?"

"I'll have the Soul Drinkers who joined us later hold the front line. You lead us around to the flank, and we'll break through from there — shatter the city's defenses completely."

Battle cries shook Magma City. Ordinary Skitarii were no match for the Astartes at all, but the arrival of the Legio Cybernetica kept the fight from turning into a one-sided slaughter.

Logash fired his bolter at the Castellax-class Automata.

The automata's armor plating was formidably tough. With their atomantic shields blunting the impact, his bolt rounds could only leave shallow dents in their hides.

Worse, their firepower was even more ferocious than the Astartes' own — the heavy bolt cannons mounted on their shoulders could pin the Astartes down with ease.

Logash was still searching for an opening when a bolt round punched through his power armour. He staggered and dropped to the ground.

Birmingham hauled him back behind cover.

"You alright? Where'd you get hit?"

Logash spat out a mouthful of blood — his internal organs had clearly taken damage. But strangely, the bolt round had bounced back out through the very hole it made in his power armour.

"I'm fine. The chitin carapace stopped it."

In the old days, a wound like this would've meant surgery at the very least. But the new chitin carapace could be adjusted at will, and Logash had used it to catch the round that should have buried itself in his flesh, wedging it against the shell and squeezing it back out.

The cost was significant, though. Astartes could endure prolonged starvation without issue, yet here he was, in the middle of a raging battle, feeling his stomach hollow with hunger.

"Looks like it's time you ate," Birmingham said.

Birmingham sent the signal, just as Lin had instructed earlier. Before long, a troop of Felynes wearing chef's hats came rushing up to them.

The little creatures pushing their specially made food carts across the battlefield looked wildly out of place, but they were a vital part of the Soul Drinkers' new combat system.

They set up portable stoves with practiced ease, pulled fresh ingredients from their carts, and started cooking in a hurry.

Nutrients essential to the chitin carapace were folded in as seasoning. Shells roared and shrapnel flew all around, but the little cooks paid it no mind, focused entirely on wielding their utensils.

Astartes had no glands capable of secreting chitin on their own — that gap could be filled by Felyne cooking.

Soon, a steaming plate of it was placed in Logash's hands.

Logash didn't hesitate, wolfing it down in huge bites. Replenished, his chitin carapace began repairing itself rapidly amid the delicious meal, and in no time Logash was combat-ready again.

Though it was only temporary, Logash even felt stronger than he'd been before.

"These Felynes are really something," Birmingham marveled. "This is the first time I've realized we could fight like this.

The Felynes quickly packed up their carts and vanished into the shadows of the battlefield, while Logash and Birmingham threw themselves back into the fight.

The longer the battle went on, the more Augustus, commanding the Legio Cybernetica, felt something was off.

As an Archmagos, he could monitor most of the information across the battlefield and adjust his deployments accordingly. Yet in this brief span of fighting the Soul Drinkers, his plans had already sprung several leaks.

He traced the source of the problem, only to find that his logic circuits weren't at fault.

It wasn't an illusion — Soul Drinkers he'd judged should be wounded and pulled from combat kept reappearing on the front line in under ten minutes.

"How is this possible?"

Augustus couldn't work out the reason, but the moment he remembered these Astartes belonged to Lin, he felt an eerie sense that it was somehow only to be expected.

That Magos had already introduced far too many variables outside the plan. One more hardly seemed abnormal at this point.

What gave Augustus a measure of comfort was that the Legio Cybernetica still held the upper hand — the Astartes could only push forward under fire by sheltering behind their handful of siege tanks.

Even with rapid reinforcement, it hardly mattered — their progress couldn't exceed the margin Vashtorr had already accounted for.

And it wasn't just the ordinary Soul Drinkers, either. As the Forge Director who had encountered Second Legion veterans back on Cath Maximus, Augustus had specially prepared a "surprise" for those anomalies wielding Monster Hunter weapons.

"Report! Targets have been observed appearing on our flank!"

"So they held back at the start just to force an opening on the flank, just as expected."

Augustus had already anticipated the veterans' thinking. He deployed the Battle-Automata he'd held in reserve — specialized Castellax-class units built for defense and melee combat.

Being able to cleave a tank in two was certainly impressive, but the Battle-Automata were built from far sturdier stock than any tank, reinforced further with dedicated atomantic shields.

Augustus had long since gathered combat data on these unusual Astartes. He believed these silicon-souled spirits of the Mechanicus were not enemies these gene-freaks could handle through brute force alone.

It was about time someone taught them a lesson — them, unbeaten from Cath Maximus all the way to Mars.

He waited confidently for the outcome, but the message that reached him — brought by a Priest who came sprinting back in disarray — left him stunned.

"Those Astartes... they actually split the Automata apart!"

"What?!"

Theodore gripped a heavy sword, his strength amplified by the electro-muscular bundles inside his power armour. But the true source of his power lay in the Sinew Coils implanted in his arms.

The mechanical implants Cawl had provided were put into use with the utmost speed by Lin.

The technology was still unrefined, but the Hunters of the Second Legion already possessed physiques far exceeding those of ordinary Astartes — more than capable of withstanding the side effects of such implants and putting the Sinew Coils to full use.

These veterans, having already been through one round of modification, now wielded strength far beyond what they'd had before.

Theodore felt the power surging through every fiber of his body. He leapt at a Castellax-class Automaton without a shred of fear.

"BREAK!"

His Great Sword came down in an overhead strike, tearing metal with an ear-splitting shriek. Powered by the Sinew Coils, the blade sheared straight through the automaton's outer plating in an instant, showering sparks in every direction.

The automaton tried to raise its gear-blade to strike back, but Theodore's second blow cut it clean off before it could rise. He wrenched the blade — buried deep in the machine's torso — with brutal force, splitting the massive construct clean down the middle.

The moment it split, the automaton's atomantic reactor core detonated in a violent sympathetic blast, and the wreckage crashed to the ground, scattering debris everywhere.

The Priests overseeing the Battle-Automata nearby could only stare, dumbstruck, at what they'd just witnessed.

"Omnissiah above — we really did just witness the Omnissiah himself, damn it!"

It felt like watching an ordinary man walk up and pull off a slide tackle that flattened everything — it shattered the Priests' faith in the Legio Cybernetica completely.

Everyone present was struck with horror at the sight — everyone, that is, except Theodore, who wasn't satisfied that it had taken him two strikes to cleave the automaton apart.

As the smoke from the explosion cleared, he turned to shout at Admidel, who was nearby slicing through an automaton's cabling with a wyvern blade: "Chapter Master, I don't think that was strong enough!"

"Then let's bring out the Felynes. Music!"

A siege tank rumbled onto the scene. Besides providing fire support, a Felyne popped open the commander's hatch, pulled out a Hunting Horn, and leaned against the top of the turret to start playing.

Golden Psychic energy wove itself into the edges of every blade as the Felyne played, subtly strengthening the Astartes' every strike. Theodore could barely contain his excitement.

"Yes, yes, yes! Even my strikes have grown fangs now!"

The Soul Drinkers alone could never have taken Magma City, of course. But add genuine siege tanks and buff-slinging Felynes to the mix, and it was an entirely different matter.

The combat power these newly reinforced warriors displayed sent a chill down Augustus's spine. Reassessing the battlefield based on how fast they were tearing through his Battle-Automata, he arrived at a terrifying conclusion.

Long before Vashtorr made it back, these Soul Drinkers would carve straight through Magma City!

Losing a few production lines was now the least of his worries — Augustus's real fear was that the Astartes would fight their way to the teleportation device and destroy it.

All he could do was rush word of the situation to Vashtorr, who could only stare in disbelief upon hearing the latest news from Magma City.

This was no ordinary Magos anymore. He understood he had to strike back with full force.

But what force did he actually have left to strike with?

He could no longer be bothered wondering how Lin was pulling all this off. His thoughts had already jumped straight to how he might salvage Magma City from disaster.

Losing the dangerous technology was one thing, but the production lines — those he had to bring back no matter what.

If the Astartes seized the teleportation device, he wouldn't be able to bring back a single scrap of the production lines or the cultists he'd gained on Mars.

Vashtorr had already committed too much of his own power to Mars. He was a gambler who'd staked everything, and having already played every card in his hand, the only way left to avoid losing it all was to bet himself as well.

"Have I no choice but to descend on Mars myself..."

Vashtorr studied Augustus. This cultist had disappointed his expectations time and again, but this time, he could offer up a value that would never let him down.

"Augustus. Do you wish to become one with me?"

Augustus froze for a moment, but he quickly understood what Vashtorr meant.

Beneath the veneer of technology lay the substance of religion, and Augustus had long since become an unshakable believer in Vashtorr's identity as the Omnissiah.

Now, faced with the chance to offer himself up to the Omnissiah with his own hands, the Archmagos's voice began to tremble with excitement.

"Great Omnissiah, to merge with you is the honor of my entire life! I offer up everything I have — my steel, my soul — all for your descent!"

"Very good, Augustus. Gather every Priest. We shall prepare the ritual."

Not every Priest held the same fervor as Augustus, but the moment they had pledged themselves to Vashtorr, their lives had already ceased to be their own.

Led forward by the Master Forger, they could only be herded to the altar in helpless despair, bundled together as fuel, witnessing the start of the ritual in the final moment of their lives.

Vashtorr's ritual was blunt and simple. As twelve Priests — Augustus himself included — stepped onto the altar, Augustus, as the intended vessel, felt his consciousness begin to blur.

It felt as though some invisible force was dragging him into an endless void.

He no longer possessed any physical form in any meaningful sense, yet he gained a sharp perception that saw through to the essence of things. When his gaze fell upon Vashtorr's true form in the Warp, his fervor gave way, for a single instant, to sudden clarity.

"You're not the Omnissiah? You...!"

That final flash of clarity changed nothing. Vashtorr swallowed Augustus's soul in a single bite. Augustus dissolved completely, his body and soul becoming fuel for Vashtorr's descent.

"Not the true Omnissiah? Hmph..."

Augustus's final words left Vashtorr faintly displeased.

The Omnissiah had never truly existed to begin with — it was a concept fabricated by the Magos Moravec.

That shard of a star-god imprisoned within Mars's Labyrinth could never accept the faith of these cogboys. If he could ascend to a Warp divinity through malefic craft, Vashtorr believed he himself would be the god who best fit the true definition of the Omnissiah.

But for now, he was not.

The essence granted him by Tzeentch and Slaanesh both only circled at the threshold of malefic craft. Even with every effort to gather up the essences tied to forging and technology, he remained far from true godhood.

Scattered fragments of lesser essence existed too — pieces from the likes of Vaul, the Eldar god of craft — but the greatest obstacle was that the Accursed One had already gathered more than half the essence of forging before him, and bestowed it upon his 'child' —

— the Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion, Vulkan, Lord of the Fire Dragon.

"I will become the true Omnissiah. That day won't be long in coming."

'Augustus' rose slowly from the center of the altar. Those around him fell to their knees in awe, prostrating themselves before the descended Omnissiah.

Vashtorr took stock of this new body. As he flexed his power through it, he felt countless wrecks beneath Magma City answering him from afar.

"Good thing I chose Magma City."

Vashtorr, brimming with confidence: "Lin. Your arrogance will be settled here, once and for all."

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