Spirit took off, floating away at a speed Angar struggled to match. She turned right, disappearing through a much larger, grander door.

  As he approached, the smooth door hissed as it shot upwards, vanishing into the wall.

  He followed, his bare feet pounding the foam floor, entering a perfectly shaped and straight artificial passage that stretched wide and high, and went far into the distance.

  Another flying machine, which Spirit had named a drone, whirred from behind, its red lights pulsing like angry eyes. "Warning! Non-compliance and violent acts are not tolerated during emergencies. Comply or face immediate consequences. Continued non-compliance or aggression will trigger lethal force protocols.”

  Angar approached. “Comply immediately or face termination," it blared, its voice sharp and grating.

  He swiped with his maul, its chert head glowing dimly as it arced through the air.

  The drone was too quick, its movements nearly a blur. It dodged, banking left gracefully, its red lights trailing like streaks of blood against the passage’s stark walls.

  Angar’s swing missed by a hairsbreadth, a groan of frustration escaping his throat as the drone broadcast louder, "Non-compliance detected. Lethal response protocols activated," its tone now laced with a chilling finality.

  A panel on its underside slid open with a metallic click, revealing a glowing-thing pulsing malevolently. A beam of searing light shot forth, a razor-thin line aimed at Angar’s chest.

  He wasn’t expecting or prepared for that, and the beam struck true, burning pain flaring where it landed, as if a white-hot brand had been pressed into his flesh. He staggered back, a hiss escaping his lips as the smell of scorched skin filled the air.

  The beam-emitter glowed again, its light intensifying with a menacing hum. Angar dove to the side, his body hitting the foam floor with a heavy thud, the beam scorching the spot where he’d stood moments before. It left a smoking hole in the foam, the edges blackened and curling as a faint, acrid smell wafted upward.

  The drone’s beam fired again, a streak of blinding light that hissed through the air. Angar rolled, barely avoiding it, the heat singeing his skin as it passed, leaving a stinging trail across his shoulder that felt like a lash of fire.

  He leapt to his feet with a roar, his maul swinging through the air in a wide arc, the chert head clanking on the edge of the drone with a jarring clang that reverberated up his arms.

  The drone warbled, let out a distorted, high-pitched screech like a wounded animal, and tried flying away, its movements erratic.

  But Angar was relentless, hitting it squarely with a hard blow. The impact shattered its shell with a sharp crack, sending sparks erupting all over in a cascade of white-hot flecks over the dim passage.

  The drone spiraled into the wall with a metallic crack, bounced off, and landed on the floor in a smoking heap.

  He hit it a few more times before glancing toward Spirit, who floated ahead without comment. He ran after her, the drone's wreckage crackling behind him.

  Spirit hadn’t even stopped. Her silence bothered him, and the rushing. Still, he trusted her. She led him through blood and ruin before, and he’d follow her to death itself.

  She took a new passage, and Angar followed, emerging into a wide, open gallery. The space was vast, its walls glinting with faint strips of light that flickered erratically, as if the ship’s ancient circuits gasped for life.

  Spirit halted, her glow dimming slightly as she turned to him. "Brace yourself. These machines guard their sections with blind devotion. They’re not as brittle as the drones." With that, she darted into the next chamber, a cavernous expanse awaiting his fury.

  Angar charged after her, maul raised, prepared for glorious battle.

  The chamber had many metal machines within, some arriving from side passages, all on the far side of the chamber.

  Three drones hovered, their red lights pulsing and beam-emitters glowing.

  There were three machines shaped somewhat like men, two of which were much larger and more imposing. Those two advanced, spinning blades coming out of the end of their arms. The smaller man-machine blared out, "Warning! Lethal force authorized.”

  Two machines almost resembled d’klars, sleek and predatory, but far smaller than those great beasts, and flanked the smaller man-machine, their eyes glowing menacingly.

  The drones flew forward, making the journey in a flash.

  Angar charged the nearest drone. It fired a beam, but he ducked, the light searing his bicep, almost causing him to drop his hammer.

  He noticed the drones froze when firing. When the beam-emitter glowed brighter, he swung his maul, smashing its underside and sending sparks raining as it crashed.

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  The second drone dove forward as he rolled aside, its beam almost getting him. Angar rolled toward the third drone. As it prepared to fire, he leapt, crushing it mid-air and sending its wreckage clanking off a wall.

  The last drone banked and fired. Angar rolled, the beam scorching some shiny thing he hid behind. He rolled back near the first drone’s wreckage, hurled a broken piece, striking the last one squarely, and it plummeted, exploding in a shower of metal.

  The two larger man-machines closed in, their hand-blades whirring. "Non-compliance detected. Terminate," one intoned as it slashed.

  Angar parried with his maul’s head, the blade screeching against sanctified chert in a shower of sparks. The second man-machine lunged, its blade aimed at his neck, but he spun, smashing its arm, snapping it off.

  He slammed his maul into his opponent’s chest, crumpling it inward, and it staggered, the humming noise it made becoming a whine.

  He grinned through the pain. These machines were fast, clever even, but they lacked soul. They were nothing like the reavers’ feral cunning. He’d break them all.

  The first man-machine slashed again, managing to cut his thigh, sending a spray of blood out, but Angar crushed its head in retribution, propelling it backward to the ground where it stayed unmoving.

  He turned. The small man-machine hadn’t moved, but the d’klar-machines by its side ran forward in a blur, moving much faster than he assumed they could, much faster than d’klars could move. A thrill sparked in his chest with new prey to test his might against.

  One of the d’klar-machines leapt in, some type of crackling thing poking out of its chest. Like the beam-emitter of the drones, this crackling thing fired, and the projectile it shot forward struck Angar's chest.

  Pain exploded, a strange type that felt almost like lightning. He noticed the projectile lodged in his chest was connected to the crackling-thing still protruding from the machine. He yanked on it, sending the machine flying to him. He seized its leg and hurled it into the second d’klar-machine, sending both crashing to the ground sparking.

  The one he threw rose, the crackling-thing beginning to glow again, but Angar ran forward and stomped its head before it could fire, then stomped its body, crushing its frame inward, but also cutting deep into his foot.

  As he stomped again, sparks flew, lights flickered, and the air filled with the screech of grinding metal. The second d’klar-machine lunged.

  These machines didn’t look like they had mouths. He was worried about the crackle-emitter, so he was avoiding where that thing was aimed. He wasn’t worried about the head at all, not until it opened and bit into his leg, the teeth piercing deeply.

  He brought his hammer down on it with tremendous force, and then again, and again, until its lights stopped shining.

  The smaller man-machine blared, "Lethal force engaged. Terminate.” It raised an arm, and where a hand should be emerged the same type of crackle-emitter the d’klar-machines had in their chests.

  Angar charged as a sparkling projectile connected to a cord flew at him. He spun around it and continued toward his target. The cord fell from the machine’s arm and a new sparkling projectile appeared, shooting at Angar.

  He spun around this one too, his maul smashing into his enemy, crushing its torso, shutting it up.

  The chamber was littered with wreckage and flickering sparks. Angar, blood dripping from his wounds, hoped Theosis would send a message praising this victory.

  Spirit floated over. "More robots are coming. Let’s go. There’s a better room to fight them all in nearby."

  Angar grunted. He hoped he’d get a chance to tend his wounds beforehand.

  He liked fighting these machines. He felt like he was learning a lot. He hoped there were many more types of them. More powerful ones that put up a better fight too.

  They reached the room where he’d make his stand, a cramped chamber with a single, narrow entrance. The air thickened, metallic and acrid, as if the walls, etched with hairline fractures, wheezed centuries of decay.

  Faint blue lights pulsed faster along the seams, casting jagged shadows, and Angar hefted his maul, eager for the storm to break.

  There, he made his stand, and machine after machine broke on his sanctified maul. Wave after wave came, giving him glorious battle, a nearly endless stream of it.

  He found out there were many more types of machines, but the ones that came later were less adept at fighting, so as his injuries piled up, his enemies weakened, which worked out well.

  The battle lasted a long, grueling span of time. It felt like days. He had no way to tell.

  When it was over, he had many more injuries oozing blood, and his skin itched like mad.

  As Angar caught his breath, Theosis sent him a new message.

  Behold, Holy Knight. Though these iron-clad foes were neither the accursed Hellspawn nor the vile Heretic, in the Three’s name, your hammer has made a hymn of righteous slaughter, its notes drenched in the blood of the unworthy.

  The all-seeing gaze of Theosis, the Divine System, pierces the veil of your soul, witnessing your struggle to correct past mistakes. It commends you, Crusader, for now embracing your vows with the utmost solemnity.

  It praises your efforts to purge this beleaguered world of the spawn of Hell. Against the wicked undead and the merciless reavers, you have wrought victories bathed in the searing light of purity, your wrath a relentless storm, your glee a righteous exultation in the crucible of war.

  The Holy Empire demands more of such fervent zeal, Crusader, until our last foe is cast down, or you are exalted as a blessed martyr, your name enshrined in the Litany of Heroes. Hold fast to the faith, let hatred for the spawn of Hell blaze within your heart, guiding you along the blood-soaked path of glory.

  Though such perilous deeds fall more readily to the hallowed ranks of The Arm of the Divine chapter, or the shadowed blades of the various Free Agencies, you are present, your flesh already scourged by the deadly kiss of radiation, and Imperial Law allows abeyance of the Parousia Protocols in this instance.

  Thus, Theosis, in Its infinite wisdom, commands you: venture further into the Steadfast, that ancient ark of mankind, to the drive core. Awaken the ship's Director AI.

  Upon your success, a Glorious Achievement, coveted by all, shall be bestowed, and your trial of purification shall be ended.

  Hasten, for the drive core bleeds zero-point-energy radiation, a silent reaper that gnaws at your mortal coil. Perform this sacred task with utmost speed, then extinguish all power of the Steadfast, even the flickering embers of emergency power that have sustained it, lest the radiation claim you.

  For God and Empire!

  Angar’s blood-slick hand tightened around the maul, the itch beneath his skin flaring as if the radiation itself answered Theosis’ call.

  “Our goal was always the core drive,” stated Spirit. “I told you we’d try for that Glorious Achievement. First, we’re heading to the only medical bay along the way. You’ll never survive a fight against all the engimachs as wounded as you are. Come.”