Chapter 16 – Knowledge of the Warp
The workshop had fallen into silence, heavy enough to press on the chest. The hum of machines, like background noise swallowed by the weight of what had just been spoken.
Tony Stark sat hunched forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, one hand pressed across his mouth as if holding back words that wanted to spill out but refused to form. His eyes, sharp and always quick to analyze, lingered on the armored giant standing near the center of the room.
Gaius stood tall, helm tucked in the crook of his arm, his blue and gold plate gleaming under the workshop lights. He had been still since finishing his last words, as though carved from stone. His calm was unsettling, there was no boasting in his voice, no attempt at intimidation. Just truth, plain and unmoving.
Director Fury leaned against one of the metal worktables, arms crossed, the dim reflection of his single eye caught in the polished surface. Agent Coulson stood at his side, tablet clutched tight, his knuckles pale. None of them seemed ready to speak first.
Finally, Tony broke the silence. His voice was low, more strained than he intended.
"Why? Why did humanity become like yours?" He looked up, his expression caught between anger and disbelief. "I've seen… things. In the chat. The future you come from, it was chaos. Worlds burning, people exterminated, demons. Why did it all go that way?"
Fury's head turned sharply at the words. "Worlds burning? Demons?" His tone cut like a knife. Coulson's eyes widened as he realized Stark knew more than them.
But all three turned back to the giant. Gaius did not flinch.
"As the son of Roboute Guilliman," Gaius began, his deep voice carrying steady through the workshop, "I studied what history I could of the Imperium. Yet even I know little. Records are fragments. Truths are half-buried beneath centuries of silence. Most of my life, most of my centuries, have been spent in war."
The word struck the air like a hammer.
Fury narrowed his eye. "Centuries?" He leaned forward. "Just how long have you lived?"
There was no hesitation. Gaius met his stare directly, his expression calm.
"More than three hundred years. And by the measure of my kind, I am a veteran, but there are many far, far more older than me."
Coulson's grip on his tablet faltered, and the device nearly slipped from his hands. He fumbled to steady it, staring at the warrior with his mouth half-open, unable to form words. Even Tony sat back in his chair, muttering something under his breath before rubbing at his face with one hand.
Fury stayed quiet a moment longer, then asked, his tone softer but edged with weight, "Then tell me. Who were humanity's enemies?"
Gaius exhaled slowly. His gaze turned downward for the first time, as though weighing the burden of memory.
"Chaos and daemons. Rebellions. And xenos."
The words landed one by one. Fury and Coulson both latched onto the last two, rebellions they understood, aliens they could imagine. But the first hung in the air, unfamiliar and unsettling.
"Chaos?" Fury asked. His voice was calm, but his eye was sharp. "What do you mean by that? And what kind of demons are you talking about?"
Gaius lowered himself to one of the reinforced couches built for Stark's heavy machinery tests. The frame groaned faintly under his weight, the cushions bending but holding. His armor seemed almost out of place in the modern workshop, yet it made him look all the more immovable.
He rested his helm on the table beside him and spoke, his tone measured, as though each word carried a responsibility.
"The Warp. The Immaterium. It is the realm that underlies all things. To your eyes, it might be called another dimension, a sea of thought and spirit. It is where the intangible resides, souls, emotions, dreams. But it is not a place of peace. It is the home of daemons. Creatures born of emotion, feeding on it. Fear, anger, despair, they are sustenance to them. They whisper to men, twist them, corrupt them until they become slaves to Chaos. Even the knowledge of it is dangerous. For when one peers too long into the sea… the sea may look back."
The room seemed colder for a moment.
Tony's fingers drummed against his knee, the rhythm uneven. Coulson had stopped taking notes entirely, tablet hanging at his side as he listened, pale and silent. Fury's expression had hardened, but even he could not hide the tension in his jaw.
After a moment, Tony leaned forward, voice rough.
"I studied your armor earlier, when you took it off." His words picked up pace, as if speaking could push back the unease. "Especially that reactor you wear on your back. It's stable, efficient, cleaner than anything I've ever designed. But there's no computer in it. nothing to help you fight. Why? Why does your tech look so advanced in some ways, but in others… like it stepped backward centuries?"
Gaius inclined his head slowly, as though expecting the question.
"Because of the Warp. Even the smallest machine with a mind, even the most simple artificial intelligence, can be touched. It becomes a weapon for the enemy. It becomes a door for corruption. That is why AI is forbidden in the Imperium."
The words cut deep into Stark. He sat still for once, jaw tightening. For him, AI was the foundation of progress, the core of what he built, the extension of himself. To hear it declared dangerous, not by theory but Truths and experiences, shook him more than he cared to admit.
Silence lingered until Tony asked again, more quietly this time.
"Then how do you even put it on? That armor, you don't just slip into it. If you can't use machines or AI to help, what do you do? You can't possibly manage it alone."
Gaius's eyes lifted, steady as stone.
"Servitors and Chapter Serfs. Servitors are men made into machines. Their minds stripped, their bodies reforged into tools. They labor without complaint. Chapter Serfs are men and women sworn to serve from birth, their lives dedicated to the care of warriors like myself. Between them, the armor is donned quickly, and without failure."
Coulson's throat tightened, his face showing the faintest flicker of unease. The thought of men turned into machines, their humanity carved away, gnawed at something deep in him. Stark stared down at the floor, lips pressed into a thin line. Fury only listened, though the weight in his stare was unmistakable.
The workshop was quiet again, but this silence was not the awkward pause of before. It was the silence of men grappling with truths too large to measure, truths that pressed down on the soul like a weight.
Fury broke it first. His voice was calm, but each word carried the gravity of a man who had seen the world tilt in a single night.
"If even half of what you said is true… then we're standing in the shadow of something far bigger than any of us."
Stark leaned back, one hand running through his hair, the words escaping him in a mutter.
"…And it makes my problems look like child's play."
Coulson said nothing. He only looked at the giant seated before them, his pen forgotten, the tablet dark in his hand.
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