Awakening this old warrior had been scheduled for late at night, when things were quieter. Ignis did not want the process of waking the veteran inside the Leviathan to be disturbed by anything.
He was mainly worried that when the old warrior woke up to a completely unfamiliar world and a group of strangers, he might feel lost and panic, which could then erupt into sudden aggression.
Although the Leviathan's power system had been removed and it could not activate for now, if they did not prepare thoroughly, who knew—after repairs were complete, this Imperial Fists Leviathan Siege dreadnoughtmight start running around and picking fights with people everywhere.
Especially since the residents of New Eridu included plenty of robots that had passed Forbidden Fruit Test. If things went wrong, it could easily become big news.
Ignis arranged a circle of scented candles around the gantry crane—his usual workshop type. Billy had gone and bought a hundred of them. Pure handmade things like these weren't cheap; he had spent quite a bit.
Grace looked at Ignis busying himself, puzzled. "Why do you need incense to wake the pilot inside? Though… the scent is actually rather pleasant."
Ignis knelt on one knee and reverently placed several candles together, then lit them with a lighter. When he finished, he handed some candles to Grace.
"You place a few as well. I drew a circle on the ground—place them along the lines. You can put four or five together like this to speed things up, then light them."
The Steel Witch did not fully understand, but she still followed his instructions. During the process, the aroma soothed her excited nerves, calming her down. She had heard a great deal today from Ignis about the Leviathan's history, and now understood deeply what kind of honored warrior qualified to be interred within such a sarcophagus. She also knew that Leviathan-class Dreadnoughts inflicted tolls on their pilots; the mind within might not be entirely stable.
"This is a kind of ritual. Normally, the ceremony for awakening a Leviathan would require Techmarines, Apothecaries, even the Chapter Master present." Ignis spoke calmly as he arranged the candles. "He should have awakened surrounded by his battle-brothers… ideally with a few familiar peers or juniors."
"But here, in New Eridu, it seems I'm the only one left. Even though we were from different Chapters, at least we come from the same bloodline. I hope he can hold onto his sanity after waking. If he truly cannot…"
Ignis did not continue. He was grateful Grace had removed the Leviathan's power system. Otherwise, even if damaged, in true Warhammer fashion, if the old warrior inside got emotional, the machine-spirit might get emotional too and the broken power system might suddenly come back online.
Now, with even the power system gone, there was no way power could just appear out of thin air and make this terrifying war machine move.
"It sounds like… all of you carry heavy burdens." Though Grace did not fully understand what Ignis meant, she knew he was a good man—he had once helped Belobog Heavy Industries deal with those thugs blocking the door without accepting any extra payment.
"If he can wake properly, maybe being here will actually be a good thing." Ignis watched as the candle in his hand slowly burned down while the flames grew in number on the floor. "He must have experienced unimaginably brutal battles to end up this damaged. There is no war in New Eridu. I hope he can rest here."
"If he's willing to stay and join us, that'd be amazing." Grace placed the last group of candles and lit them. The fragrance rose with the smoke. The Imperial Fists were known for their mastery in fortifications—people always joked they were civil engineers. If he really joined Belobog Heavy Industries, he would practically be returning to his specialty.
"Lower it a bit now." Ignis stepped outside the circle and spoke to Grace.
The Steel Witch pressed the gantry crane controls. With heavy vibration and noise, the hydraulic system lowered the Leviathan Leviathan. Once its legs touched the ground, Grace immediately stopped.
"Brother, I do not know where you are from, nor your name." Ignis gently stroked the front armor of the Leviathan, which was covered in scars.
There were gouges from autocannon rounds, but most of the marks were scorches from meltas, ion weapons, and similar heat-based armaments. Just touching them left Ignis shaken. What kind of ferocious firepower… what kind of formidable enemy… could have broken a Leviathan's shields and scarred its adamantine plate so deeply?
Ignis found a nameplate on the armor. It read: "Wrath of Terra — Gotthardt Stahlgriff."
Stahlgriff, meaning Iron Grip, echoed the Imperial Fists' emblem: a clenched fist, unwavering will, an indomitable warrior spirit.
At least knowing his name would help the awakening go smoother.
Ignis signaled Grace to unbolt the sarcophagus armor. The Steel Witch lifted a heavy power wrench and removed the bolts, revealing the life-support system inside.
Ignis opened it reverently. Inside lay a middle-aged warrior. He bore the classic features of an Imperial Fists Astartes—his face as hard as stone, jaw clenched, even his jawline looked forged from steel. His eye sockets were deep and tightly closed, his breathing steady.
Ignis had no idea what the proper awakening protocol looked like, but he had his own method.
"What you're about to see and hear must remain secret," Ignis warned Grace sternly. "These things… are better left separate from your everyday life."
"Mm, I understand." Grace nodded. "What do I need to do?"
"Nothing. Just wait a little."
Ignis removed his helmet and set it on the floor. He needed the old warrior to clearly see that the one waking him was a Son of Vulkan. Then he reached for the psychic flame left by The Emperor, guiding it into his right hand.
The massive power fist began to emit a gentle golden glow—unlike the brilliant radiance used against Chaos. This light was soft, calm.
Ignis carefully extended his index finger and touched the unconscious warrior's chest, guiding the power toward his heart.
Thump… thump. Ignis felt Gotthardt's heartbeat—strong and powerful, as expected of an Adeptus Astartes. Through the warrior's blood, he channeled the Emperor's psychic warmth into every corner of Gotthardt's body.
To Grace, it looked like a stream of golden light flowed from Ignis's fingertip into the damaged, sleeping warrior. His blood vessels lit up, visible beneath the skin.
The process lasted only a few seconds before Ignis heard coughing.
"I remember… I was fighting the traitors…" Gotthardt awoke, his voice weak.
The ancient warrior opened his eyes and found a dark-skinned, red-eyed Salamander in green power armor. He looked overwhelmingly relieved.
"Cough… it's you! Sons of Vulkan!" he exclaimed in excitement. "You're here! That means they failed! We… we won the war!"
He tried to move his body, but nothing responded, and he let out a frustrated shout.
"Damn it! My chassis is damaged. I remember fighting traitors—damned Sons of Horus! Those disgraceful wretches tried tunneling beneath us. Lord Dorn sent us to set a trap before the Saturnine Wall. But before I could witness the battle's end, I lost consciousness."
Gotthardt looked up at Ignis. "But you're here—so the encirclement must have been broken! We won! Tell me—what happened to those traitors? And my battle-brothers? Are they well?"
Freshly awakened, the old warrior's excitement overwhelmed Ignis. His rapid-fire questions left Ignis scrambling.
"Your Leviathan's power system was damaged and has been removed. It will be replaced later. For now, you need rest." Ignis did not yet intend to tell him about New Eridu—most people could not handle discovering they were in another world altogether.
"From your words, you served during the Siege of Terra. Allow me to offer my respect." Ignis knelt on one knee and tapped his chest plate with his right fist.
"Yes. I, Gotthardt Stahlgriff, fought with the First Assault Battalion at the Lion's Gate Spaceport against the Iron Warriors. Then I was reassigned to the Saturnine ambush." Gotthardt spoke with pride. "I am a son of Terra, an old veteran who left here for the Great Crusade. To return and defend the Imperial Palace is my highest honor. Since you are here, the war must be won. Where is your Primarch? Has Lord Vulkan arrived? When do we counterattack—or have I awakened too late and the counterattack is already over?"
"I'm sorry. I am not from your era. I come from the 40th Millennium—ten thousand years after your time. I did not fight in your age. The Siege of Terra is long past. Few truly know how it ended. But the traitors were repelled, and the rebellion was ultimately crushed." Ignis chose his words carefully.
"The… 40th Millennium?" The crippled warrior froze. "I've slept that long?"
He examined Ignis's armor. It truly differed from their era. And even for a Salamander, this young warrior was far too tall—none of the battle-brothers he fought beside had ever been this tall. They couldn't even reach his shoulders.
"Then… has the Imperium become better? Has the war ended?" Gotthardt's question left Ignis completely stunned, unable to answer.