Deus in Machina (a Warhammer 40K-setting inspired LitRPG)

"And this is one of our Genitoriums, where most of our imperial children are born," Venerable Sister Kenson announced as she ushered Angar inside.

He wasn't sure how to feel about the place.

It was a vast and cavernous sanctum, its high and vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate tracery that reflected the greenish glow radiating from the vat-chambers below.

Over the vats, thin conduits pulsed like veins, weaving throughout the chamber.

Along the floor stretched rows of clustered cylindrical tanks, their translucent walls brimming with emerald fluid. Within each, the shadowy forms of developing infants floated, connected to the machine in the center of the cluster by a tendril.

He had assumed the Ecclesiastic would oversee this task, but instead, it was Laymen who worked here. Clad as other workmen he'd seen, they walked among the tanks, operating crystalline consoles, while their steps and the hum of machinery blended in with the gentle bubbling of the countless vats.

To Angar, 'born' didn't seem the right word for these children. They were grown. Cultivated in a process, one that felt unnatural.

Near the Genitorium lay a Nursery they'd already toured, alive with the cries of newborns plucked from these vats, among them, and indistinguishable from them, those tithed to the Church from Layfolk.

Unlike this facility, the Nursery and every other building Angar had toured was staffed entirely by the Ecclesiastic, and all women.

He'd spotted a Laymen occasionally here and there around campus, but they were rare exceptions. Here, though, every worker was male.

The sister had said Laymen working at the Cloisteranage had to be married, like the bearded, one-armed veteran, Simo, providing his duties mostly kept him at a distance from the sisters.

Half the Cloisteranages in the Holy Empire were staffed by male clergy. Society at large discouraged mixed-gender workplaces, but the Ecclesiastic, forbidden from marrying, was especially strict.

Before stepping inside the Genitorium, Kenson had casually mentioned that the babies were conceived using real sperm and eggs, though she offered no details on how these items were collected.

As far as Angar knew, considering the achievement Theosis had sent him about it, his own seed was being used to father children he'd never meet or know, causing a bitter unease to grow in his chest. He didn't like that.

As the tour continued, his mind drifted to his tense meeting with Commander Wallace of the Eyes of Providence. Accompanying the commander were a high-ranking judge and a clergywoman from their chapter.

With Heretics seeking Angar's death for unknown reasons, the trio agreed he was likely not a Heretic himself, and untainted by dark influence, but they still demanded retribution for his actions.

Angar had only slain one Knight, Mithas, not the other two he had defeated. But he had killed over fifty Lay soldiers, whom the Eyes staunchly defended as innocent. They demanded not only an apology from Angar, but also severe punishment.

Angar saw things very differently. He demanded the same from them – an apology and severe punishment for all members of the Eyes.

If he had acted wrongly, he was sure Holy Theosis would've mentioned it, as it had when he erupted Mount Shirdis and killed many actual innocents.

Neither side was willing to budge.

Kenson, after recounting the brutal torture Angar endured, sought to heal the rift rather than solely defend him. Instead of demanding an apology and punishment, she urged the Eyes to protect Angar and launch an inquisition.

But, as the appointed arbiter, only Zyrakth Klyss, the Reptiloid captain, held the authority to settle the dispute. He declared both parties had acted wrongly, but blood had been repaid with blood. He decreed the scales balanced, the slate wiped clean, and that neither side would harbor grudges moving forward.

The revelation that the planet's highest-ranking Ecclesiastic had been a Heretic made this situation more important than egos and grudges.

The Eyes, whose sole purpose was to root out such corruption, anticipated further attempts on Angar's life, and the unmasking of additional Heretics lurking in the shadows.

They agreed to keep Angar under close watch and initiate an official inquisition.

After that meeting, Kenson had said, "The Eyes have tallied the loot from the abomination and Hellspawn carcasses." Abomination was a term used for Heretics twisted by maleficia into grotesque creatures.

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"With credits split eight ways," she continued, "you and I each claimed an eighth. Simo got nothing." Her eyes hardened to slate and stared into his own. "I propose we pool our credits and give him a third. Fair's fair."

"Of course," he replied without hesitation, seeing no reason not to, as the man had joined in battle the same as her and the others.

Kenson's lips curved approvingly. "Good. I'll hold your third, then. Students have scant need for credits and end up using them on sinful indulgences."

After the Genitorium, the tour proceeded with Angar having his head and face shaved, then being measured for the standard student uniform.

The daily outfits students wore were called sweatsuits, or sweats, and none fit his frame right, so he needed some specially made.

He also needed a more formal garment tailored, worn for the grand Sunday Mass, a larger, more significant service, mandatory for everyone employed at the Cloisteranage. There was also a daily Mass, but it was only mandatory for students and clergy.

Next, Angar was led to one of the boys' dormitories for the Scholarium. There, he received a bunk and a chest for his belongings, along with a lock and key to keep them secure. At that point, his only possession was his maul, currently stored at Kenson's home, which she referred to as her rectory.

The bunk looked far too small for him. Due to his weight, he was given the bottom bed.

They crossed a vast expanse of trampled grass, its edges marked by sacred sigils etched into stone.

"This is Harrow Field," Kenson stated. "Here, students hone their skills with combat drills and navigate the obstacle course. During evening free time, students hold fighting tournaments at the far end. As a Knight, student or not, it'd be unfair for you to join the fights."

She gestured toward a fortified structure with a spire off on the other side. "That hall is where we train the few students gifted with psychic potential, or those who've already manifested as Psychics."

"How do you detect this ability?" asked Angar. "Could I have it?"

Kenson turned, giving him a sharp look before she resumed her stride. "Doubtful. Natural potential manifests during puberty, but a rare and lucky few are sometimes granted a Feat unlocking potential later in life."

Her tone grew stern. "Even if you had the Feat available now, you won't be ascending to the second Tier unless you survive the Grim Ordeals, so put it out of your mind."

He had studied every Feat available to him, and none hinted at psychic abilities. His knowledge of Psychics was scant. He wondered if they were formidable enough to justify a precious Feat slot on. He wished the option was at least on the table for him, but the sister's words left little room for hope.

Kenson then guided him to a classroom. Upon entering, all the students stood at attention, saluting, hands pounding hearts, and her gentle, elderly demeanor that had accompanied him across the campus vanished, replaced by an unmistakable air of authority.

The students looked dirty, and most had black eyes, broken lips, or some signs of fighting.

"Boys!" Kenson declared. "Take your seats."

After the room settled, she said, "This is a new student. He is a Holy Knight, raised from the Laity when his lost planet was invaded by the Underworld and joined our Holy Empire.

"However, like all students, he will not be addressed by any title or honorific. His name is Angar Mecia. Make him feel welcome. Anyone causing trouble will get the tawse and face extra physical training during free time."

With that, Kenson nodded sharply at Angar, then turned to the clergywoman at the front of the class. "Sister Licht, may I speak with you in the hall?"

Both women stepped out, the door clicking shut behind them. Every student's gaze fixed on Angar. Snickers erupted from the group, growing louder as they stared. One voice, edged with mockery, asked, "Why do you look so weird?"

A strange, unfamiliar sensation swelled within Angar. His face flushed hot, and he shifted awkwardly on his feet, his instincts urging him to leave this room.

In Mecia, the boys and men had traded jabs, but it was always in good fun. This was different, spiteful, as if these students, supposedly all his age, were determined to make him feel more awkward and unwelcomed.

Which was strange, since he was certain he could kill them all with little effort.

Looking around, he couldn't see these students as men, only children, so wouldn't kill any. He did want to fit in, so he steadied himself and said, "Where I come from, I don't."

Another asked, "What's wrong with your hands?"

Before Angar could answer, a different student, taller than most of the others and brimming with confidence, his face clear of signs of fighting, leaned forward, a sneer curling his lips. "Crawl back to whatever forsaken muckhole you call home, freak. Nobody wants you here."

The vicious words stabbed into Angar like a weapon, banishing every trace of awkwardness and igniting a blazing fury in their place.

His body was still battered and littered with wounds, but his face hardened as he surged forward, his bulky frame cutting through the crowd of students who leapt to block his path to the still-grinning instigator.

Their efforts were futile, as were their punches. He could barely feel their blows. He brushed aside their clutching hands with ease, as though swatting away flies, and flung off those who leapt onto his back, sending them crashing to the floor.

With every step closer, that student's smug grin faltered, dissolving like fog.

By the time Angar stood a pace away, the boy's bravado had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed terror as he scrambled backward, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Angar's monstrous hand shot out, clamping around the student's skull with iron force, and slammed his face into the desk with a loud thud.

The blow's force was deliberate and firm enough to injure, but restrained, as Angar had no desire to kill, only to teach a lesson. Though they were the same age, he couldn't see this boy as an opponent, but as an unworthy and spoiled weakling with no honor.

He had no real basis on how to respond to this situation, only knowing he couldn't let the remark pass unchallenged. The punishment felt right to him, a clear signal to everyone he would not tolerate disrespect.

The door exploded open with a deafening bang as the two sisters stormed in, their faces alight with outrage. "What is going on here?" Kenson roared, her bark shrieking through the room.

She jabbed a finger at two students. "You two, bring Leopold to the Aedificium Medicum. Now!"

Then, whirling on Angar, she rushed forward, seizing his ear with a pinch like steel. "And you, to the rectoria's office. Move!"