Terra Aeterna: The Rise of Humanity's War Machine

Kenthelion could still feel the warmth of the two beautiful women tangled in his arms. He shot a glance toward Carmen, who stood nearby, visibly torn between her sense of decorum and the madness unfolding before her.

"Captain Carmen," he said with a teasing lilt, "if you just stand there much longer, I'm afraid you'll have lost before even making a move."

"You cocky bastard…" Carmen growled through clenched teeth. "Fine. Let's teach him a lesson he won't forget!"

Deborah was relentless, throwing punches and kicks in a flurry of motion. But to Kenthelion, her attacks were little more than a breeze—persistent, yes, but far from dangerous. With his elite training and physical prowess, he absorbed it all with infuriating ease.

"I—why—why can't I land a single hit!?" Carmen cried in frustration.

Losing her temper, she lunged at him, fists flying. But the blow that was supposed to bruise Kenthelion's ego landed more like a gentle poke from a toddler. Her momentum crumbled into nothing.

Around them, the gathered Mobile Infantry soldiers could only watch, stunned and speechless. Not in their wildest imaginations had they expected to witness two of their fierce female comrades wrapped in the arms of a fleet captain, while a third knelt breathless and defeated before him.

"Surrender," Kenthelion said calmly. "You won't be able to beat me."

"Let's go again—I wasn't ready before," Tia growled, still struggling against the iron grip that held her fast. His arms felt like power armor servos, immovable and unyielding.

"That won't work, Miss Durer," Kenthelion replied, his voice smooth. "I'll let you go… but only if you admit defeat."

"I—I wasn't part of this! I didn't agree to anything from the start!" Carmen sputtered, trying to salvage the last scraps of her dignity as the chaos spiraled further out of control.

"Unfortunately," Kenthelion said, raising an eyebrow, "you joined the wager the moment you attacked. Even if your punches missed, it was still an act of aggression. By duel law… that's consent."

As the absurdity escalated, the heavy sound of boots echoed from down the corridor.

A scowling man in uniform stepped into view—Lieutenant Tony Daugherty, who'd only recently been dismissed from the command deck by Kenthelion himself. His face was a storm of rage and wounded pride.

"What the hell is going on here, Captain Kenthelion!?" Daugherty barked. "Why are you restraining my subordinates!?"

Kenthelion didn't even flinch.

"Lieutenant, this is a friendly duel. You can ask the Mobile Infantry around us—they're all witnesses."

He spoke with effortless calm, all while holding Deborah and Tia like a man casually enjoying a game he never doubted he'd win.

Lieutenant Tony Daugherty

"Release my subordinates, or I won't hesitate to get violent."

Tony's glare was sharp, slicing through the air and landing squarely on Kenthelion. No negotiation. No hesitation.

Kenthelion didn't reply right away. He knew perfectly well what was fueling this. Their earlier clash in the command deck had bruised Tony's ego. The man had been humiliated, dismissed, and now he was back—looking for redemption, or revenge.

Kenthelion

"Not happening."

His voice was firm, his arms still locked around Deborah and Tia Durer. All around them, members of the Mobile Infantry watched in stunned silence. No one quite understood how things had spiraled into this surreal mess—two elite female officers caught in a bizarre embrace with a Fleet captain, while their commanding officer stood on the brink of madness.

Lieutenant Tony Daugherty

"Then don't blame me for what happens next."

With no further warning, Tony lunged forward, his fist arcing toward Kenthelion's head with raw fury.

Across the room, Carmen, still slumped on the floor and catching her breath after her failed assault on the captain, looked up and saw the attack coming.

Carmen

"Captain Kenthelion, watch out!"

She shouted, panic cracking her voice.

THUD!

The room echoed with the heavy impact of Kenthelion's boot slamming into Tony's midsection. The precision and force behind it were devastating. Tony's body flew several meters backward, crashing into the metal wall with a resounding clang.

Kenthelion hadn't used his full strength—if he had, Tony wouldn't be conscious. Might not even be alive.

The room fell into stunned silence. No one moved. Every eye was locked on Kenthelion, stunned by the sheer dominance he had displayed. He had taken down their commanding officer with a single, calculated blow.

A full minute passed.

Finally, Tony stirred, groaning as he pushed himself up, face flushed red—not just from the pain, but from rage and utter humiliation.

Lieutenant Tony Daugherty

"Seize him! Take him down now!"

he bellowed, his voice cracking with fury as he pointed a shaking finger at Kenthelion.

Sergeant Mech

"Lieutenant! This was just a sparring match! Please, calm down—this isn't a live combat scenario!"

The sergeant tried to reason with him, but his words were drowned out by Tony's next order.

Lieutenant Tony Daugherty

"Ignore that! Aim and fire! That's a direct order!"

His voice echoed like a war drum, mad with obsession.

Sergeant Mech

> "Captain Alesia, we're mobilizing now. It's a direct order—we can't refuse."

Around them, the Mobile Infantry soldiers raised their weapons. The tension was electric, on the verge of combustion.

The Mobile Infantry troops began to circle around Kenthelion, the air thick with tension. Fingers hovered near triggers, nerves tight, the atmosphere seconds from erupting into chaos.

But before a single shot could be fired—

> "KLANG-KLANG-KLANG-KLANG..."

Heavy metal footsteps echoed down the main corridor of the Alesia. The sound was steady, synchronized, and ominous—like the ship itself was trembling under the weight of what was coming.

From the shadowed hallway emerged a squad—Mobile Infantry, but unlike any the room had seen before. These soldiers wore advanced-generation battlesuits: thicker plating, sleeker design, bristling with tech upgrades. In their hands were modified Morita Assault Rifles, humming faintly with power.

Behind them came another wave: Terran Marines, their polished blue armor glinting under the overhead lights. Then came the Firebats, clad in crimson plating with flame-thrower systems mounted on their shoulders, quietly hissing as pressure built. Marauders followed—hulking figures in black combat exo-suits that looked more like walking tanks than men. And flanking the rear, Medics in pristine white armor, each marked with a glowing red cross, their visors scanning the room in sharp, efficient sweeps.

Their movement was near-perfect—synchronized, disciplined, lethally professional.

As they reached the center of the room, the newcomers instantly repositioned, flanking and surrounding the A-01 and K-12 squads that had been aiming at Kenthelion just moments before. Weapons raised. No hesitation.

Terran Marine Officer

> "If I were you, I wouldn't move a damn inch."

His voice was low, almost calm—but the chill that swept through the room was unmistakable.

Squads A-01 and K-12

> "We... we're not moving, Sir."

No one dared to blink. No one dared to breathe.

Inside, every single soldier swallowed hard, silently praying they hadn't just made the worst mistake of their careers.

Stefan Ivanov: "Captain, Sixth Squad of the Seventh Division of the USS Imperium Caelestis reporting to you, Captain Stefan Ivanov."

Jonah watched the chaotic skirmish between Kenthelion and the Mobile Infantry through the command center's main display aboard the Alesia. Realizing the situation was escalating, he quickly ordered his own forces to intervene. Kenthelion was handed over to his personal Terran Marine unit, and an additional squad was immediately dispatched to the conflict site. Jonah even deployed a team from the USS to support Kenthelion directly.

He was terrified by what he saw on the screen—Kenthelion was under threat. And Jonah knew the truth behind Kenthelion's identity. If anything happened to him, the robed red-clad entities known as the Adeptus Mechanicus might very well turn him into one of their grotesque experiments.

Jonah had seen it before—someone from the Alesia, a Federation vessel, who had attempted to resist and report the situation to the Federation (from the Starship Troopers universe), only to later surrender to the Imperium Caelestis. That individual was turned into a mechanical slave as their first punishment.

The Imperium Caelestis boasted massive warships like the Imperator Somnium, battlecruisers like the Dominion, and countless other devastating vessels. The Federation fleet simply couldn't match that kind of power in open warfare.

Panic spread among Jonah's own Mobile Infantry when they heard Kenthelion was being held at gunpoint by squads A-01 and K-12. One of them even spotted a former comrade—someone who had once fought beside them—now reduced to a "Penitent Pilot," locked within the steel skeleton of a screaming engine of war.

They called it: Penitent Engine.

---

Pantient engine



Author's note: I have already used this in Chapter 175 of the story.

The Penitent Engine is a large, bipedal war machine employed by the Ecclesiarchy as an extreme form of punishment for heretics who have repented for their sins against the God-Emperor. On the battlefield, this grim construct is also fielded by the Orders Militant of the Adepta Sororitas as heavy infantry support—fulfilling a role similar to that of the Dreadnoughts used by the Space Marine Chapters.

To become a pilot of a Penitent Engine is not an honor—it is a curse. Those deemed guilty of heinous crimes—sins so severe that mere imprisonment, exile, flogging as an Arco-Flagellant, or even execution are considered too lenient—are condemned to be fused with these machines. Unlike the sealed, protective sarcophagi of a Space Marine Dreadnought, the penitent is fully exposed to enemy fire, shielded only by their own resolve and, in their faith, the Emperor's mercy.

Many of these damned souls were once members of the Church itself: Imperial Priests who fell from grace, or even Sisters of Battle who failed in their duty—whether due to personal weakness or a grave mistake that led to the loss of Imperial lives.

The penitent is wired into the front of the war engine via neural cables and optic connectors, while chemical injectors are implanted directly into their brain and spinal cord. The machine is not guided by tactical logic, but by panic-driven desperation for redemption. Driven by a synthetic ecstasy of stimulants and psychoactive compounds, the pilot hurls into battle, attacking the enemy without fear or hesitation. They believe that only through heroic death in the service of the Emperor can true forgiveness be achieved.

The chemical stimulants coursing through their bodies are potent enough to keep them alive even through grievous wounds—just long enough to burn, crush, or shred as many foes as possible before they themselves fall.

These machines often charge at the vanguard of the assault, fighting alongside the Sisters of Battle. To the faithful, their presence is a sacred sight: redemption in fire, a living reminder of the Emperor's justice—and His mercy.

Adeptus Mechanicus Technical Note

The Adeptus Mechanicus has never made the official technical specifications of the Penitent Engine publicly available. Its detailed schematics remain sealed within the forbidden archives of Mars and are known only to the most privileged of the Magi.

Source References

Codex: Witch Hunters (3rd Edition), pp. 12, 37

Codex: Adepta Sororitas (6th Edition), p. 24

Dark Heresy: Enemies Within (2nd Edition RPG), p. 41

White Dwarf #379 (US), "Codex: Sisters of Battle" (5th Edition), p. 97

White Dwarf #380 (US), p. 91

Dawn of War: Soulstorm (PC Game)

---

Kenthelion

"Lieutenant Tony Daugherty, do you still want to arrest me?"

Kenthelion looked at him with a faintly amused smile, his tone laced with mockery—yet he never lost an ounce of authority.

He already knew how this story ended. This impulsive officer standing before him would eventually meet his fate aboard the battleship Carmen in Starship Troopers: Invasion (2012). Kenthelion had no intention of dragging this out. Sooner or later, these people would become part of the Imperium Caelestis anyway.

Lieutenant Tony Daugherty

"…My apologies, Commander of the Alesia. I acted rashly."

Tony exhaled deeply, lowering his head in a gesture of regret.

Seeing this genuine sign of surrender, Kenthelion simply raised a hand to the USS team behind him. The signal was clear.

The USS squad immediately lowered their weapons and slowly stepped back, clearing the room.

Kenthelion then turned to face the three women who had just engaged him in combat.

Kenthelion

"I'll let you go for today. But remember, next time, you'll still have to honor the agreement."

He gently released Deborah and Tia Durer from his embrace, then calmly reached down to help Carmen, still weak and seated on the floor, to her feet.

Deborah and Tia stood frozen. They hadn't expected Kenthelion to be this strong—even their commanding officer had been rendered helpless with a single kick.

And now, after all that… he just let them go?

Deborah

"Next time, don't make bets you've already rigged. Cheater."

Her tone was sharp, eyes narrowed in accusation. But beneath the fire, her thoughts drifted to their earlier duel. His gaze. The way he held her—warm, yet deceptively cunning.

Tia Durer

"Sir… you're too powerful. And I know you challenged us on purpose. Your intentions weren't exactly pure."

Tia—the cool, captivating sharpshooter—studied Kenthelion as if trying to read his mind. And she was certain of one thing: Kenthelion wasn't just playing around.

Kenthelion

"Relax. You three are the most beautiful women on this ship. I just wanted to have a little fun."

Deborah

"…But we strongly object."

Her voice was flat, but there was a tremor in her gaze—not just anger, but doubt.

She could still feel the echo of his arms around her during the duel. Warm… yet suspicious.

Yes, he was handsome—long black hair, piercing eyes, and that infuriating smirk. But he was not a man to be trusted.

And that wager? It wasn't a game. It was a trap.

And they had all walked right into it.

Kenthelion

"Then it's simple—you'll never be able to beat me."

Kenthelion stared at Deborah, the strong-willed single mother, wearing a confident, almost lazy smile on his lips.

Deborah

"Grrrrhhh…"

A low growl escaped from Deborah's throat. Her face flushed red with frustration, fists clenched tight—like she was about to lunge at the shameless man standing before her.

Tia Durer

"Deborah, enough. We can't win against him."

Tia Durer's voice was calm but firm, trying to pull her friend back before she snapped completely.

Kenthelion

"Have a pleasant journey. Enjoy yourselves."

With that nonchalant farewell, Kenthelion gave a little wave to the remaining Mobile Infantry troops before turning and pulling Carmen along with him.

As they reached the doorway, Carmen suddenly realized he was still holding her tightly. With a bit of effort, she freed herself from his grasp and walked back into the lounge alone, not sparing him so much as a glance.

Kenthelion watched her back as she slowly disappeared from view.

In his mind, a single thought lingered:

"That woman… there's something fascinating about her. Maybe I should spend more time figuring her out someday."

Deborah

"Captain of the Alesia!"

Deborah's voice rang out sharply from behind, making Kenthelion turn around.

Kenthelion

"What is it, Corporal Deborah?"

His gaze locked with hers—sharp, unwavering. He could tell—this woman wasn't done with him yet.

Deborah

"I want a rematch."

Kenthelion

"Very well… but not here. This place is too cramped."

Without waiting for her reply, Kenthelion turned and began walking away. "Follow me."

They made their way to Kenthelion's private lounge within the captain's quarters aboard the Alesia—a spacious, quiet room, far removed from the hustle of the ship. It wasn't just a resting space—it was a place for duels of honor… or intimate lessons.

Kenthelion

"Deborah, you're free to attack however you like. I won't strike back. No counters."

Deborah's expression tightened. She understood—this wasn't just physical training. This was about pride.

Deborah

"Fine… but don't expect me to hold back."

And just like that, she lunged. Her kick sliced through the air—only to meet nothing, as Kenthelion flipped back effortlessly. Her fists came next—sharp, fast—but Kenthelion was always a step ahead. Ducking, weaving, spinning.

She pressed on. Her breaths grew heavier, her strikes slower. Sweat trickled down her temple. And yet—she hadn't landed a single blow.

Finally, exhaustion brought her to her knees. She dropped, panting, to the floor.

Kenthelion

"All done?"

He crouched in front of her, his face calm, though that smug little smirk was hard to miss.

"Ready to admit defeat?"

Deborah

"Don't get cocky… I'm not done. I'll challenge you again. Just wait, you bastard."

She muttered through gritted teeth, her glare still fierce.

Kenthelion

"Unfortunately for you, Deborah, this match is over. And the rules were clear… the loser keeps their end of the deal."

Without asking, Kenthelion slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her up.

Deborah

"Wha—?! You bastard! Put me down!"

Her face flushed red, eyes wide with disbelief.

Kenthelion

"Relax. I'm just here to collect on a promise."

He chuckled, carrying her effortlessly into his private quarters.

Seems the wild tigress wasn't quite so composed after all…

After Kenthelion carried Deborah into the room, he heard Deborah's complaints, but her voice gradually changed. As for what that was, you can imagine it yourself.