from the moment i understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. i craved the strength and certainty of steel. i aspired to the purity of the blessed machine. your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. one day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. but i am already saved, for the machine is immortal even in death i serve the omnissiah.
Croatia