In the beginning, there was nothing. No light, no heat, no space, no time. Then the gods came and built the world: the world of concrete and steel, endless hallways and cavernous halls, electric light and conditioned air. They wrought the Structure, breathed life into it and placed the first humans in it to maintain the gods' great work, safeguard the world and sing praises to the creators.

Praise be to Sangar, who placed concrete for us to walk upon; praise be to Ton-a-Znoi, who makes the air move through the vents for us to breathe; praise be to Nin-Tulul, who blesses the hydroponic farms and condensation plants for us to sustain ourself; praise be to the Furnace-Chime, who brews steel for us to build our abodes.

And praise be to the Holy Current, who gave us electric light to see, who produced electric heating for us to stay warm, who breathed life into our augments for us to work.

Gods, however, are far from the small, squalid residential block you call home, and their mighty cults and churches are even farther. After the salvage-mine ran dry, there was nothing left here to squabble over, and missions closed the doors of their chapels, one by one. On one hand, that meant no more tithes and cult skirmishes. On the other, that meant no protection, and now the nearby corridors are infested with brigands, augment-rustlers, flesh-eaters and, some say in hushed tones, despicable sun cultists. When one steps outside the block's blast doors, meetings with scum are to be expected.

What's not to be expected, however, is encountering a miracle. A heavily armed, white-winged miracle of flesh and blessed circuitry, a knight in cermet armour, a chosen of Saint Ohm: a living, breathing, profusely bleeding electric angel.

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CW: gore, religious themes.

Tested with DeepSeek V3.2, Deepseek Chimera R1T2, Deepseek V3 0324.

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