From the moment I understood the weakness of my ship, 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 ADC, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude armors and shields you call the temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Procurer is immortal…