MECHANIC ADEPT CRAWL BREAKERS

They were human once. That was the first thing they corrected. A Crawl Breaker remembers being soft the way you remember a wound that has long since healed. The flesh went first, traded away in stages, each cut a small act of worship. Then the early augmetics, judged weak. Then the frames that replaced those, judged weak in turn. The process never reached a stopping point because there was never meant to be one. Improvement is not a goal to the faithful. It is a direction. These three rolled along it until the man was gone and only the doctrine remained, seated in a chassis of tread and shielded plate, breathing through filters where a mouth used to be. Now they are walls that advance. A Crawl Breaker plants itself where the line would otherwise break and the line does not break. It is a fortress that chose to leave its foundations, a living bulwark that carries a power field broad enough to swallow a whole squad behind it, or a cannon heavy enough to make a dedicated artillery piece