Rex Salazar: The Omnissiah Chapter 11 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Updated 9/8/25

Chapter 11: The Lonely God

The return to the Temple of All Knowledge had not gone unnoticed. Crowds lingered near the Sanctorum for hours, reluctant to accept that their Omnissiah would not remain enthroned in public view.

Rex had promised them something more personal within the week. It seemed to take the edge off.

In hindsight, he should have guessed the Temple served more than one purpose. In a theocratic tech cult, religion, government, and academia all fit under the same roof.

Now he sat in the circular council chamber, its walls lined with alcoves of dormant cogitators and votive candles. The High Council stood in a half-ring around him as briefing slates floated into position.

Magos Lexir-Kor moved forward, voice modulated through a vox grille. "Omnissiah, we must address productivity irregularities across multiple manufacturing districts. Output delays have begun to accumulate."

Rex began reviewing the reports. While he didn't understand much of the jargon, he did his best to make sense of the fluctuating production metrics and technical specifications.

"What do you all think is causing these delays?" Rex looked up from the slate, glancing around at the council members.

"The workers are likely not performing their duties with sufficient dedication," Magos Ikar-Vohn stated flatly. Several other council members nodded in agreement.

Rex frowned. "I'm doubtful about that. Have you made any recent changes to the factories?"

Lexir-Kor's mechanical digits twitched slightly. "Working hours were extended by twenty-seven percent, and mandatory rest periods were shortened to keep pace with production demands."

Rex stared at them in disbelief. "Something like that would lead to everyone burning out or getting hurt."

The council members exchanged glances, their augmetic eyes whirring as they adjusted focus.

"Your observation has merit," Ryza-Tal hummed. "Injury rates among the serf labor force have increased by thirty-four percent since implementing these changes."

Rex looked up from the scrolling data. "What safety standards are currently in place?"

Lexir-Kor's optics adjusted. "Clarify the term."

"Safety standards," Rex repeated. "Rules to keep your workers safe." Was he seriously having this conversation?

Lexir-Kor's head tilted a fraction. "Why is the well-being of the serfs important?"

Rex stared at him for a moment. "What do you all consider important?"

"All that matters," Lexir-Kor replied, "is that the required parts and technologies are completed. Workers are expected to perform their duties without interruption."

Rex pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Then here's my position that if you want better output, you take care of the people making it."

Magos Ryza-Tal crossed her arms. "Explain your reasoning."

"What's the current fatality rate in these factories?"

"It's averaged to seven percent annually," Lexir-Kor answered without hesitation.

Rex stopped mid-thought. "Seven percent of your total workforce dies every year?"

"Yes," Lexir-Kor said flatly. "The loss is acceptable within operational parameters."

Rex leaned back in his chair. "Let's put a pin in the word 'acceptable.' How much does it cost you to replace them?"

"Two point six million credits annually," Lexir-Kor replied.

"Right. Now imagine reducing that. Put in safeguards and better training. You'd have fewer delays and more experienced workers staying on the line. That 2.6 million drops."

Ryza-Tal tilted her head. "Would this not slow production?"

"In the short term, maybe," Rex admitted. "But you gain stability. You keep trained people. You lower turnover. You stop wasting resources replacing the same positions over and over."

The council exchanged silent bursts of binaric data.

"I also want to identify where failures are happening," Rex went on. "I can make some of your machinery less hazardous. I assume you at least have emergency shutoffs?"

The silence that followed told him enough.

"Never mind... Even putting signs on dangerous equipment will make some improvement. At this point, I'm guessing your replacements don't get much beyond 'stand here, do this.'"

"All serfs receive the minimum data required for their assigned function," another Tech-Priest confirmed.

"Exactly," Rex said. "And you're paying for that with both credits and lives. This isn't charity. It's an investment in your own output."

Ryza-Tal's optics brightened a fraction. "There is logic in what he says."

Lexir-Kor inclined his head. "If efficiency can be increased through these protections, we are obligated to test the hypothesis."

"Then we start with one facility," Rex said. "Pick one. I'll review the results myself."

Magos Ferris-Keph tapped the end of his prayer stick lightly against the floor. "And if the results meet your expectations?"

"Then we expand it," Rex said. "And I expect you to back me on that."

Ferris-Keph's fingers flexed around the stick. "If the Omnissiah brings proof, I will."

Thankfully, there was no pushback to at least put his ideas to the test. Rex may be their god-king, but it's better to earn their hearts and minds than essentially be a dictator.

Rex sweatdropped. 'Dear God, I might have to recreate parts of civilization in a metaphorical sense too...'

By the time the discussion closed, the safety reforms had eaten the rest of the session. The other matters on his list would have to wait.

Later

The royal chamber near the peak of the Temple of All Knowledge was quiet. For the first time since his arrival, Rex wasn’t being shadowed by Skitarii or attendants. The Council had given him a full Martian cycle of privacy. An unusual gesture for someone they now called “Omnissiah,” but he wasn’t about to waste it.

The heavy ceremonial robes were tossed in a heap on the floor. 

He sat near one of the tall arching windows, the red light of the Martian sky pouring in across the city. Smoke trails curled far below, rising from the countless manufactoria of the forge-city. 

A world he was now responsible for. The throne behind him stayed empty, its presence heavy even without him in it. The coronation robes lay folded beside it, heavy with embroidered circuitry and sacred cloth. They had dug into his shoulders for hours yesterday. He still didn’t know how the priests wore them without tipping over. Against the far wall, polished cases held “gifts” from noble Mechanicum families. Tokens for a ruler. Or a god. Whichever role they believed him to fill. He hadn’t opened any of them.

The bed in the corner was the one concession to comfort he’d found here. Firmer than he liked, lined with an alloy fiber, but it was better than sleeping in a recharge slab. He took the win.

He stared at the ceiling for a while, arms stretched out, breath slowing. Then the thoughts crept in.

‘What the hell am I doing?’

The question hit hard. 

His mind spun. The cheers. The lights. Valus’s expression when he’d named Rex their divine ruler. The crown. The words Rex had thrown together in front of an entire planet. He couldn’t remember most of them.

He let out a dry laugh and turned his head toward the window.

“This was supposed to be simple,” he told the empty room. “Just find out where I am. Then head toward home. Instead… I’m in the future. On Mars. And somehow, I’m the leader of a theocratic tech cult. God dammit… Did Ben have to deal with the sort of thing?”

He sat up slowly, the weight of everything tightening across his shoulders. Then he stood and started pacing across the room. “They think I’m their god’s avatar or something… I didn’t ask for that. ”

He stopped, rubbing the side of his head, and glanced at the robes again. “Am I doing more harm than good by letting them believe this?” he muttered. “What happens if I screw up? What if someone dies because they trusted me?” 

He exhaled hard. “Was this all just one big accident?”

Somewhere deep in his mind, a memory surged forward.

A memory surfaced. Earth. The halls of Providence. Six, his pseudo-father figure, was cool and collected as usual. Holiday and Caesar would be working on another project and asking for his help. Bobo, Noah, and he would just be chilling across the globe with little care. 

#

With regard to Breach, Peter Meechum and Doctor Rylander had told him, after it was all over, after the world had been cured, that she had gone to the Consortium's base to rescue Van Kleiss. Apparently, she had used her pocket dimension to escape his global cure with others.

Breach was rather childish, sensitive, and lonely. She yearned for things such as people and objects to overcome her loneliness. She would appear to Rex from time to time to "Play", and he was more than happy to spend time with the girl if she promised to behave. Sometimes that meant watching cartoons together. At other times, it was a walk, a conversation, or her simply sitting nearby while he worked. She still cared for him. She just didn’t always know how to show it.

He smiled faintly at the memory of her voice and the way she’d tug at his sleeve when she didn’t understand something. Maybe that’s what being a big brother felt like. He wasn’t sure. But for her, he played the part. She was improving, gradually. On rare days, she’d even join the group when they hung out without supervision.

‘Was it possible for her to find him?’ If she hadn’t already, he was either far beyond her reach… or caught in some kind of time travel mess.

#

His eyes drifted to the stars. ‘Circe would’ve liked this view.’ He closed his eyes, leaning back until his shoulders pressed against the cold frame of the wall.

They’d started dating not long after the global cure. The world had settled into something that looked like peace. She smiled more. Laughed more. Showed up to hangouts just to be around.

Her laugh. The way she’d half-roll her eyes when he said something dumb, but smile anyway. That edge in her voice when she got passionate about anything: music, freedom, even him. Especially him.

“I wonder what you’d say if you saw me now,” he muttered. He could almost picture it. 

She would raise an eyebrow. “Omnissiah? Seriously?”

A dry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. ‘Yeah. I know. It sounds ridiculous to me too. I’m basically their cyborg Jesus.’

“Didn’t you literally come back after dying?”

‘Maybe I shouldn’t let my followers know that story…’

She’d have called the whole thing insane, called him insane for going along with it. And then, probably say, "Let’s get to dinner, your Radiant Rustiness."

A quiet laugh escaped him. “Circe… I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re still smiling.” He let his eyes roam across the Martian skyline. “I could use that right now.”

Time was strange now. He had no way of knowing how long it had been for her. Maybe she’d moved on. Maybe she was still searching. Maybe she’d never know what happened to him at all. He swallowed the ache in his throat. “I didn’t forget you,” he said quietly. “Not really.”

He missed all the people who knew him. Relatively speaking, they weren’t dead. But they weren’t here. And the world they’d fought for wasn’t this one. “I hope everyone’s okay and happy. Wherever you guys are.”

Still, his entire situation of being in the future on Mars, leading a cyborg Cult wasn’t a joke. It was real. All of it. The people of Mars believe in him to be their salvation.

He turned back to the window and rested a hand on the glass.

Mars treaded on. And now, for better or worse, it was looking to him.

Rex banged a fist against the wall. I just wish there was more that I could do. I saved the world from a secret organization trying to gain god-like powers. “Wait…” Rex blinked. Then groaned. "I'm an idiot," he muttered. He sat up from the floor, brushing the edge of his sleeve off his face. 

The Meta-Nanite. The God Code. Whatever name it went by, it was still inside him. He’d shut it down once, but if he could bring it back online… maybe it could repair Mars. Maybe it could even get him home.

He drew a breath and closed his eyes, focusing, searching for that old pressure in his chest.

Nothing.

“Meta-Nanite, activate.”

Still nothing.

“Execute God Code.”

More nothing.

“System access. Override. Dominion Code, go.”

He was starting to feel desperate.

He made some movements akin to taichi or a kata that he saw on TV. "Henshin?!"

Silence.

Rex leaned back against the wall. “Guess I shut it down for good.” He shook his head. “Come on, Omega… I thought you were supposed to help me keep this under control.”

Maybe it was better that way. Still, some small part of him had hoped.

Thinking he had enough for tonight, he went to his bed and tried to sleep. 

Unknown to Rex, the Meta-Nanite had not gone offline completely. It had simply entered a deeper layer of standby, only accepting orders from Rex since the final battle. 

However, due to changes in reality around Rex, it was forced to perform resynchronization before core functions could come fully online. 

Reality was different; therefore, the Dominion Code needed a patch of sorts. And when it finished, it would be ready to serve its master once more.

Category Purple: Technology - In Progress

Category Blue: Classical Elements - Pending

Category White: Fundamental Forces - Pending

Category Green: Space and Time - Pending

Category Orange: Matter and Energy - Pending