I was never religiously inclined. Not really. Sure, I celebrated easter, christmas, and the cornucopia of other religiously derived holidays. But I was never religious.

Well. That was until the locker. When I had been locked inside of my own goddamn locker. By one I once considered a sister, in all but blood.

But afterwards… Well. When I was in that accursed locker, which had been filled with bio-waste and other things, which I have no desire to remember. I… I suspect that I Triggered, with a capital "T". For what I saw when in there. I… I fail to properly comprehend just what I saw. I saw flashes, a great many of them. And not just the quick glimmers of light from the bare fluorescent lamps in the ceiling. Visible through the small slits in my makeshift prison of metal. No, I saw machines. Machines of such proportions that they boggle the mind. Churning out endless quantities of weapons, and other implements of War. Again, with the capital "W". For that is what they were. Wars of such scale and sheer madness that they made any endbringer fight seem insignificant. Wars that could, and would. Swallow millions of men, machines, and other assorted pieces of equipment. And then spit out the mulched remains in a fine paste. Ready to fertilize the ground thrice over, when conflict finally had ended.

And yet, despite these horrific notions. I - for some reason - knew deep down, with a surety normally only contributed to madmen. That this. These bloodbaths, where nothing. When compared to the grand scheme of it all. And yet, I also knew that these men and women. They died almost happy. They might have been in pain and scared out of their minds. But they still died with the contend satisfaction of knowing that, what they had done was the right thing. They - and I by extension - knew that their sacrifices were not truly in vain. For they died to protect their fellow man. From a fate worse than anything I could possibly imagine, much less truly comprehend.

These people were soldiers, warriors, factory workers, farmers, storekeepers, fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, mere men. And they were fighting for the very survival of the human race. Against monsters of such horror and dread. That it simply defied logic.

But that is not where it ended. No. For after the flashes of battle. I saw them. The Giant machines veritable towers, of walking stone and metal. I saw them, as they poured forth a stream of red-ish light. Utterly obliterating the charging monsters. And that is when I saw. I saw them for what they truly were. They might have been created by Man. But they had long since transcended a mere construct. They had become Gods of the battlefield. Their holy purpose not hindered in the slightest, by their ungainly and lumbering walk.

I saw as they scoured the ground for any traces of the enemy. How effortlessly they cleansed the unholy Abominations from the surface of the planet, with complete impunity. They were majestic, emmenating a sense of total and complete divinity and menace.

For woe be unto him who dares stand in front of these… these avatars of a wrathful god.

Suddenly. A veritable flood of information, blueprints, plans, scientific knowledge, tradition, and hymnals flowed into my head. And it was then that I knew.

Glory to the Omnissiah.