Pariah Nexus, Mesmok hive city World.
On the silent streets, two Necron warriors, armed with gauss weapons, were sweeping through the hive city.
The Cadia 184th Regiment had landed on this planet several days prior, beginning their engagement with the Necron.
This regiment was led by the renowned psyker and Saint Doraemon Church Prophet Joan. Most of its warriors hailed from the former Ashford and its descendants. These sons of the hive city were exceptionally skilled in urban warfare, and the hive city was the perfect battlefield for them to showcase their abilities.
Relying on their skills, faith, and Saint Doraemon's tools, they fought alongside the Astartes who had also landed on this planet.
A barely perceptible energy arrow suddenly tore through the air. The metallic head of one Necron exploded with a 'bang' and then it collapsed to the ground.
The other Necron frantically searched for the direction the energy arrow had come from, but before it could react, its own head exploded with a 'bang', and it fell heavily to the ground.
Lyttin sniper Hobien slowly lowered the Ranger-pattern long-range sniper rifle in his hand.
This weapon, which felt like bone and seemed alive, he had won from an Eldar Death Guard with his marksmanship.
Eldar weapons were truly good. Necron skulls were tough, and ordinary laser sniper rifles and large-caliber steel needles found it difficult to achieve a one-shot kill. Neurotoxins were useless against these skeletons, and heavier weapons were too much for a Lyttin 'rat' like him to carry.
However, the Eldar and Necron were old adversaries, and their weapons were largely designed to counter the Necron, often achieving one-shot kills and being light enough, making them very suitable for a short old man like him.
Hobien twisted his body, using his mouth to pull an lho cigarette from his breast pocket.
Smoking too much of this stuff was bad for the eyes. How could a sniper smoke this? Reyna, the Big Sister, had scolded him many times for it, but Hobien had never changed.
After all, one of his eyes was already a mechanical prosthetic; could smoking still damage a mechanical eye?
He shifted his body, trying to light the cigarette in his mouth with the smallest possible movement, but half of his body still didn't obey him very well.
This was an old problem.
Back in Ashford, to snipe that hive Tyrant, half of his body had been corroded by poisonous spore mist. Although he was later healed, it still left him with a minor ailment.
As he grew older, this ailment worsened. Reyna, the Big Sister, had advised him several times to retire and become an instructor or something similar.
But Hobien loved sniping, loved lying in the shadows, holding his rifle, waiting for the enemy to come into his sights, then pulling the trigger and watching the enemy's panicked expression in the instant of death.
Over the long years, Hobien's marksmanship had become increasingly refined. He even sometimes turned off his mechanical eye, relying purely on an ethereal feeling to snipe, yet still hitting his target every time.
Almost everyone he had met could not rival him in marksmanship. He once competed in a shooting contest with a Raven Guard Captain, and the final result was only a draw.
Except for their Lyttin champion, the great Saint Doraemon, Boss Alexander, no one had ever surpassed him in marksmanship.
Besides his love for sniping, another reason he persisted on the battlefield was that he was the last old man of the Cadia 184th Regiment.
He was not from Ashford; he was an old veteran of the Cadia 184th Regiment who had followed General Drost in his campaigns across the stars in earlier years.
Back then, those old veterans either died on the battlefields of Ashford, or fell on the battlefields of Cadia, or perished during long campaigns, or had retired to become instructors. Only Hobien persisted on the battlefield.
He felt a stubbornness within him, a feeling that if he were to retire, wouldn't the former Cadia 184th Regiment completely vanish into the annals of history?
That's how Lyttin were: cunning, bastards, vengeful, and never admitting defeat.
Even though he was almost a hundred years old...
The lighter in Hobien's hand slipped from his wrinkled fingers before it could even ignite.
"Damn it."
He cursed, but his voice was so faint it was almost inaudible.
Hobien suddenly felt weak all over.
Stasis?
His thoughts were slightly sluggish.
Hobien knew this phenomenon; many Astra Militarum had experienced similar conditions in the Nephilim Sector.
But the Cadia 184th Regiment had strong faith, and most of them were resistant to this phenomenon.
Hobien actually had some resistance too, but his resistance couldn't compare to those from Ashford. Perhaps his faith wasn't strong enough, or perhaps he was too old, or perhaps it was simply because he was a subhuman.
"Old fool, almost a hundred years old and still refusing to give up, you're going to die here, aren't you?" Hobien cursed himself, leaning against the wall in extreme exhaustion. His will was rapidly fading.
He felt a little sorrowful. Their mission was actually very simple: to tear open a breach on the battlefield to create a landing zone for the other main forces. The mission was practically complete, and the main forces had already begun landing.
Hobien had only wanted to stay a little longer, to clear out some remaining Necron for the main forces.
But even for such a simple task, he was about to fall here.
He wasn't sure if it was a strange reaction in his head due to the stasis effect.
In a haze, he seemed to see General Drost, who had once led the Cadia 184th Regiment.
Damn it, that old man had clearly died on Cadia, alongside Kreed, Lord of the Fortress.
Could it be that because he had stolen his flask back then, the old man had resented him all this time, and now that he was dying, he had come for him?
He also saw many familiar faces, those old veterans of the 184th Regiment who had stayed behind to cover the retreat on Cadia.
So many years had passed, yet they were still young and strong, as if time had left no mark on them.
This made Hobien tremble all over. He realized that what he was seeing might not be an illusion, but some kind of miracle.
This thought injected some strength back into Hobien's body. He struggled to get up, leaning against the hidden window, looking out at the street below.
Astra Militarum, Cadian Shock Troopers, were marching. Their faces were resolute, bearing the marks of war, imbued with the aura of Cadia, and their eyes held an unparalleled hatred, as if they had just walked from the shattered Cadia, eager to unleash the hatred in their hearts upon the enemies of humanity.
Hobien's eyes wavered as he stared in disbelief at the resolute and strong man at the center of the formation, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with General Drost.
The man wore a Cadian uniform, an lho cigarette in his mouth, his gaze burning like fire.
Kreed, Lord of the Fortress, Cadia's last guardian, a mere mortal who led countless mortals to block the Warmaster Abaddon.
Although in the end, Abaddon had hurled the Blackstone Fortress at Cadia, achieving his so-called victory by destroying the planet itself,
To countless Cadian warriors, that was precisely Kreed, Lord of the Fortress' victory.
Great Despoiler Abaddon, to defeat a mortal, had to abandon the precious Blackstone Fortress. How laughable!
Furthermore, Abaddon believed he had destroyed Cadia, but Cadia stood strong.
Those Cadian warriors went to all corners of the galaxy, spreading the name of Cadia again and again. Even if the last warrior born on Cadia died, Cadia would still stand strong, and the name of Cadia and Kreed, Lord of the Fortress, would forever fight against the enemies of humanity.
Decades later, this legendary Cadian general had long become a legend in the mouths of the Astra Militarum, a symbol of the Cadian spirit.
But now, he stood truly before Hobien, like a myth walking into reality.
"Cadia Stands!!!"
The war cry of the Cadian Shock Troopers echoed across the battlefield.
The image of Cadia's collapse on that day revolved in the minds of every warrior, forming a strong resonance that enveloped Hobien as well.
Strength suddenly surged through his body, which had previously felt inert. It wasn't physical strength; it was a spirit, a burning soul.
"Cadia Stands!!" Hobien also roared, his voice hoarse.
Almost in the blink of an eye, all the Astra Militarum on the entire planet felt the same power. They saw the figure of Kreed, Lord of the Fortress, felt the arrival of a miracle, and their aspirations for the Cadian Shock Troopers, their faith in the Emperor and Saint Doraemon, were rekindled. Even those Astra Militarum who had previously fallen into stasis were reawakened.
Overlord Szarekh of the Nihilakh Dynasty watched this scene with a hint of bewilderment.
Through the eyes of Necron warriors and Canoptek constructs across various locations, Overlord Szarekh watched as humans who had been in stasis actually recovered, transforming into soldiers even more powerful than before, and began to break through the Necron lines.
The Phaeron had not anticipated this situation at all. How could ensouled beings operate under the influence of an anti-Empyrean matrix?
It was known that this planet he garrisoned was a crucial node on the edge of the anti-Warp matrix, and the strength of its anti-Empyrean field was enough to put any ensouled being into stasis within half an hour of stepping onto the planet.
But this group of humans not only lasted longer than normal, but after falling into stasis, they would recover just by one person shouting a few times???
Is this scientific? Is this really scientific?
Even the ancient Eldar didn't have this ability, and you humans do???
Is there something wrong with this race???
Overlord Szarekh was stunned for a moment, and he suddenly thought of the letter he had received earlier, the manifesto from Anrakyr.
Could it be true that Saint Doraemon would grant souls to the Necron?