Inside the Emperor's Glory, Thor, clad in power armor interwoven with purple, white, and gold, hid among the ship's pipes, suppressing his breathing as much as possible to avoid detection by the cold metal Necronss.
His silver and gold hair was disheveled against his cheek, and a somewhat helpless, bitter smile graced his handsome face, born from his own gene-seed.
In truth, he still hadn't fully grasped the situation.
He had been released by the Necrons General Zandrekh the Crowned.
Though an alien, the old General Zandrekh was a man of noble character.
Zandrekh returned Thor's ship, and most of the crew on the Emperor's Glory were unharmed.
Before his departure, Zandrekh even gifted Thor a Necrons hyperphase sword, specially crafted in the shape of a courtly longsword, to compensate for the power sword Zandrekh had once severed.
Suddenly released by Zandrekh, Thor, unsure of the current state of the Imperium and the galaxy, had originally intended to travel to Terra.
But...
But his navigator accidentally took him to the edge of the Nephilim Sector, because the outer perimeter of the Nephilim Sector was currently enveloped by a scorching golden Warp storm. From the navigator's perspective, that light was very similar to the Astronomican, and his crew mistakenly took it for the Astronomican, bringing Thor to this vicinity.
Even worse, when Thor emerged from the Warp, he found himself right in the center of Stormlord Imotekh's forces.
Thor and the Emperor's Glory were naturally pursued by this group of Necronss. If not for some changes that occurred within Thor himself after approaching the Nephilim Sector, allowing him to contend with the Necronss, he and his ship would likely have long become space debris.
Thor heard clanking footsteps, like metal striking another piece of metal. From the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw some eerie green light.
"Act."
A voice echoed within Thor.
It seemed to be a voice from the depths of his mind, a voice that existed within him before he was born, a whisper from his genetic sequence, a sound from the other side of death.
Burning heat ignited within Thor's gene-seed, guiding his body to wield the Necrons hyperphase sword.
This guidance from the gene-seed had existed since the day Thor became an Astartes, but it became even more pronounced and clear upon reaching the edge of the Nephilim Sector and approaching the roaring golden Warp storm.
However, it wasn't just the voice from the gene-seed guiding Thor.
There was also another power, a cold, dark, malicious, and wicked soul surging within Thor, also guiding the trajectory of his sword swings.
Unlike the voice from the gene-seed, which taught and guided Thor, the cold and malicious soul seemed to be forcibly manipulating Thor's body, crude and unbearable.
The slender blade sliced through the cold darkness, and gruesome sword marks appeared simultaneously on the bodies of over a dozen Necrons warriors.
The Necronss fell in the blink of an eye; even living metal couldn't withstand the deadly, biting sword edge.
"...I am more powerful than him, my swordsmanship is more lethal than his. Learn my power."
A cold, malicious whisper resonated in Thor's ear, tempting him to learn his swordsmanship and embrace his power... He swore by the name of the the thirsting lord that this was not an attempt to possess Thor, but purely instruction.
He seemed to have been parasitic within Thor for a long time, because Thor had participated in his previous death, and Thor, unlike Sarojin, felt no honor in it.
However, Thor was blessed by Saint Doraemon, and the the thirsting lord, who bestowed the cold voice with the gift of continuous resurrection, was unwilling to offend Saint Doraemon, and thus never granted him the power to possess Thor.
Until recently, the cold voice seemed to have gained some power. This power was not enough to possess Thor, but it allowed him to speak to Thor, teach Thor, guide Thor, and help Thor...
The voice claimed this was a mission from the the thirsting lord, who wanted to help Saint Doraemon in this way. As long as Thor accepted his teachings and help, the the thirsting lord would allow him to resurrect in another body.
Thor naturally didn't believe his nonsense, always suspecting it was some form of corruption.
Just then, a series of memories flashed in Thor's mind—memories hidden in his gene-seed.
In the memory, "Thor" stood on a ruin, facing a haughty Emperor's Children, Lucius, who had not yet fallen as a Slaanesh champion.
"Thor" punched Lucius in the face, Lucius wailed, then like a wild dog, ugly climbed onto the roof and fled.
Lucius in this scene was so much like a wild dog on the side of the road, ugly and ridiculous, his comical appearance even bringing a slight smile to Thor's lips.
"Tawiz, I f***ed your gene-father's—" the cold voice cursed exasperatedly.
"traitor, you forget we share a gene-father."
"I know, but I really did f*** him, very smooth."
The two voices intertwined and argued in Thor's mind. Thor's expression was a bit strange; a series of bizarre memories kept flashing back, things like the Pear of Anguish.
But Thor had no time to delve into those ancient memories; he had to move immediately.
These Necrons warriors were not worth mentioning at all; the real danger was the Phaeron himself.
Imotekh coldly gazed at the holographic map of the ship that appeared before him.
On it, more than a dozen Necrons warriors had vanished within the ship's compartments.
Imotekh had initially thought the human named Thor was merely an excellent commander; now it seemed he was also a highly skilled swordsman.
This individual not only inexplicably appeared in the core of Imotekh's army, causing damage to several ships, but also safely escaped into space, circling Imotekh's fleet and engaging in guerrilla warfare.
With just one man and one ship, he had caused considerable trouble for Imotekh's forces, even nearly charging to the front of Imotekh's flagship several times.
What bothered Imotekh most was that this human seemed to have multiple personalities, frequently displaying two or even three different command and combat styles, giving Imotekh a sense of fighting Orks.
Imotekh excelled at using logical reasoning to predict all possible factors on the battlefield, formulating precise plans to control the entire engagement.
Facing such a somewhat chaotic and illogical opponent, Imotekh was truly a bit out of his depth.
It took the Stormlord a full six days to corner the human named Thor.
But Imotekh chose not to directly destroy the ship with naval weapons.
Thor's resistance over these six days earned Imotekh's respect; he was a strong individual.
For the strong, Imotekh was always willing to give them an opportunity to challenge him directly.
This was both an honor for the opponent and Imotekh's way of proving his own might.
He didn't even intend to kill Thor; he would sever one of Thor's arms as a mark of humiliation, then spare Thor's life, giving him a chance for revenge.
This was Imotekh's confidence, his pride.
He was not a tyrant, not a butcher, not a madman; he was an irresistible order. Those unwilling to submit to him could resist, but eventually, they would find themselves still within Imotekh's order.
Imotekh calmly watched as several more light points, representing Necrons warriors, disappeared.
The timing of those light points' disappearance was roughly as Imotekh had planned.
"So that's it, you really are schizophrenic," Imotekh said with a smile.
Upon realizing that Thor might only appear as one person, but potentially harbored multiple psyches, Imotekh's plan began to dissect Thor as an individual.
He believed Thor's mind should be composed of three parts:
One, an evolving individual who valued honor but was not arrogant, still somewhat naive, striving to draw wisdom and strength from the other two psyches, constantly learning and growing.
Another, a commander with his own pride but never expressing it, mature, excellent, meticulous, humble, practical, and reliable, skilled at fighting enemies far exceeding his own scale in desperate situations.
And a base, shameless, cunning, and wicked criminal, insidious, vile, resorting to every possible means, like a wild dog by the roadside, an unkillable cockroach, not lethal but dangerous.
With this, Imotekh, relying on his hyper-logical brain, began to predict Thor's actions.
"I've found you." A slight smile appeared on Imotekh's lips, and his figure flickered, vanishing into a Pocket Dimension.
Then, a twisted, dark green lightning bolt appeared before Thor, who was traversing the pipes, dodging the Necrons forces.
Thor swiftly raised his sword to block the howling lightning bolt, the current shaking him back several steps.
"You, or rather, all of you, fought exceptionally well, truly splendidly."
Stormlord Imotekh smiled as he looked at Thor:
"Although you ultimately fell into my net, I am willing to grant you some respect."
"Human, I am Stormlord Imotekh, the might of the Necrons resurgence, an unquestionable order. I offer you the chance to challenge me."
"Of course, you will surely fail, but I will not kill you. I will sever one of your arms as a mark of humiliation, and then you may leave, to seek an opportunity for revenge against me."
The Stormlord slightly raised his Staff of Light, aiming it at Thor.
Thor's thoughts paused for an imperceptible moment due to the Stormlord's sudden appearance; he hadn't expected this Necrons Phaeron to find his location so quickly.
Thor subtly tightened his grip on the hyperphase sword, and his figure flashed, appearing beside Imotekh.
The venomous soul almost simultaneously climbed up Thor's arm, guiding Thor to stab at Imotekh's neck.
Imotekh's body, however, merely shifted slightly, deflecting Thor's blade to strike his bronze living metal shoulder guard.
At the same time, Imotekh's Staff of Light, named the Staff of the Destroyer, swung down, aiming for Thor's shoulder.
The will emanating from the gene-seed became slightly active, replacing the venomous soul and beginning to guide Thor's body, causing Thor to instantly abandon the hyperphase sword in his hand and step back.
Screech!!!
The blade of the Staff of the Destroyer sliced across Thor's power armor, interwoven with purple, white, and gold, but left only a shallow scratch, revealing the red crystal-like material beneath the paint.
A bead of sweat trickled down Thor's forehead; it was just a hair's breadth away.
This was Belisarius Metal, a new material developed by High Fabricator Belisarius Dora Cawl based on Saint Doraemon's tools.
Partial mass production was achieved over a decade ago, and it was fashioned into power armor distributed to some Primaris Chapter Masters. The one Thor wore was among them.
Imotekh's expression remained unchanged, the living metal forming his shoulder guard slightly regenerated, and Thor's hyperphase sword clattered to the ground.
The Stormlord advanced towards Thor with unyielding steps, making Thor feel a sense of breathlessness.
Suddenly, Thor noticed that the venomous soul within him was actually trembling slightly, like a wild dog afraid of a storm.
Was he afraid of Imotekh?
No... that's not right. Thor suddenly felt his own genes trembling.
"How can this be? How did he get here?" the venomous soul muttered in a voice that was both fearful and disgusted, both reverent and hateful.