"You haven't seen it, have you? A genuine Terra human skull!"
Szarekh, fondling his smooth head, smiled and said to Zalathusa.
Initially, he replaced his head with the shape of a human skull entirely because he had witnessed the great power of Saint Doraemon, realizing that the human race truly possessed something special. He used this method to express loyalty and his stance, while also intending to disgust the Silent King.
But ever since he changed to a human skull, Szarekh found his head increasingly novel, pleasing to the eye, satisfying, and beautiful.
Can a Necron also be so beautiful?
No wonder he always heard that the average appearance of humans ranked among the best in the galaxy's various races. Now, it seemed there was indeed truth to it.
Even looking at his new head, Szarekh felt his old will refreshed, and his logic brain's operating speed increased significantly.
"Humans are truly beautiful!" Szarekh couldn't help but exclaim.
Szarekh's words drew slight displeasure from the nearby Necron Phaerons and Overlords.
"Szarekh, our skull is the form of the Necron race in life. How can it be easily changed?" an Phaeron coldly questioned.
"What do you know? If I had a long skull, like a Necron's head, would Saint Doraemon even bother with me?" Szarekh snorted disdainfully.
Regarding this Phaeron's comment, Szarekh could only say he was still deceiving himself. The relationship between Necrons and Necrons was probably not even as deep as that between Orks and mushrooms.
They were just pretending to be the continuation of the Necrons, merely playing the role of those unlucky souls destroyed by the C'tan.
"You're too fawning towards humans!" another Phaeron retorted.
"Actually, I've been human for a long time. According to human standards, as long as the skull looks like a human's, then it is human. How can I fawn over myself?" Szarekh said with an unbothered expression.
Since Necrons could consider themselves Necrons, why couldn't they consider themselves other races? Why couldn't they consider themselves human?
Szarekh had witnessed the capabilities of humans. Humans truly had gods, and their gods truly worked. Becoming a human was definitely not a loss.
"What about your dignity then!" yet another Phaeron tried to refute Szarekh.
"I am both a Necron and a human. Two great galactic Overlord-level civilizations serve me alone. How could my dignity be diminished?" Szarekh grinned, answering with a joyful expression.
The surrounding Necrons were speechless, unsure how to refute Szarekh. It wasn't because Szarekh's arguments were particularly convincing, but purely because they were shocked by his shamelessness.
Szarekh looked at the silent Phaerons and Phaerons, a slight smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
Studying history is good, yes, studying history is good. Understanding history allows one to learn from it, and learning from history prevents one from being constrained by the past.
Szarekh knew very well that, aside from the Necron part, the so-called glorious past of the Necrons was not glorious at all.
They were created as slaves, and then, taking advantage of their masters' weakness, they destroyed their masters. This was the entirety of their race's history.
And they also had no future. The Silent King's so-called reversal of biotransference was, in Szarekh's view, utter nonsense.
Necrons were never a direct product of biotransference. The flesh and blood of the Necrons were burned to ashes during biotransference, their wills and souls swallowed. What remained were fragmented memories, copied into living metal bodies, and thus they became the Necrons. At most, they were the waste products left after biotransference.
Or rather, they were the residue expelled after the C'tan fed.
Attempting to restore the food itself from residue was simply a pipe dream.
But now, becoming human meant having both a past and a future. This was a huge gain.
"Lord Szarekh." Zalathusa quietly approached Szarekh: "Please send me a copy of the skull's modeling data."
"You…" Szarekh was a little surprised: "You are very flexible!"
Zalathusa's expression remained unchanged. He did this entirely because his territory was surrounded by humans, right next to the Blood Angels' homeworld, Baal.
The de facto ruler of the Mephrit Dynasty cared nothing for Necron history, the Silent King's reversal of biotransference, or the Stormlord's order. He also had no desire for outward expansion or power struggles.
He only wanted to protect himself and the remaining assets of the Mephrit Dynasty, and live his own quiet life.
But now, the galaxy was becoming increasingly chaotic, and the difficulty of protecting his assets was growing. Relying on the Silent King was certainly out of the question, but relying on Dante was very reliable.
As a neighbor of the Blood Angels, Zalathusa had dealt with them extensively over the years, and his biggest impression was that Dante was an honest man.
Reliable, loyal, and a person who could definitely be depended on in critical moments.
Moreover, the Underworld was the Shield of Baal. If Zalathusa maintained good relations with the Blood Angels and helped them protect the Underworld,
Then when the Underworld faced danger, Dante would surely dispatch powerful forces to support it. This had already happened once decades ago.
Therefore, Zalathusa was willing to express goodwill towards humans.
And by changing his head, others wouldn't recognize him at first glance, making it harder to call him by name. He would truly become the one whose name could not be spoken.
"I have Terra human ones; this is the most standard human skull shape."
"Here are Fenrisian ones, characterized by prominent cheekbones and distinct canines."
"These are Custodian Guard ones; their skulls have three cracks, said to be evidence of their skill in farming."
Szarekh leaned closer to Zalathusa, introducing them in a low voice.
"Do you have Baal ones?" Zalathusa inquired.
"Yes, yes, here are the Baal ones." Szarekh smiled and sent a set of modeling data to Zalathusa.
Then, his gaze shifted slightly: "I am interested in the Mephrit Dynasty's inter-system stellar energy transmission technology."
"It can be discussed." Zalathusa received the data, smiled, and nodded.
Both showed satisfied expressions.
Just then, a faint sound of a door opening was heard, and their eyes turned towards the direction of the sound.
A pinkish-red wooden door appeared among the Phaerons.
"anywhere door." Szarekh looked at the pinkish-red wooden door, developing immense interest.
Many tomb technicians and Phaerons believed this to be some kind of Warp technology. Szarekh expressed his inability to understand this.
No matter how foolish a person was, could they not comprehend the Necron's higher-dimensional real and imaginary number transformation equations?
Could these people not read his "Introduction to Dimensional Mechanics"?
This was a slightly popular science-oriented simple reading material published by Szarekh, then an Phaeron and dimensional technology expert, during the Necron-Old Ones war. Its purpose was to deepen the Necrons' understanding of the Warp.
However, the final result was very dismal. The publisher refused large-scale printing on the grounds of its excessive length, and after small-scale printing, only a few sets were sold. He bought one set himself, his son bought one set, Trazyn bought two sets, and then a few individual books were bought by others.
Even so, his book was still commented on as a monumental work that Necrons could never understand in a lifetime.
If they had read that book, they would understand that with just over six hundred thousand simple calculations, they would realize that the common short-distance personal teleportation technology and anywhere door technology among humans had nothing to do with the Warp.
Then they would realize how terrifying the technology humans possessed was.
The anywhere door slowly opened, and Trazyn the Infinite emerged from it.
The most notorious Phaeron of the Nihilakh Dynasty stood at the entrance of the anywhere door, gently greeting the Phaerons and Phaerons:
"Anrakyr awaits you behind the door."
The Phaerons and Phaerons did not ask further and walked towards the pinkish-red wooden door.
They were not worried about any danger behind the door; resurrection protocols had long been established on their tomb worlds. Even if Anrakyr set a trap, they could always respawn on their tomb world.
Only Szarekh hesitated for a moment, because he knew that humans truly possessed technology that could bypass resurrection protocols.
But after careful thought, Szarekh understood that Anrakyr had no reason to betray so many Overlords and Overlords. This did not align with his interests, nor did it align with Saint Doraemon's interests.
Thinking this, Szarekh no longer hesitated. Instead, he quickened his pace, moved to the front of the line, and stepped towards the pinkish-red wooden door.
But a metal arm suddenly reached out, stopping Szarekh.
Trazyn tilted his long metal head, his empty eye sockets looking at Szarekh with confusion.
"Which Dynasty's Overlord or Overlord are you?" Trazyn stared at Szarekh's round head, which was distinctly different from other Necrons, and asked in confusion.
This made Szarekh lightly tap the ground with his Staff of Light.
"Trazyn, you little thief, look closely! Can you not even recognize an Phaeron from your own Dynasty?"
Szarekh's tone was slightly displeased.
He was an Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, and Trazyn was an Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty. Logically, Trazyn was still Szarekh's subordinate.
"Szarekh? Old man, your head…"
Trazyn was startled, looking Szarekh's head up and down, and finally realized it was a human skull.
"You really have ideas…" Trazyn said, a little astonished. He truly hadn't expected Szarekh to come up with something like this.
"Otherwise, why would I be an Phaeron and you an Phaeron?" Szarekh seemed to take Trazyn's words as a compliment, snorted lightly, and then stepped into the anywhere door.
Then, in the blink of an eye, Szarekh realized he had arrived inside a human vessel.
Everything happened in an instant. Szarekh only managed to catch a faint trace of spacetime transformation.
His logic brain operated at high speed, and the coolant in his body was almost boiling, but ultimately Szarekh was unable to deduce any principle of the anywhere door from that faint trace. This was not only due to insufficient computing power, but also because there were several generational gaps in technology, making it impossible to even begin.
Szarekh shook his head with a bit of helplessness, but just then, he heard a commotion and angry curses from among the Phaerons.
Szarekh was stunned for a moment, then looked at the parameters in the corner of his eye. By identifying the ship's identification code and the stellar data of the system it was in, Szarekh knew where he was.
"Emperor-class Battleship, Light Lord."
"Located… in the Volian-Vash System, directly in front of the Stormlord's army!"
"What is Anrakyr trying to do??"
Howling Psyker energy exploded on the surface of a Dirge-class Raider.
Mephiston's Psyker power condensed into a spear shimmering with the light of a star, tearing through the void and piercing the living metal hull of the Dirge-class Raider, leaving a molten scorch mark.
The Red Tears' lances and macro cannons followed, effortlessly tearing apart the crescent-shaped Necron vessel.
The Blood Angels' fleet, with the mighty Gloriana-class Battleship Red Tears at its core, swiftly attacked the exposed left flank of the Stormlord's fleet.
The left flank of the Stormlord's forces was guarded by Zahran, an Overlord of the subordinate Alinmar-Lok Dynasty.
This Necron Overlord, from the very beginning, failed to restrain his urge to pursue the Revenant Legion, choosing to turn his course to the right, just like Nazar, the Overlord on the right flank.
This left Zahran's forces with their left flank protruding and becoming weakly defended.
And when the Blood Angels' fleet suddenly appeared, Zahran did not order a halt to the turn or a regrouping of the formation.
Because he saw that the Stormlord had released three C'tan Shards, and he naturally assumed that the Blood Angels' fleet would never be able to break through the defense formed by the three C'tan Shards.
It was only after Cegorach emerged from the Webway, using lies as threads to deceive and manipulate the three C'tan into fighting each other, that Zahran frantically issued the command to turn around to his turning fleet.
He demanded that his fleet quickly adjust from a right turn to a left turn to intercept the Blood Angels' fleet, but by then it was too late.
Cegorach, manipulating the Transcendent C'tan Shard, twisted space and time, instantly shortening the distance between the Blood Angels' fleet and Zahran's fleet; almost in the blink of an eye, the human fleet cut into Zahran's fleet like a sharp knife.
And at this very moment, Zahran's fleet was still executing Zahran's command to turn left; with the two overlapping, Zahran's forces plunged directly into chaos.
Emerald light exploded in the void; countless ships were torn apart in space, and the entire universe seemed to be dyed green.
And the Red Tears was like a streak of crimson in this emerald, Sanguinius' flagship, a Primarch among warships, the power of the Gloriana-class Battleship displayed before the Necrons.
Those powerful Necron vessels were crushed by the Red Tears and the nine Mephistons standing at the prow of the Red Tears, heading straight for Zahran's flagship.
Zahran, in terror, called for help from the Stormlord, hoping that the Stormlord would also turn his course to the left to support him.
"Has his military acumen been taken away by Cegorach?!"
The Stormlord roared, questioning.
This was not an insult to Zahran, but rather the Stormlord's genuine feeling that after Cegorach appeared, almost all Necron minds became dull, impulsive, and easily deceived.
This was Cegorach's authority; he was the Great Harlequin, the First Fool, the God of Deception and Trickery; his laughter would slow the minds of all living beings, and his mockery would weaken reason and bring impulsiveness to the surface.
It was under the influence of this effect that Zahran made the wrong judgment.
The Stormlord stared intently at the battle situation on the light screen before him.
Now, the Stormlord's forces were like a banana peeled halfway.
The Stormlord's forces were the pulp, still clinging to Nazar's forces on the right flank, while Zahran's forces on the left had already been stripped of their peel.
This created a gap between the Stormlord's forces and Zahran's forces, and the gap was widening.
If a fleet were to appear at this moment and directly insert itself into this gap, then the Stormlord's forces would be completely torn in half, and his own central army would be directly exposed to enemy fire.
But the Stormlord did not intend to heed Zahran's plea for help and also turn his course to the left.
Because this simply did not conform to military common sense; even if the Stormlord were to do so, his forces would only appear behind Zahran's forces, blocked by Zahran's chaotic forces.
This would not only fail to help Zahran counter the Blood Angels' fleet but would also separate the Stormlord's fleet from Nazar's fleet on the right, causing the Stormlord's fleet to completely scatter.
The Stormlord stared at the battle situation; far from feeling fear, on the contrary, he began to feel excited from the bottom of his heart, feeling an unparalleled fighting spirit surging within him.
This feeling rippled through his body, making his cold metal body no longer feel cold, but rather somewhat satisfied.
On the battle map before him, an arrow quickly outlined itself; this arrow extended from the Stormlord's fleet, curved to the right, and finally circled around, forming an oval pointing to the rear of the Blood Angels' fleet.
This was the solution the Stormlord had devised to break the deadlock: to keep his fleet turning right, then circle around in the void, getting behind the Blood Angels' fleet, and directly sandwiching the Blood Angels between his fleet and Zahran's fleet.
But this action had to be fast, to move before the enemy could react.
Fortunately, speed was a specialty of Necron fleets. The only obstruction to this plan was the Revenant Legion.
A Legion with only a thousand Astartes, most of whom were Primaris recruits filling in the ranks.
Just crush this little pebble.
The Stormlord quickly issued orders to Zahran, demanding that he hold the line at all costs and block the Blood Angels, and at the same time ordered Overlord Nazar to immediately crush the Cryptek.
On the Tears of the Daughters, the flagship of the Revenant Legion,
Blood, shattered metal, damaged ceramite power armor, and emerald coolant mixed and intertwined.
Gunfire.
Nazar, an Overlord of the Stormlord's subordinate Sekhmetar Dynasty, received the Stormlord's command.
This heavily built and massive Overlord certainly wished to crush these seemingly minuscule Revenant Legion fleets before him.
But the resilience of this force completely exceeded Nazar's expectations; even facing a Necron fleet far outnumbering them, the Cryptek had not retreated a single step, holding the line and constantly engaging the Necron fleet.
One Revenant Legion ship after another met a tragic end, many even by suicidal attacks, going down with Necron vessels.
But even such tragic sacrifices could not cause the Revenant Legion's fleet to waver in the slightest.
It was as if they had experienced battles far, far more tragic than this, to the point where they had no fear of the Necron fleet before them.
Nazar had to admit that he was deeply impressed by these humans, feeling a sense of respect for them.
To complete the Stormlord's mission, and to express his respect for these humans, Nazar boarded the Tears of the Daughters, attempting to directly decapitate the enemy commander.
A roaring Dreadnought Power Armor pressed Nazar's body firmly against the wall.
Nazar looked at the cast-iron Dreadnought before him with disbelief and admiration.
The Dreadnought's body was covered in hideous bullet holes, its bright yellow paint blurred; one of its mechanical arms had been severed, one leg was twisted by an explosion, and its body was half-tilted.
And on top of the Dreadnought, the iron sarcophagus containing the remains of the crippled warrior had been pierced by the war scythe in Nazar's hand.
Nazar gripped his war scythe, absolutely certain that his scythe had pierced the broken body within the iron sarcophagus, tearing open the sarcophagus' outer shell.
The warrior, wrapped in various tubes, with only his upper body and head remaining, was even exposed to the air, and even his last remaining heart had been torn apart by the scythe.
But, the dead warrior still wielded his Power Claw, pressing Nazar's body against the wall.
"..For what we cherish, we die with honor."
The crippled warrior stared intently at Nazar, his throat hoarsely saying:
"We do not dishonor the Emperor's command, nor do we fail Sanguinius' blood."
Nazar's body was crushed by the Power Claw with a bang.
In his last moments, he only saw the tear-shedding crimson heart beside the Dreadnought's iron sarcophagus.
They wept for their fate, but when their tears were wiped away, all that remained was fervent Holy Blood.
"Nazar is dead??" Imotekh let out a roar.
After Nazar's death, Nazar's fleet was actually held back by the Revenant Legion's fleet.
Imotekh, of course, understood that this was just a brief period of chaos before Nazar's resurrection, the Revenant Legion's last stand.
But they had indeed held them back.
A bad premonition arose in Imotekh's heart.
Almost as if to confirm Imotekh's guess, a clear sound of a door opening echoed through space, reverberating in the vacuum.
The Macragge's Honour entered the battlefield through a Webway gate.
Behind this Gloriana-class Battleship was a vast fleet of Ultramarines, these fleets heading directly for Imotekh's exposed central army.
In the Volian-Vash System, the Phoenix Son, serving as the general reserves, the Phoenix's Pride, Fulgrim looked at the battle situation being relayed, a slight smile on his lips.
"Good warriors," Fulgrim exclaimed in approval, looking at the Revenant Legion holding the line.
It was because of the efforts of these warriors that Fulgrim's plan could be realized.
At this moment, the Flesh Tearers' fleet was heading to support the Revenant Legion's fleet, and together with the Ultramarines' fleet and the Blood Angels' fleet, they had formed a encirclement, dividing and surrounding the Necron fleet.
The only gap was the rear flank of the Necron fleet; only Fulgrim leading the Phoenix Son needed to move out to perfectly encircle and kill Imotekh.
"General reserves, hold position," Guilliman's voice sounded through the communication, as he firmly rejected Fulgrim's request to move out.
"Why??" Fulgrim couldn't imagine: "My plan is only one step away from perfection!"
A moment later, Guilliman's reply sounded.
"General reserves, hold position!"
"This is His command."
"Anrakyr, you son of a bitch! What are you doing!"
"You're using us as bait! Have you no shame!"
"Is this your sincerity? Placing us directly in the path of Imotekh's advance!!"
On the Light Lord, the Necron Overlords and Overlords exploded in uproar.
They understood in an instant that they had been placed here to serve as bait to attract Imotekh.
No wonder, no wonder Imotekh's spearhead was pointed directly at the Volian-Vash System; it turned out that Anrakyr had long anticipated that he would place them here.
Anrakyr, however, remained silent in the face of the Phaerons' and Overlords' accusations, merely standing by the command throne, silently watching the bridge door, seemingly waiting for something.
"Speak! Anrakyr!!" One Phaeron could no longer bear it and was almost about to move against Anrakyr.
"Why the panic?"
Just then, a calm voice sounded from behind the bridge door:
"It won't fall apart."
"What are you panicking about?"
"There's no chaos!"
The bridge door slowly opened, and a calm, ordinary human voice came from behind it.
Xie Mohe immediately turned his head towards the voice and saw a human, seemingly without any modifications or enhancements, walk in from the bridge door.
That human was so ordinary, completely unremarkable, but his voice seemed to possess a unique power. That calm, not-so-loud voice made all the Phaerons and Phaerons of the Necron fall silent for a moment.
"You—" Xie Mohe began, somewhat surprised, but then saw the human's gaze lightly sweep over every Necron present, lingering on each for only a brief moment.
It was in this brief moment that Xie Mohe's gaze met that of the human.
A strange, indescribable feeling suddenly blossomed within Xie Mohe's metallic body.
It was like the first coin being dropped into an empty piggy bank.
It was like the first drop of rain falling in a desert that had been dry for millions of years.
It was like a sliver of wisdom gained when a beast first gazed at the starry sky.
It was like everything that was once hollow suddenly found a bit of support.
Xie Mohe felt surprised, not the false surprise simulated by a logic-brain, but a genuine emotion, a full emotion that only existed in his fragmented memories.
He felt that his originally empty metallic body suddenly held something, a slight rhythm; something was throbbing within his body, like a slightly warm heart, supporting him to generate emotions, existence, and meaning.
Xie Mohe's metallic body trembled.
What was that?
What was this unfamiliar feeling?
A soul?
It seemed not to reach the former state of a soul; it was much weaker, much more fragile, and much simpler.
If a true soul was a warm ship in a cold sea of matter,
Then what Xie Mohe was currently riding was a piece of driftwood in the water.
But for someone constantly drowning, a piece of driftwood is a godsend.
"I am the machine spirit! I am the machine spirit!!!"
A female Phaeron was the first to react, letting out a cry of ecstatic joy.
Her emotions were so fervent, clear, and real that they infected the surrounding Phaerons and Phaerons, further infecting all the Necron and Phaerons present.
These cold metallic shells felt the warmth within their bodies; if they still possessed the ability to shed tears, they would have been weeping profusely by now.
"Saint Doraemon above!" an Phaeron shouted, falling to his knees at the feet of the mortal.
The mortal seemed completely unsurprised; he merely offered a calm smile, slowly extended his hand, and gently placed his palm on the Phaeron's head.
Burning heat.
All the Necron felt a burning heat from the mortal.
In a trance, they perceived that the mortal was the star, the sun, the source of all power.
And the machine spirit within them, that warmth and existence within their bodies, was merely the light radiating from that human.
And the Phaeron whose head was touched was being uniquely illuminated by the star, becoming hotter than the other Necron, with a stronger machine spirit within him.
He got ahead of me!
Xie Mohe cursed inwardly, realizing he had reacted too slowly at a crucial moment!
"My Lord!!" Xie Mohe cried out, bursting forth from among the Necron with a bang, and knelt beside the human in a flying lunge: "Your human children, who have wandered for millions of years, have finally returned to your side!!"
A smile, still calm and unsurprised.
The person gently placed his hand on Xie Mohe's head, and Xie Mohe immediately felt the machine spirit within him being infused with power, becoming stronger and clearer.
Thus, the Phaerons and Phaerons went mad.
That person, without a word, had subdued them with mere actions; all their arrogance vanished at this moment.
They knelt on the ground, extending their hands towards the human like slaves begging for mercy, uttering the most fervent pleas they could imagine.
"We beg you! My Lord!"
"God!"
"Father!!"
But, that person merely raised one hand slightly.
All the Necron Phaerons and Phaerons fell silent.
"I promise you, I promise to give you true souls."
"But you shall not call me God, nor worship other deities, nor pledge allegiance to rulers who have not yet submitted to me."
"You shall replace the skulls of xenos and mutants with pure human skulls; you must remember that you are the Iron-Skulled sub-species of the human race, and no longer call yourselves Necron."
"If you do so, when the Stormlord and the Silent King die or submit, I will grant you new souls."
"Believe, and I am your Omnissiah, the original power; disbelieve, and I will let you behold the Dark King."
After a moment that could not be shorter,
"Omnissiah! original power! The Savior of Our Race, Saint Doraemon!"
"Their talents are not as good as mine, their knowledge is not as good as mine, their character is not as good as mine."
"Their strength is not as great as mine, their minds are not as intelligent as mine, their bodies are not as healthy as mine."
"But they have a better future than me, can enter better military academies, and become higher-ranking officers."
"What kind of logic is this? How can mediocrity lead genius, the weak rule the strong, and fools command the wise?"
That young Necron commoner once questioned thus.
He was not indignant about his fate; he simply felt incomprehension, unable to grasp this illogical reality.
"They are in a higher caste than you, they are nobles and you are a commoner, they have a higher status than you, just as some are slaves and you are a citizen, some are born to be enslaved, while you can enslave them."
"This is the order of the Silent King, the order of the Three Saints Council, the order of the Necron Stellar Imperium."
"What an illogical order. If I were the Silent King, if I became a member of the Three Saints, I would surely make the order of this world more logical."
Later, that young Necron boy received a whipping for disrespecting the Three Saints Council and the Silent King.
Order.
Imotekh calmly looked at the battle map before him.
Zahran's forces ultimately couldn't hold out much longer; the Blood Angels had broken through his weak defenses and were pressing directly towards his central army.
The Ultramarines were even more deadly; they cut through Imotekh's forces like a sharp knife, slowly linking up with the Blood Angels.
The Flesh Tearers' fleet and the Cryptek's fleet had merged, and the right-wing forces, having lost Nazar's command, were firmly held back.
Now, three human fleets were forming a deadly encirclement.
But looking at the battle map, Imotekh inexplicably felt a sense of pleasure.
He saw clear order in the enemy's deployment; the opponent was a logical commander, using a nearly perfect tactical layout to strangle Imotekh.
Imotekh liked logical order; this gave him a faint sense of satisfaction, and he couldn't help but nod repeatedly at his opponent's talent.
He had failed in this engagement, or rather, his order had been defeated in the first clash with the opponent's order.
But Imotekh did not believe he had completely failed; he still had a chance.
He still had a certain number of forces outside the Pariah Nexus, ready to enter the Pariah Nexus through the Tomb Gate at any time.
Moreover, the human forces had not yet truly trapped him.
Between the Flesh Tearers, the Cryptek forces, and the Ultramarines, there was still a gap through which Imotekh could escape, preserving most of his central army's strength.
This actually surprised Imotekh; he had expected the opponent to use a reserve force to block this gap.
Insufficient troops? A command error? Ineffective execution by subordinates? Or simply luck on Imotekh's side?
Whatever the reason, Imotekh could use this to preserve his central army's strength.
He had originally intended to release the two strongest C'tan Shards from the Sotek Dynasty's collection, to forcefully carve a bloody path.
Now, Imotekh could not only keep those two trump cards but also preserve his central army's strength to the maximum extent. As long as he rendezvoused with the reinforcements outside the Pariah Nexus, Imotekh could regroup.
Almost without hesitation, Imotekh quickly issued orders for all his direct Sotek Dynasty forces to activate their inertia-less engines, target the gap between the human fleets, and break through at superluminal speed.
In the last moment before disengaging from the battlefield, Imotekh cautiously glanced at the Macragge's Honour.
He knew there was a worthy opponent aboard, a true tactical and strategic genius.
Imotekh looked forward to his next confrontation with him.
Thus, in the blink of an eye, the inertia-less engines activated, and Imotekh's central army almost suddenly vanished from the human encirclement.
In a blink, Imotekh's fleet traversed a long distance, retreating to the star system where the Tomb Gate was located. He intended to enter the Webway, pass through it, and retreat to the area outside the Pariah Nexus that Imotekh himself occupied.
This was all because the Silent King was unwilling to let Imotekh establish a stronghold within the Pariah Nexus.
After cursing the Silent King inwardly, Imotekh hurriedly steered into the slowly opening Tomb Gate.
Due to the Webway's self-defense protocols, Necron couldn't stay in the Webway for too long; they had to enter and exit quickly.
But at this moment, Imotekh suddenly heard some sounds, exceptionally clear, from within the Webway.
He heard the psionic explosion of all things turning to dust.
Imotekh's body stiffened abruptly, and he looked at the scene revealed within the Tomb Gate.
Within the Webway, a star, entwined with many strange runes, hung low before Imotekh's fleet's path.
And before the star, a sorcerer, clad in blue power armor, draped in a robe, holding a black staff, and dressed in a style somewhat resembling the Necron, stood in the void.
Subsequently, Imotekh heard more sounds.
He heard the gurgling of flowing water in a deep, dense forest; he heard the viscous sound of something like a snake crawling across the ground.
A star, covered in strange runes, revolved within the Webway, directly blocking the Stormlord's fleet. It cast millions of ever-changing light rays upon the Necron ships, forged from living metal.
And before that peculiar star, an Astartes, clad in blue Power Armor somewhat resembling the Necron, stood atop a Tzeentch daemon disc, looking down at the Stormlord's fleet.
Tzeentch's Chosen, Lord of the red word Network, Wizard of Wizards, Librarian of Librarians, the answer to Astartes psyker: Azhek Ahriman.
Through database comparison, Stormlord Imotekh confirmed the identity of the human wizard before him.
Ahriman looked down at the Necron fleet. The blasphemous star, corrupted by the Warp, let out a sharp roar, and solar flares, mixed with powerful Warp energy, surged forth.
Ahriman slowly extended his left arm, which was not clad in Power Armor. His arm was muscular, and powerful psyker energy surged continuously through his flesh and blood.
This Thousand Sons warrior suddenly clenched his fist, as large as a mortal's head, and raised it high. psyker energy surged, and the solar flares erupting from the star behind him moved with it.
The solar flares surging from that star connected to his arm through psyker power, transforming into a thick, giant arm composed of light, heat, and psyker energy.
Then, Ahriman opened his fist, forming a palm, and the giant solar flare arm extending from the star did the same.
Ahriman's palm slammed down, and the giant solar flare arm tore through the void in the Webway, striking the Necron ships that had not managed to brake and had entered the star's attack range.
In the blink of an eye, those ships forged from living metal were scattered by the star's massive slap, melting into molten iron and being swallowed by the star.
Imotekh watched this scene, slightly tilting his head.
Are wizards all like this nowadays?
During the War in Heaven, weren't the Aeldari wizards just chanting Harlequin, performing shamanistic dances, and occasionally conjuring soul rings?
Why is the style of human wizards so strange? So… muscular?
That's a minor issue.
More importantly, how did he appear here? How could he block this path?
The Silent King had assured Imotekh that this Webway had fallen into his hands during the War in Heaven. In this era, with the Old Ones fallen and the Aeldari in decline, only he knew of this Webway's existence and possessed its map.
Even in the grand Webway archives explored and charted by Aeldari Rangers, there was no record of this Webway. In other words, no one could find and enter this Webway without the Silent King's permission.
But Azhek Ahriman, an existence Imotekh had not at all anticipated, inexplicably appeared in the Webway with an entire star, blocking his fleet.
Could it be that the Silent King, that son of a The Deceiver, had once again used his divine wisdom, planning to discard his tools after use and stab Imotekh in the back?
Imotekh did not know that Ahriman was able to find this Webway neither through Necron technology nor through the Aeldari's grand Webway archives.
Instead, it was through a piece of human technology…
Ahriman slowly lowered his hand, looking at the flesh-bound book, made from human female skin, floating in his hand.
The book itself was alive; within its spine, one could vaguely see organs resembling a heart and lungs slowly pulsating, pumping blood and nutrients to each page.
On the stretched skin pages, blue-black veins constantly shifted and intertwined, weaving a map of the nearby Webway.
This was the Infernal Map, a Webway map created by humans.
Back then, Magnus' psyker phone call destroyed the Emperor's Webway, and some Sisters of Silence and Tech-Priests were trapped within the Webway.
Those Tech-Priests were already among the most excellent scientists in humanity, and experts in Webway technology. To return to Terra, to return to the Emperor's side, these Tech-Priests began searching for a way to leave the Webway.
It is unknown how much time they spent in the time-distorted Webway, but they eventually succeeded in completing this Webway map using the skin of a Sister of Silence.
Unlike the Aeldari's grand Webway archives, which relied on the physical exploration of Aeldari Rangers, the Infernal Map could automatically generate a map of the nearby Webway, guiding the user to their desired destination.
However, the Infernal Map was completed too late. Those Tech-Priests and Sisters of Silence ultimately failed to leave the Webway. The Infernal Map then fell into the hands of a Harlequin, was collected by Cegorach, and later acquired by Alexander.
It was by the guidance of the Infernal Map that Ahriman was able to enter this secret Webway, summon a blasphemous star, and block the Stormlord's fleet.
The Stormlord's metallic face grew grim and ugly. He had no choice but to use one of the Sotek Dynasty's last two treasures—
The sound of cold stream water splashing against ancient rocks suddenly echoed in the Stormlord's ears. A few withered, broad leaves fell from the shadows, and a bright, shining Power Sword sliced through the air, piercing directly towards the Stormlord's neck.
The Stormlord sharply turned his head, looking in the direction from which the blade attacked.
He saw the beast.
A humanoid beast clad in dark green Power Armor, his face hidden beneath a mix of golden-grey beard and hair, holding a sword and shield.
Lion El'Jonson, the Lion, wielding the Sword of Loyalty, strode from the forest.
Just then, a crackling roar of electricity sounded. A black light mixed with electricity suddenly burst forth from the Stormlord's throne, like an oppressive dark cloud, engulfing the Stormlord and pressing towards Lion El'Jonson.
When the Sword of Loyalty collided with that black light, almost in the blink of an eye, the energy on the sword's blade was completely devoured by the black light, becoming dim and powerless.
A sphere composed of living metal hovered above the Stormlord's throne. Dozens of faces, formed from pure energy, were vaguely visible upon it, roaring and attempting to break free from the sphere's confines.
This was one of the Stormlord's trump cards, one of his most powerful weapons: a Supreme C'tan Shard, formed from dozens of fragments belonging to a single C'tan. Its power far surpassed the sum of those fragments, having even recovered some of its former intellect and power.
Once released, the danger it posed to himself and to his enemies was equal.
Unless absolutely necessary, the Stormlord would not release it, but would only borrow some of the Supreme C'tan Shard's power through its external hyper-dimensional cube prison.
But now…
Boom!!!
The black light released by the Supreme C'tan Shard slammed into Lion El'Jonson, but Lion El'Jonson wielded the kite shield on his left hand, easily deflecting the C'tan's energy-devouring attack, and was even rapidly charging towards the Stormlord, almost reaching him again.
Why do humans always produce such inexplicable things?
A C'tan can even devour the energy of stars, yet it cannot devour the energy on that shield. What sense does that make…
The Stormlord no longer hesitated, directly extending his finger and lightly tapping the dark, living metal sphere above his head.
The surface of the metal sphere instantly rippled with silver-white waves, and dazzling black light burst forth from within.
"Traitor!!! Slave!!!!"
A sharp roar echoed through the Webway. Thin wings woven from black light suddenly spread, and the Stormlord's flagship, the Indomitable Conqueror, was instantly torn into a million fragments. But strangely, there was no fire or explosion; only the fragments hung limply in the void, as if all the energy from the destruction of the Stormlord's flagship had been absorbed.
A cloud, with thin wings, composed of black light, and larger than a battleship, appeared in the Webway, stretching its body.
In an instant, even the light of the star summoned by Ahriman dimmed considerably.
The C'tan, the Sun-eater Embarresh. His form was closest to the C'tan's primordial state, still adept at devouring stars and seizing energy, like the stellar vampires of old.
The Sotek Dynasty had once collected a large number of his C'tan Shards, gathering them together to form this Supreme C'tan, to be used as a trump card.
The moment the Sun-eater was released, Imotekh used a Pocket Dimension to transfer to the nearest Necron ship.
Those C'tan Shards belonging to Embarresh were rapidly coalescing. This C'tan's sanity was quickly recovering, and it was sending out calls along the Veins of space-time in all directions, summoning its other scattered fragments from among the stars.
This was precisely why Imotekh was unwilling to unleash the Sun-eater until such a critical moment. The Supreme C'tan was powerful enough to call its own fragments and return to completeness.
Once complete, the Sun-eater Embarresh would reappear. Even if he was among the weaker C'tan, far inferior to beings like the Nightbringer, the Burning One, and the Void Dragon, it would still be a disaster.
While the Sun-eater had not yet fully recovered his sanity and will, Imotekh gave him a final command:
Devour the star blocking the Stormlord's fleet—this was what the Sun-eater excelled at.
Ahriman again raised his thick arm. Solar flares erupted from the star, also forming a thick arm that slammed towards the Sun-eater, who was vibrating his thin light-wings and flying towards the blasphemous star.
But the moment the Sun-eater and the giant stellar arm collided, the energy of the solar flares was rapidly devoured, vanishing in mid-air in the blink of an eye.
The sound of cold spring water flowing through the forest echoed again. Lion El'Jonson's figure suddenly appeared before the Sun-eater. He fiercely swung the Emperor's Shield in his hand.
A faint golden light flashed, and the Sun-eater was actually forced back a step.
But Imotekh was not panicked. He knew the power of the Supreme C'tan; even a human Primarch could not handle it alone.
Fire. A burning straight sword extended from the void, and a blasphemous, lewd laugh followed.
"Lion, my second most boring brother, my dear elder brother, do you seem to need a little help?"
"Lion, my second most uninteresting brother, my dear elder brother, it seems you require a little help?"
That blasphemous, lewd voice came from the void. A burning straight sword pierced down from above the Sun-Eater, cutting through the Sun-Eater's body as gently as water.
The black light, capable of devouring stellar energy, was ignited by the flames on the sword, as if those flames were not physical, not energy, but some non-material, spiritual existence.
The moment it was touched by the flames, the Sun-Eater seemed to feel immense pain, struggling and beginning to writhe its massive body, black light shooting out in all directions.
A colossal tail, like a snake, an eel, or a worm, coiled and fell into the Webway, allowing Imotekh to see the being holding the flaming longsword.
It was a half-human, half-snake, demonic existence. Its lower body was a full tail, covered in delicate scales and long fins, constantly oozing some translucent mucus.
Where the cloaca would typically be on a snake, the skin had been peeled back and torn into eight petals, adorned with shining metal rings, stretched into an eight-pointed star, exposing the tender pink flesh within. Upon this flesh were embedded dazzling gold marks representing Slaanesh, with pink and green gems sparkling brightly.
Its upper body was more slender and delicate, like a tender woman, clad in dark golden armor inlaid with gems. Four long arms extended, each grasping a curved blade, a flaming straight sword, and a long whip.
Its face was long, pale, and distorted, hidden beneath interwoven white, green, and purple hair, revealing a gauntness from excessive indulgence. Its once beautiful features were twisted by this sense of depravity, becoming extremely cold and sinister.
Upon seeing this form, Imotekh's logical brain couldn't help but operate slightly.
He found this form strange: half-human, half-snake, but humans only have two arms, and snakes have no arms. Why did a half-human, half-snake form have four arms?
Imotekh suddenly remembered that a snake's hemipenes seemed to be two.
And at the same time, Imotekh also identified who this demon, with hemipenes as arms, was.
Fulgrim, the Human Slaanesh daemon Primarch, the third son who betrayed the Emperor… Should it be son?
Fulgrim seemed to sense Imotekh's gaze. That cold, gaunt face slowly twisted, looking in the direction of the Stormlord.
His snake eyes gently rested on Imotekh, and a soft, womanly chuckle escaped his lips.
For a moment, the Stormlord seemed to see another face superimposed on Fulgrim's.
That face was neither male nor female; it seemed to fuse different layers of beauty onto a single face, yet it exuded a chilling lewdness and horrifying depravity.
It was like a snake, like a fish, like a worm, like a goddess, like a prince, like a prostitute, like a male prostitute…
The instant he saw that face, Imotekh was horrified to find a warm current, a thirst, and an intense pleasure surging within him.
Not only Imotekh, but Lion El'Jonson also noticed something was amiss.
"My dear Lion, you…" Fulgrim scrutinized Lion from head to toe: "You were more handsome ten thousand years ago; now you have a mature charm that makes you even more enticing."
"Would you be willing for us to have… a brotherly exchange?"
Lion frowned at Fulgrim's words, his gaze fixed on Fulgrim's gaunt face.
"You are not Fulgrim, that traitor… you are…"
"Of course, I am Fulgrim, brother."
Fulgrim let out a lewd, blasphemous, and sinister laugh:
"It's just that this time, within Fulgrim, 'It' has a slightly larger share."
"For safety, to prevent any accidents…"
"…If something were to happen to Its beloved ally, that annoying Ynnead would crawl out again."
Saying this, Fulgrim glanced at the Necron fleet. She took a slight step forward, opened her throat, and let out a sharp shriek.
This shriek echoed in the Warp, covering every corner it could reach like a foul-smelling mucus.
Desire, thirst, pain, pleasure, joy… these emotions instantly began to spread.
The Necrons were horrified to realize they were experiencing desire, love, and pleasure.
Even the warships around them began to go into heat.
The Necrons even began to feel that their comrades around them, those Canoptek constructs, and the ships themselves wanted to ravish them.
But this feeling brought them not fulfillment, but an even stronger, more unbearable emptiness.
Imotekh's expression suddenly turned to horror. He once again felt clear-headed because he was a Necron.
If he had the function of generating desire, if he had a soul, he would probably have been completely engulfed by lust in that very instant.
Imotekh couldn't understand what that thing, which seemed to be Fulgrim, actually was, but with the simplest logic, he could understand:
It was an extremely terrifying entity, extremely dangerous, and one should never make an enemy of it.
The Stormlord quickly made a judgment and immediately issued an order, requiring his forces to withdraw from the Webway at the fastest speed.
Imotekh even felt that the Webway itself was starting to become some kind of sensuous living thing, trying to devour them.
Run!! Must run immediately!!!
Imotekh didn't even dare to look at that entity again, only able to pray that the Sun-Eater would destroy… or at least block that entity.
The inertia-less engines once again performed their function.
Imotekh's fleet accelerated directly to superluminal speed in the material universe. In almost the blink of an eye, Imotekh withdrew his forces to a cosmic space far from the Tomb Gate system.
Feeling the lust within him gradually subside, Imotekh let out a slight sigh of relief.
Then, Imotekh showed a bitter smile.
He found himself cornered.
The forces of his two subordinate dynasties had been almost entirely consumed by the Human fleet.
His own main army had also suffered some damage.
The Tomb Gate, which could have allowed them to retreat outside the Pariah Nexus, was also blocked.
The Silent King, whom the Deceiver had raised, also did not allow Imotekh to establish a foothold in the Pariah Nexus.
His remaining forces were insufficient to launch another offensive against the Humans.
Imotekh was effectively trapped within the Pariah Nexus, with nowhere to go and unsure what to do.
In fact, based on Imotekh's understanding of the Silent King, that damned bastard would most likely eliminate Imotekh once he had no further use.
Wait…?
Imotekh suddenly froze, realizing he seemed to have fallen into a thought trap.
Were his enemies only the Imperium of Man?
Didn't he also have the Silent King as an enemy?
He vaguely remembered that he was not without a path; he still had one thing he could do.
The Syndus System.
Imotekh looked at the star map, at the Syndus System at the center of the Pariah Nexus, and recalled Zandrekh's words.
In the Syndus System, there was a World Engine, the core of the Pariah Nexus, and the hope for the Necron future in the Silent King's eyes.
And Zandrekh had also hinted to Imotekh:
If Imotekh attacked the Syndus System, he would defect and cooperate with Imotekh in the assault.
Imotekh could still attack the Syndus System and stab the Silent King fiercely.
"The old madman! He had already allied with the Humans long ago!" Imotekh let out a self-mocking laugh.
Only now did he suddenly realize that he, who prided himself on controlling the battlefield with rigorous logic, had actually been manipulated by others.
From the very beginning, the great hand behind the Humans had left him no other option. He was bound to be forced to this point, and he could only choose to walk the pre-planned path, to attack the Syndus System.
Imotekh gently shook his head.
Even if he realized the manipulation of the hand behind the Humans, what could he do?
The result of his logical brain's calculations was that this was the best choice.
But Imotekh felt unwilling.
Even if he attacked the Syndus System, even if he defeated the Silent King, what would be the ultimate outcome?
How would he then contend with the Human fleet?
The Stormlord stared intently at the star map. After a moment, he let out a soft sigh and shook his head somewhat helplessly.
"Advance, Syndus System."
Imotekh issued the order to his remaining army.
And it was under the manipulation of the one behind the Humans that Imotekh, though he had lost both flanks, had preserved most of the strength of his most elite central army.
If Zandrekh's forces were added, it would be enough to penetrate the Syndus System and contend with the World Engine within the Syndus System.
Moments after he changed course, Imotekh received an overbearing communication.
That communication, by its authority, forcibly took over the Stormlord's communication channel and appeared before Imotekh.
The Three Saints Council appeared before Imotekh's eyes.
The Silent King stood on his throne, staring at Imotekh with his cold, burning eyes.
Imotekh felt a bone-chilling killing intent and threat from him.
But as Imotekh looked at the Silent King's expression, he rather felt like laughing.
He remembered when he was still a Necron.
Some commoner girls would deliberately gather around noble men; the noble men would reach their hands towards the commoner girls' sensitive parts. The commoner girls would often just smile, and some would even actively lean into it.
But if a commoner man touched a non-sensitive part of those commoner girls, even if it was just by accident, some girls would immediately let out sharp screams, angrily cursing the commoner man. And if a pariah touched them… even just a bit of skin, the pariah would be severely flogged.
The Silent King's expression at this moment was like that of a commoner girl whose sensitive parts had been touched by a pariah, angrily wishing to immediately flog the Stormlord, this disobedient one.
"What do you intend to do! Imotekh!"
Hapsalax the Luminous spoke on behalf of the Silent King, questioning the Stormlord:
"You dare to march on the Syndus System! Are you betraying the entire Necron race?!"
The Stormlord looked at that puppet Damning at him and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He had actually been waiting for this moment for a long time. He had prepared a speech long ago, wanting to say it to the Silent King…
"This was never what I wanted."
"This was never what I wanted."
"I never intended for my fleets to attack."
A hint of melancholy tinged Imotekh's voice as he silently activated the Necron's long-range quantum communication, transmitting his voice to every Dynasty.
"We once ended the brutal War in Heaven together."
"But you betrayed me."
"Betrayed all of us Necron."
"You listened to the gods' slanders and lied to your people."
"The Necron have only one chance for revival."
"If you cannot seize it."
"Then let me complete it."
"Let the war begin."
"From the skies of the Syndus System to the edge of the galaxy."
"Let the star-sea boil."
"Let the stars fall."
"Even if I spill my last drop of coolant."
"I will see the Necron liberated once more."
"If I cannot save it from your failure, Silent King."
"Then let the Pariah Nexus burn!"
Imotekh's words echoed through the long-range quantum communication, reaching the ears of every Dynasty, every Phaeron and Phaeron.
"By Saint Doraemon, when did the Stormlord become so talented?!"
"Talented? That's a Necron's head. This is plagiarized from Horus."
"Who is Horus?"
"I have a 'Concise History of Humanity' here; I think you all need to buy one."
"Isn't it concise? Why is it so thick? Who's the author? Szarekh? That makes sense then."
Within the Three Saints Council, the Silent King was first stunned by Imotekh's barrage of statements, then, relying on his knowledge reserves, the Silent King quickly understood the source of Imotekh's words.
Imotekh compared himself to Horus, which meant he was comparing the Silent King to that pile of sorcery-wielding dried corpse, didn't it?
The Silent King had always looked down on the Emperor.
"Good!" Hapsalast the Luminous roared, "Imotekh! How dare you! Do you wish to be the Horus of the Necron?"
"But I tell you, do not forget, the great Silent King Szarekh is not the Emperor of Mankind. He has been the Silent King for sixty million years, in and out of the galaxy, fighting the Old Ones, suppressing the Aeldari, shattering the C'tan, and emerging from the War in Heaven. He is a Necron of iron bones and hard will."
"All the wars you, Imotekh, have fought, the Silent King has fought! All the wars you, Imotekh, have not fought, the Silent King has also fought!"
"Back in the War in Heaven, the Silent King was burned by the Burning One for seven days and seven nights, yet he never feared. How could he be burned by you?!"
After a furious roar, the Three Saints Council angrily cut off communication, not giving Imotekh a chance to speak further.
The Silent King subtly vibrated the scepter in his hand, and a star map unfurled.
Relying on inertia-less engines, the Stormlord's forces were rapidly approaching the Syndus System.
Almost simultaneously, the human Blood Angels fleet and Ultramarines fleet also began to change course, heading directly for the Syndus System.
But the Silent King was not flustered; he had a large number of fleets stationed in the Syndus System, including a World Engine, and the commander of this powerful force was...
General Zandrekh the Crowned.
The Silent King's gaze flickered for a few moments.
Although Zandrekh was a madman, his command abilities were not to be underestimated, sufficient to effectively utilize that powerful force to resist the invasion of the Stormlord and humanity.
The only problem was that Zandrekh had once served the Stormlord.
However, Zandrekh's memory module was damaged, making him mistakenly believe he was still in the Necron's secession wars. This old general most hated the division of the Necron and was immensely loyal to the Necron Star Imperium.
So the Silent King did not believe that old madman would betray him, and given the current situation, there was no time to replace commanders on the eve of battle. Nevertheless, the Silent King still intended to test Zandrekh, lest the madman's mind was abnormal and he made a wrong move.
The communication was connected, and Zandrekh's figure appeared before the Silent King.
The old general was sitting behind a small table, enjoying his afternoon tea, the warm tea slipping between his empty ribs and spilling onto the floor.
Still as mad as ever, Zandrekh.
"General Zandrekh the Crowned, your former Phaeron, Stormlord Imotekh, has rebelled and is marching towards the Syndus System," Hapsalast the Luminous began.
But before he could finish, Zandrekh interrupted him.
"I have no Phaeron in my heart, only the unity of the Necron Empire."
Zandrekh spoke coldly:
"I hate any separatists. I will not allow any separatist to divide our race."
Zandrekh's statement satisfied the Silent King, and Hapsalast the Luminous spoke on his behalf: "Then, go and punish the separatists, Zandrekh! The Silent King permits you to use those forbidden weapons."
Zandrekh's eyes subtly moved. The Necron actually possessed many dangerous weapons, but these weapons did not conform to Necron war etiquette and, like Deathmarks, were almost never used by dignified Necron commanders.
"I will crush those despicable separatists who have abandoned their dignity," Zandrekh said with a cold tone.
The Silent King nodded in satisfaction, then the communication was cut off.
Zandrekh put down his teacup and looked at the Lords, Commanders, and Necron Warriors already prepared before him.
"The despicable separatist Silent King Szarekh seeks to make our race slaughter each other, in a manner completely inconsistent with the 'Necron Noble Code of War Etiquette'."
"Just as sixty million years ago, I offer only destruction and wrath to separatists."
"In the name of Saint Doraemon, act."
The World Engine, one of the Necron's largest war machines, was a planet-sized battleship.
Its weapons were so powerful, its armor so thick, and its internal structure so complex that one such battleship was equivalent to an entire fleet. To operate such a massive vessel, the Necron had to use a C'tan shard as the core and energy source of this planetary battleship.
Beneath the living metal shell, countless rooms, constructs, and corridors revolved in a series of chaotic motions around the C'tan shard, and within these rooms, embedded Pocket Dimensions were undergoing complex interweaving, overlapping, and merging.
This was at the request of Illuminor Szeras, the creator of Necron bio-transference technology, who seemed very concerned about his laboratory being discovered and located, and thus used such a chaotic system to keep his position in constant, random motion.
But Zellars himself didn't actually know why he was doing this.
He merely had a vague premonition, as if he saw a red-pink wooden door appearing behind him, and this premonition lingered in Zellars' mind like a nightmare.
And a voice told him that by doing this, by keeping his position entirely random, he could avoid that nightmare and ensure his safety.
Zellars didn't know who that voice belonged to, where it came from, what its purpose was, or why it appeared in his ear.
He didn't even find anything strange about the voice's appearance, accepting its existence calmly.
The voice described to him a space of infinite energy, where chaotic energy tides constantly surged, and from the rolling energy, countless sublime beings were born.
These were forms more perfect than the Necron bodies Zellars himself had created, beings composed of pure energy, similar to C'tan but different from them.
That space of infinite energy was the Empyrean; the Old Ones once drew power from it, and Zellars could certainly do the same.
He could seize its power, use its infinite energy to transform himself, to transform into pure light.
"Yes, Zellars, you can become light."
The voice whispered softly in Zellars' ear, almost biting into his auditory module.
"Yes, I, Zellars, can become light."
Zellars murmured to himself. He looked at the obsidian array before him, feeling inspiration bloom like mushrooms after rain in his logical brain. His slender metallic fingers also moved rapidly, adjusting the flow of energy between the obsidian stones.
He gradually felt the radiance of technology sparkling at his fingertips, and he understood what he was creating.
He would invent a chain technology that could transmit the polarity of the obsidian along the array in all directions.
In other words, once this technology was complete, Zellars would only need to reverse the polarity of one obsidian stone in the array to make the entire obsidian array switch from suppressing the Warp to amplifying the Warp. Moreover, Zellars could also use this to guide the torrent of Warp energy, directing it anywhere.
More crucially, this technology operated based on the inherent properties of obsidian. It wasn't just the obsidian stones that the Silent King had deployed in the Pariah Nexus and throughout the galaxy; even the obsidian obelisks that the Void Dragon had buried among the stars sixty million years ago, long forgotten by all living beings, could be activated and controlled by Zellars.
Zellars felt that he was already standing at the precipice of ascension; only one step remained. As long as he completed the technology before him, he could use the Silent King's hands to pave his own path to becoming light.
"Congratulations!" a sharp, cunning voice said in Zellars' ear.
"Congratulations!" a bird-like voice said in Zellars' ear.
"Congratulations!" a blood-scented voice said in Zellars' ear.
Zellars felt his logical brain running faster and faster, more and more rapidly, more and more clearly. Inspiration mushrooms grew one by one, gradually constructing the technology in his hands——————
Boom!!!!
Just then, the World Engine suddenly trembled.
Zellars instantly withdrew from that state of continuous inspiration, looking around in surprise.
"The World Engine is under attack?"
"Who did it?"
Zellars looked beyond the viewscreen and discovered that it was the Necron fleet within the Syndus System attacking the World Engine itself.
That was... Zandrekh's direct fleet?
The forces stationed in the Syndus System can be divided into three parts:
the World Engine directly subordinate to Zellars, the fleet from the Silent King, and the fleet brought by Zandrekh directly subordinate to him. These are the three parts in total.
As the overall commander of the Syndus System's defense fleet, Zandrekh could theoretically command the Silent King's fleet and his own fleet, and with Zellars' approval, he could also deploy the World Engine.
Such a massive fleet guarding a single system was sufficient to withstand any form of enemy, and indeed, that was the case.
The Silent King's fleet was positioned by Zandrekh at the outermost edge of the system, encircling the asteroid belt around the Syndus System, acting as a solid wall to directly resist enemy attacks.
Zandrekh's forces, on the other hand, were stationed behind the asteroid belt.
The asteroids in the Syndus System were primarily composed of extremely hard metal, mixed with some Blackstone remnants from sixty million years ago. Their outer shells were also coated with a layer of solid ice due to the low temperatures of space, making them difficult to destroy with a single strike from even Necron lightning arc arrays. Ships had to slow down and navigate around these asteroids.
This was also why the Silent King chose the Syndus System as the core of the Pariah Nexus; the asteroid belt served as a natural defensive line.
Zandrekh's forces were positioned behind the asteroid belt precisely to ambush enemy forces that were forced to slow down while traversing it.
The plan proceeded smoothly. Although the Stormlord's central fleet was powerful, it had lost its left and right flanks and sustained a certain degree of damage.
At this moment, the Stormlord's fleet, facing the Silent King's elite fleet, was like waves crashing against dark reefs; though continuous, they always shattered the moment they touched the reefs.
The Overlords directly subordinate to the Necron, watching the Stormlord's fleet rush to its demise, even began to mock them.
"Leave the Stormlord to us; blow up all those tomb ships!"
"Haha! Count me in!"
"Good idea!"
"That would be amazing!"
"Not the Overlord I like; kill him directly!"
The Silent King's dynasty had declined to its lowest point over sixty million years. The linguistic logic modules of these Overlords were generally damaged, and their speech lacked logic. They only gradually rose to high positions after the Silent King's return.
But just then, the asteroid belt behind them suddenly moved.
The massive asteroids seemed to suddenly gain a will of their own, flying towards the Silent King's fleet.
Zandrekh's forces behind them also attacked them almost simultaneously.
On top of those asteroids, Zandrekh, taking advantage of his position, installed a large number of miniaturized gravity engines, which could accelerate the asteroids themselves to extremely high speeds in a short time, giving them immense kinetic energy.
This situation completely caught the Silent King's fleet off guard. At first, they couldn't even understand that this was an attack on them, unable to comprehend why the asteroid belt behind them was getting closer and closer.
It wasn't until the first asteroid crashed into the fleet that these asteroids, with their sheer size, weight, and the acceleration provided by the gravity engines, became extremely dangerous weapons.
Impact followed. The first asteroid slammed directly into a Shroud-class light cruiser. The massive asteroid shattered with a roar, and the ship, forged from living metal, also cracked and disintegrated, mixing with the debris and flying wildly in all directions.
Then, more ships were engulfed by the asteroid shower, turning into space debris along with the exploding asteroids, swirling chaotically in space.
In a frantic rush, parts of the Silent King's fleet began to turn around, attempting to use the lightning arc arrays on their ships to focus fire and shoot down the asteroids.
Their actions quickly took effect. Although a single lightning arc array could not destroy these asteroids, a large concentration of lightning arc arrays was enough to tear open the thick layers of ice and metallic bodies.
However, some of these asteroids, after being attacked by the Silent King's fleet, had torpedoes placed inside them by Zandrekh explode. The metallic asteroids themselves instantly dissolved and fractured, but the Blackstone within the asteroids remained unaffected.
Under the force of the explosion and inertia, these Blackstone fragments scattered in all directions at sub-light speed, tearing through the ships attacking the asteroid shower like shrapnel grenades.
Zandrekh's forces seized the opportunity to attack the Silent King's forces, forming a pincer movement with the Stormlord's forces.
At the same time, some of the modified asteroids in the asteroid belt also activated, not crashing into the Silent King's forces, but instead heading towards the World Engine within the system.
Suddenly, a tumultuous meteor shower erupted on the World Engine, forcing a large number of its weapons to be used for defense against the asteroids.
As for the remaining weapons...
A clear sound of opening doors suddenly rang out. The Blood Angels' flagship, Red Tears, and the Phoenix Son Chapter's flagship, Phoenix's Pride, leading a large human fleet, appeared directly inside the Syndus System, positioning themselves between Zandrekh's forces and the World Engine.
But whether it was the Blood Angels' Gloriana-class Battleship, Red Tears, or the Phoenix's Pride, meticulously designed by Fulgrim, both now served as mere backdrops.
In the very center of the human fleet, a massive vessel, shaped like a trident, stood in the void.
This was an Abyss-class Battleship, even larger than a Gloriana-class Battleship, one of the three forged by the traitor Primarch Lorgar in the past. It once belonged to Erebus, named Blessed Lady, and was now named doraemon Cabinet.
This magnificent battleship engaged the World Engine, and the entire Syndus System was illuminated by the light of lances and lightning arc arrays, even dimming the star significantly.
But even in this fierce battle, a crucial figure was missing.
Guilliman casually grabbed a handful of soybeans from the small cloth bag Alexander gave him, popping them into his mouth and chewing, as he read the message from Zandrekh.
Stormlord Imotekh had not appeared in the Syndus System.
The Phaeron of the Sotek Dynasty seemed to have vanished, absent from this important war.
Outside the Pariah Nexus, amidst the roaring Warp storms,
on the Gloriana-class Battleship Macragge's Honour, while chewing soybeans, Guilliman looked up at the metallic figure in the shadows.
The Phaeron of the Sotek Dynasty, Stormlord Imotekh, stood in Guilliman's office.
Guilliman's honor guard, the Invincible Army, was arrayed around him, but the Stormlord showed no sign of panic.
He calmly looked at Guilliman, who was seated behind his desk, and tapped the floor with the scythe in his hand, which was somewhat large even for a Necron Phaeron.
"Human commander, Roboute Guilliman, Lord of Ultramar, must you eat those cheap beans?"
The lights in Guilliman's office were off, and his figure was almost entirely enveloped in deep darkness. This darkness was so profound that even the Stormlord could not fully penetrate it.
He only vaguely saw Guilliman make a gesture, signaling the Invincible Army surrounding Imotekh to withdraw.
The Invincible Army hesitated for a moment.
"Withdraw. Your lives are the Emperor's precious currency; do not waste them here," Guilliman's voice carried an undeniable authority.
The Invincible Army trembled, but ultimately obeyed their gene-father's command, exiting the office.
"This is a gift from a friend of mine."
"He claimed that when I'm commanding battles or thinking, it creates a very atmospheric and imposing presence," Guilliman said, his fingers tracing the bag of roasted soybeans.
"Indeed, it has quite a feeling. In the future—"
"—If I have a future, I might use this method to commemorate you, a rather talented adversary."
Imotekh gripped the scythe and took a small step towards Guilliman.
"You are a very valuable Necron. You can play a significant role for the Imperium of Man. You don't need to die here; you have other choices."
"Surrender, Imotekh. You are a more satisfactory Necron ruler than the Silent King."
Guilliman gently advised:
"Why seek death?"
"Rather than seeking death, I prefer to call it a final gamble."
A expression that could be called a smile appeared on Imotekh's metallic face:
"Your strategy is too brilliant. Even if the Syndus System is breached and the Silent King is defeated, I will no longer be able to compete with you humans."
"Once the Silent King fails, I will have practically lost..."
"But I am not entirely without a chance. You are the human commander. Human forces depend on your coordination, and from what I know... the Imperium of Man's current operation relies heavily on your mind."
"You are the core of human order. By killing you, human order will be severely damaged, and my order will still have a chance."
"Are you so certain that your order is better for this galaxy?" Guilliman inquired.
"I have never been so arrogant as to believe that. There is no evidence to prove that my order is the best."
Imotekh gripped his scythe tightly, speaking with a resolute voice:
"Only practice can prove everything, and the practice of order is war."
"So I stand here, using war, using the clash of two orders, to determine whose order is better."
"If I achieve victory, it means my order is superior. If you defeat me... it means your order is the stronger one."
"Your chances of winning are slim," Guilliman said calmly.
"Is that so? I, on the contrary, believe my odds are quite high..."
Imotekh slightly raised the scythe in his hand, and cold, sharp light burst forth from it.
A giant metallic skeletal hand, wrapped in dark rags, extended from the scythe, taking the weapon from Imotekh's grasp.
A terrifying, profound sense of death permeated Macragge's Honour.