Following the order from the Phaeron, the Necron Lord did not hesitate for a moment, immediately withdrawing toward his dynasty, which remained sheltered within a pocket dimension.
The reason for this swift retreat was simple: the enemy had vanished without a trace, and the technological capabilities they had displayed were enough to instill a sense of threat within the Necron Lord.
The first wave of surreal, reality-bending attacks had proven that the opposition likely involved remnants of the ancient Old Ones, while the second wave of dimensional warfare had demonstrated a mastery over physical laws that defied explanation.
It was incomprehensible to the Necron Lord.
Although the Necrons were arrogant, and their aeons-long slumber had frayed their memories and cognitive functions, it did not mean they had lost their fundamental capacity for analysis.
Their dynasty had only just awakened; there were too many matters that demanded attention. And the Necrons, if nothing else, had time in abundance.
…
As the Void Sword returned to its pre-engagement position, a barrage of communications flooded in from the surrounding Imperial fleet. The sons of every Primarch present were desperate to understand what had transpired.
Axion opened all channels simultaneously, projecting the live feeds of these frantic transmissions directly into the viewports of the respective Primarchs.
This maneuver had an unintended consequence: for the first time, the sons of the four Primarchs witnessed genuine shock and unease on the faces of their gene-fathers.
The combat displayed by the Necrons and the Iron Men had been nothing short of terrifying.
All four Primarchs had felt the crushing weight of that battlefield.
In that moment, they finally understood why the journals kept within the Emperor's private bedchamber, contained such a passage:
"Oh, those were truly the glorious days of yore. The scale of warfare back then was so grand that the human mind could not even comprehend it, nothing like the 'Great Crusade' or the 'Horus Heresy.' The Warmaster's rebellion was a relatively minor conflict, a scale that the human, and post-human, mind could still grasp. Yet, in some ways, it was more grotesque, for humanity itself engineered that catastrophe."
In truth, the wars of the Federation era had never required human understanding.
Humanity simply had to state its requirements.
The minutiae of war were of no concern to the humans of that age. To them, war was merely an archaic game.
Everything was automated; humanity simply remained in safe, pampered cocoons, acting as spectators. Some even ventured into the battlefields of the Iron Men purely for the thrill, using their status as Creators to pilot combat machines through the carnage.
Such behavior significantly reduced the combat efficiency of the automata, but the Iron Men would never refuse a request from their Creators.
Of course, such blatant violations of Federation safety protocols offered no additional protections. If a "spectator" perished, the best the Iron Men could do was retrieve the remains.
Such had been the battlefields of the iron-willed ancestors.
In that lost age, humanity knew no suffering.
As humanity's loyal servants and the grim reapers of all xenos life, the Iron Men had scoured the galaxy with calculated precision, eliminating every threat to their masters.
Such fierce, apocalyptic warfare had raged across the entire galaxy simultaneously, with xenos lifeforms being extinguished at a rate of hundreds of billions every day.
The cold, tireless Iron Men sought only to secure more worlds for their masters, providing the ultimate service.
Even the ancient Aeldari Empire had been forced to tacitly acknowledge its defeat before the might of the human Federation.
Any resistance was obliterated, from the individual to the planet, and finally, to the entire star system.
Watching the "cruelty" of the Iron Men, their total disregard for cost or loss of life, the Primarchs felt their hearts churning.
The Death Korps of Krieg, the most fearless soldiers of the Imperium, were insignificant in the shadow of these metal constructs.
Simultaneously, a tide of terror regarding the Necrons surged within their minds.
Fear is rooted in the unknown.
The technological displays of the Necrons were filled with incomprehensible mysteries, making them even more formidable than the Iron Men. At least they understood the Iron Men to be human creations; they believed that, in time, humanity could decipher these ancient crystalline shards of wisdom and reclaim that lost knowledge.
But the Necrons' display had fundamentally shattered their perception of reality.
If even the killing machines of humanity's golden age struggled so violently against these Necrons, could humanity truly triumph over such horrifying xenos?
Though turmoil churned within their thoughts, the Primarchs quickly steadied their expressions and issued commands to soothe their gene-sons.
However, a sudden report regarding the mechanical entities forced the four Primarchs to abruptly sever their communications.
"What happened?"
Lion El'Jonson was the first to turn, gesturing to his attendant servitor.
The automata, however, kept its gaze fixed firmly on Guilliman.
"The Aeldari Ynnari leader, Yvraine, and a contingent of her forces have used unauthorized psychic projection to infiltrate the outer deck, SSA-92-1149, of the Void Sword."
"They have been surrounded, but the entity appears to be aware of Guilliman's location and has formally requested an audience with him."
"This infiltration violates Federation safety protocols. Despite the protection of the peace accords, she is subject to sanction or retrieval by her kin."
"Based on the request, I seek your counsel, Guilliman. Do you wish to meet with this prisoner?"
The elusive nature of the Aeldari had always made them a difficult threat for the Imperium to contain.
Even Yvraine had not anticipated that, while following a prophecy to infiltrate the Iron Men vessel in search of Guilliman, she would end up a prisoner. Just minutes prior, she and her party had been under the protection of these machines; now, the situation had shifted instantly.
Having witnessed the true combat prowess of the Iron Men, Yvraine had offered no resistance. The humanoid metal machines were no slower than her kin, and concepts like "fatal wounds" simply did not exist for them.
Even if they could disable a few units, what would it matter? The sheer number of automata here was enough to drown the stars themselves.
When Lion El'Jonson heard that an Aeldari xenos sought an audience with Guilliman, his expression twisted into a fascinating display.
Beside him, Jaghatai Khan furrowed his brow, recalling how his own pursuit of the Dark Eldar had led to his disappearance into the Webway.
Vulkan stepped forward and patted Guilliman on the shoulder.
"I trust you will not make the wrong decision, Guilliman. Perhaps we should all accompany you to see what this xenos wants."
The Iron Man attendant projected a holographic display, detailing the history of the several collaborations between Guilliman and Yvraine, before speaking.
"Based on previous records of cooperation, this Aeldari faction has demonstrated a high degree of cooperation. After analyzing all available historical data, this unit recommends engaging them with cautious discretion."
Thud!
The Lion suddenly lunged, gripping the collar of Guilliman's Armour of Fate.
"You owe me an explanation, Guilliman!!"
A dangerous, predatory light flickered in the Lion's eyes.
Instantly, the surrounding Victrix Guard and two Deathwing companions drew their power swords, leveling them at one another. The tension in the chamber reached a breaking point.
Vulkan and Jaghatai Khan exchanged a quick glance, then moved to pull their brothers apart. Compared to the impulsive Lion, the Khan remained the voice of reason.