Ks'an Sept World.
In the void of space, the slaughter continued.
Because of the vacuum, even the most violent roars left no trace, replaced by a staggering, heavy silence.
The starships—once the masterpieces of the Greater Good—had been reduced to scattered debris. Nano-metals and T'au flesh, organic and inorganic matter, were churned together until they were indistinguishable.
All the high technology the T'au prided themselves on meant nothing before that massive ram; they were brutally broken by a primitive tactic that belonged to the age of cold steel, pulverized into fine stardust.
Of course, as the Fire Caste of Ks'an—veterans of countless wars and famed for their bravery—they would not stand by like lambs for the slaughter.
Under the command of a Custodian-class carrier and guided by efficient calculations, a large number of T'au warships began to disperse. Their dense formation thinned out as they attempted to move away from the rampaging iron monster.
To the T'au, the life of every comrade was precious. Due to their limited scale, they possessed neither the vast territories of the Imperium of Man nor the reproductive rate of the Orks. They had to avoid mass casualties at all costs rather than waste lives in a war of attrition.
Naturally, through the ship's auspex, Adam saw everything.
"It seems they haven't given up yet."
Looking at the holographic sand table, everyone reached the same conclusion. It was obvious that the T'au ships were spreading out at a very specific distance—not too far, not too close—keeping the ship at a delicate range. If the Morning Wood continued to use its ramming tactics to pick them off one by one, it would be a tedious and time-consuming process.
However, this proved the T'au had not yet chosen to flee in total panic. They still believed they could defeat this terrifying opponent.
But would such a response truly work? The Morning Wood was armed with far more than just a C'tan Phase Ram.
Adam shook his head and closed his eyes. His consciousness focused once more, and his connection with the Machine Spirit became so vivid it felt physical.
"Expand."
As Adam's will manifested, the scale of the Machine Spirit surged under the influence of reality-warping power. It expanded, and expanded again, until it reached its absolute limit!
On the bridge, Sibyl—the most sensitive to psychic phenomena—gasped in shock. Previously, the Machine Spirit's volume, while massive, was within human understanding for a ship of this size. But now, backed by reality-warping capabilities, the Morning Wood's Machine Spirit grew so vast that Sibyl felt the sickening illusion of being trapped inside the body of a Warp entity.
The Machine Spirit instantly enveloped everything. Its power spread, integrating every weapon, sensor, engine, and power array into a single, flowing entity.
The next moment, Adam waved his hand and gave the order:
"All batteries, fire!"
Inside the Custodian-class carrier, Commander Valos —already overwhelmed by managing the fleet's evasive maneuvers—snapped his head up to stare at the ship's projection.
On the bridge, every T'au who saw the scene froze, mouths agape. An Air Caste pilot even rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was hallucinating.
On the viewscreen, the unknown Gue'la warship was doing something new.
It was spinning.
Exactly—spinning! With a grace that defied its massive hull, the pure white body of the ship suddenly banked left, then, as if momentum and inertia didn't exist, performed a barrel roll into a sharp right turn, moving like a flickering ghost.
What shocked the Fire Caste commanders even more was that even during these violent maneuvers, the dense clusters of weapon ports on the enemy ship began to glow.
Mid-maneuver, every weapon unit on the hull shuddered simultaneously. A barrage of fire erupted, lighting up the dark void like a localized meteor shower. Particle Whips and Tesla Destructors from the Necrons lashed out like swords swung by giants—crisscrossing, twisting, and bending mid-flight in eerie arcs.
The barrage moved with impossible precision. Despite the vast astronomical distances, the shots found their marks as if they had eyes. It was a feat akin to hitting a gnat with a stone from miles away, over and over again.
Under the Machine Spirit's enhancement, Adam's vision was likely filled with a list of "buff" icons applied to the Morning Wood: Ballistic Correction, Attack Up, Map Hack, Precision Targeting, Infinite Firepower...
Furthermore, T'au ships typically utilized gravity shields that prioritized the bow. Unlike the void shields of other races, they did not offer 360-degree protection. This design flaw only accelerated the fleet's destruction.
Commander Valos slumped his shoulders and let out a long sigh. On his screen, bad news cascaded like a waterfall as the AI's monotone voice chimed:
[Two Hero-class cruisers hit. Engine systems critically compromised.]
[Emissary-class light cruiser neutralized. 40% of hull disintegrated. Vessel lost.]
[Protector-class cruiser wing damaged. Propulsion performance dropped by 50%...]
The losses were mounting; there was no turning back. The question of how the Gue'la had suddenly become this powerful no longer mattered. As the realization that the Ks'an Sept was facing total annihilation set in, despair took hold.
"Steady yourself! For the Greater Good!" Ethereal An'ze whispered firmly.
Yes, I haven't lost yet! If I fall, Ks'an will be left undefended and destroyed by these Gue'la! Like a ray of sunlight piercing through clouds, the Ethereal's words injected courage into Valos' heart. We have one last move!
His eyes sharpened. He began operating his console with practiced speed, barking out orders. The remnants of the fleet that had survived the barrage gathered their courage and adjusted their headings. They pointed their reinforced bow shields toward the enemy to tank the fire, ignited their plasma thrusters, and charged toward the Morning Wood in a desperate swarm.
Valos' strategy was simple: compensate for quality with quantity. No matter how powerful the unknown ship was, it couldn't kill them all if they attacked at once. Once they closed the distance, the Custodian could launch its complement of Barracuda fighters to bypass the enemy's shields with plasma bombs or attempt a boarding action. At the very least, they could dodge the ram and execute suicide runs against the ship's flanks.
Through the storm of fire, the T'au fleet charged, suffering horrific losses. One after another, brilliant explosions bloomed silently in the void. Yet, despite the mounting sacrifices, the Custodian carrier pressed on, gliding gracefully toward the Morning Wood.
What will you do now? Valos stared at the screen, refusing to mourn his fallen comrades yet.
Based on the enemy's previous behavior—straight-up crushing a destroyer with a ram—Valos bet that the enemy commander wouldn't back down. If the enemy used their superior mobility to turn and kite them, Valos would be helpless. It was a desperate gamble.
However, Valos' expression soon froze.
There was good news and bad news.
The good news: the enemy had no intention of staying away. Instead, they activated their strange drives and accelerated directly toward the T'au. The distance was closing rapidly.
The bad news: as the enemy moved, they also launched a massive number of their own craft—sinister, black, crescent-shaped fighters that drifted eerily through space.
Impossible. In Valos' understanding, a ship with that much firepower shouldn't have the internal space for such a large fighter complement.
But he had no time to think. Necron Doom Scythes and Night Scythes tore through the void like phantoms, intercepting the Barracudas and shredding them with ease.
It's over. Valos' legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed.
Yet, the ship didn't use its ram to punch a hole in the Custodian. Instead, it ignored the carrier's bulk and simply cruised past it.
What? Valos was stunned. Did they show mercy?
The reality was far worse. As the ships passed each other, a rain of torpedoes launched from the Unity's broadside. Before the Custodian could react, the torpedoes slammed into its hull.
In the silence of space, the boarding torpedoes' retro-thrusters fired, anchoring them into the ship. Melta charges hissed, melting through layers of armor. Inside the torpedo bay, a ghostly green light flickered.
Yarrick, clad in his black Commissar's uniform, stepped out. With a flick of his hand, a psychic bubble detonated, turning the approaching Fire Warriors into a red mist. Behind him followed a relentless tide of grey: dozens of heavily armed Domitar robots and Astartes Terminators.
A beautiful day always starts with a boarding action.
____________________________
It's pretty late for me so I'm heading straight 2 bed