Ke'lshan Sept World.
The Ethereal Council Chamber.
Transparent radiance spilled from the heavens, illuminating the hall filled with the distinct sci-fi aesthetic of the T'au.
Standing upon anti-gravity hovering discs, the Ethereals maintained solemn expressions, silently awaiting the commencement of the meeting.
As the most unique existence among the T'au castes, the Ethereals possessed long lifespans but were always few in number. Even in a place like the Ke'lshan Sept World—the capital of an entire T'au province—there were a mere eleven Ethereals.
At this moment, they had all gathered here due to the sudden arrival of disastrous news, prepared to open an Ethereal Council. The future of Ke'lshan would likely have its ultimate path decided right here.
With a distinct sliding sound, the hall's heavy doors opened. A figure, also riding a signature Ethereal hovering disc, entered and moved toward the center of the hall.
Clearly, he was the moderator of this session.
Reaching the center, the newcomer slowly pulled back his hooded robe, revealing the face beneath. It was Ethereal Elder An'ze, who had returned from the fleet.
The gaze of the other Ethereals immediately converged upon him, scrutinizing their compatriot's every move. Among them, a few furrowed their brows slightly.
Why does it feel like this compatriot's expression carries a hint of... misplaced excitement?
Is it an illusion?
On second thought, it probably was. After all, a powerful T'au fleet had suffered such a horrific blow before even leaving the Ke'lshan system. This earth-shattering news was like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
Considering they still had to face an unknown enemy—one responsible for cutting off communications with other fringe worlds—no amount of grief or even terror would be misplaced. How could anyone possibly be happy?
"An'ze, let us begin today's agenda," one Ethereal spoke first, his voice heavy.
"I think that won't be necessary," An'ze replied, shaking his head and waving a hand dismissively.
What does that mean?
The crowd froze, lost in confusion.
One must understand that the various Sept systems of the T'au Empire are highly autonomous. Each Sept world possesses a nearly complete military and production infrastructure, even holding the capability to independently research technology and construct massive fleets.
The advantages of this system were obvious: it perfectly bypassed the weakness of the T'au's limited long-range communication. Any potential separatist tendencies were perfectly suppressed by the Ethereals—individuals who were internally unified and possessed the unique ability to control their fellow Kindred.
But the system was not without flaws.
Now that the Ke'lshan Sept was under attack by an unknown force, requesting aid from other Septs would take so long that by the time help arrived, the trail would be cold and the battle long lost.
In other words, they had to solve this themselves. At such a critical juncture, An'ze was saying there was no need for a council? What was the meaning of this?
"You will understand shortly," Ethereal An'ze said, a hauntingly strange smile spreading across his face.
The gathered Ethereals watched as he pulled a pitch-black spherical device from his pocket and hurled it violently at the floor.
Of all the martial arts, this was the "Signal of the Shattered Cup!"
Snap!
A crisp explosion, like a glass shattering, rang out. Accompanied by a blinding flash of blue light, thirteen Custodes—clad in gold armor and wielding power blades and axes—materialized within the council chamber.
"What?!"
The Ethereals' eyes widened, their pupils shrinking in shock. Before they could react or attempt to summon the Fire Caste warriors stationed outside, Adam—who had teleported in behind the Custodes—snapped his fingers gently.
Instantly, the world fell silent.
All cries were choked in throats; the air seemed to solidify into physical palms, seizing the bodies of every Ethereal and pinning them firmly in place.
Then, without a single word of nonsense, the Custodes blurred into afterimages. Even with the Ethereals' respectable melee capabilities and reaction speeds, they were utterly unable to track the golden warriors' movements. They could only see the giants appear beside them as strange syringes appeared in their hands, plunging directly into their bodies.
With no power to resist, Mindshackle Scarabs from the Necrons pierced their skin, flowing through their bluish blood to permeate their entire systems, completing total control.
These devices—treasures even within Necron Dynasties, usually reserved for Necron Overlords—had been mass-produced under Adam's reality-warping powers. He had enough to use them individually, saving him the trouble of rewriting souls one by one.
"Alright, this makes our communication much easier. Now, I shall announce the subsequent decisions for the Ke'lshan Sept," Adam said, looking around and speaking loudly. "Your next task is to mobilize every T'au on this world to begin the extensive construction of a comprehensive orbital defense system."
"Yes!" the Ethereals responded in perfect unison.
Adam nodded.
This was the fatal flaw of the T'au Empire's hierarchy. Once the Ethereals were controlled, the entire system collapsed as rapidly as a body whose central nervous system had been paralyzed.
Even within the Empire's Legiones Astartes, when a Primarch turned traitor, many loyalist warriors within the legion would still fight to the death against their rebel brothers.
The T'au were different. Even their greatest rebel, Commander Farsight, only managed to break away and establish the Farsight Enclaves because the three Ethereals accompanying his expeditionary fleet died accidentally at the hands of Warp daemons on the planet Arthas Moloch.
"Now, the second question. Does this Sept world have any Gue'vesa auxiliary forces?" Adam asked again.
"Gue'la" was the T'au term for humans, while "Gue'vesa" referred to those humans who had converted to the Greater Good (literally meaning "Human Helpers"). These people were viewed by the Imperium as the most loathsome of traitors—cowards contaminated by xenos culture.
Adam, however, had no particular opinion of them.
At this point in time, pure "race-traitors" were a minority. Most Gue'vesa were descendants of Imperial Guard soldiers who had been hastily abandoned in T'au space following the Damocles Crusade when the Imperium diverted its forces to deal with the Tyranid invasion. Given that the T'au Empire treated them remarkably well, their choice was entirely understandable.
The Ethereals looked at each other and slowly shook their heads.
As the most xenophobic Sept in the T'au Empire—hardened by constant harassment from the Dark Eldar—Ke'lshan held a long-standing prejudice against aliens. Naturally, there were no Gue'vesa here.
"Fine," Adam shook his head. "Just announce to the other T'au, especially the Fire Caste warriors, that we are a Gue'vesa Legion that has arrived to provide support."
"Don't worry, we will fight side-by-side with you to repel the Tyranids. Those mountains and seas of Hormagaunts and Termagants will be for your heavy fire to hold back; as for the Synapse creatures, leave those to our elite squads for successive decapitation strikes."
As the saying goes: I will save you from the fire and the flood. Just don't ask where the fire and the flood came from.