“Necrons?
What in the Emperor’s name are they doing in the Cryptus System?
What do they want?” Reading the high-priority alert, Dante frowned deeply.
Over his centuries of service, he had fought countless brutal campaigns against the Necrons.
However, he had also experienced one unprecedented, incredibly uneasy alliance with them.
When Hive Fleet Leviathan threatened the Gehenna System, Dante had briefly allied with Szarekh, the Silent King, to combat the mutual Tyranid threat.
Despite that, Dante held absolutely zero trust or goodwill toward the metallic skeletons.
Every single interaction he ever had with them radiated a suffocating arrogance and a deep-seated, systemic malice toward humanity.
The only reason they had ever agreed to cooperate was because the Tyranid Hive Mind posed an existential threat to the entire galaxy.
If the Tyranids didn’t exist, the Necrons would undoubtedly make it their absolute priority to completely exterminate the Imperium of Man.
The Blood Angels fleet in high orbit continuously relayed tactical updates on the Necron armada’s movements to Dante.
The Hive Mind had also immediately registered the arrival of the uninvited guests.
A massive detachment of Tyranid bio-ships abruptly changed course, moving to intercept the Necrons.
A titanic void battle violently erupted in the cold depths of space.
The blinding flashes of bio-plasma, hyper-dense particle beams, and the catastrophic detonations of macro-cannon shells briefly illuminated the pitch-black void.
Relying on their overwhelmingly superior, physics-defying firepower, the crescent-shaped Necron warships systematically shredded the Tyranid bio-ships blocking their path and smoothly broke into Phodia’s orbit.
The augur arrays at Helios Spaceport detected a volley of objects launched from the Necron vessels.
The drop-pods screamed through the atmosphere, slamming into the earth just outside the spaceport perimeter.
After rapidly cross-referencing visual and auspex data, the tactical officers confirmed the payload: Necron Monoliths and teleportation obelisks.
“Are those damned metallic xenos seriously trying to start a two-front war right now?!” General Dhrost clenched his fists, glaring at his staff officers.
“Hurry!
Go petition the Forefather to take command!” What do you do when you run into an enemy you mathematically cannot beat?
You obviously go beg your omnipotent ancestor to carry you.
“General Dhrost, I strongly advise we hold our position.
The Necrons are calculating machines; they wouldn’t be foolish enough to start a war of attrition at this exact moment.” Dante raised a hand, stopping Dhrost.
“The Imperium has already lost this entire planet save for this one spaceport.
What exactly do they gain from attacking us?
Do they desperately want to steal our dilapidated cargo haulers?
Or maybe they’re trying to rob us of our last remaining corpse-starch rations?” “What are you implying?” Dhrost frowned in confusion.
“I am implying they have an ulterior motive for making planetfall,” Dante reasoned calmly.
“Let us wait and observe.
If they open fire, we can petition the Forefather then.” “We cannot constantly bother the Forefather for every minor disturbance before we even understand the situation.
If we do, we prove ourselves entirely useless as commanders.” Dhrost considered Dante’s words and nodded.
It was a valid point.
Outside the spaceport, the Necron obelisks activated.
A blinding emerald beam shot into the sky as the structures rapidly unfolded, stabilizing into massive teleportation gates.
Squad after squad of Necron Warriors, gripping their gauss flayers in perfect synchronization, marched out of the portals and formed up into rigid, absolute formations.
Yet, they made no move to attack.
Just as the Imperial commanders were trying to decipher their intent, the primary communication servitors on the command deck let out a piercing, corrupted screech.
[WARNING.
Unverified data-stream breaching secure vox-network.] [WARNING…] The tactical hololith suspended in the center of the command room violently glitched.
An invisible, overwhelming force forcibly hijacked the projection, shifting the standard Imperial blue hue into a sickly, fluorescent green.
The towering, metallic visage of a Necron Overlord materialized in the projection.
His ocular optics burned with a blinding, incandescent white light, and tiny arcs of emerald energy crackled across his metallic chassis.
“I am Anrakyr the Traveller, Overlord of the Pyrrhian Dynasty.
I have come to seek your cooperation.
Who among you claims the mantle of leadership?” Anrakyr’s gaze locked directly onto Dante.
The tactical data his scarabs had skimmed confirmed that this specific biological construct was the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels.
Based on his extensive database on the Imperium of Man, whenever the Adeptus Astartes were present on a battlefield, they invariably assumed supreme command.
“Our supreme leader is not present in this room.” Dante stepped forward to address Anrakyr directly.
“State your intentions and the purpose of your arrival.
We will relay it to him.” Anrakyr paused for a microsecond, a flicker of genuine confusion and wariness processing through his engrams.
The Blood Angels were one of the First Founding Chapters of the Imperium.
Dante was their Chapter Master.
If a being of his status wasn’t the supreme commander, just how deep did the command hierarchy here go?
But a split second later, Anrakyr dismissed the thought.
Regardless of their internal politics, they are merely hairless apes.
“As I stated, I have come to propose a temporary alliance to combat the Tyranid infestation.
The presence of these mindless vermin threatens my people’s interests as well.
They must be eradicated.” “Inform the Forefather,” Dante said, turning to Karlaen.
“Give him a full briefing on the situation.” “At once.” Karlaen immediately turned on his heel and exited the strategic command center, opening a secure vox-link to the First Company Veterans currently guarding Vane, instructing them to relay the message.
A few minutes later, Vane casually strolled into the command center.
A gaggle of red-robed tech-priests trailed closely behind him like fanatical lapdogs, gently pushing his anti-grav mechanical throne.
“You’re the one who wants to negotiate an alliance?” Vane lazily flopped down onto his floating mechanical throne, staring completely unimpressed at the holographic projection of Anrakyr the Traveller.
“You claim to be the supreme leader of this primitive rabble?” Looking at the utterly average, completely unaugmented biological human slouched in the chair, Anrakyr briefly suspected Dante and the others were intentionally mocking him.
“That’s right.
I’m not just their supreme commander; I am the Forefather of the entire human race.
I represent the absolute will of the God-Emperor and the collective destiny of our civilization.” Vane casually spouted absolute nonsense with zero hesitation.
It wasn’t like the Emperor could get off His Golden Throne to fact-check him anyway.
Dante immediately stepped forward to back him up.
“The Forefather is our absolute, undisputed leader.
His authority is unquestionable.” “Forefather?” Anrakyr scoffed, his synthesized voice dripping with mechanical disdain.
“The entire recorded history of your pathetic civilization is but a microscopic fraction of my dynasty’s golden age.” Vane let out a sharp, mocking laugh, a look of profound pity crossing his face.
Trying to flex your superiority complex on me?
You just kicked a titanium wall, buddy.
“Golden age?
You mean the era where the Old Ones beat you so badly you cried for your mommies and begged for mercy?
Or are you referring to the era where the C’tan tricked you into giving up your souls and treated you like disposable pets?” Anrakyr’s metallic features physically seized up, his vocalizer glitching as his tone shifted to sheer, unadulterated shock.
“Y-you…
how in the galaxy do you know of those events?!” “What don’t I know these days?” Vane drawled lazily.
“I also know you cowards backstabbed the C’tan the second the War in Heaven ended because you were terrified they’d regain their strength and wipe you out for being useless.” “Anrakyr the Traveller, I strongly suggest you drop the attitude and show some actual respect.” “If you try to flex your fake superiority on me one more time, I’m going to take the entire humiliating history of how your pathetic jealousy started the War in Heaven, and how the Star Gods played you all for absolute fools, turn it into a nine-part audiobook, and broadcast it on all frequencies across the entire Milky Way.” “I will personally ensure every single sentient race in the galaxy knows exactly how pathetic the self-proclaimed ‘Masters of the Galaxy’ truly are.” “You…
you…
shameless ape.” It took Anrakyr a solid three seconds of processing power to reboot his vocalizer before finally cursing Vane in High Gothic.
Vane completely ignored the insult, his voice dripping with condescension.
“Pack up your arrogance when you speak to me, Anrakyr.
Your era has been dead for sixty million years.” “If you don’t like my tone, tell Szarekh the Silent King to come talk to me himself.” Staring at the human in the projection, Anrakyr felt a completely illogical, inexplicable surge of synthetic fury burning through his engrams.
But remembering Vane’s threat, he forcibly suppressed it.
His tactical algorithms calculated an astronomically high probability that this specific human was entirely unhinged enough to actually broadcast their deepest, most humiliating cultural secrets to the entire galaxy.
“There is no logical benefit in squabbling over ancient history,” Anrakyr quickly pivoted, desperately trying to regain control of the conversation.
“Forefather of humanity, let us discuss our mutual cooperation.
We must address the Tyranid infestation currently consuming the Cryptus System.” “The Tyranid biomass is statistically overwhelming.
Even if we combined the total population of both our forces in this sector, it would not amount to a fraction of a percent of their numbers.” “However, my dynasty left a crucial, paramount technological artifact dormant within this system: the Magnifican Prism.” “It is a relic of the Mephrit Dynasty, designed as the central focusing array for a stellar energy harnessing system.
It is capable of siphoning raw solar energy and condensing it into a catastrophic, hyper-thermal beam of absolute destruction.” “And your tactical proposal is?” Vane asked, genuinely interested now.
“The logic is simple.
Our combined forces will reactivate the Magnifican Prism and channel the system’s solar energy directly into the gas giant Aeros, located on the outer edge of this system.” As Anrakyr spoke, he manipulated the holographic projection to display a detailed systemic map.
“The catastrophic ignition of the gas giant will unleash a systemic shockwave of unimaginable energy, instantaneously incinerating the Tyranid bio-fleet and crippling their capacity to consume this sector.” Vane remained silent for a moment before finally nodding.
“It’s a solid plan.
I accept your proposal.” Vane wasn’t really agreeing because he needed help fighting the Tyranids.
He agreed because this was the perfect opportunity to unlock top-tier Necron tech recipes.
The Magnifican Prism sounded like an incredibly overpowered piece of infrastructure.
If he could touch it, unlock the blueprint, and mass-produce it?
He could completely overhaul his mobile fortress.
With a literal Dyson Sphere-level energy siphon, his human colonies would never have to worry about power generation ever again.
Furthermore, the Necrons represented the absolute pinnacle of technological mastery in the Warhammer galaxy.
There was bound to be an endless supply of ridiculously fun, game-breaking items he could unlock by playing along.
More importantly, if his lore memory was correct, Anrakyr the Traveller currently possessed a physical shard of a C’tan—the Burning One.
C’tan Shards literally commanded the fundamental laws of reality and contained an incomprehensible amount of raw, cosmic energy.
If he could somehow manage to steal that C’tan Shard and hook it up to his mobile fortress as a battery…
He could probably upgrade his base into a planet-cracking, multiversal dreadnought.