You Wouldn’t Want the Necrontyr Race to Lose Its Future, Would You?!
23: Chapter 23: Heh Heh…
You Wouldn’t Want the Necrontyr Race to Lose Its Future, Would You?!
Inside the Void Dome’s control sanctum on Tartaros.
“He actually did it.” “This is an absolute miracle.
The omnipotent Omnissiah has truly manifested His glory!” Several tech-priests assigned to calibrate the newly assembled Magnifican Prism were practically weeping sacred oils in sheer ecstasy.
Swinging their censers, they dropped to their knees before the humming machinery, forcefully slamming their foreheads against the deck plating in frantic reverence.
“He actually pulled it off,” Dante murmured, his voice thick with profound awe.
When the Forefather had casually mentioned his plan to ‘borrow’ the Magnifican Prism’s technology during the joint operation, Dante had genuinely believed it was impossible.
The Adeptus Mechanicus had spent centuries agonizing over this exact xenotech and failed to replicate even a fraction of it.
No matter how incomprehensibly powerful the Forefather was, Dante thought it was statistically impossible for him to fully reverse-engineer apex Necron technology after a single joint operation.
Yet, here they were.
The Forefather had literally hand-crafted a brand-new Prism in a matter of days.
Is there anything in this universe the Forefather cannot do?!
“With the Magnifican Prism restored, the Cryptus System’s energy crisis is permanently solved,” Seth stated, turning to Vane with newfound, absolute respect.
“Forefather, what are your orders now?” “We figure out a way to completely annihilate the rest of the Leviathan Fleet, obviously.
What, were you just going to let them pack up and head straight for Baal?” “Absolutely not!” Dante interjected the exact microsecond he heard the word ‘Baal’.
Baal was the sacred homeworld of the Blood Angels and the final resting place of the Great Angel Sanguinius.
Dante would see the entire galaxy burn before he let a single Tyranid vermin set foot on its sacred sands.
“But how do we finish Leviathan off?
Our combined forces don’t even amount to a fraction of a percent of the surviving swarm,” Seth pointed out the grim logistical reality.
Vane casually waved his hand, projecting a holographic image of a standard Cadian Shock Trooper.
“Manpower is an issue, but the primary bottleneck is your wargear.
Look at this.
Your standard-issue equipment is completely archaic, and its damage output is pitifully inadequate.” “You are soldiers fighting an interstellar war, and you don’t even have basic power armor!
Deploying troops in what is essentially reinforced cardboard?
Is this some kind of sick joke?” Dante, Seth, Dhrost, and Canoness Amity all exchanged awkward, bewildered glances.
Isn’t power armor exclusively reserved for apex elite units like the Adeptus Astartes and the Adepta Sororitas?!
The Cadian Shock Troops were undeniably the elite backbone of the Astra Militarum, but they were still baseline humans.
Equipping millions of Guardsmen with full power armor?
The sheer logistical cost would bankrupt the Imperium!
It was an astronomically absurd luxury.
Reading their absolute disbelief, Vane scoffed before continuing his lecture.
“Back in the Golden Age of Technology, carapace armor was basically what civilians wore to go hiking so they wouldn’t scrape their knees.” “The standard-issue infantryman deployed in full power armor, flanked by heavy combat mechs, with massive swarms of automated drone-fighters providing constant, localized aerial support.” “On top of that, every single squad had immediate, on-demand access to saturation orbital bombardment, atmospheric close air support, and drop-pod reinforcements.” “An ancient human squad equipped like that could conquer an entire planet and exterminate an entire xenos army by themselves.” Hearing Vane describe the military doctrine of the Golden Age of Technology, everyone in the room was completely paralyzed with shock and a deep, agonizing yearning.
Ancient human armies actually fought with that kind of obscenely luxurious loadout?!
General Dhrost turned his head to look at his personal bodyguards stationed at the door.
Their gear was considered the absolute pinnacle of what the Astra Militarum had to offer.
Yet, compared to the Forefather’s description of the Golden Age, they looked like a bunch of impoverished scavengers fighting with sharpened sticks.
“Our immediate priority is a two-pronged strategy: actively stall the remnants of Hive Fleet Leviathan while we completely overhaul our military infrastructure and arm every single soldier to the teeth.” “I’m going to build several fully automated mass-production factories.
They will continuously churn out standard-issue power armor, next-generation artillery, and combat drones.
I’ll also construct an orbital shipyard to mass-produce void warships.” “Your job is to send out Astropathic distress calls and request immediate Imperial reinforcements.
Tell them we don’t need their garbage wargear—we just need bodies.” “Building fully automated factories and orbital shipyards?
How long is that going to take?!” a senior tech-priest blurted out, voicing the primary concern shared by everyone in the room.
In the Adeptus Mechanicus’ understanding, constructing even a basic manufactorum took decades of grueling labor and endless religious consecration.
Vane quickly calculated Steve’s base building speed.
“The first power armor manufactorum will be fully operational in three days.
Assuming we have sufficient raw materials, initial output will be one thousand suits per day.” “Forefather, did you just say you can build a fully operational factory in three days?!” Dante gasped in sheer disbelief.
Everyone else was equally dumbfounded, genuinely wondering if they had misheard him.
Three days?!
The Tech-Priests couldn’t even finish chanting the preliminary blessing rites for the foundational concrete in three days!
And the Forefather claims he can build an entire power armor factory in that timeframe?!
“Yes.
When I say three days, I mean three days.
Save your skepticism for day four.
Right now, your sole objective is to figure out how to pin the Leviathan Fleet in this system.” The Tech-Priests instantly shut their mouths.
They were absolutely desperate to see exactly how the Forefather planned to construct a fully functioning manufactorum in seventy-two hours.
According to Mechanicus dogma, any new technology or infrastructure required centuries of rigorous evaluation and theological approval by the Fabricator-General of Mars.
But in this room?
The Forefather was the dogma.
A being capable of speaking casually with the God-Emperor and directly wielding the divine authority of the Machine God was far more than just an Ecclesiarchy Saint.
He was the literal, living Avatar of the Omnissiah.
If the Forefather went to Mars and publicly hand-crafted a battle tank out of thin air, the Archmagi would violently overthrow the Fabricator-General on the spot and beg the Forefather to take the throne.
The council moved on to discuss logistical issues: resettling the civilian refugees, initiating sweep-and-clear operations against surviving Tyranid bio-forms on the surface, and coordinating void patrols.
Just as the meeting was wrapping up, a panicked staff officer burst through the doors.
“Emergency alert!
The Mephrit Dynasty’s Necron Phalanxes have completely surrounded Helios Spaceport!
Their void armada is currently locked in a standoff with the Imperial Fleet in high orbit!” “They are demanding we immediately surrender all control overrides for the Magnifican Prism and unconditionally evacuate the Cryptus System.
If we refuse, they will open fire!” Hearing this, Seth slammed his fist onto the hololith table, his face twisting into a mask of pure, violent rage.
“We literally just fought side-by-side to cripple the Leviathan Fleet, and the second the dust settles, they stab us in the back?!
These xenos are truly treacherous, honorless scum!” “If the Tyranids want us dead, and the Necrons want a war, then we’ll slaughter them both!” Dante stood up, his eyes burning with cold fury.
“We will show those damned xenos the true terror of the Great Angel’s wrath.” While the Imperial commanders were boiling with righteous fury and roaring for war, Vane actually burst out laughing.
“Forefather, why are you laughing?
They’re about to declare war on us!” Dhrost asked, completely bewildered.
“I was honestly stressing over how to justify attacking the Mephrit Dynasty after we just signed a peace treaty.
I didn’t want to look like the bad guy.
But since they’re the ones declaring war first?
This is fantastic news!
I’m thrilled!” Vane was deeply annoyed that the Mephrit Dynasty was occupying Perdita, a planet within the Cryptus System.
How can I allow others to snore beside my bed?
What gave these damned Necron dynasties the right to build their Tomb Worlds directly beneath human-colonized planets in the first place?!
Now that the Necrons had officially declared war, he had the perfect casus belli to launch a full-scale invasion, reclaim Perdita, and completely conquer the entire Cryptus System.
Hearing Vane’s explanation, Dante, Seth, and the others exchanged stunned glances.
We didn’t realize the Forefather was already plotting a hostile takeover the entire time!
Suddenly, the hololith projector in the center of the room flared to life on its own.
The metallic visage of Anrakyr the Traveller materialized in the projection.
“Xenos,” Dante growled, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe.
“Have you come to formally declare war?” “Return the Shard of the Burning One immediately, and I shall intercede on your behalf to prevent an unnecessary war,” Anrakyr stated coldly.
“Hive Fleet Leviathan may have been crippled, but a massive remnant still exists, and its next calculated trajectory is the Baal System.” “Do you wish to preserve your strength to defend Baal, or do you wish to bury your entire Chapter here in a pointless conflict?
I strongly suggest you calculate your odds carefully.” Anrakyr didn’t bother hiding his absolute confidence.
He genuinely believed he held all the winning cards.
“You guys are genuinely shameless,” Vane scoffed.
“Turning on us the absolute microsecond the alliance ends.” “Shameless?” Anrakyr mocked, his synthesized voice dripping with contempt.
“There is no requirement to uphold morality or honor when dealing with primitive, inferior xenos like yourselves.” “Accept my terms, or accept your inevitable annihilation.” Vane didn’t immediately fire back.
Instead, he calmly ordered Dhrost to bring the tiny, biological Necrontyr infant out and hold it directly in front of the holographic projector.
“Impossible…
a newly born biological Necrontyr?!” “How did you obtain this?!
This is mathematically impossible!
This is impossible!” Anrakyr physically stumbled backward, his ocular optics flaring wildly as his logic cores suffered a catastrophic cascade failure from sheer, unadulterated shock.
“Nothing is impossible,” Vane smirked, his voice dripping with sadistic mockery.
“Heh heh…
Anrakyr the Traveller.
You wouldn’t want the Necrontyr race to completely lose its future, now would you?” “What do you want?!” Anrakyr gripped his warscythe so tightly the metal groaned.
His previous arrogant confidence had been entirely vaporized.
“First: you are going to assist us in completely annihilating the Mephrit Dynasty as punishment for their treacherous breach of contract.
Once you’ve wiped them out for me, we can negotiate the next step.” Vane’s demand was so astronomically unacceptable that Anrakyr’s engrams nearly melted.
“Absolutely not!
I will never turn my weapons upon my own kin for the benefit of a lesser race!” “Either accept my terms, or stand there and watch as the final, singular hope for the entire Necrontyr race is permanently erased from existence.” “You shameless savage!
How dare you resort to such despicable extortion?!” “There is no requirement to uphold morality or honor when dealing with primitive, barbaric xenos like yourselves.” Vane threw Anrakyr’s exact words right back in his metallic face.
Anrakyr nearly vomited coolant on the spot.