For four long solar months, debate consumed the Necrontyr empire.
Across crownworlds and dynastic courts, phaerons argued endlessly over the alliance with the C’tan.
Noble houses split apart beneath the pressure of the decision while crypteks and scientists studied the impossible technologies revealed by the star gods.
Yet with every passing cycle, resistance weakened.
The Necrontyr were dying.
No argument could escape that truth.
Entire bloodlines vanished before reaching their prime.
Diseases consumed even the greatest minds of the species while the hated Old Ones endured across millennia untouched by mortality.
Hatred and desperation slowly overcame caution.
The promise of immortality was simply too great.
And so, in the end, the Triarch accepted the pact.
The galaxy would never recover from that decision.
Massive structures unlike anything the Necrontyr had ever built rose across countless worlds.
Vast bio-foundries stretching for hundreds of kilometers pierced the skies like metallic mountains while rivers of green energy flowed through impossible machinery.
Entire planets became dedicated solely to biotransference.
The Silent King himself oversaw the preparations while the dynasties mobilized their populations according to the ancient pact.
Billions marched willingly toward eternity.
Mike stood upon an elevated platform overlooking one of the largest bio-foundries within the territory of the Thokt Dynasty.
Even he felt unsettled.
The structure resembled a colossal furnace designed by gods rather than mortals.
Black necrodermis towers surrounded vast chambers glowing with unbearable green-white light while dimensional energies twisted unnaturally through the air.
The sounds were worse.
Screaming machinery.
Roaring furnaces.
The endless marching of millions moving toward the transformation chambers below.
Above the bio-foundries drifted the true forms of the C’tan.
Immense shapes composed of living stellar energy moved through the skies like predators circling wounded prey.
Their presence distorted reality itself while lesser beings fell to their knees in religious awe.
Mike watched them silently.
Now he understood the scale of his mistake.
Not because biotransference would fail.
But because it would succeed too well.
The Deceiver appeared beside him without warning.
Golden light folded inward before forming the familiar humanoid shell of Mephet’ran.
“Your people stand upon the threshold of eternity,” the star god said smoothly.
Mike kept his gaze forward.
“At what cost?”
The Deceiver smiled faintly.
“All evolution demands sacrifice.”
Mike said nothing.
The C’tan studied him carefully.
Unlike many phaerons, Mike had never worshipped them openly.
Respect, yes.
Cooperation, certainly.
But never devotion.
Interesting.
“Do you fear immortality, Phaeron of Thokt?” the Deceiver asked.
Mike finally turned toward the entity.
“I fear chains.”
For the briefest moment, the Deceiver’s expression shifted slightly.
Then the smile returned.
“Even eternity cannot escape hierarchy.”
Before Mike could respond, the star god dissolved back into streams of golden light and vanished.
Mike remained motionless.
He already knew the truth hidden beneath the C’tan’s promises.
But he also knew there was no turning back anymore.
The Necrontyr would accept immortality.
And he intended to survive what came after.
Days later, the process began.
Across the galaxy, billions of Necrontyr marched into the bio-foundries willingly.
Noble houses entered first to display confidence while entire military legions followed behind them in endless formation.
The furnaces awakened.
Green stellar fire consumed the chambers.
No records would ever fully describe what occurred within them.
The screams alone echoed across entire cities.
Bodies were broken apart molecule by molecule while consciousnesses were torn from dying flesh and forced into shells of living metal necrodermis.
Souls themselves were ripped free amidst impossible energies as the C’tan descended hungrily upon the spiritual remnants of an entire species.
Above every furnace, the star gods fed.
They devoured the life essence of the Necrontyr with monstrous satisfaction while billions vanished forever beneath the process.
And still the lines continued.
Still the people marched willingly into eternity.
Mike stood beside the Silent King before the largest transference chamber ever constructed.
The massive bio-furnace towered over them like the entrance to some mechanical underworld.
Green-white flames surged behind layered dimensional barriers while ancient machinery pulsed like the heartbeat of a dying civilization.
For a long time, neither ruler spoke.
Finally Szarekh broke the silence.
“Do you regret this?”
Mike looked toward the endless ranks of Necrontyr waiting below.
Children.
Soldiers.
Scientists.
Entire dynasties awaiting transformation.
“Yes,” Mike answered honestly.
The Silent King remained silent for several moments.
“And yet you still proceed.”
Mike’s gaze hardened slightly.
“The alternative is extinction.”
Szarekh slowly nodded.
That was the truth neither of them could escape.
The Silent King stepped toward the furnace first.
The gathered nobles immediately lowered themselves in reverence as their ruler approached immortality itself.
Mike followed beside him.
The heat vanished the moment they crossed the threshold.
Instead there was only light.
Blinding.
Endless.
Reality itself seemed to unravel around them.
Machines larger than cities moved within the chamber while streams of living energy flowed through impossible constructs suspended above an abyss of green stellar fire.
The C’tan watched from above.
Hungry.
Mike felt the process begin instantly.
Pain beyond comprehension erupted through his body as invisible forces tore apart flesh, bone, and consciousness simultaneously.
Every atom of his being felt stripped away while ancient machinery forced what remained into a new form.
He could hear screaming.
Millions of voices crying out together across the galaxy.
Then came something worse.
Emptiness.
Mike felt it the instant his soul was taken.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
A void opening within the core of his existence itself.
And above the furnace, the C’tan fed.
He saw them descending through oceans of green light, consuming the spiritual remains of the Necrontyr species like starving gods.
The truth became horrifyingly clear.
This had never been a gift.
It had been a feast.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
When Mike opened his eyes again, silence surrounded him.
Cold.
Perfect.
Mechanical.
He slowly rose from the transference platform.
His body no longer breathed.
No heartbeat echoed within his chest.
Gone was the frail flesh cursed by radiation and disease.
In its place stood a towering form of black necrodermis etched with glowing emerald energy.
Living metal flowed seamlessly across his body while unimaginable power coursed through every system.
He felt stronger than he ever had.
Faster.
Sharper.
His thoughts moved with terrifying clarity.
No pain.
No exhaustion.
No weakness.
Immortality.
And yet—
Something was missing.
Mike froze.
The emptiness inside him gnawed like a wound that could never heal.
An absence beyond language itself.
He could still think.
Still reason.
Still remember.
But part of him was gone forever.
His soul.
Slowly, he looked upward.
Above the furnace, the C’tan drifted through the air amidst storms of green energy while billions of fading spiritual remnants vanished into their endless hunger.
The star gods were feeding upon the Necrontyr.
Beside him, the Silent King rose from his own transference chamber.
For the first time since Mike had known him, Szarekh looked shaken.
Not physically.
Spiritually.
The ruler of the Necrontyr stared silently at his metallic hands before looking toward the skies where the C’tan fed upon his people.
And in that moment, both rulers understood the full horror of what they had done.
The Necrontyr were dead.
Only the Necrons remained.
Below them, millions emerged from the furnaces.
Warriors.
Nobles.
Citizens.
Most showed no fear.
No grief.
No horror.
Many simply looked upon their new immortal forms with satisfaction.
They no longer cared about what had been lost.
Only that they would live forever.
Mike watched them carefully.
The process had stripped away much of what once made them individuals.
Most retained only fragments of their former personalities buried beneath command structures and cold machine logic.
Only the strongest minds among the nobles and military still possessed true self-awareness.
Even then, they felt diminished.
Like echoes of the people they once were.
Then Mike felt it.
A presence inside his mind.
Cold commands buried deep within his consciousness itself.
Engrammatic control protocols.
The Silent King’s authority woven directly into every Necron mind.
Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly.
So this was how Szarekh controlled the species absolutely.
The command structure was flawless.
Dangerously flawless.
And although the Silent King initially embraced the unity it granted, Mike immediately understood the future problem it would create.
One ruler controlling an entire immortal species through embedded commands.
No rebellion.
No independence.
No freedom.
Mike concealed his reaction carefully.
He would obey for now.
But he would never remain chained forever.
Above the bio-foundries, the empowered C’tan radiated terrifying strength after devouring the souls of an entire civilization.
Their presence alone distorted reality while the newly born Necron legions assembled beneath them in endless metallic ranks.
The galaxy itself seemed to tremble.
The Old Ones had no idea what had just been unleashed upon existence.
The Necrons no longer feared death.
No longer feared time.
No longer feared suffering.
Only one thing remained from the ancient Necrontyr civilization that had vanished within the furnaces.
Hatred.
Burning.
Eternal.
And now it marched beside gods.