"Cowards.
"You could have defeated me honorably and claimed the Nemesor's throne for yourselves.
"Instead, you resorted to conspiracy and contemptible poison. You have utterly violated the Noble Code of Honor!"
What enraged Zahndrekh was not that the Overlords and Lords had betrayed him, but the despicable methods they had employed.
He despised such conduct above all else.
"Hmph. You old relic. Honor became meaningless the moment we lost our souls and bodies."
One of the Overlords involved in the coup scoffed. After executing a loyalist with his blade-staff, he strode forward.
"We are a race made for war. Killing machines. Nothing more!"
To most Necrons, there was no reason to follow moral principles created by beings of flesh and blood.
The rules established by the ancient Necrontyr Empire, such as the Protocols of Noble Warfare and the Noble Code of Honor, had long since fallen into disuse.
Only madmen like Nemesor Zahndrekh would excavate such worthless relics from data archives buried deep within the tombs.
They were killing machines without emotion or feeling. Was it not absurd to bind themselves with so-called morality?
Zahndrekh said nothing more.
He merely felt profound sorrow.
If all that remained of a civilization was war and slaughter, with neither culture nor honor, did that civilization still deserve to exist?
What separated it from any other collection of emotionless machine programs?
"Perhaps the Necrontyr perished the moment the C'tan deceived us. All that remains now is data housed inside empty shells."
That was what Zahndrekh believed.
He used his Staff of Light to fend off several rebels at once.
Hyperphase weapons, high-energy gauss beams, and disintegration rays tore through the platform until the entire metal structure collapsed.
The antique banquet table, steaming delicacies, wine, and rust-covered furniture were all reduced to their constituent atoms.
In Zahndrekh's vision, the peaceful, lively banquet hall had transformed into a mechanical slaughterhouse.
The phase-field curtain, strong enough to withstand bombardment from warship batteries, was beginning to fail.
The Overlords and Lords who remained loyal to the Nemesor were surrounded and dismembered by the traitors. Even the hardest shields and armor could not withstand the blades of ancient relic weapons.
Warriors capable of effortlessly defeating the champions of nearly any species fell one after another.
They had also been infected by the Ferric Blight neurotoxin, preventing them from activating their Reanimation Protocols. One by one, they were permanently destroyed.
Despite the intensity of the battle, no one outside noticed anything, nor did the Lychguard storm into the hall.
The traitors had sealed the entire banquet hall inside a phase-space field, leaving those outside completely unaware of what was happening within.
"You have nowhere left to run, Nemesor."
The Overlords and Lords steadily dismantled the defensive fields surrounding Zahndrekh.
Powerful as the Nemesor was, without his Catacomb Command Barge or Lychguard, he could not fight several high-ranking Necrons simultaneously.
The conspirators only needed to kill Zahndrekh, along with the royal officials and Lychguard possessing the highest command authorization. After that, they could use command protocols to seize control of every lower-ranking army.
That was why Necron dynasties could annex one another so quickly.
Crack!
Under the relentless assault, Zahndrekh's Staff of Light overloaded. It snapped apart and collapsed into wreckage.
He had lost the only weapon capable of holding his enemies at bay.
His situation had become perilous.
The beam weapons capable of destroying heavy vehicles could not penetrate the personal phase fields of the Overlords and Lords.
"This is your final fate. You will become nothing but wreckage and corrupted data, without even the right to undergo reanimation."
The rebels' hyperphase blades closed in.
They were about to take the Nemesor's life and erase him from existence forever.
To prevent Zahndrekh from resurrecting within his tomb through Reanimation Protocols, they had not only infected him with the Ferric Blight but also shut down the nearby tomb foundries.
"No. You are the ones who will become wreckage and corrupted data."
Zahndrekh remained perfectly calm as death approached.
He seemed to have regained control of the situation as he stared down every traitor before him.
"Rebels such as you do not deserve the mercy granted by the Noble Code of Honor. You are not even worthy of being taken prisoner…"
The Nemesor no longer feared for his life.
His Vargard had arrived.
The rebellious Overlords and Lords were about to respond when a shadow suddenly appeared before them, placing itself firmly between Zahndrekh and his enemies.
It was the Vargard.
He towered over every Necron in the banquet hall. Even Zahndrekh barely reached his shoulder, and his very presence radiated menace.
There could be no doubt that he was the strongest warrior in the entire hall.
Vargard Obyron had returned to protect his lord!
The Vargard's loyalty was absolute. He was the only being capable of enduring Zahndrekh's delusions for any length of time, and he stood like an insurmountable wall between the Nemesor and every threat.
He was not merely Zahndrekh's personal bodyguard, but a champion who had slain countless enemies upon the battlefield.
Over millions of years, the number of beings killed by Obyron had grown beyond reckoning. Greater Daemons of Chaos, xenos commanders, legendary champions—all had fallen before him.
"Traitors, you will leave your heads and data cores behind," Obyron declared.
His voice reassured the loyalists and filled the rebels with dread.
"How is this possible? Did we not lure him away with those assassins?"
The rebels involuntarily took a step back upon seeing Obyron.
They had gone to extraordinary lengths to lure the Vargard into a trap. None of them had expected him to return to Zahndrekh's side so quickly.
These Overlords and Lords were willing to confront the Nemesor, Greater Daemons, Archons, and even Primarchs, yet they hesitated before Obyron.
They knew precisely how powerful he was.
But it was already too late.
Hummm!
Obyron charged, swinging his warscythe.
He moved so quickly that even the most advanced detection systems struggled to track him, far beyond the perception of any organic eye.
Zzzzt!
The high-energy gauss beams fired by the rebels left nothing more than black scorch marks across Obyron's heavy armor.
Then an Overlord fell.
His head separated cleanly from his body, and the wreckage was already beginning to disintegrate.
No one had even seen how Obyron killed him.
The Vargard's arrival allowed the loyalists to stabilize their crumbling battle line and ensured Zahndrekh's safety.
"Destroy the Vargard first! Even he cannot withstand all of us together!"
The rebels intensified their assault.
The palace coup had already begun. There could be no turning back.
If Zahndrekh escaped the banquet hall and transmitted his command protocols, an entire army would descend upon them.
But in the next instant, the Overlord shouting orders collapsed without warning.
An eerie emerald radiance spread across his living-metal body, while even his internal systems began to disintegrate.
He twitched continuously, without conscious control.
"A synaptic disintegrator?
"We have been marked by an elite Deathmark!"
The rebels recoiled in shock. They all understood what they were witnessing.
Elite Deathmark assassins were a threat that every Necron noble had to take seriously.
They were silent bringers of death.
A relic-grade synaptic disintegrator could kill virtually any being in the galaxy, whether it possessed a living-metal body or measured hundreds of meters in length. Even protective energy fields offered little defense against it.
More importantly, had Nemesor Zahndrekh not always considered the use of Deathmark assassins beneath him?
The conspirators had known this. That was precisely why they had made no preparations against such an attack.
Now they were paying for it.
But words had become meaningless.
The situation could no longer be salvaged.
Caught between Vargard Obyron, the loyalist Overlords and Lords, and an elite Deathmark, the rebels could no longer mount an organized defense.
They could only watch as their allies fell one after another.
Everyone knew that the palace coup had effectively failed.
The Lychguard who subsequently poured into the banquet hall overwhelmed the remaining rebels and captured them one by one.
Zahndrekh sat down before what remained of the banquet table and began purging the Ferric Blight neurotoxin from his body.
It was no longer a fatal problem.
"Those damned, honorless traitors ruined the banquet I prepared so carefully…"
He stared sorrowfully at the ruined banquet hall.
He had personally excavated the decorations and furnishings from ancient tomb ruins one piece at a time. He had even purchased a few items from Trazyn the Infinite.
Relics left behind by the Necrontyr Empire were not easy to find, even across the entire galaxy.
"How did you return?" Zahndrekh asked after a moment, turning toward Obyron.
The traitors had carefully planned to lure his bodyguard away. They could not possibly have allowed him to return so easily.
"I received a warning from an assassin of the Fahra Dynasty. Their Divine Emissary suspected that a rebellion might occur within our ranks.
"The shot we witnessed was most likely fired by that elite Deathmark. He was assisting us."
As always, Obyron remained at Zahndrekh's side, watching for the slightest disturbance.
His massive body was like a shield capable of intercepting an attack from any direction.
As long as Obyron stood beside him, even the most powerful Deathmark assassin could not harm Zahndrekh.
Of course, once the rebellion had been suppressed, the assassin had departed the Cairn-class tomb ship through a dimensional translocation device.
Otherwise, the Lychguard would soon have rooted him out.
"The Fahra assassin bears us no ill will. He came here to complete a mission. On behalf of the Divine Emissary of the Holy Soul Cult, he delivered a letter for you."
Obyron gently held out a letter sealed with tomb clay.
"I have already examined it.
"The letter is safe. It contains no dangerous devices or harmful substances. It is nothing more than ordinary papyrus."
"How curious.
"How many years has it been since I last received a letter? Six and a half million? Perhaps even longer?
"Had I not seen one again, I might have forgotten the very concept. Our pulse communications can transmit virtually any form of information."
Zahndrekh accepted the aristocratic letter with considerable emotion.
It was not the Holy Soul Cult that interested him, but the letter itself.
Sending physical letters was an ancient tradition of the Necrontyr nobility.
Perhaps the Divine Emissary of the Holy Soul Cult was, like Zahndrekh himself, an aristocrat fond of old customs.
Zahndrekh cared little for concepts such as cults and divine emissaries.
One of his mad old friends had even founded a religion called the Church of the Flying Slug.
The fellow claimed that the galaxy rested upon the back of a drunken flying slug, and that all creation had been born from one of the slug's sneezes.
"Damnation, how does one open a letter again? I may require a jeweled letter opener."
After receiving the letter, Zahndrekh settled into his seat with all the dignity of a noble.
He used a table knife to scrape away the clay seal, then carefully extracted the papyrus and began reading.
Fortunately, he still remembered the ancient script of the Necrontyr nobility. Otherwise, he would have made a laughingstock of himself.
"Execute the following protocol.
"All tomb fleets are forbidden from attacking the Fahra Dynasty. This applies especially to the fleets commanded by the traitors. Stop them immediately!"
The moment Zahndrekh finished reading the letter written by the Holy Soul Cult's Divine Emissary, he issued the command.
He felt somewhat ashamed.
In the letter, a Necron noble named Charles had openly rebuked the Nemesor, accusing him of violating the Protocols of Noble Warfare and disgracing the honor expected of a noble.
Those ancient protocols were the laws of conduct and warfare followed by legitimate Necrontyr nobility. They stated clearly:
A noble's honor stood above all else. Ambushes, assassinations, the slaughter of surrendering enemies, and other contemptible methods were forbidden.
Furthermore, duels and wars between nobles had to be arranged in advance. The battlefield was to be agreed upon, and both armies were required to deploy in formation before battle commenced.
The victor was also obligated to grant defeated nobles the dignity befitting their station. Captured nobles were not to be mentally humiliated, nor were their armor and weapons to be defiled.
This was the source of the Necrontyr Empire's nobility—and the dignity of its aristocracy.
Of course, ever since the War in Heaven began, those protocols had existed in name only. Few nobles continued to obey them.
Zahndrekh was one of those few.
He had always conducted himself according to the Protocols of Noble Warfare and never resorted to underhanded methods.
This time, however, the rebels' interference had caused his armies to attack the Fahra Dynasty without first issuing a formal declaration of war.
There could be no question that it had been a dishonorable act—and a mistake.
Zahndrekh therefore immediately forbade any further attacks against the Fahra Dynasty and accepted every condemnation directed at him.
Fortunately, events had not yet passed the point of no return.
The two sides had only clashed along the dynasty's outer territories. None of the Fahra Dynasty's core tomb worlds had been attacked.
"My lord, we should deal with the remaining traitors as quickly as possible, then depart for the Hypnos System.
"Phaeron Imotekh needs more troops. He requires our support," Obyron reminded him.
Their vassal dynasty was exceptionally powerful. Aside from the Stormlord's personal guard, its forces represented the strongest main army under his command.
The Stormlord was confronting the Silent King in the Hypnos System and needed additional forces to defeat the former sovereign. Only then could he ascend to the Triarch and become the Necrons' new supreme ruler.
Of course, many members of the Sautekh Dynasty had already begun addressing Imotekh as the Storm King.
They did not recognize the Silent King's authority. In their eyes, Szarekh was a traitor to the Necrons.
"Yes, a purge is indeed necessary. We must capture every potential rebel we can."
Zahndrekh had already transmitted purge orders to the Lychguard under his command through pulse communication.
He paused before continuing.
"But before we travel to the Hypnos System, I must visit the Fahra Dynasty and settle this dispute.
"They have invited me to attend a banquet where we may discuss the relevant matters. That is what a noble should do."
In his letter, Eden—the Necron noble and Divine Emissary—had warmly invited Zahndrekh to attend a banquet on the Fahra Dynasty's core tomb world and resolve the conflict in the proper aristocratic fashion.
He had also invited the Nemesor to experience the customs, fine wines, and delicacies of the Fahra Dynasty.
Zahndrekh was clearly tempted.
He wanted to attend yet another banquet and immerse himself in memories of the past.
He was even willing to postpone something as important as joining the war, without any concern that the Stormlord might grow impatient waiting for him.
"My lord…"
Obyron looked at the aristocratic Nemesor and hesitated.
Zahndrekh waved dismissively.
"There is no need for concern. We can return before the purge is complete. The campaign will not be delayed."
"No. I was going to suggest that perhaps you should drink less wine. It has a considerable effect on you."
Obyron's meaning was clear.
His master was lost in dreams of the past. Those delusions often caused him to lower his guard and lose the ability to distinguish reality from memory, inviting disaster.
This rebellion was only the latest example.
"I know that you and I ceased to be creatures of flesh and blood millions of years ago. I know that the separatists vanished along with the civilization that created them.
"We are cold beings of living metal now. I know all of this."
A flicker passed through Zahndrekh's clouded emerald eyes.
"But is denying this cold reality not the better choice?
"I do not refuse to accept my fate. I merely wish to find some small measure of amusement in this tedious existence, even if I can no longer truly feel it.
"I also know that we can never return to the past, and that so-called reverse biotransference is nothing more than a deception.
"That is why I do not trust the Silent King—or any charlatan who claims he can restore me…"
(End of Chapter)
[Get +30 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"]
[Every 300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]