"Holy Soul Cult?"
The Silent King paused when he saw the name.
It took the ruler of the Triarch and slayer of gods a moment to remember what the Holy Soul Cult even was.
It was merely a cult founded by a mad Phaeron, little different from the countless other Necron lunatics scattered across the galaxy.
According to the latest intelligence, the Holy Soul Cult's madmen appeared to have settled within the Fahra Dynasty and begun spreading their teachings.
The Silent King saw nothing strange about that. The Infinite Empire contained far more deranged entities.
Besides, the Phaerakh named Fahra shared certain similarities with the Holy Soul Cult in how she thought. It was only natural for the two to come together.
As far as the Infinite Empire was concerned, Phaerons whose minds were still this close to normal posed no threat.
At the very least, they were far preferable to the ambitious, truly insane, or bloodthirsty ones. They might even be considered harmless.
"In the future, there is no need to show me intelligence concerning this Holy Soul… Cult unless they become a major dynasty within a short period of time."
The Silent King glanced over the report, then dismissed it from his thoughts.
They were far too weak to warrant the attention of the sovereign of the Triarch.
He needed to focus on the major Phaerons who ruled dozens of star systems—or even greater territories.
Only Phaerons of that caliber could influence this war and affect his confrontation with Imotekh the Stormlord.
Put simply, the only being in the galaxy currently capable of putting up even a passable fight against the Silent King was Imotekh.
As for everyone else—the Aeldari, the Orks, Humanity, the daemons of the Warp, and every other species in existence—
None of them could threaten the Infinite Empire or the rule of the Triarch. They were beneath consideration.
With the exception of a select few, the Silent King could not even be bothered to remember the names of their champions.
He had never cared what the weak looked like or what they thought, much less shown them the slightest mercy.
Allowing such names to remain within the consciousness of the Triarch's sovereign would be nothing more than storing redundant garbage data.
Take Humanity, for example. At most, the Silent King paid some attention to the Emperor. Everyone else was simply grouped together under the designation of human. They were not worthy of names.
The entire human species deserved nothing more than to be fed into the biological laboratories of Illuminor Szeras as expendable test material.
Before the noble Necrons, the other species needed only to kneel, submit, and surrender everything they possessed.
"Hm? It seems a few insects have slipped into our shroud matrix."
While reviewing the intelligence, the Silent King discovered traces left behind by several xenos fleets.
He paid them no heed. Fleets of such insignificant size could be eliminated by virtually any Necron dynasty.
"Overall, those Phaerons have been obedient enough.
"Order them to continue awakening more dynastic armies. I need the military strength to destroy Imotekh."
The Silent King spoke softly.
He hoped to end the Necrons' internal war as quickly as possible, then use the blackstone shroud to reassert dominion over the galaxy.
How many sapient lives would be sacrificed in the process was of no concern to him.
The weak deserved to die.
To this sovereign and slayer of gods, there was ultimately only one true enemy in the galaxy—
The Great Devourer!
That ravenous organism had already set its sights upon the galaxy and intended to consume everything within it. He had to stop it.
Buzz—
"Criminal of the Necrons. Coward who fled the field. You should never have returned to this galaxy…"
At that moment, a holographic projection forced its way into the chamber without the slightest restraint.
It was Imotekh the Stormlord.
He held the Staff of the Destroyer and wore magnificent ceremonial robes patterned with brilliant blue crystalline designs. Though he stood slightly shorter than the Silent King, his imposing presence was no less formidable.
The Silent King's imperious gaze settled upon the intruder.
Hapthatra the Radiant immediately raised his staff and rebuked the insolent visitor.
"Kneel, Imotekh! You stand before Szarekh the Great, leader of the Necrons. You will show him the proper respect!"
"Kneel?
"Why would the Triarch demand that I kneel before such a king?
"Am I supposed to kneel before the fool who brought about the decline of the Necrons, or the coward who fled the galaxy only to slink back with his tail between his legs?"
Imotekh ignored Hapthatra and stared directly at the Silent King, seemingly waiting for an answer.
He showed no respect whatsoever for this supposed monarch. The fires of ambition burned openly within his eyes.
The Silent King, however, remained silent and refused to acknowledge him.
"No. During his First Life, Szarekh the Great issued his decrees to the warring dynasties. It was he who ended our species' internal strife and restored the Infinite Empire.
"During his Second Life, it was he—Szarekh the Great—who accepted the gifts of the gods, granting the Necrons new strength. With that power, he overthrew those same gods and reduced them to scattered shards.
"He led us to ultimate victory, then guided the Necrons into the Great Sleep so that our species might endure the death and turmoil wrought by our enemies.
"Szarekh is the protector of the Necrons…"
Hapthatra's voice took on the cadence of a ritual chant as he recited the Silent King's achievements.
"During his Third Life, Szarekh embarked upon an expedition to realms far beyond the galaxy. Across distant reaches of space, he trampled barbarian worlds, subjugated countless territories, and won glory, wealth, and renown.
"He protected the Necrons, and through his campaigns, he detected the scent of danger.
"Rifts opening into the Realm of Chaos challenged the Necrons. The gaping maw of a dreadful devourer coveted the Necrons' homeland. Lowly species that once bowed before us now sought to claim these lands as their own.
"Thus, answering the summons of the Necrons, Szarekh returned.
"He freed the imprisoned Technomandrites, constructed the nodal matrix, and suppressed the abyss of Chaos. Even now, he prepares to reverse biotransference for our entire species. The Necrons will reclaim everything they once lost.
"This is Szarekh, the immortal king of the Necrons. You should be grateful to him and lend your strength to the completion of his magnificent matrix!"
"Ha!
"You're a coward fleeing from his own guilt, and now you're trying to make us abandon our eternal bodies and return to frail flesh?"
Imotekh regarded those embellished words of praise with utter contempt. As far as he was concerned, the Silent King's departure from the galaxy had been nothing more than an attempt to escape responsibility for his crimes.
More importantly, Imotekh did not support reversing biotransference.
In the Stormlord's eyes, the only correct decision the Silent King had ever made was using the C'tan to grant the Necrons bodies of living metal.
That decision had given them nearly limitless lifespans and overwhelming power, allowing their species to conquer ever-greater territories.
Whether the Silent King's plan to reverse biotransference was genuine or not, it was still a cowardly and idiotic decision.
Imotekh had long regarded himself as the new ruler destined to reunify the Infinite Empire.
The Silent King should abdicate in favor of a worthier successor, not remain upon the Dais of Dominion and continue manipulating the empire's affairs.
"Szarekh, you should acknowledge the truth. The age has changed. Neither you nor your dynasty can adapt to the new order, and you no longer possess the ability to rule the Infinite Empire."
So declared Imotekh.
"You are afraid. You fear Szarekh the Great because you believe his return has eclipsed your brilliance.
"What makes it even more pathetic is that this is an indisputable fact."
Mesophet the Shadowed Hand ruthlessly struck at the heart of the matter.
"That is why you rejected the Antimatter Nodal Matrix Project and refused to allow blackstone pylons to be constructed within your territory.
"You know that Szarekh the Great can use this project to unite the Infinite Empire. With it, he can unify the galaxy and eventually rule over all life.
"You know you will lose if this continues.
"You are afraid."
The Triarch Phaeron's words coldly dissected the Stormlord's innermost thoughts, provoking his anger.
Before Imotekh could answer, Hapthatra followed up with another blow.
"Oh, so our vaunted conqueror Imotekh possesses such a dark and shameful heart.
"I can practically smell your fear. Stop using grandiose excuses to conceal your inner weakness.
"You are not yet a leader. You are not a king. You are nothing more than a selfish vermin crawling through the gutter."
"Pathetic opportunist. Jealousy has blinded you.
"Like every other creature that has dared challenge Szarekh the Great, you are destined to face defeat…"
Hapthatra and Mesophet, the Silent King's two mouthpieces, took turns assailing Imotekh with ruthless analysis and cutting insults until the Stormlord felt as though the inside of his skull were throbbing.
Every ugly secret buried deep within him had been exposed, and one verbal humiliation followed another. He had not even been given a chance to respond, leaving him in an extremely awkward position.
After all, even Imotekh could not win a verbal battle against two mouthpiece Phaerons who had mastered the art.
This was one of the Silent King's preferred tactics. He would sit high upon the Dais of Dominion, saying nothing as he maintained his aura of supreme majesty.
His mouthpieces would then launch a relentless assault, leaving any dissenter unable to defend himself and thoroughly humiliated before the assembled nobles.
It was verbal warfare of a far higher caliber, and it had never failed him.
"Hmph!"
Imotekh had finally had enough. He thrust the Staff of the Destroyer toward the Silent King as though formally declaring war.
"Neither you nor these foolish Triarch Phaerons—these favored pets of yours—are worthy of anyone's obeisance.
"I scorn you as a so-called king. I condemn your rule. I will challenge you and every other wretch who cowers behind the Dais of Dominion.
"Victory in the war that decides ownership of this galaxy will belong to me—not you!"
The Stormlord had decided to win the Dais of Dominion and claim the position of supreme leader of the Necrons through an indisputable military victory.
The moment he finished speaking, he severed the transmission, unwilling to allow the Silent King's mouthpieces to damage his dignity any further.
Far too many Phaerons and Overlords were observing this meeting. If the humiliation continued, it would undermine his authority over the dynasties beneath his command.
"Ha! He still ran away in the end. Before Szarekh the Great, that fool amounts to nothing!" Hapthatra laughed loudly, his voice filled with contempt.
From atop the Dais of Dominion, the Silent King's gaze grew increasingly grave.
A brutal civil war was now inevitable.
"Then let there be war. We will claim victory and execute the rebel," the Silent King declared.
Only by utterly destroying the challenger Imotekh could he unite the Infinite Empire under his rule.
The Stormlord had been right about one thing.
This war would determine who owned the galaxy. Whoever emerged victorious would seize the galaxy and rule over all its lesser species.
Afterward, the sovereign summoned his Crypteks. A continuous stream of intelligence was gathered and delivered to him so that he could analyze the enemy's military strength piece by piece.
The final assessment showed that the Triarch's tomb fleets and Triarch Praetorians now outnumbered the enemy's forces.
The Stormlord commanded more dynasties and slave species, but their individual military strength remained inferior.
Even so, the Silent King did not lower his guard. He knew the Stormlord was no ordinary foe and had to be treated with caution.
He continued reviewing intelligence, searching for any factor that might influence the war.
Fortunately, the crownworld and the territories behind the front remained perfectly stable. More Necron dynasties had submitted to his rule and were dispatching their armies to join him.
This was excellent news.
"Nemesor Zahndrekh…"
The Silent King focused on one particular name, treating it with considerable caution.
This was an important name—one of the factors capable of influencing the war's outcome.
Even during the War in Heaven, Zahndrekh had been a renowned general and tactician. He had rendered extraordinary service during the war against the Old Ones.
After awakening upon his tomb world of Gidrim, he had quickly mobilized his armies and swept across dozens of star systems, conquering numerous Necron dynasties.
Put simply, in this age of warring Necron warlords, General Zahndrekh commanded a formidable veteran army.
Imotekh eventually brought him into his fold, making Zahndrekh the most celebrated general of the Sautekh Dynasty and one of the Stormlord's most important military assets.
More importantly, Zahndrekh held the title of Nemesor, the highest of the Necrons' aristocratic military ranks.
A Nemesor possessed the authority to command legions across multiple tomb worlds and dynasties and to formulate strategy for entire theaters of war. Only those who had earned extraordinary military achievements could receive such an honored title.
Both Szarekh himself and Imotekh the Stormlord had once held the rank of Nemesor.
Now they had risen even higher and were competing for control of the Infinite Empire and the position of master of the galaxy.
In theory, Nemesor Zahndrekh also possessed the right to contend for supreme power.
"Unfortunately, that fellow is rather deranged—and he belongs to Imotekh…" The Silent King shook his head, sounding faintly regretful.
Something had gone wrong with the Nemesor's memory engrams.
Zahndrekh believed he was still living during the Wars of Secession and remained convinced that he was a general of flesh and blood.
At times, he would even mistake enemies of other species—whether Orks, Aeldari, or humans—for Necrontyr rebels.
From a ruler's perspective, however, Zahndrekh's condition was beneficial. He lacked ambition and was far easier to control.
He would be the sharpest blade in Imotekh's hand.
"Zahndrekh appears to have encountered difficulties. He has failed to rendezvous with the Stormlord on schedule.
"According to our intelligence, several Overlords under the Nemesor's command have grown unable to tolerate his madness. They are currently plotting a rebellion and assassination," Mesophet the Shadowed Hand reported.
"That is good news." The Silent King nodded, his voice becoming noticeably more pleased.
Whether the assassination succeeded or failed, it would trigger internal conflict and weaken Imotekh's strength.
Of course, the Silent King still hoped Zahndrekh would survive.
He could then use the latest progress in the reverse-biotransference project to win over the Nemesor, who longed to recover his flesh and soul, thereby bringing a great general into his service.
The Silent King extinguished the flowing data and resumed his imperious posture, overlooking the stars from the Dais of Dominion.
He had accounted for every important factor. The rear territories surrounding the crownworld were completely stable, while the Stormlord's forces were about to be weakened.
From all that complicated intelligence, the ruler of the Triarch and slayer of gods could discern only four words—
The advantage was his!
…
Fahra Dynasty.
Core tomb world, pyramid hall.
"You're telling me the force that attacked us wasn't one of the Silent King's Triarch Praetorian armies? It was all just an accident?
"An army from some Necron dynasty happened to pass along the edge of our territory, suffered an internal revolt, and attacked us while they were at it?"
After receiving the intelligence, Eden went numb. His metal-plated skull rang like a struck bell.
So the Silent King had never discovered the true threat posed by the Holy Soul Cult, nor had he dispatched his Praetorians to attack them.
The enemy had neither realized nor learned how terrifying the emotional virus truly was.
Everything had been a misunderstanding.
Misled by that misunderstanding, however, Eden had immediately issued the Supreme Directive and ordered the Imperium to begin mass mobilization and unleash everything it had.
Under the present circumstances, it would be extremely difficult to rescind the Supreme Directive. Trying to do so would only create even greater problems.
"In other words, before long, the vast tide of the Imperium's steel armies will come flooding into the Pariah Nexus…"
Eden drew a deep breath and quietly processed this revelation.
There was nothing he could have done differently. The situation had been changing by the moment. Under those circumstances, he could not afford to gamble and had been forced to commit everything.
"Wait. This is actually a good thing."
Eden suddenly realized something, and a broad smile appeared on his face.
Since the Holy Soul Cult remained undiscovered, he could take advantage of the war between the Silent King and the Stormlord to quietly develop and expand his forces. At the same time, he could dismantle the blackstone pylons and clear the shipping lanes.
Then he could use those cleared routes to guide the Imperium's armies straight into the Silent King's rear and pound the bastard until he cried!
A short while later, Eden learned the name of the Necron general whose forces had attacked the Holy Soul Cult's territory.
He slapped his thigh in delight.
This time, the advantage was his!
(End of Chapter)
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