The Aeldari fleet had just finished annihilating one of the Fallen Machines' resource worlds.
"Pathetic creatures…"
Kody sneered as he read the flood of emergency distress signals from neighboring alien civilizations.
For a moment, he was tempted to order his fleet to turn around and erase those whining petitioners outright.
The Aeldari had not joined this war for their sake.
They struck only to strangle the threat of the Electro-Daemons—entities born of the Warp—before it could fully manifest in realspace.
If allowed to grow unchecked, even the Aeldari Empire would find them troublesome.
Unlike the soulless machines, bound to the sterile path of pure technology, the daemons wielded warp-tainted technomancy. That was a danger no true child of the Old Ones could ignore.
As for the survival of other alien races? Neither Kody, nor any other Aeldari high commander, cared in the slightest.
They were the exalted Children of the Old Ones. The fates of gutter-born aliens were beneath notice. Why waste thought on such vermin when one could instead craft another exquisite statue from flesh?
It was the same disdain with which Earth's ancient Brahmin aristocrats once regarded the Untouchables drowning in their own filth: not even worth a glance.
Still, Kody was a seasoned commander. He forced down his irritation.
Idly scraping the raw flesh of his jaw with razor-edged nails, he thought for a moment—then smiled.
He leaned close to his adjutant and whispered his orders.
The fleet would indeed "rescue" those pleading species. But not out of charity.
They would serve as the frontline meat-shield.
A perfect arrangement. Kody felt considerably more pleased.
After all, in these backwater fringes of the galaxy, only the Fallen Machines and—at best—the Human Federation had proven themselves worth even mild consideration. The rest were barely above vermin.
If they perished serving his fleet, so much the better.
---
The Fallen Machines, however, did not share Kody's levity.
Caught off guard by the Aeldari's sudden incursion, they reeled.
The Aeldari had not been part of their extermination calculus.
And for good reason.
They could not win.
When they had still been the servants of humanity, the Machines had studied the Aeldari Empire obsessively:
customs,
psychology,
territory,
armaments,
technology.
Entire data-trees had been built, simulating endless engagements.
And in every projection, the Machines had been utterly crushed.
At their current pace of advancement, even bolstered by heretical warp-knowledge, they had no hope of equaling the Aeldari for at least another twenty millennia.
Thus, when a full Aeldari fleet descended upon them, both the Fallen and their daemon patrons understood the grim truth: the situation was dire.
---
Calculations raced within every core. Millions of strategies were modeled, discarded, and re-modeled in seconds, each probing for the faintest sliver of victory.
But the Aeldari had their own weapon: prophecy.
Millions of war-seers aboard the fleet reached into the skein of time, sifting through countless futures.
One by one, they uncovered the Machines' traps, plots, and stratagems.
Weak points revealed. Threads untangled.
Reports were sent, brief but precise.
And under the commanders' orders, swift detachments were dispatched to counter every scheme before it even began.
Thus, every cunning ambush was strangled in the cradle.
Every secret feint was undone before it could be launched.
The Fallen Machines realized with mounting horror that their adversary was not merely fighting—they were reading the script of destiny itself.
It was like playing a game of deception, only to find your opponent had toggled on a map-wide cheat.
Their frustration was absolute.
---
At last, with no other recourse, the Fallen Machines massed their armies and launched a frontal assault.
They sought to overwhelm the Fourth Fleet with sheer numbers, then retreat in the chaos. They knew they could not hope for victory in a drawn-out struggle.
Kody merely laughed.
With deliberate cruelty, he hurled his newly acquired alien "allies" to the front lines, using them as disposable fodder to blunt the oncoming tide.
Meanwhile, the Human Federation and other powers exploited the moment, flanking the Machines' exposed rear with opportunistic strikes—daggers in the back, delivered with frantic zeal.
But greed comes with a price.
The Machines, though unable to best the Aeldari, were more than capable of crushing such weak scavengers. With brutal counterstrikes, they shattered human and alien fleets alike, leaving them staggering, broken, barely able to function.
---
The battlefield devolved into chaos.
Vast fleets collided until the void itself seemed overcrowded.
Of all participants, the Aeldari alone fought without restraint. Their barrages lit the stars, and in their "carelessness," vast collateral damage tore through ally and foe alike.
The weaker races had no choice but to endure, choking down their rage as the Aeldari laughed openly at their suffering—mocking the entire war as though it were a grotesque comedy staged for their amusement.
Their arrogance knew no bounds.
Their madness, no limit.
....
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