"Miserable constructs."
Even though he had personally witnessed the God-Emperor's divine hand manifesting to shield his retreat, High Marshal Helbrecht derived absolutely zero psychological gratification from the event.
To his core logic, this intervention merely verified that the Master of Mankind had witnessed their structural vulnerability when facing the xenos threat—and worse, that they had sunk to such a desperate operational depth that they had briefly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with an entirely separate alien faction.
This reality was monumentally more taxing to absorb than absolute biological cessation.
Even if Helbrecht exhaustively scanned the archived chronicles of every historical Crusade and Chapter lineage, his processing nodes could identify absolutely no event that carried a deeper, more unadulterated metric of humiliation than this.
"God-Emperor, I unspool a sacred blood oath before Your holy countenance: before my physical vessel reaches its ultimate chronological termination, my blade shall execute the total, permanent liquidation of that specific xenos abomination."
A nearby Black Templars battle-brother stepped forward, entering his analytical input: "High Marshal, tracking that vector, our forces could optimize our campaign parameters by coordinating direct operations alongside Living Saint Hopper. Her primary mission profile centers exclusively on the eradication of that identical hive fleet echelon; executing a joint offensive would allow us to finalize this monumental endeavor."
Helbrecht entered a brief cycle of silence before responding: "Identify the current coordinates anchoring Living Saint Hopper. Strategy dictates that we establish a high-tier communication link to systematically exchange tactical data; my processors must map every micro-metric of historical intelligence regarding that repulsive beast."
"Furthermore, High Marshal—"
"State your remaining data loop, brother."
"The mechanical xenos entity designating itself as the Stormlord dispatched a formal communication to your headquarters prior to executing its extraction vector."
Helbrecht's internal systems spiked with intense wrath. His tactical processors required absolutely no calculation time to deduce exactly what manner of mocking syllables that thoroughly despicable enemy would commit to data; after all, the sacred vows he had just unspooled before the Emperor explicitly anchored a mandate to personally witness the absolute termination of that exact alien monarch.
Despite his severe distaste, the High Marshal accepted the data slate containing the Stormlord's transmission.
"To the High Marshal of the Black Templars Chapter, directing the military auxiliary forces of the human empire: Imotekh the Stormlord hereby extends a nominal gesture of supreme mercy. As your optical sensors process these baseline glyphs, your consciousness is mandated to harbor profound internal gratitude for my immense benevolence and tolerance—specifically, my willingness to weaponize the crude, lower-tier linguistics of your primitive species to facilitate this data transfer.
By now, your analytical arrays have undoubtedly mapped the absolute grandeur and unyielding military majesty governing my dynasty and my undying race. Baseline humanity currently preserves a transient, marginal window for collective physical survival: bow your knee and submit your sovereign systems to my eternal domain. Should you comply, my administrators shall graciously reserve a minor, vacant tier for your species within the structural hierarchy of our magnificent empire."
Crack!
The High Marshal's power-grip instantly imploded the data slate delivered by his subordinate, reducing the device to a crushed mass of shattered circuitry.
The pure, unadulterated hubris of the xenos, paired with their absolute, delusional ignorance, eclipsed any baseline threshold his mind could accommodate.
This entity could no longer be logged as a standard alien threat; the campaign demanded a maximum-tier kinetic response.
"Broadcast an immediate assembly directive to every Crusade fleet detachment operating within this sub-sector! Under the absolute authority of the High Marshal, announce that our forces are currently confronting an unspeakable, macro-tier existential crisis. Every battle-brother across this theater must lock their mental framework into total readiness to sacrifice their biological vessels for the ultimate preservation of the Imperium of Man!"
Helbrecht's blinding fury radiated so violently it triggered localized disruptions across the Warp, yet the specific catalyst of that rage—Imotekh—experienced absolutely no sense of triumph.
Historically, the Stormlord had calculated that the Silent King's dire warnings regarding the extra-galactic horrors pressing against the cosmic rim were merely over-inflated strategic hyperbole, engineered exclusively to stabilize his severely fracturing dynastic rule.
Yet evaluating the raw realspace data from this latest engagement, Szarekh's tactical algorithms were proving to be disturbingly accurate.
The Tyranid bio-forms that had just initiated the assault, while failing to project any exceptionally outstanding individual combat parameters, were simply too vast in number.
The mere vanguard echelon that had clipped the flank of his personal armada commanded an operational scale that would force his entire dynasty to expend its peak military reserves to achieve a total containment; yet according to the historical data unspooled by the Silent King, the current volume of the Tyranid species active within the galaxy represented a mathematically negligible fraction of the primary swarm.
Was the galaxy genuinely descending into the foundational loops of a secondary War in Heaven?
The Stormlord consciously restricted his processors from unspooling that specific line of thought any further.
The contemporary era completely lacked the localized presence of active, unfragmented Star Gods; the absolute military efficiency of the Necron race had decayed radically from its ancient apex, the disparate dynasties were thoroughly isolated by deep ideological rifts, and Szarekh himself was aggressively attempting to discard the supreme structural perfection of their current biotransferred physical forms—
If the Necron race harbored any mathematical hope of navigating a total defensive campaign against an unimaginable, world-consuming adversary of this caliber, the empire required a supreme, unyielding military commander—a mind that possessed a flawless mastery of absolute macro-scale warfare.
Evaluating every strategic variable across the dynastic ledger, the solitary mind suited to claim that mantle was Imotekh.
"Transmit a priority directive to my Crown Generals: the territorial expansion vectors of the Sautekh Dynasty must be accelerated at an exponential rate. The existential threat matrix confronting our collective borders is expanding at a trajectory that dwarfs our historical predictions."
As Imotekh articulated the decree, he extended a gleaming metallic appendage toward an isolated quadrant of the active star map projection.
"The Imperium of Man... those organic assets shall merely serve as continuous bio-nutrients to feed and accelerate the growth parameters of the Tyranid swarm. If their populations cannot be completely subjugated and structurally isolated within our administrative zones, then strategy dictates we leverage their stellar sectors to serve as raw kindling to fuel the expansion of our undying dynasty."
The Stormlord finalized his strategic calculus—a contingency that had hovered on the periphery of his thoughts for several cycles, but one that had solidified into an unyielding conviction now that his processors possessed a clear, data-driven profile of the Tyranid threat.
Szarekh lacked the functional capacity to continuously direct the future of the Necron species; only Imotekh the Stormlord possessed the cold, analytical military framework required to mount a successful counter-offensive.
"Our envoys must explicitly unspool these geopolitical realities before the leadership of the alternative dynasties. Provide a diagnostic manifest detailing which specific dynasties are currently nearing the final phases of their planetary awakening cycles."
"The Maynarkh Dynasty has initiated primary activation protocols to re-enter realspace, Phaeron. Historically, their executioners have operated as Szarekh's absolute primary instruments of liquidation. Does your matrix calculate that we should initiate a strategic alignment to secure their loyalty?"
"The Maynarkh Dynasty?"
The exact microsecond the designation cleared his auditory arrays, Imotekh's historical memory files executed a rapid playback routine: "Ah... that specific faction. My core data remains unclear as to whether their collective population has completely succumbed to the Flayer Virus. If their nodes are thoroughly compromised by that absolute corruption, we can easily leverage the administrative protocols of the Silent King to enforce their total, systematic dismantling—irrespective of the outcome, the geopolitical variables dictate that a direct observation of their coordinates is highly warranted. Identify an asset possessing the mandatory qualifications to conduct this diplomatic visitation in my stead."
"The Maynarkh Dynasty?"
Yuki and Yuno simultaneously registered a trace of surprise across their cognitive nets.
They redirected their optical sensors toward the shard of the Void Dragon, who had initiated the proposal. Consequent to its previous, manic combat cycle where it had spontaneously unleashed a macro-tier, indiscriminate super-ability that nearly vaporized friendly units alongside the enemy, its metallic frame was currently shackled by a network of dense, biological suppression collars engineered personally by Yuno's hand.
"Precisely," the star god unspooled, ignoring the physical restraints. "The Maynarkh Dynasty operates as the absolute ground zero for the terminal curse originally unleashed by Llandu'gor. My consciousness desires to transition to those coordinates to conduct a technical assessment—"
"I intend to verify whether the structural parameters of that localized corruption possess the necessary data constants to facilitate the total resurrection of Llandu'gor from the void."
Yuki instantly mapped an anomaly within the proposal; historical lore verified that Llandu'gor was the solitary Star God to be systematically and totally obliterated from existence by the Necrons—and the specific military executioners who had carried out that absolute deletion were none other than the forces of the Maynarkh Dynasty, absorbing the entity's dying curse as a direct consequence.
"The terminal death-sigh unspooled by Llandu'gor did more than merely echo continuously within the audio-receptors of those compromised by his viral plague; it was permanently broadcasted across the telepathic frequency of every surviving Star God. Regrettably, at that precise chronological juncture, our collective pantheon had entirely failed to calculate the underlying implications of the message, and before we could weaponize the data, the Necron betrayers successfully shattered our unadulterated forms and locked our shards within these miserable containment vaults."
The Void Dragon unspooled its ancient memory data, articulating the absolute, chilling final syllables delivered by the Flayer God:
"To those who turned their spines to feast upon the bounty we provided, to those consumed by the manic fires of jealousy and unmitigated betrayal, to those who reject our divinity, to those who reject my very presence—I shall unleash an absolute, eternal retribution.
I shall systematically torture your immaterial essence, I shall violently fracture your mechanical skeletons, and I shall sentence your accursed, biotransferred husks to endure an absolute, everlasting state of ravenous, hollow hunger. Ten thousand lifetimes into the dark void, your collective species shall permanently fail to purge the memory of this torment.
I graciously invest your lineages with this sacred blessing of my supreme love, driving your turned forms back unto your knees to worship my shadow; precisely as your crude blades shattered my physical manifestation and sought to erase my unmitigated existence from realspace, I shall pour the absolute threshold of my terror directly into your core processors and across every single one of your mechanical kinsmen. I am Llandu'gor. I am the Hungry One. I am the Flayer. And from this exact microsecond forward, your consciousness mirrors mine."
Yuno intercepted a highly specific technical constant embedded within the transmission.
"The data indicates that the Flayer God, at the absolute microsecond of his systematic deletion, fundamentally converted his remaining cosmic essence into a self-replicating digital virus? An ideological pathogen engineered explicitly to permanently compromise the Necron architecture?"
"That represented the absolute most optimized strategic contingency available within his remaining processing parameters," the Void Dragon shard validated. "The Necron vanguard had finalized their equations for his absolute erasure; he was structurally restricted to investing his final cosmic energy into that terminal curse. Phrased alternatively: his consciousness currently preserves its existence across the cosmos in an exceptionally bizarre, distributed viral format. Provided we secure the synchronized energetic input of alternative Star God shards, reconstructing his primary identity tracks as a viable calculation."
Yuno delivered a thoroughly dry, critical evaluation: "Your contemporary profile consists exclusively of fractured, captive shards, and your raw energy output remains mathematically insufficient to guarantee a definitive victory against the localized shard nesting within the red soil of Mars. What exact variable prompts your consciousness to calculate that you possess the necessary power parameters to resurrect an entirely separate Star God?"
"The metric remains unverified. If the World Shaper were successfully restored to our active roster, the probability would spike exponentially. Nevertheless, seeing as the Maynarkh Dynasty operates as the foundational cradle that originally incubated the Flayer pathogen, the mathematical probability that their vaults archive the terminal, hard-coded failsafes of Llandu'gor remains exceptionally high."
Evaluating the structural parameters of the proposal, Yuki's tactical processors logged the entire venture as an exceptionally low-return, high-risk operational gamble.