The Zone of Silence, the Xendu System.
The void was black as ink. A colossal blackstone nexus, several stars in size, stretched across the heavens.
It imprisoned the enormous, violently raging star at the heart of the system, continuously projecting curtains of unnatural force.
These strange fields were relayed from one blackstone pylon to another, spreading endlessly into the distance.
"The Necrontyr can conquer all things, whether the gods who once ruled the galaxy or the so-called Warp.
"Our race shall rise to glory once more. We will escape the fate of imprisonment within metal and regain bodies of flesh."
The Silent King stood upon the Dais of Dominion, gazing at the magnificent blackstone construct erected by a conclave of Crypteks.
His thoughts were relayed through Hapthatra the Radiant into the minds of the surrounding Triarch Praetorians and his many other loyal followers, filling them with even greater solemnity.
In the name of the Triarch, this supreme ruler of the Necrontyr had summoned every Phaeron and Overlord.
One immense tomb fleet after another, each glowing with ghostly green light, was arriving from across the Zone of Silence and the wider galaxy, gathering around the blackstone nexus.
It was a concentration of power unlike anything seen before!
Bzzzt—
Escorted by the Triarch Praetorians, the Dais of Dominion traveled toward an ancient sepulchral council chamber.
The chamber had once been one of the Necrontyr Empire's most important seats of governance. The decisions to wage the War in Heaven and undergo biotransference had both been issued from within its walls.
The Silent King had excavated it from ancient ruins and relocated it to the central region of the blackstone nexus, where it now stood as a symbol of supreme Necrontyr authority.
Within this ancient seat of deliberation, the Silent King would once again unveil his grand vision and attempt to persuade every Phaeron and Overlord to participate.
Their involvement was the key to the Necrontyr ruling the galaxy once again.
According to the Silent King's design, he would use negatively polarized blackstone to construct an immense array. That array would form a network, expanding node by node until it enveloped the entire galaxy and completely severed the Warp from the material realm.
More importantly, the vast curtain generated by the network would gradually grow stronger. Its influence would spread farther, inflicting terrible and irreversible damage upon souls.
Eventually, the souls of the galaxy's inferior races would slowly shatter, leaving behind vast numbers of soulless yet biologically living bodies.
Those bodies would make ideal vessels for experiments in reversing biotransference. They would allow the Silent King to correct the catastrophe caused by his ancient error in judgment, reunite the Necrontyr, and restore their rule over the galaxy.
Naturally, that was merely the Silent King's stated objective. No one knew his true purpose, nor was there any guarantee that the reverse-biotransference experiments would succeed.
But that was enough.
The supreme ruler of the Necrontyr believed such a vision would be sufficient to unite most of his people, allowing him to take command of this vast and ancient race once more.
Yet when the Silent King entered the ancient sepulchral council chamber, his mood was anything but pleasant.
Within the chamber, Phaerons from various Necron dynasties were gradually taking their places upon their assigned stone thrones.
Unfortunately, many of them looked utterly bizarre. Some had draped themselves in gaudy, multicolored garments, displaying none of the majesty they had possessed in ages past.
It couldn't be helped. Their long slumber had damaged the consciousness modules of many Phaerons and other high-ranking Necrons, warping their very patterns of thought.
The Silent King studied those who had obeyed his summons, his attention lingering upon one Phaeron who had wrapped himself in shaggy animal pelts and was crouching atop his stone throne.
The green flames in Szarekh's eyes flickered as he struggled to restrain his thoughts.
Was that fool pretending to be some sort of canine?!
"Great Szarekh, let us declare war upon the Old Ones! The Necrontyr Empire must never share the galaxy with them!"
"Wait, aren't we allied with the Old Ones?"
"Have your consciousness modules completely decayed? We won the war long ago under the protection of our C'tan masters.
"Bzzzt, bzzzt. The Necrontyr must give thanks to our masters!"
"Woof! Woof!"
"What a collection of lunatics. Does our entire Necrontyr race not possess a single normal individual?"
"You're right. There are far too few normal ones left.
"In fact, we destroyed all our enemies long ago. It was that idiot Szarekh who ruined everything and turned us into hideous living machines.
"If he hadn't run away, I would have gone after him myself!
"Can someone tell me why we're here? There appears to be a problem with my memory storage…"
"Silent King, have you summoned us to wage war upon the galaxy? We should have exterminated those inferior species long ago!"
"When will we regain our bodies and souls? The Crypteks require more living subjects for dissection and experimentation."
The voices of the Necron Phaerons echoed one after another through the sepulchral council chamber, creating a cacophony of disorder.
Even so, the Silent King clearly heard every statement made by every Phaeron and Overlord, recording them all individually.
He surveyed the noisy chamber while remaining silent upon his sepulchral throne, offering neither reaction nor response.
The supreme ruler of the Necrontyr maintained his silence at every public gathering. He never personally voiced his opinions.
Instead, the other two Phaerons of the Triarch—Hapthatra the Radiant and Mesophet the Shadowed Hand—spoke on his behalf and conveyed his decrees.
Of course, that was merely a ceremonial display of the Silent King's supreme status. In reality, the Triarch was simply an extension of his will. The other two Phaerons were nothing more than puppets he had elevated to their positions.
Neither of them would ever defy him.
"The Necrontyr once conquered all things. Yet after a mere few million years, this is what we have become!"
The Silent King's thought-engines warmed slightly, and his hand tightened into a fist.
He wasn't angry. He simply found it tragic that a once-great race had gradually fallen into such a state under the erosion of time.
That only strengthened his conviction.
He had to rebuild the Necrontyr Empire and destroy every threat, whether it came from the galaxy, the Warp, or within the Necrontyr race itself!
The Silent King's gaze swept across the sepulchral chamber, the disappointment in his ghostly green eyes becoming increasingly obvious.
Yet the Phaerons' bizarre thought patterns were not the cause of his disappointment.
Even if their minds had deteriorated, they remained beings of incomparable power. Their dynasties could still destroy any race in the galaxy.
Strictly speaking, the forces gathered here were more than sufficient to annihilate the political entities and empires of every species currently inhabiting the galaxy. Those young races had no means of resisting Necron technology and weaponry.
That was especially true of the Aeldari, who were already clinging desperately to survival.
As for the disorderly life-forms and daemons within the Warp, they posed even less of a threat to the Necrontyr.
Once the blackstone curtain isolated a region and drained away its empyric energies, those primitive Warp-spawned creatures would become like fish pulled from the water. They could do nothing but struggle helplessly before slowly suffocating.
"Imotekh has refused my summons. The Stormlord isn't even willing to come to the Xendu System and attend this council…"
The true source of the Silent King's disappointment was the absence of several Phaerons.
Roughly one-third of them had failed to attend this gathering of the Triarch.
That was extremely troubling news.
It meant his authority was being challenged. Some Phaerons and other high-ranking Necrons no longer obeyed either the Triarch or the Silent King himself.
Phaeron Imotekh was a masterful strategist whose style of warfare struck with the speed and violence of a storm.
His domain encompassed eighty Tomb Worlds.
But that figure was already outdated. Ever since his awakening, Imotekh had been rallying armies and annexing other Tomb Worlds, rapidly expanding his forces.
His ambitions had grown accordingly. He now sought to establish a new Immortal Empire.
By rejecting the Triarch's summons, Imotekh had all but publicly declared his intentions.
He was refusing the Silent King's leadership, and many of the other absentees might already have joined his cause!
The Silent King's mood worsened, but he continued to wait patiently for the final outcome.
If Imotekh failed to arrive before the appointed deadline, it would effectively confirm that he intended to establish an independent faction.
Szarekh remained motionless upon his sepulchral throne as streams of data raced through his consciousness. Reconnaissance units had gathered intelligence concerning both the galaxy and the Warp.
The Imperium of Man, for example, had concluded its war against the Psychic Bacon and was gradually recovering from the catastrophe within the Warp.
The humans appeared to be attempting to enter the Immaterium and establish territories within it.
According to the Crypteks' assessment, this was an incredibly foolish endeavor with an extremely low probability of success.
The inferior species had displayed a certain potential for development, but it still couldn't compare with the Necrontyr.
Human weaponry lagged several generations behind Necron technology, leaving the Imperium at an overwhelming disadvantage in any direct war.
The Aeldari were currently in a weakened state, but the appearance of an Aeldari Savior had altered their previously chaotic circumstances. The various branches of their race were gradually uniting.
They had begun worshiping Isha, the Goddess of Life, and were slowly migrating to a mysterious region of the Webway.
Within several centuries, they might recover enough of their strength to exert some degree of influence upon the Necrontyr Empire.
A powerful Ork empire had also emerged recently, led by an immense warlord named Steeltooth.
The Orks fanatically worshiped a deity known as Brother Eden.
Yet data analysis had uncovered no record of such a god. It appeared more likely to be a collective delusion generated by the Orks themselves.
The Silent King cataloged the information without any noticeable change in expression.
None of the galaxy's native species were worthy opponents. No matter what they attempted, they posed little threat.
They were all destined to fail.
Yet when the Silent King reached the intelligence concerning the Tyranid swarms, his expression abruptly became wary.
He carefully reviewed the changing trajectories of the Tyranid hive ships, then began analyzing their behavioral patterns with the utmost attention.
Immediately after returning to the galaxy, the Silent King had dispatched Triarch Praetorians to track the Tyranid hive fleets and record their movements.
Of course, he wasn't afraid of the Tyranid swarms currently within the galaxy.
Strictly speaking, they had yet to become a significant force. They were merely scattered vanguard organisms and posed little immediate threat.
"The Great Devourer is already moving toward the galaxy. It is a powerful adversary. The Necrontyr must unite if we are to confront such an entity…"
The Silent King murmured within his own consciousness.
What truly concerned him was the Great Devourer—the indescribable gestalt organism capable of consuming nearly the entire galaxy.
The supreme ruler of the Necrontyr had encountered it beyond the galaxy and briefly clashed with it.
That confrontation had destroyed an entire star system and inflicted substantial losses upon his forces.
Afterward, the Silent King abandoned his search for colonies and raced back to the galaxy to organize its defenses.
Otherwise, once the Great Devourer arrived and consumed all matter within the galaxy, the Necrontyr would lose any possibility of resistance or restoration.
Fortunately, given the Great Devourer's current speed, he still had sufficient time to reclaim control of the galaxy and organize a defense.
He was confident he could conquer the galaxy within three hundred years, subjugating or destroying every other race. He would then marshal the resources of the entire galaxy and construct an ultimate defensive line against the Great Devourer.
The Silent King reviewed the Tyranid intelligence and found no unusual changes. With that, his concern subsided.
Soon, however, a report from the region covered by the blackstone veil caught his attention.
A Phaeron named Zabok had been spreading doctrines encouraging benevolent treatment of humans within the veiled zone. He had also established a religious system known as the Sacred Soul Cult.
Zabok claimed that the new god Pluto could restore the bodies and souls of faithful Necrontyr.
While spreading the Sacred Soul Cult, Phaeron Zabok had come under attack from a local Necron dynasty. He had since fled toward the outer edge of the veiled zone.
The intelligence collector requested that the Silent King dispatch Triarch Praetorians to capture or destroy Zabok before this foul god-cult could once again contaminate the Necrontyr.
Because of the lessons taught by the C'tan, many Necrons strongly rejected religion. To them, a religion was nothing more than a cult created by gods—or those claiming to serve gods—to rule over ignorant believers.
"Another lunatic, and one who has also refused my summons…"
The Silent King hesitated, then glanced at the two Phaerons seated nearby—one claiming to be a slave of the C'tan, the other still barking like a dog.
Suddenly, Phaeron Zabok's condition didn't seem quite so severe.
At least his delusion fell within understandable parameters and had not degenerated into complete incoherence.
Even so, the cult's structure still made Szarekh uncomfortable. The Necrontyr could not be allowed to believe in gods again.
Such faith was the height of stupidity.
Gods had no right to rule the Necrontyr.
They should all be destroyed!
The Silent King remembered the C'tan.
Those higher-dimensional beings had deceived the Necrontyr and left them eternally imprisoned within living metal.
A faint anger stirred within him. His first impulse was to dispatch a unit of Triarch Praetorians to eliminate Phaeron Zabok and completely dismantle his dynasty.
However, the Silent King restrained his thought-engines and maintained his rationality.
There was no need for that yet. Deploying valuable Triarch Praetorians would merely waste military resources and create an opportunity for his true opponents.
"The deadline has passed."
The Silent King raised his head and looked across the sepulchral council chamber once more, his gaze cold and merciless.
Imotekh the Stormlord had still not arrived.
That meant he had chosen to become Szarekh's enemy.
The supreme ruler of the Necrontyr did not fear threats from humans, Aeldari, Orks, or daemons.
His true concern was the enemy within—the high-ranking Phaerons who controlled ancient weapons, warships, and vast armies.
The Silent King resumed his majestic bearing as his sepulchral throne slowly rose into the air.
He would have to reorganize his forces in preparation for the challenge posed by Imotekh the Stormlord.
All would learn that he, Szarekh, had never known defeat—not even against gods of a higher dimension.
"The Silent King has issued his decree!"
Throughout the sepulchral chamber, the Triarch Praetorians struck their Rods of Covenant against the floor, unleashing a thunderous reverberation.
The muttering Phaerons fell silent beneath that overwhelming display of authority.
They gazed at the towering figure upon the sepulchral throne and understood that they were expected to obey.
…
The outer reaches of the Zone of Silence.
Within the great hall of a Tomb Ship, Eden's six-meter-tall clone body gleamed with metallic light.
Every curve and edge of his living-metal form had been polished and oiled to perfection, making him all the more imposing.
He was currently looking down at a ghostly green projection array as holographic busts of Necrons flashed past one after another.
Eden was reviewing the profiles of nearby Necron Phaerons, searching for his first opening.
He had to race against that old bastard, the Silent King—and he had to make his move before Szarekh dealt with the Stormlord.
"Hm?"
Eden suddenly froze as he stared at one of the projections.
He raised a hand and gently waved it. The image of that particular Phaeron expanded in midair, becoming clearer and more detailed.
"Huh. The Necrons have female Phaerons too?"
Eden rested his chin on one hand and carefully admired the holographic image of the Phaerakh, sounding genuinely impressed.
"I have to admit, this Phaerakh is rather shapely—and quite easy on the eyes?"
(End of Chapter)
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