The report reached Julius like a cold burn. A Helldiver unit, on a mapping mission in a distant star cluster, had been savagely attacked. The aggressor was not an Ork vessel or a stray Imperial cruiser, but a sleek, deadly Drukhari ship.
The Helldivers, caught by surprise, had fought with the fury of desperation. Their powered armor and training had made the difference; there were only serious injuries, no fatalities. But the nature of the attack – swift, cruel, designed to inflict maximum suffering before certain capture – sent Julius into a rage. These Aeldari, these so-called superior beings, were nothing but sadistic monsters feasting on the pain of others.
"Enough," he growled in the silence of his office, images of his men's lacerated armor and mutilated bodies flashing before his eyes. "You do not answer a shadow with a brighter light. You answer a shadow with a greater predator."
He connected to the System, his mind scanning the infinite archives for a suitable solution. He didn't want an army. He wanted hunters. He found what he was looking for: the Yautja.
A fictional extraterrestrial species that practiced the ritual hunting of dangerous prey for honor. Their strict code prevented them from killing the weak, but they were merciless against worthy adversaries. Their technology, including optical camouflage and plasma weapons, was perfect for this task.
Julius purchased the summoning of an entire clan, along with their complete technology. Then, he traveled to an isolated jungle planet, a world of thick canopies and misty ravines, an ideal hunting ground.
The air began to vibrate. A hundred imposing forms materialized among the giant trees. The Yautja were tall, muscular, their reptilian skin adorned with tentacle-like dreadlocks. Their faces, hidden by biomechanical masks, emitted unsettling clicks and hisses. The largest among them, the High King, stepped forward. He wore armor of bony and metallic plates, trophies hanging from his belt.
For the occasion, Julius had donned a Yautja plate armor he had purchased and had coated in matte black, accentuated with the symbols of his own empire. His stature and aura of Psyker power made a strong impression.
The High King stopped before him, inclining his helmeted head slightly. A deep growl, translated by the System, came from his vocal modulator.
"Elder King... What do we hunt?"
Behind him, the other Yautja let out a rough, excited cry, a "Ruchirrrrr!!!" that made the surrounding leaves tremble.
Julius pointed a finger towards the sky, where the stars shone, hiding the Drukhari threat.
"You will hunt the Shadows," he declared, his voice amplified by his power. "They are called the Drukhari. They are cruel killers, ravishers, artisans of suffering. They believe they are at the top of the food chain. They think they are untouchable." An icy smile appeared on his face. "Show them they are wrong. Show them there are greater predators. Their hunt will be one of the finest a Yautja could dream of."
He transmitted to them, via the System, all the data on the Drukhari: their tactics, their weaknesses, the locations of their raids.
The High King listened, motionless. Then, he emitted a new growl, laden with dark satisfaction.
"The prey is worthy. The honor will be great."
Julius then gave them their complete technology: the plasma casters, the net launchers, the advanced medicines. It was the price of their loyalty.
As the Yautja clan began their hunt preparations, Julius watched them, satisfied. He had not sent soldiers. He had unleashed scourges. The shadows of the Drukhari were about to discover what it meant to be the hunted.