The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Slave Gory!"

A voice suddenly rang out, the cold sound of metal scraping echoing off the frost-covered walls and ceiling of the tomb.

"Get over here!"

He recognized the voice of its owner, a prince and crowned general of the Dynasty, and only his master would still call him a slave.

Gory painstakingly worked his long-dormant joints, quickly walking to stand before the other, a Necron Lord gilded in gold, wielding a phase scythe, and then kneeling respectfully.

"...My deepest apologies, my Lord."

The vocalizer, unused for too long, made his words fragmented and unclear.

The other looked down at him, mocking:

"Since you enjoy sleeping in so much, I shouldn't have bothered waking you. I should have just let you sleep forever."

With that, he swung his scythe, striking Gory's head with the butt. The centurion tumbled down three steps with the impact, ignored by the surrounding Immortals. Gory silently and stiffly stood up again, then knelt before his master once more.

"Consider this a reminder. Now, go lead your phalanx. We have a small problem to deal with. The Reysha Dynasty shall rise again in the blood of these lesser beings, and we must make a good impression."

Gory said nothing, merely rising and walking towards his phalanx.

At this time, not only infantry, but also various war machines and vehicles were being moved from the opened windows and passages to the assembly point under the remote control of technicians. As their lord boarded his exclusive command barge, Gory boarded the Ghost Ark assigned to him.

But for some reason, after entering the vehicle, a spark flashed in his mind.

Burning streets, blood-soaked ground, and the screams of the crowd.

Ghostly black nightmares emerged from the smoke, cold metal skeletons sitting in a Bonecrusher floating face-up above the ground.

Emerald beams of light shot out from the Bonecrusher, and the civilians struck by them collapsed to the ground, twitching from the intense energy stimulation that burned out their nerves and destroyed their brains.

One after another, the soulless Necrons silently walked off the Bonecrusher, dragging their feet as they grabbed the withered, emaciated civilians and threw them onto the Bonecrusher, piling them up haphazardly.

But some hid in their homes. Gory walked step by step towards a mud house, then simply pushed the flimsy door, frame and all, down.

Inside were a man and a woman, the woman holding three children. Their terrified faces were reflected in the emerald energy, painting a picture of utter despair.

The man suddenly erupted. He seemed to be roaring, but it was far away, and Gory couldn't hear him. He raised something and smashed it against his head, activating his self-defense protocols. The bladed rifle in his hand cleaved through the man's waist.

When he walked out again, the hooked chain only dragged a string of incomplete flesh and blood. This was the order. Even if it was a battered and dying wreck, as long as there was a spark of life and memory, biotransference could succeed.

As for what it would transform into...

Transformation...

As the Ghost Ark rumbled away from the assembly point, its acceleration was enough to crush any mortal flesh, but the Flayed Ones, cursed with undeath, simply stared blankly at the passing corridors, not even needing to blink.

It was at times like these that the cruelty of biotransference was most unbearable, because it gave the Flayed Ones the bodies to endure unimaginable things, but not the new instincts to match. Like now, Gory's mind screamed at him to breathe, but there was no air here, and he had no lungs, so he forcibly suppressed the madness in his heart and turned his attention to the upcoming battle.

He didn't know what enemy required an entire legion to deal with. This was more than three thousand Immortals, and in addition to the Ghost Ark, there were also about sixty Tomb Blades, and hundreds upon hundreds of Canoptek Spyders and Tomb Sentinels, their claws creating extremely harsh and unbearable friction as they scraped across the ground and walls. (Immortals and Warriors are not the same thing. A legion of Necron Warriors is usually about 5,000, and usually a dozen or so regiments are deployed together.)

This was a powerful force, enough to conquer most enemies in any other war.

Most...

Just as the Immortal army quickly entered the second tomb hall and soon reached the target point, Gory suddenly heard a terrible crunching sound in the distance, and the sound of metal colliding with shattering rock.

The next second, an explosive force threw the entire Ghost Ark into the air, then slammed it back down onto the cold ground. Many Immortals were directly crushed by the heavy vehicle.

"Enemies!"

The prince's angry roar rang out, and Gory struggled to get up, wanting to join the battle immediately.

Where they had been standing, there was now a deep pit. A strange long weapon stood straight up from the pit, its end impaling a Destroyer Lord. The remains of this powerful war leader were embedded in the black stone, like a rotten fruit, his remains covered in cracks and flowing silver liquid.

Then the ground began to shake. Gory gripped his gauss weapon tightly, issuing assembly orders to all surrounding units, while receiving all instructions from his master.

But for some reason, he vaguely felt that his proud and great master seemed to be...

Wavering?

What was making him waver?

Through a massive dust storm of dust and cracked stone, a giant, clutching the still-twitching body of a Tomb Sentinel, skidded to a halt before his launched weapon.

He was so tall, wearing heavy silver-gray armor, with the flesh and blood of those lesser beings, but for some reason Gory felt a pang of fear—he had never realized he could still have such a feeling.

The giant pulled the weapon out of the ground with one hand, then slung it over his shoulder, letting the Destroyer Lord's remains and silver liquid slide off the end of the weapon.

As he turned to face the prince, Gory's eyes briefly met those of the lone enemy who had broken in. Those eyes were hotter than molten lava.

It made him remember something. In that painful heat and cold, there had once been such a pair of eyes, only more greedy.

"Annihilate this vermin!"

The prince roared angrily. The Immortals immediately raised their weapons in unison, including Gory. Then, the gauss weapons in their hands spat out dazzling bolts of energy, crackling around the giant.

But in the instant that the energy should have torn him apart, reality suddenly blurred, as if a heartbeat of black light flickered, followed by pillars of black fire sweeping across, tearing apart Immortals and Tomb Constructs alike as if they were toys, and then the structure of reality began to collapse, leaving only a slowly healing rift.

Gory looked at the man. For a moment, he seemed to see a god with a broken crown wandering.

Star God.

Gory finally realized where this feeling of familiarity came from.

This was a Star God, the power that destroyed the Necrontyr race, those world-destroying vampires.

A group of Tomb Blades circled high in the air, waiting for the moment when the enemy seemed distracted, swooping down on the target like vultures, their twin-linked gauss flayers spitting energy.

However, the other party raised his weapon, which radiated an evil and hungry light, followed by streams of hyperdimensional lightning radiating outwards.