The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Chapter 2711: The Fall of a Dynasty (Part 1)

“So, this is the secret you’ve been hiding all along, the blades of the Triarch?”

Borset’s furious voice echoed through the palace-like bridge of his flagship. Standing before the throne, he was beyond enraged, pointing his Supreme Scepter at the three Triarch Praetorians below.

“A C'tan! A C'tan never before mentioned in the records!”

The lead Triarch Praetorian, facing the furious Phaeron, showed no signs of shrinking back.

“The matter is far more complex than you imagine, Phaeron Borset. Now, please immediately move the dynasty's nobles to other ships and leave this place at once, transferring to another tomb world. This is the only way to preserve the Rhylakha Dynasty.”

“You brought something so dangerous right to my doorstep, and now you want me to run away like a coward, abandoning my flagship and crown world!”

“This is the best solution, and it is not too late. The Rhylakha Dynasty, with its current means, cannot contain this thing.”

“Then what about these Eldar!”

The Phaeron's scepter angrily pointed towards the huge circular observation window, where a gracefully designed giant ship was pouring a meteor shower of light upon them, causing the entire bridge to shake slightly.

To the left, a Harvester ship was already on its last legs under the enemy's fierce firepower. One side of its hull had been torn apart. Simultaneously, three Night Shroud bombers swept past the disabled Harvester, turning at a speed that could crush a living being's internal organs, but behind them, six emerald Nightwing fighters were hot on their tails. These elegantly designed Eldar fighters were no less capable in speed and maneuverability than the Necron aircraft, flying in tight spirals as they opened fire.

Soon, one Night Shroud bomber was hit. It immediately lost control and began to roll, crashing into the tomb ship, setting off a series of explosions.

The Triarch Praetorians also stared at the intense battle scene, turning their heads after a long while, and said in a very impersonal voice:

“All accidents.”

Borset became even more furious upon hearing this. The energy nodes all over his body lit up to the extreme due to this rage, making him seem like a blazing green sun.

“Accidents, accidents, accidents! How many times have we paid for Szarekh’s accidents! How much have we paid!”

Just then, the green holographic image floating in front of the Phaeron caught his attention. A towering figure kicked open a heavy black door and walked in as if nothing had happened, carrying a huge weapon on his shoulder and holding the upper body of a Necron in his left hand. It was the Phaeron's eleventh son, also his seventh son and nineteenth general to fall today. Although they could all be resurrected through the resurrection protocols, the reality was not optimistic given that the tomb's energy allocation had been squeezed to its limit.

After glaring at that damned bastard for a long time, the Phaeron turned his gaze to the Triarch Praetorians.

“If the Rhylakha Dynasty is to perish today, then Szarekh’s actions will be made public! I will let all the dynasties see the filthy things he has done!”

“Phaeron Borset, please choose your words carefully.”

But the Phaeron, already furious to the extreme, ignored these lackeys of Szarekh. Now he had only one thought—to use every means possible to obliterate this thing that was trying to destroy his dynasty.

“Order all the Dark Sands to mobilize.”

Hearing the Phaeron's command, many nobles turned their heads slightly. The Dark Sands were the Rhylakha Dynasty's Deathmark teams. This dynasty was very “skilled” in using assassins during the flesh era, so they maintained a much larger Deathmark formation than ordinary dynasties after biotransference. However, these things could not be exposed to the light of day after all, and even the Phaeron would not easily dispatch them unless forced to do so.

But now, they were all awakened from the Death Spheres, just to deal with one enemy.

An enemy that could destroy their ancient dynasty—

Sojyan stood in the clanging darkness, in the heart of a nightmare that would suffocate mortals. All around him, a sea of ​​terrifying green eye sockets stretched in all directions, and thousands of unconscious faces were blindly turning to the invaders.

Immediately afterwards, the blades of the phalanx lit up, and the energy feeders of the Gauss Flayers also lit up.

Countless Necron infantry pressed over, like a surging metal wave, enough to submerge the otherworld.

Then, the slaughter began.

Sojyan threw away the remains of the Necron lord, the rich energy that drove his body had been completely absorbed by him. This was also the first time he felt a real “absorption.” Although he had vaguely felt this way in past battles, there was no doubt that the physical absorption of energy had a stronger sensory stimulation for him. It seemed that the energy on the Necron body was naturally very compatible with him.

Facing the metal undead rushing like hungry ghosts from hell, Sojyan slowed his breathing, slowing down his perception of time to the limit of his ability. The powerful energy caused some kind of “excitement” change in his grey matter, which he himself could not describe in words. In short, the world changed, becoming small, trivial, and he could even see the lines of energy forming in the air, one by one. He could fight like a god—and he could continue for a long time.

In this state, he could feel another thing stirring in his heart, or deeper. Was it hunger or anger, or something else? He didn't know.

But Sojyan had learned about the commonality of the C'tan's craving for souls. He didn't want to become a soul-craving vampire, an evil spirit wandering in the world—even if he could stick to his original intention, like a gun, you can control it to fire, but you may not be able to control who it hits.

After a brief thought, Sojyan erupted.

When he jumped directly to the most concentrated place of the enemy, he stepped on two Immortals under his feet at the moment of landing, and then swung his Skyfire with the momentum of sweeping away fallen leaves in the autumn wind, cutting down thirty Immortals before the first limb landed.

The Skyfire that passed at high speed almost turned into a band of light, and every movement carried the force of a mountain collapse, and Sojyan's movement in the crowded Necron phalanx was as easy as reaching out to wave away a spider web.

Not far away, a Necron Lord was trying to wield the war halberd in his hand to command. Rain-like Gauss energy shot over, but Sojyan had ignored them, just like an Astartes would not care about a lasgun.

He began to move towards the enemy commander, and the desperate Immortals tried to grab the edge of his armor with their hands, but were ruthlessly trampled under their feet.