Chapter 917 - 916

“If the xenos destroy the command center, the Imperial battle lines will suffer even greater losses…”

Guilliman knew exactly why humanity had managed to fight the Necrons to a standstill and maintain the stability of its front lines throughout this war.

The command center’s network-centric warfare system had compensated for the weaknesses in humanity’s chain of command.

If this crucial command node were destroyed, the Silent King would exploit the interval before a replacement could be brought online and launch a devastating offensive. Several sections of the front might collapse under the pressure.

Whatever happened, Guilliman had to preserve this command fortress if at all possible. With the Colossus megastructure intercepted, a boarding action might be their only means of stopping the enemy vessel.

Hopefully, everything would go according to plan.

Guilliman frowned slightly and turned to his second-in-command.

“Calgar, are the teleportation beacons ready? We don’t have much time.”

In no more than two-thirds of a Terran standard hour, the Necron tombship would be close enough to threaten the command fortress. By then, it would be too late to launch a boarding action.

“My lord, the beacon torpedoes have been launched and are currently penetrating the xenos vessel’s energy fields. We can proceed to the embarkation hall immediately,” Calgar respectfully reported.

Throughout this entire period, he had remained at his gene-father’s side without setting foot outside the command fortress.

Now he would follow his gene-father into battle. Such opportunities to fight alongside him were exceedingly rare.

The last time Calgar could remember fighting at his gene-father’s side had been during the Plague Wars. Before that, it had been when Guilliman first awakened.

As for accompanying his gene-father on a boarding action, this would be the first time.

What an honor!

The legendary warrior and second-in-command of the Legion couldn’t help feeling a surge of excitement.

He followed his gene-father toward the embarkation hall in great strides while the Ultramarines’ elite warriors assembled around them.

One elite Primaris warrior after another advanced through the corridors. Through the viewports, they could see countless tiny specialized torpedoes streaking toward the colossal tombship in a dense swarm.

The torpedoes first climbed above their target before descending toward it along erratic, curving trajectories, like a storm sweeping through the void.

These specialized beacon torpedoes possessed little destructive power. Their sole purpose was to evade interception and drive teleportation beacons into designated sections of an enemy vessel, allowing Imperial forces to conduct boarding operations.

Once aboard, the strike teams could carry deadly pulse charges into the tombship’s engine compartments, destroy its propulsion systems, and bring the entire vessel to ruin.

Of course, the Imperium was wealthy now. It would probably deploy dozens of elite boarding teams at once, all operating in coordination.

“Old friend, at last we fight together again.”

Guilliman gently closed his hand around the Emperor’s Sword, its blade glowing with golden light, and was overcome by emotion.

After so many years, this sacred blade once again belonged to him, the Primarch of the Ultramarines and Lord of Ultramar.

Not long ago, Eden had returned the Emperor’s Sword to Guilliman, believing that his brother was better suited to wielding it.

Eden had previously carried the blade because he needed its symbolic significance to rule the Imperium.

But after Eden prevented the Dark King’s awakening, suppressed the Sacred Sun, and allowed the Emperor to retire successfully, the Master of Mankind’s influence gradually began to fade.

Eden no longer needed a blade that represented the Emperor. Continuing to carry it would have been somewhat inappropriate.

It would also have been a waste.

After all, Eden rarely drew the Emperor’s Sword in battle. Anyone unfamiliar with the circumstances might have assumed it was some benevolent sword that refused to leave its scabbard.

It was better to return it to his good brother Guilliman, who had yearned for that legendary blade for years.

In truth, Guilliman had been delighted to regain the Emperor’s Sword. Whenever he had spare time, he personally cleaned it and anointed it with sacred oils to soothe the psychic will dwelling within.

The sword had been exceptionally fond of the Savior and had barely paid Guilliman any attention before. He would have to devote far more care and effort to earn its acknowledgment.

Fortunately, the Emperor’s Sword no longer rejected him, especially when Brother Eden wasn’t around.

Guilliman drew a deep breath, tightened his grip on the sword, and stepped into the teleportation chamber. A fierce thirst for battle surged within him.

His body craved combat, and so did the blade.

Guilliman had spent these past days suppressing his desire to fight, especially while his Primarch brothers achieved victory after victory.

He wanted to board enemy vessels and destroy the xenos just as they did.

Even now, the Lion, the Khan, Dorn, Perturabo, and the other Primarchs were fighting the Necrons across their respective battlefields to preserve the stability of the front.

They had already realized that the Silent King intended to break through the encirclement on the side held by the Imperium and shatter the stalemate.

He chose the wrong enemy. He has no idea how powerful the Imperium of Man has become!

Even if the Silent King destroyed this defensive line, there were at least a dozen similar blockade lines behind it, to say nothing of the Imperium’s seemingly inexhaustible reserves.

Guilliman was confident they could seal the Necron forces inside the Sindor System.

To put it simply, this battle line existed solely to exert pressure and support Brother Eden’s efforts to fracture the Necron Empire from within.

Beyond it, even more hidden Imperial blockade lines lay throughout the Pariah Nexus, ready to activate at any moment.

At times, Guilliman felt Brother Eden was excessively cautious. Every battle came with several contingency plans, and he always deployed far more troops than seemed necessary.

But that was a good thing. It reduced the possibility of failure as much as possible.

Brother Eden had already planned everything. Guilliman and the other Primarchs only needed to carry out his strategy and enjoy the fighting.

I must hold this line and give Brother Eden more time to operate!

Guilliman’s desire to launch the boarding assault grew even stronger.

Besides, it was finally his turn to take the field.

Hum.

The teleportation chamber’s doors closed. A green light flared to life, and spatial distortions engulfed Guilliman, Calgar, and the other warriors.

The boarding teleport began!

…

Aboard the tombship.

Within a dim corridor of funerary stone, a small breach could barely be seen in the vaulted ceiling. A specialized torpedo had punched through and embedded itself in the floor.

A faint light blinked across its surface, making it obvious that the systems within were active.

“Threat detected. Initiating destruction protocol.”

A Necron Destroyer swept its electronic gaze across the tiny human device, immediately raised its weapon, and fired a gauss beam.

The searing energy completely melted the beacon torpedo, sending thick black smoke billowing into the corridor.

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

The beacon had transmitted its signal long before its destruction. Wave after wave of spatial distortion rippled through the smoke.

Hum.

A golden blade thrust out of the black cloud and pierced the Destroyer’s skull. The eerie green flames within its eyes vanished instantly.

The living-metal warrior fell backward with a thunderous crash.

Guilliman pulled his sword free and strode proudly out of the smoke. Framed by the majestic bulk of the Armour of Fate, he looked every inch the invincible demigod.

Behind him, Calgar and the other Ultramarines materialized one after another. They immediately formed ranks and cleared the surrounding area of enemies.

Living-metal bodies toppled one after another with unnatural metallic shrieks.

Every one of these elite Primaris warriors carried the latest pulse-powered weapons, which were specifically designed to combat the Necrons.

High-grade equipment and field generators supplied by the New Imperium had armed them to the teeth.

Their advance was nearly unstoppable.

“Locate the passage to the engine compartments. We need to reach them before the xenos can respond!” Guilliman ordered.

His blood was beginning to boil again. His hearts pounded faster as the smoke-filled battlefield stirred his body into a state of instinctive excitement.

It was the call of battle. Every Primarch was a born warrior.

Moreover, boarding actions were among the forms of warfare in which Guilliman excelled most.

At the center of the strike force, two Primaris warriors carried a specialized pulse demolition device between them. Heavy iron chains bound their arms to the mechanism to ensure it could not be lost.

Without that pulse charge, they would struggle to destroy the tombship’s engine compartments quickly enough to halt the vessel’s advance.

The boarding force soon eliminated every enemy within the corridor. They then demolished a crucial control node, creating the impression that they intended to storm the vessel’s bridge complex.

Afterward, they rapidly redeployed toward the engine compartments while the other boarding teams spread throughout the tombship, wreaking havoc wherever they went.

“Execute interception protocols. Kill all intruders!”

As alarms spread throughout the vessel, more and more of the Necron forces stationed aboard converged on the intruders.

Yet they could not stop the boarding force’s advance.

Guilliman and Calgar in particular carved a path of destruction through the Necrons, reveling in every moment of the battle.

The fighting styles of gene-father and gene-son were completely at odds with their normally courteous, even-tempered demeanors. In battle, both favored sweeping, overwhelming attacks.

They charged with extraordinary aggression.

Countless structures and installations within the tombship collapsed amid the fierce battle.

The energy unleashed by the golden blade even ruptured sections of the vessel’s vaulted hull. Dense smoke poured through the breach and billowed out into space.

Had this been an ordinary warship, the Primarch of the Ultramarines would have destroyed it long ago. Unfortunately, they were fighting inside an ancient vessel the size of a city.

It resembled a vast, crescent-shaped hive city drifting through the void, and its internal structure was incredibly complex.

Fortunately, humanity now understood Necron vessels well enough that the boarding teams would not become lost inside one.

The force led by Guilliman continued its rapid advance, drawing closer and closer to the engine compartments.

Before long, however, something blocked their path.

Phaeron Anrak emerged from a phase portal at the head of his Lychguard, barring the way through a crucial junction.

His warscythe carved a deadly arc through the air. Its gauss-edged blade struck the warriors’ armor, burning through ceramite and auramite before devouring the flesh beneath.

“Humanity cannot stand against the ancient dynasties. Your souls will become fuel for the Necrontyr!”

Anrak’s voice was a rasp of distorted electronic static. He was one of the Phaerons serving the Silent King, and he harbored an intense hatred for humanity.

Humanity’s bombardment of the Sindor System and destruction of the Blackstone curtain were utterly unforgivable!

In the Necrons’ eyes, humans should have accepted their destiny: enslavement, experimentation, and eventual consumption as raw material for restoring the Necrontyr race.

Guilliman stared at Anrak.

Two of the galaxy’s greatest beings regarded one another across the junction. Guilliman’s expression was unyielding, and his voice rang with iron resolve.

“The age of your species ended sixty million years ago. All that remains of you now are a few pitiful husks.”

“The Necrontyr are not a foe that lowly vermin of flesh may presume to challenge.”

The eerie light within Anrak’s eye sockets flickered.

“You may have come to the wrong place. This vessel will become your tomb, both yours and the Savior’s!”

The instant he finished speaking, Anrak swung his warscythe.

The weapon leaped through space and cleaved toward Guilliman’s head.

The bizarre surprise attack was almost faster than a Primarch’s vision could follow. Even evasion seemed impossible.

Yet in the next instant, the Emperor’s Sword blocked the warscythe.

“What?!”

The Phaeron stared in disbelief. His carefully prepared strike had been stopped, and before he could recover, a golden blade swept toward him.

“You have underestimated humanity, and you have underestimated me!”

The Emperor’s Sword unleashed golden flames as it struck Anrak’s shoulder armor. It severed the Phaeron’s arm and inflicted grievous damage with a single blow.

Unfortunately, Anrak immediately used phase translocation to retreat into the heart of his Lychguard formation. His severed arm was already reconstructing itself at a speed visible to the naked eye.

That was what made high-ranking Necrons so difficult to defeat. They were virtually immortal and could regenerate without end.

Humans were different. A sufficiently severe injury could immediately rob one of the ability to fight.

“Die, xenos!”

Guilliman grew fiercer with every exchange. He leaped high into the air and charged directly at Anrak and the Lychguard formation.

He was doing it again.

“You’ve fallen into my trap!” Anrak sneered when he saw Guilliman charging alone.

Hum.

A field that locked space itself closed around the Primarch, slowing his movements to a crawl.

This time, he faced not only the Phaeron’s warscythe, but numerous hyperphase blades as well.

There was no evading such a lethal assault. It would cut the human Primarch into pieces so thoroughly that even healing him would become impossible.

Yet in the next instant, under Anrak’s disbelieving gaze, more than a dozen layers of protective fields surrounding Guilliman’s armor flashed wildly.

Wave after wave of pulse energy erupted from the Armour of Fate.

Not only did the fields block every attack, but the pulse bursts also disrupted the movements of the Lychguard.

“I have returned from death! Nothing in this world can threaten me now!” Guilliman roared, his eyes blazing with thunderous fury.

He broke free of the restraints and charged straight through the incoming attacks. One Lychguard after another fell before him.

As expected of armor modified by Brother Eden. It truly is the finest equipment in existence…

Guilliman completely lost himself in the slaughter, exhilaration surging through him.

With the outbreak of total war, the Armour of Fate had undergone another series of specialized modifications designed to counter the Necrons’ unusual weapons and abilities.

The Savior had truly spared no effort for his dear brother.

Now, under his armor’s protection, Guilliman could charge without restraint, no longer needing to fear being brought down by some underhanded surprise attack.

“For Ultramar!”

Calgar was no different. He charged forward to fight at his gene-father’s side, and the two of them tore through the enemy ranks while laughing heartily.

The Lychguard were annihilated.

Even Phaeron Anrak himself was bisected at the waist by Guilliman. Pulse weapons then incinerated his neural core, ensuring that the body he had inhabited for tens of millions of years would never regenerate again.

A Phaeron had fallen beneath the blade of the Primarch of the Ultramarines!

Soon afterward, Guilliman led his boarding force into their target area:

The tombship’s engine compartments.

…

Boom!

A star collapsed and erupted into a supernova. Blinding heat swept across the entire system.

Both the planets within the system and the tomb fleets spread throughout its void were consumed. Even the Necrons’ resilient living metal was reduced to streams of inert molten metal drifting through space.

The war between the Lord of Hope and the Silent King had fully erupted. Eden’s fleets were braving the attacks of the Celestial Orrery as they pressed into the Sindor System.

“This is going to be troublesome…”

Standing beneath the vaulted ceiling of his tomb command ship, Eden gazed at the multicolored supernova blazing in the distant system and sighed.

The existence of that ancient, galactic-scale celestial weapon had made his assault on the Sindor System considerably more difficult.

Fortunately, he had already found a solution and was in the process of putting it into place.

What truly troubled the Savior and Lord of Hope now was the safety of his good brother.

Not long ago, one of Eden’s agents had informed him that the Stormlord was planning to lure the human Savior into an ambush. He had also received the report that Guilliman was conducting a boarding action.

What wonderful timing.

A faint sense of unease crept over him.

“The Imperium’s two most notorious ICU regulars have deployed at the same time. That’s a bad sign, and I can’t exactly drop everything to go rescue anyone right now…”

(End of Chapter)

“Zaelum”]