"Fanes doesn't look anything like a human world that's been occupied by xenos. This is way too weird."
Eden's consciousness was riding inside the preaching saint Fran, observing the planet through Fran's eyes.
That was one of the abilities of Eden's cloned body—Bladewing—and the Tyranid Hive Mind.
He could gather information through the bio-signals of subordinate Tyranid organisms, as if he possessed countless eyes scattered everywhere.
However, this kind of direct line-of-sight had a range limit. Even with the hive fleet's support, it could cover at most the distance of a single star system.
Beyond that, it wouldn't work.
It felt like being a god within the material realm—an overwhelming sense of control. In other words, with the authority he held over so many species, there was practically no difference between him and a god of the living universe.
That was Eden's advantage. Through certain clone bodies, he could do things no other human possibly could.
If he and the Emperor had lived in the same era, it would honestly be hard to say who would end up ruling humanity.
Eden used this special sight to study the primary hive district in front of him.
Under normal circumstances, a planet occupied by xenos reeked of blood. Even in regions held by the T'au Empire, you couldn't avoid killing.
Some of the lower-class humans would even be enslaved by other species.
That was already the "lucky" outcome.
After all, in a galaxy crawling with monsters and madmen, the T'au Empire counted as a super-civilization.
Right now, at most, the T'au ranked second. Eden's New Imperium was also "civilized"—though that civilization only applied to their own kind, and to those willing to accept their rule.
And yet, this world—occupied by Necrons—was unnervingly calm. There was no blood in sight.
Humans moved along the streets in steady streams, and there was no fear on their faces.
If anything, they were smiling.
Even the streets themselves were spotless, like someone was assigned to clean them.
"This is insane. Most of the old Imperium doesn't even have districts this clean, do they?" Eden clicked his tongue as he watched. "What, did this planet get hit by Genestealers, and then the Genestealers reached some kind of balance with the Necrons?!"
Across the galaxy, aside from worlds Eden had personally reshaped, only planets occupied by industrious, brave Genestealers could reach this level of "civilization."
As for how "civilized" the old Imperium's rule was… it belonged at the kids' table.
You couldn't expect a governance system that still ran on parchment to manage a planet with billions of people.
If it could keep a few hundred million in line, that already counted as a miracle. Everything else relied on the fact that Imperial citizens were tough, durable, and easy to keep alive.
But very quickly, Eden overturned his own conclusion.
Necrons and Tyranids were mortal enemies by nature, mutually repulsed. There was no way they could coexist in harmony.
In territories ruled by living metal, you didn't see many Tyranids or Genestealers. One mountain didn't tolerate two tigers.
Clack, clack, clack—
Just as Eden's consciousness was about to follow Fran's footsteps and probe the planet's situation, his brows knit.
He sensed danger.
A squad of Necron Immortals was approaching head-on, and their gaze seemed to lock onto Fran, the preaching saint.
Had the Necrons detected the intrusion that fast and already targeted Fran for capture?
If so, their surveillance net was terrifying.
After all, Fran had the disguise of nano-silicon skin, and his appearance matched the local humans almost perfectly.
There was virtually no difference.
"If their detection really is that strong, then Fran is in trouble. I might lose an experienced preaching saint."
Eden thought that through. If he lost Fran, he would have to collect information in a much more covert way.
Efficiency would plummet.
While Eden was still calculating, Fran stopped.
This preaching saint had spread doctrine on countless worlds. He had experience. His posture was relaxed, with no trace of panic.
He knew there was no escaping a formation like this. Even a fully armed Astartes wouldn't manage it.
Immortals were elite troops of a Necron dynasty.
Before biotransference, they had been hardened veterans. After biotransference, they still retained thought and responsiveness.
They possessed high-level military discipline and loyalty.
More than that, their heavy living-metal armor could withstand bolter fire and laser weaponry.
Even if they suffered severe damage, self-repair protocols would restore them.
If Fran showed the slightest sign of panic or tried to run, the patrol protocols would mark him as hostile.
Then they would execute precision pursuit tactics—sweeping every corner and crevice—until the fleeing target was erased to ash by twin gauss blasters.
Fran said nothing. He quietly drifted toward the crowd.
He lowered his head slightly, trying to look less conspicuous.
He hoped the xenos patrol squad would ignore him and move on.
What Fran didn't know was that the Immortals' attention had never left him.
Or rather, they were coming specifically for him.
"Priest…"
The towering Immortal at the front stared at Fran, its voice icy.
"Today is the Day of Worship. Please pray for us… bzzzt. Pray that the महान Emperor will cure our illness."
The electronic distortion in its voice made the words stutter, and its thoughts didn't flow smoothly.
But the meaning came through clearly.
The Necrons on this planet all longed for their "illness" to be cured—so they could grow flesh again and live like other normal humans.
"By the Emperor, that's a venerable priest!"
The citizens on the street noticed Fran and reacted with warmth and respect.
Fran's biological field could no longer nudge nearby life into "overlooking" him.
But judging from the local reaction, priests seemed to hold a fairly good status on Fanes.
"By the Emperor…"
Only after realizing the Immortals carried no hostility did Fran slowly lift his head.
He visibly froze for a beat at the sight of the Immortals, but he recovered instantly and performed the most common Ecclesiarchy salute with practiced ease.
That was the bare minimum for a preaching saint, or a high-level infiltrator.
Then Fran began to pray for the Immortals and the surrounding citizens. This was his core craft, and his voice was gentle and sacred.
The faithful's emotions calmed. One after another, they closed their eyes and followed the guidance of the prayer.
At the same time, through Fran's eyes, Eden finally saw the Immortals clearly.
His scalp almost went numb.
"Damn…
These living-metal xenos are one hundred percent out of their minds. They're way too loyal, what the hell?!"
Within Eden's field of view, the Immortals were decorated with dense layers of Imperial loyalty iconography.
On their shields was the Imperial Aquila, glowing with cold blue light. Set into their bodies were relic-markers made from the bones of Living Saints. On their shoulders were purity seals.
Even their twin gauss blasters were wrapped in Ecclesiarchy scripture.
Loyal. Too loyal.
The look and presence were exactly like Imperial loyalist soldiers.
If they shouted a loyal war-cry in the next second, no one would find it strange.
"May… bzzzt… the Emperor bless Fanes. Bl-bless us…"
The Immortals slung their weapons at their backs and prayed in Ecclesiarchy formality.
The scene was almost impossible to watch.
Eden had seen Genestealers and Orks display "loyalty" before, but this still nearly burned out his brain's CPU.
He genuinely wanted to know which genius had gone and preached the Imperial Creed to Necrons.
"No matter what, the humans on this planet have terrifying survival instincts…"
Eden guessed that when these deranged Necrons first awakened, the humans on the planet had been completely powerless.
To survive, they had talked the deranged xenos into being "ennobled" and enthroned as the planet's rulers.
They had also taught them Ecclesiarchy doctrine.
As for those who opposed it, they were probably labeled heretics and dealt with accordingly.
After dozens of generations, people had long since grown used to the presence of these Necrons.
Human consciousness was shaped by environment.
If you grew up from infancy hearing xenos stories and living under xenos rule, you naturally accepted it as normal.
The only absurd part was this: these deranged Necrons seemed to truly believe they were human now, complete with a sense of ownership over "their" people.
At last, the blessing rite ended. The Immortals stopped praying and continued their patrol under the citizens' respectful gaze.
After the Immortals left, Fran said farewell to the nearby faithful and melted back into the crowd.
He needed to learn this hive city thoroughly before choosing a safe place to spread doctrine.
Step by step, outward and upward.
But Fran hadn't gone far when he heard the boom of explosions—signs of fierce combat ahead.
He didn't hesitate. He immediately moved toward the fighting.
By the great Savior's orders, preaching saints had to spread doctrine while also gathering as much intelligence about the planet as possible.
Especially information about Fanes' enemies.
"So the planet wasn't as peaceful as it looked."
After Eden received the sensory feed, he wasn't surprised. Hive-city chaos was the galaxy's default.
Even Holy Terra's hive districts weren't absolutely safe.
Clack-clack-clack—
A swarm of Canoptek Spyders seemed to receive a combat protocol. They skittered out from nowhere and rushed toward the battle zone.
Then more xenos defenses activated, snapping into place as lines were established.
Following the Canoptek constructs, Fran reached the combat area. He didn't dare get too close, instead using observation optics to assess the situation.
The fighting there was vicious. The top floor of an entire building had been dissolved by disintegration beams. On the ground lay bodies torn apart with brutal cruelty.
Survivors huddled in corners, trembling with fear.
Bzzzt—
"Flayed Ones. You have torn up all control protocols. You must receive corrective death!"
An Immortal patrol squad was fighting Flayed Ones—twisted living-metal horrors drenched in blood, draped in human skin.
Those Flayed Ones were hunched, warped, and crazed. They were even taller than normal Necrons.
They were ravenous, and their destructive power was shocking.
The Flayed Ones were fast. Their razor claws tore through the Immortals' shields and bodies with ease—mutated limbs that could rip open vehicle armor.
The Immortals struggled to hold the line.
Eden suspected that even a fully armed Space Marine squad would have trouble stopping Flayed Ones.
They were among the most dangerous entities in the galaxy.
It was a slaughter—of Immortals and humans alike. In the middle of the fight, the Flayed Ones repeatedly lunged for the surviving humans.
These blood-maddened things craved fresh flesh beyond reason. Even though they could not truly swallow it, they still paused to rip their prey apart, smearing pulped meat across their own bodies.
The gore ran down metal frames, streamed along ribs caked with dried blood, and dripped onto the ground beneath them.
They would never be satisfied.
"Monsters, get away!"
"No, please, save our children!"
Under the Flayed Ones' torment, the survivors sobbed and screamed. They had all heard the legends of these abominations.
They were the most dangerous enemy in the Fanes system, forever coveting the flesh here.
What drove the survivors to despair was that their protectors seemed unable to withstand the monsters' assault.
And yet the Immortals never gave up. They dragged shattered bodies onward and continued to fight.
"Bzzzt… for the Emperor!"
They roared, shuddered as they forced themselves upright again, and threw their living-metal bodies forward to shield the survivors—Fanes' citizens—from killing blows.
They fought until the cold blue light in their skulls finally went out.
Even when they fell, they used their bodies to cover the humans beneath them.
These living-metal soldiers executed the protection protocols for Imperial citizens without hesitation, without compromise.
They fought for the Emperor's people to the last. They believed they were the Emperor's most loyal servants.
"Such loyalty…"
Watching this, Eden's eyes actually stung. He decided he should do something to help these loyal warriors.
Even if it increased the risk of exposure—Fran might have to start living in sewers again.
That might be the Genestealers' final destination, after all.
But before Eden could act, Necron reinforcements arrived.
Lychguard translocated into the combat zone. They were even taller than the Flayed Ones, and they drove hyperphase glaives through the blood-mad monsters.
Each strike carved deep dents into high-density living metal as hard as ceramite.
At the same time, Deathmarks tagged the area.
They were the Necrons' apex assassins and snipers—death made manifest—capable of striking from almost anywhere and still landing the shot.
Perfect precision.
Their synaptic disintegrators fired leptonic beams composed of sub-atomic particles, effortlessly destroying the Flayed Ones' organic nerve and synapse structures.
There were few visible wounds on the outside, but the inside had been ruined beyond repair.
One after another, the Flayed Ones collapsed.
The survivors among them knew they couldn't win. They quickly scooped up nearby scraps of human remains as trophies.
Then, amid a tremor of crimson energy, they slipped into the void.
Gone.
That was what made Flayed Ones—those twisted, blood-hungry monstrosities—so infuriating. Not only was their destructive power tremendous, they also possessed the ability to slip through dimensional space.
After a raid, they often carried corpses and bloody spoils back to palaces reeking of rot, to offer them to higher-ranking lords.
Worse still, even the Necrons couldn't locate the Flayed Ones' lair.
It was as if it existed in another dimension.
"So Fanes is being hunted by Flayed Ones. No wonder the xenos lord here asked the Imperium for help."
Eden sighed deeply. Whether Necrons or the Imperium, both were extremely wary of Flayed Ones—cruel predators that came and went at will.
Once you were marked, it was hard to escape their hunger.
Harder still to eradicate them.
Raids could happen anywhere.
In some extreme cases, the Imperium would rather fire planet-killing weapons—or even cyclonic torpedoes—at a world targeted by large numbers of Flayed Ones, just to wipe out as many as possible.
They would do it to prevent those twisted xenos monsters from spreading to more worlds.
Because as the slaughter continued, that blood-hunger "plague" would spread and infect more normal Necrons.
"You have been contaminated by the blood-hunger. I will execute the termination protocol."
A Lychguard stepped before an Immortal whose body was stained with crimson mist. The hyperphase glaive came down without hesitation.
It was a necessary protocol—for the safety of other warriors, and for the Emperor's citizens.
When the battle ended, Canoptek Spyders surged forward to process wreckage and clear ruins. Human administrative personnel moved down the streets, soothing the panicked crowd.
Order was restored with speed.
"No wonder the hive's order is so good. The local defenders are willing to pay any price to compress all danger into a controllable range.
They prevent disorder from spreading.
And their management apparatus has solid emergency plans. Their response is fast, organized, disciplined—better than vast swathes of the old Imperium."
Eden watched the cleanup and nodded with satisfaction.
Then, in the next second, he remembered what he was looking at.
This was a planet ruled by xenos.
These Necrons were so righteous it was downright creepy.
If you dropped them into Imperial territory, they'd be considered absurdly loyal. Their governance capacity alone crushed many regions of the old Imperium.
Strong combat power. Unshakable faith in the Emperor. What a fantastic xenos army.
"Hm?"
As Eden was thinking, more biological signals flooded in.
His face darkened.
(End of Chapter)
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