Chapter 129
The Necron dynasty slumbering beneath this world was none other than the Sautekh Dynasty—one of the most powerful dynasties in existence.
It is estimated to control more than eighty Tomb Worlds. This planet was but one of them.
Yet the Sautekh suffered a flaw of their own. Their original phaeron, the supreme ruler of the dynasty, had failed to awaken from his long slumber. For centuries the dynasty was plagued with infighting, divided between ambitious overlords.
Until the rise of Imotekh the Stormlord. The crowned one united the warring factions, seized the mantle of phaeron, and carved his name into the legends of the Necron race.
That is the weight of the Stormlord and his dynasty.
But here? None of that mattered. Losing one Tomb World was nothing to a dynasty with such vast holdings—like a bull shedding a single hair.
This particular world was ruled by an overlord named Ralek—a lesser noble among the many who bent the knee to Sautekh.
Ralek had been roused from slumber by the seismic fury of the battle between Godzilla and SpaceGodzilla. Rising aboard his flagship, he gazed upon the surface—only to see swarms of brutish greenskins and two colossal beasts wrestling atop his sacred pyramids.
His metallic voice thundered with rage.
"What has become of my world?!"
The scepter in his hand cracked against the ground. His court of lieutenants stirred awake, their optics flaring with baleful light.
To see primitive xenos claim his Tomb World, and titanic monsters trampling his monuments—this was desecration beyond measure.
"Praetorians! Awaken my guard! Purge these vermin from my world!"
The command echoed, and Necron legions marched forth. Cohorts of warriors emerged from smaller tombs, gauss weapons flashing as they advanced. Orks were cut down in their thousands. Even the Imperial Custodian on the surface found himself pressed by relentless waves of skeletal soldiers.
He cleaved one apart with his guardian spear—only to watch its body reassemble, metallic limbs snapping back into place.
"…An enemy I have never seen before."
The Custodes fought and retreated in measured steps. He had no wish to throw his life away needlessly. But neither did he wish to miss the spectacle of what was coming.
Ralek raised his scepter again, issuing his most dreaded command.
"Unleash the fragment of the Burning One! Reduce these beasts to ash!"
The Burning One. A C'tan shard, bound within the flagship's tomb-temple.
Atop the ship, a massive containment chamber ascended, splitting open to reveal a blazing figure. A man-shaped entity, his body forged of fire, wrapped in an aura of living plasma. He was flame given form—divinity caged in chains of living metal.
The shard screamed. Its voice was madness, fury, hunger. Flames surged as it descended into the sky above.
The Necrons dared not release it for long—every shard still remembered it had once been a god. Given enough time, it would attempt escape. But for now, bound and shackled, it would serve.
In the eyes of Godzilla and SpaceGodzilla, the shard's arrival was a star igniting. The energy pouring from it was enough to annihilate armies outright.
'…That's just a shard of a Star God!?'
[Of course. Necrons don't field Titans. They don't need them.]
The Necrons had no Warlord Titans, no Imperial equivalents. They had C'tan shards. Weapons on par with gods themselves.
The Burning One spread its arms, and a vortex of fire swirled into a storm. A tornado of flame screamed downward, engulfing Godzilla in an inferno that charred the earth to black glass.
'Coming for me, huh.'
Godzilla didn't flinch. To move would be to admit weakness.
The firestorm consumed him whole. The ground boiled, the air warped, the light seared like a miniature sun.
Isis merely laughed.
"Ridiculous. The sun itself is nothing before my god. Do you truly think fire can harm him?"
And then the flames parted.
Within the inferno stood Godzilla, his outline immovable, his spines glowing brighter even as the fire licked across his hide. The Burning One paused—its intelligence, though shackled, recognized disbelief.
Godzilla stepped forward, each stride scattering embers.
'That all you've got? I felt a little heat, sure. But it's nothing compared to the Red Lotus form.'
He tilted his head upward, eyes locking on the shard.
Above, SpaceGodzilla was struck by emerald lances from Necron gauss cannons. The beams could disassemble matter at a molecular level—but his crystalline hide endured. Worse, he drank the energy in, his body glowing with absorbed power.
Ralek and his court watched with mounting disbelief.
"He endured the flagship's main cannon?"
"What manner of abomination is that creature?"
A Necron warship's main gun was built to unmake armies and level cities. Yet the false Godzilla not only survived—it fedupon the energy.
The Burning One shifted, hurling fire at SpaceGodzilla as well. But he too absorbed the flames, his crystalline skeleton glowing red with stolen heat.
The shard faltered. The beasts were not prey—they were devouring its strength.
On the ground, Godzilla's body lit with crimson brilliance. His entire frame burned like molten steel, his spines pulsing with power. He was close—so close—to the Red Lotus state.
SpaceGodzilla glowed as well, his crystal bones blazing like blood-red glass.
Two titans, both brimming with stolen god-fire.
Overlord Ralek's mechanical features twisted into something like dread.
"…Silent King, I sense doom approaching."
And doom answered.
Godzilla opened his jaws, and a torrent of crimson nuclear fire—his full-powered heat ray—lanced upward, carving into the black void and tearing into the Necron fleet.
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