The pale green muzzle flashes of Gauss Blasters illuminated the pitch-black Perdita.
Anrakyr the Traveller, radiating a faint blue glow, stepped onto this cold planet.
His precious warriors, the towering Necron Immortals, walked beside him.
In the era when Necron were still Necron, these Immortal warriors were the professional soldiers of the Necron Dynasty.
Their metallic bodies were larger and stronger than ordinary Necron, pushing the front line forward like mighty hammers.
The enemies blocking their path were the hideous and insane Flayed Ones.
These kin of Anrakyr had now become deranged monsters.
They were hunched, draped in the skin and flesh of apes, and sharp claws had grown from their metallic bodies.
The Flayed One curse was a curse placed upon the Necron by a dead C'tan.
Anrakyr the Traveller was annoyed by this.
These infected individuals were undoubtedly a blemish on the eternal supremacy of the Necron Empire.
And the Dynasty slumbering within this planet, named Perdita, had clearly also been afflicted by this blemish.
"It makes me want to vomit," Anrakyr the Traveller said with disgust.
Even though he no longer possessed the function of vomiting.
"Cleanse these Necron who have succumbed to the curse of 'Llandu'gor'."
Llandu'gor was the name of a C'tan, Llandu'gor the Flayer.
The Necron had truly killed him, not merely shattered him into fragments.
Therefore, Llandu'gor cursed the Necron, spreading a kind of blasphemous cognitive virus.
Those infected by it would descend into madness, becoming craving for the flesh and blood of living beings.
Anrakyr the Traveller's soldiers cleared away the Flayed Ones roaming the planet's surface.
Meanwhile, other Necron, covered in an orange glow, began to appear on the planet.
The orange-red light on their bodies seemed to mimic the light of a star, radiating over this cold planet, creating a contrast with the cold blue light covering Anrakyr the Traveller.
The Mephrit Dynasty.
Anrakyr the Traveller coldly recalled the identity of the Dynasty slumbering within this planet.
The ruler of the Mephrit Dynasty was Overlord Zalathusa.
This Dynasty was skilled at harnessing stellar energy, knowing how to use the immense heat of stars as a power source or weapon.
They had now been awakened, roused by the alarm of Tyranid pest invasion.
And this alarm had also summoned Anrakyr the Traveller.
Anrakyr the Traveller was not like his deranged compatriots, who were fickle and full of desires for destruction and devastation.
He had come to reforge the great Necron supremacy, and therefore, he could not allow the Tyranid pests to devour the worlds of his kin, or even the entire galaxy.
He came to protect; he traveled to reinforce.
Anrakyr the Traveller moved his metallic body, walking towards the Necron radiating an orange glow.
"I am Anrakyr the Traveller, I am Overlord, I am the Awakener, I travel to reunite the Necron Dynasties."
Anrakyr the Traveller proudly raised his head and declared:
"I am your reinforcement, be filled with gratitude!"
The Necron glowing orange stared blankly at Anrakyr the Traveller, like a group of true corpses.
"Oh," they responded to Anrakyr the Traveller's lengthy discourse.
Anrakyr the Traveller was greatly disappointed.
It seemed these compatriots' minds had been damaged during their long slumber; he hoped their ruler still retained basic sanity.
"Take me to your Overlord," Anrakyr the Traveller said.
The Necron glowing orange slightly shifted their metallic bodies, making way for Anrakyr the Traveller.
"The great 'He Who Must Not Be Named' Zalathusa is awaiting you," said the Necron glowing orange.
"He Who Must Not Be Named"?
What a foolish title.
Anrakyr the Traveller thought so as he walked into the dark mountains, led by the Necron glowing orange.
On a crimson sofa, governor Augustus Flax lay slumped like a pile of mud.
He swirled the crystal wine glass in his hand, precious red wine swirling in the cup, the aroma of alcohol and grapes filling the air.
This was the underground palace he had planned and designed for many years.
After the Tyranid descended upon the planet, Augustus Flax hid in here.
But he was not ignorant of everything outside; long before the Tyranid arrived, he had released a considerable number of Servo-Skulls into the city.
He could observe the situation in the city through them.
The streets of the Lower Nest of Ferdia city were already packed with various terrifying Tyranid.
Augustus Flax watched these creatures crawl on the ground, devouring everything edible in sight.
But the Astra Militarum had clearly prepared in advance.
Before evacuating, they had placed explosives in some buildings, which would detonate suddenly when the Tyranid, following the scent of biomass, entered them.
And in the few urban areas still held by the Astra Militarum, they had set up street fortifications in the narrow streets.
Cadians and local Ashford thugs defended these street fortifications.
Augustus Flax saw a familiar figure on the street fortification.
That figure also noticed the Servo-Skull in mid-air, smiling and looking up towards him.
Augustus Flax felt his muscles suddenly stiffen, and his whole body trembled involuntarily.
Alexander stood before the Servo-Skull, looking at him, a chilling smile on his lips, his gaze seemingly piercing through the Servo-Skull, directly into Augustus Flax's heart.
He raised his lasgun and pulled the trigger—
A scorching laser beam shot towards Augustus Flax.
"Ah!!!" Augustus Flax let out a terrified wail, as if the laser had truly pierced his body.
That Servo-Skull was shot down, and Augustus Flax quickly mobilized other nearby Servo-Skulls.
But before he could switch the view, these Servo-Skulls exploded in a series of laser beams.
Augustus Flax was so terrified he nearly threw up.
He curled his body, hurriedly moving the view away from the Servo-Skulls near Alexander.
The display on the servitor continued to show the city occupied by Tyranid.
This sight, paradoxically, made Augustus Flax feel relieved, as if the fate of the entire planet had nothing to do with him.
Suddenly, a shadow flashed past the Servo-Skull.
It was a huge, six or seven-meter-tall, blasphemous monster with four sharp limbs and a chitinous carapace.
It twisted its triangular head, looking at the Servo-Skull.
Malice, hatred, and resentment flickered in its eerie eyes.
The crystal cup in Augustus Flax's hand shattered on the ground, and bright red wine pooled into a puddle.
"Tiberius."
Augustus Flax whispered his brother's name.
It was coming, it was coming for him.
Alexander rubbed his eyes, waking up from his position in the Lower Nest street fortification.
Astra Militarum soldiers on the battlefield often said that they didn't know whether tomorrow or death would arrive first.
But it seemed this time, for the Astra Militarum, tomorrow had arrived first.
Alexander stretched his limbs, standing up from his bedroll.
General Drost sat beside him, looking exhausted.
"That's impressive," General Drost exclaimed. "Amidst the gunfire, artillery, and roars of the Tyranid, you can still sleep."
Last night, the Tyranid had only conducted small-scale harassment, but the sounds of war were still deafening.
General Drost, who prided himself on being battle-hardened, still couldn't achieve the same quality of sleep as Alexander on the battlefield.
Alexander virtually lay on his bedroll and entered sweet sleep in less than a second.
General Drost could only express envy.
Seeing General Drost's tired expression, Alexander knew he hadn't rested well.
Yesterday's daytime battle successfully repelled the first wave of the Tyranid hive's attack.
The Tyranid also needed time to digest the six-tenths of the Lower Nest area they had captured, and time to incubate and create new units to accumulate strength for the next offensive.
The Cadian Shock Troopers were able to get a short rest, and Alexander, General Drost, and Reyna also got some sleep.
"How long did I sleep?" Alexander said, rubbing his brow.
"About three hours," General Drost said, his voice tinged with fatigue.
His sleep quality was not as good as Alexander's, and he radiated a strong sense of exhaustion.
Alexander exhaled slightly, as if breathing out yesterday's fatigue.
He was a mortal, not an Astartes or a Primarch; he also felt tired and weary.
But fortunately, his current sleep quality was high enough, and three hours of sleep were enough to eliminate a lot of fatigue.
"Are you going to rest a bit more?" Alexander stood up, looking at the tired General Drost and asked.
He knew General Drost had undergone longevity surgery, but he still showed some signs of aging.
"Cadians are not so fragile," General Drost said, his tone suddenly tense.
He stood up, his body straight, unlike a person over a hundred years old.
For a moment, Alexander even felt that the fatigue on General Drost's body had vanished into thin air.
But soon Alexander realized that General Drost had merely hidden his fatigue within his body.
"Today will probably be another tough battle," General Drost said in a calm voice.
The Tyranid had already established a foothold in Ashford, and digestion pools, capillary towers, and incubation pools must have already begun construction.
More and stronger Tyranid would also appear more frequently inside the hive city.
And there were also the genestealer, who had not shown themselves yet.
The two walked out to the street fortification, where Reyna and One-Eye stood by a table behind the street fortification, frowning at the map on it.