Squelch, snap—
Profane and obscene sounds erupted, and intense stimulation shot from Fulgrim's cloaca.
Fulgrim was immersed in a haze of sorrow, anger, and joy when this sudden stimulation pierced his brain, making him let out a piercing shriek.
His eyes rolled back, and his forked tongue, with its piercing, hung out, trembling in the air.
The old crone sword, still attached to flesh and mucus, was pulled out and held in Konrad Curze's hand.
Konrad Curze gave Fulgrim a deep look, then instantly vanished into the shadows, disappearing without a trace, no one knew where he went.
"Konrad!" Fulgrim twisted his body in a rage.
But he quickly ceased to be angry.
He felt a cold gaze cast down from the void.
The Lord of Hunger's gaze swept over Fulgrim.
He had entrusted the old crone sword to Fulgrim for protection, but Fulgrim had lost it.
This brought a punitive meaning to the Lord of Hunger's eyes.
Fulgrim immediately cowered on the velvet bed, trembling with fear.
The Lord of Hunger's anger, however, was fleeting.
The old crone sword was no longer as important as it once was.
After all, Ynnead had been devoured by Alexander.
The only danger was that Alexander had not yet become a god and had not completely suppressed Ynnead.
If something unexpected happened to Alexander, and the five old crone swords were reunited, the Eldar god of death might still have a chance to be born.
But one of the old crone swords was already lodged in the Blood God's thigh, fused with his wound.
If that old crone sword were pulled out, the Blood God's power would weaken, so the Blood God would also protect that old crone sword from being stolen.
Therefore, the theft of this old crone sword from Slaanesh was not actually important.
Moreover, Slaanesh had no way to launch any substantial revenge against Alexander; if something truly unexpected happened to Alexander, or if Alexander was pushed too far, causing Ynnead to revive, Slaanesh would be the one to suffer. Furthermore, Nurgle, for some reason, seemed to regard Alexander as a staunch ally.
What Slaanesh cared more about was the pure self that Fulgrim had perceived.
He, the Lord of Hunger, always lacked an excellent Chosen.
Tzeentch's Ahriman, needless to say, was the master of the red word network, one of the top wizards and psyker in the galaxy.
Khorne's Khârn… though he was gone now, he was once the second-in-command of the World Eaters Legion.
Nurgle's Typhus, although not as strong as Ahriman and Khârn, was at least the true Legion Master of the Death Guard.
And his own Lucius… tsk, he was always a bit lacking, even though his primary ability to constantly resurrect was given to him by Slaanesh.
Although Lucius was not completely dead yet, Slaanesh was already thinking of abandoning him.
He was now salivating over that uncorrupted phoenix, wishing he could devour him right now.
Slaanesh's will was then transmitted to Fulgrim.
The emotions in Fulgrim's heart gradually receded, leaving only one still present.
That was jealousy.
Jealousy of his clone, jealousy that the clone was still pure and proud, jealousy of his purity and beauty, jealousy of his nobility.
He must defile that clone.
In the ancient hall forged from blackstone, only a faint green light flickered; the Phaerons from different dynasties were all hidden in the darkness.
The Silent King had issued an edict, and all the Phaerons gathered, with some Phaerons also invited to form the Council of Elders according to the Silent King's will, to advise the Silent King and discuss the fate of the galaxy and the Necron Empire with him.
But… the long years had caused irreparable damage to the will and memory of many Necrons; even many Phaerons and Phaerons had suffered damage.
Many of them were delirious, gathering together and beginning to babble incoherently.
"Your Majesty, the Silent King! I believe our first priority now is the irreversible damage caused to our memory modules by millions of years of slumber."
"The second priority is how to build a defense strong enough to resist the Old Ones. I believe we should learn from the Old Ones' long skills to counter them; we can learn Psyker powers—"
"Lunatic, are you still asleep? The Old Ones are all dead!"
"Exactly, our primary enemy is clearly the thriving Eldar!"
"I think we should continue to sleep for sixty million years and outlive the Imperium of Man."
"A bunch of idiots, why not come with me and peel some skin? As long as we have enough flesh hanging on us, we can regain our flesh and blood bodies!"
"Damn it! Who let this Flayer in! What are the Three Saints Council doing?"
"Please call me the Unspeakable! Where is that thief Trazyn?!"
The entire hall was in an uproar, with chaos and disorder spreading among these metallic skeletons.
"My Obyron, Obyron, look how our Necrons have split into such a state? No one cares about the old etiquette anymore, there isn't even a food taster at the banquet!" In a dark corner of the hall, the Necron Overlord Zandrekh, the Crowned One, sighed, pointing at the food in front of him.
Of course, all this food was his imagination; this famous old general still thought he was living in the Necron era, facing a divided Imperium, where Orks, Eldar, and Humans were all Necrons who had split off.
His Obyron, Obyron, remained silent, somewhat accustomed to the old general's rambling.
He merely endured the old man out of loyalty and friendship.
"You see, even with the Silent King's edict, many people didn't make it to this meeting."
"Why isn't that famous bone of the ages, Salaka, here? Why isn't the Emperor of that Imperium here? Why isn't that Regent, Guilliman, here? And why isn't that black Warmaster, Abaddon, here? Have they, as Necrons, forgotten their loyalty to the Silent King?"
Zandrekh, the Crowned One, babbled on. Obyron turned his head away, somewhat annoyed, but didn't notice the faint glimmers in Zandrekh's eyes.
Zandrekh silently looked at the Silent King.
The Silent King stood on the high platform belonging to the Three Saints Council, but he himself said nothing; this was a tradition of the Three Saints Council, and also the meaning of the Silent King's name.
The Silent King remained silent, with only the Phaerons, the other two members of the Three Saints Council, announcing the edict. This was originally meant to balance the Silent King's power. But in Zandrekh's view, those two Phaerons who spoke on his behalf were now nothing but puppets of the Silent King.
"Your Majesty, do you understand? The galaxy now is just like it was back then, still full of rebellion, division, and deceivers," Zandrekh sighed softly, muttering.
And the Silent King on the throne stared intently at the constantly bickering Phaerons before him, clenching his fists of steel.
"A bunch of insects! Is there no one usable in the Necron Empire now?!"
"How could our Necron Empire become… like this?"