Noah clapped lightly: "A fine declaration, Storm King. But before that, you had better figure out how to placate your enraged 'compatriots'."
After saying this, Noah ended the communication with the Storm King. At this time, Cawl had already arrived with his fleet at the location of the Tomb World.
OReel, this Swarm Tendril, was still continuously releasing large numbers of Tyranid Swarm units against the Necrons' Tomb World, attempting to fight.
Compared to before Cawl left, the number of units around the Swarm Tendril had significantly decreased; a full half of the Tyranid Swarm units had already died at the hands of the Necrons.
And on the surface of the Tomb World, the land occupied by the Tyranids was only a tiny patch.
Biomass was essentially running a deficit, as the Necrons' gauss weapons directly disassembled everything at the molecular level, making it impossible for the Tyranid Swarm to replenish itself.
Furthermore, even if they managed to kill the Necron Warriors, the Tyranid Swarm couldn't consume anything from these metallic constructs.
If Cawl hadn't left a large amount of supplies for OReel before departing, this Swarm Tendril would have starved to death by now.
"Cawl, you're finally back! I'm so hungry, I'm so hungry! Did you bring me food? I'm practically starving!"
The moment Cawl's fleet arrived, OReel established communication with Cawl through her Psychic abilities.
"Yes, I did. Your performance this time was excellent. My Teacher told me to bring you extra food."
It must be said that this Swarm Tendril had ultimately rendered meritorious service.
Therefore, a reward must be given.
If rewards and punishments aren't clearly defined, the recipient might cut corners or become disloyal in the future.
With absolute loyalty guaranteed by the Swarm Tendril, the Imperium of Man would not begrudge a small ration.
Even if the rations given to her were enough to feed several planets.
Large quantities of Biomass blocks were deployed from the fleet. These Biomass blocks had been subjected to high pressure multiple times.
Every green biomass block represented the fusion of food equivalent to two Green Apple units.
The amount of food represented by one Green Apple meant rations for an unknown number of people. It must be said that Cawl and his team were very generous this time.
Rations three times the amount previously given to this Tendril were deployed, and this was merely her reward.
OReel let out a Psychic shriek of ecstasy. Countless tentacles extended from her main body, frantically devouring the Biomass blocks. Her size visibly swelled, and newborn Tyranid Swarm units poured out like a tide.
"So full, so full! I'm finally full again! This is absolutely wonderful! The feeling of having a full meal is just too great!"
OReel's joy was visible. For her, this was truly happiness; being able to eat her fill was a blessing granted by heaven.
What kind of life did she lead before, when she was with The Great Devourer?
Going hungry was common. Even if she consumed an entire planet, she couldn't find food that made her feel full.
But now that she followed humanity, although her freedom was somewhat restricted, she could eat her fill!
Why does the Tyranid Swarm need freedom? The Swarm only seeks freedom to hunt. Now, she doesn't need to hunt; humanity provides her with sufficient food. What could be happier than this?
"Eat, eat. Pull back all your bugs. We are now going to execute Exterminatus on this planet."
Cawl watched OReel continuously devour the Biomass blocks. Only after she had eaten nearly half did Cawl give the order.
"Huh, are we not fighting anymore? I'm full now, I can send out more units to attack."
OReel, having just finished eating, heard Cawl's command and was somewhat confused. In her mind, shouldn't they continue fighting after eating? Otherwise, wouldn't she have eaten this meal for nothing?
"No need to fight. I brought enough whirlwind torpedoes to directly destroy this planet."
Cawl said this matter-of-factly, but OReel was completely perplexed by this point.
"But my units saw many of the Necrons' mechanical devices down there. I remember you wanted these high-precision mechanical devices, didn't you? They have what you need inside."
"I remember that great Warmaster also wanted a high-precision device, right? He was constantly complaining last month that the equipment he had wasn't good enough."
"There are several top-tier Gauss technology observation devices here. I feel like those things should be similar to what the great Warmaster needs. Maybe they could even be used?"
OReel didn't understand. She only knew that since she had eaten so much of humanity's food, she needed to demonstrate some value.
After all, the Tomb World was a Necron Research Tomb World. It housed a large number of peak products of Necron Physical technology. There were numerous research devices and production devices that could manufacture Necron weapons and equipment, along with a large amount of cutting-edge technology.
In OReel's eyes, didn't the Oil-crazed guys of the Adeptus Mechanicus want all this stuff?
Why, all of a sudden, were they preparing to execute Exterminatus directly?
????
"What did you say?" Cawl, who had originally planned to execute Exterminatus immediately, widened his eyes upon hearing this.
If this Tomb World was just an ordinary Necron Tomb World, then executing Exterminatus would be fine.
But the news he heard now was different.
The Tyranids were actually telling him that there were things his Teacher needed down there?!!!
As is well known, Noah, as the Warmaster of the Imperium of Man and the greatest Scientist and incarnation of the Omnissiah, requires extremely high-end items that he usually has to craft himself.
Especially when Noah conducts research, the equipment currently used in the Laboratories of the Imperium of Man and the United faction are basically things he is very dissatisfied with.
Cawl still remembers when he accompanied his Teacher during experiments a few months ago, his Teacher complained more than once that the things their equipment could observe were too crude.
Most of the processing and observation equipment currently available in the Imperium of Man operate at the Picometer level, which is the best development achieved with Noah's assistance.
Picometer - Symbol pm
Size: 10⁻¹² meters, 1/1000th of a Nanometer.
Analogy: The diameter of an Atomic Nucleus is approximately between a few and several dozen Picometers.
However, the most high-precision processing and observation equipment in Noah's hands only reached the Femtometer level.
The size is 10⁻¹⁵ meters, 1/1000th of a Picometer, and 1/1,000,000th of a Nanometer.
The diameter of a Proton is approximately 1.6 Femtometers.
A Proton is a unit smaller than an Atom, and by more than just a little.
The entire Imperium of Man only possesses this one device, and it is kept under the strictest protection within the Terra Imperial Palace.
This device also took Noah a full year to create.
Even so, Noah has stated more than once during his research that he requires more precise observation and processing equipment.
In other words, he needs things with even higher precision, or preferably several more Femtometer-level devices, as one is simply not enough.
However, those higher-precision items are not something a Scientist can simply hand-craft; they require corresponding industrial support.
Although Noah can hand-craft Femtometer-level items, he doesn't have much time left.
Furthermore, the items he hand-crafts can only barely reach the Femtometer level.
Doing it this way is really too demanding.
The Imperium of Man currently needs at least 50 more years to manufacture usable Femtometer-level observation equipment, and those 50 years would require Noah to dedicate himself to development regardless of the cost.
Noah clearly does not have that much time. As the greatest Scientist and incarnation of the Omnissiah in the Imperium of Man, he has far too many things to attend to.
"What level of precision can be observed? That is very important!"
Thinking that the object might be something his teacher required, Cawl became somewhat excited.
"Femtometer level, it must be femtometer level. I overheard the Necrons scientific researchers talking. There are four femtometer-level devices here."
"It was overheard by the lictor I dispatched during an accident, but that lictor has now died under the Necrons' gauss rifle."
"It's just what the Necrons said; I can't confirm whether the equipment we need is actually on this planet."
Femtosecond-level equipment—this is equipment of which the Imperium of Man only possesses a single unit. The fact that there are several units on this Necrons planet is a huge temptation.
More importantly, Cawl knew very well that his teacher needed a device like this.
Conflict began to surface in Cawl's mind. The order he received from his teacher was to issue an Exterminatus upon this planet.
The plan was to destroy the Necrons planet with the force of thunder, avenging the sacrifices of the colonized world's inhabitants. But this planet held something the Imperium wanted, something his teacher wanted!
If there are several femtosecond-level devices, might there be attometer-level devices that his teacher desires even more?
Attometer - Symbol am
Size: 10⁻¹⁸ meters.
And even if there are no attometer-level devices, perhaps the femtosecond-level devices are more advanced. His teacher's unit only just barely reached the femtometer level.
Desire and excitement continuously surged in Cawl's heart, and the accompanying Adeptus Mechanicus Priests became even more fanatical.
Seize it! They must seize it! For the Omnissiah, they must take that device!
"General, let us dispatch the Skitarii to attack this planet! We must dedicate this instrument to the Omnissiah; we must seize it!"
Speaking was a Grey Shield left by Cawl for himself. These Grey Shields were the first batch of Auxiliary Space Marines, unaffiliated with any Chapter, directly subordinate to Cawl, marked by grey livery, and tasked with secret missions and extreme military pioneering.
Among them was also the Head of the Primaris. These Auxiliary Space Marines served as bodyguards and Chief Apprentices.
Their combat power and loyalty were both top-tier.
After hearing that the Necrons planet possessed something required by Cawl, the Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus, these Primaris Space Marines all became enthusiastic.
Seize it! They must go to the planetary surface, eliminate the Necrons, and seize the equipment. This is exactly what the Imperium of Man would do.
However, warfare at this time often involved using Exterminatus Weapons and whirlwind torpedoes to destroy an entire planet, which was a format and mode of war rarely used by the Imperium of Man.
For this reason, Cawl fell silent.
On one side was the order from his teacher to directly destroy the planet; on the other side, the planet held the instruments his teacher required.
This made Cawl extremely conflicted; he wanted to seize this equipment for his teacher.
After thinking for a long time and failing to reach a final decision, Cawl decided to consult his teacher. Cawl didn't know what command Noah would give him, but this was the best method he could think of.
He did not want to disobey his teacher's orders.
For Cawl, Noah's existence was akin to a second creation.
It was Noah who pulled him out of the state where he didn't even know who he was.
If not for Noah, he might no longer be sure that he was human. Ten thousand years of memory was too long; his memory storage simply couldn't withstand such a situation.
Noah pulled him out of this terrible situation, took him as his student, and supported him in becoming the Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus on Mars. It was Noah who taught him all sorts of knowledge.
Like a teacher and a father, Noah even prepared vast amounts of top-tier technological equipment just to ensure his survival.
Now, the equipment Noah wanted was below, but Noah's order was above—Cawl truly couldn't make a decision.
Inside the Pocket Dimension, Cawl was unable to contact Noah.
However, this did not mean Cawl had no solution.
Just like the life-saving equipment Noah prepared for him, Cawl could replace his body. The device on him could achieve this, relying on Noah's Spatial Expertise.
"OReel, in that case, continue sending your units to attack this planet, but postpone the release of the Exterminatus Weapons for now. I must return to consult my teacher. Primaris Space Marines, be ready."
"If my teacher requires us to land on this planet to plunder that equipment, then we must make our preparations to seize those devices for ourselves. Understand?"
"For the Omnissiah!" the Primaris Space Marines shouted in unison.
Cawl reached out and touched the life-saving device his teacher had given him, then ruthlessly crushed it.
After an invisible fluctuation, Cawl's consciousness was directly teleported back into the battleship where Noah was located.
Noah, who was commanding the battleship in combat, keenly noticed that his student had activated the life-saving instrument. He immediately chose to teleport, appearing before Cawl's body.
Noah was a qualified teacher; he cared about his student's safety.
"What happened, Cawl? Weren't you supposed to carry out the mission to release the whirlwind torpedoes? What? Did you encounter some life-threatening danger?"
Noah held the device in his hand and began scanning Cawl's body, checking the integrity of his souls. If there was any deficiency in the souls, Noah would personally intervene to mend that slight loss for his student.
While performing the scan, Noah also reached out and immediately pulled his student out of the Spare Body Storage.
Only by truly seeing Cawl's Spare Body Storage could one know how much protection Noah had prepared for his student.
A full 16 top-tier bodies were placed in the Spare Body Storage. Furthermore, each Spare Body Storage contained a Soul Consciousness Transmitter, meaning every one of Cawl's spare bodies could allow him to escape death.
This was merely one inventory. As everyone knows, a cunning rabbit has three burrows—how could Noah not understand this?
There were 16 units in this single storage room alone. Exactly how many spare bodies Noah prepared for Cawl and his other students is an unknown number.
The cost of every single body here could even rival that of a battleship!
"Teacher, I'm fine." Cawl awoke in his new body and hastily explained, "It's an important discovery. There are femtoscale devices on the target planet, and possibly attoscale ones too."
Noah's hand instantly stopped, his eyes sharpening: "Are you sure?"
"lictor's reconnaissance shows at least four femtoscale devices.
And judging by the lab's scale, it's highly likely there are even higher-level instruments." Cawl pulled up the data records.
The appearance of so many advanced scientific devices made Noah abandon his idea of directly destroying that Tomb World.
As a Scientist, he knew that some sacrifices were unacceptable; the Imperium of Man couldn't mass-produce femtoscale and attoscale equipment.
Therefore, these devices appearing at this time were priceless treasures for the Imperium of Man.
Even for Noah, he didn't find these devices particularly precious, as they were merely basic in the Terran Dominion, but this was the Imperium of Man.
Technological development requires time, and even with a powerful figure leading it, it still needs ample time to develop. Noah had to admit that the scientific equipment of the Necrons there truly tempted him.
"Teacher, what we mean is, why don't we send Space Marines to the planet's surface to seize those devices?"
Noah's silence gave Cawl hope.
For Cawl, he was truly afraid that his teacher, worried about the safety of the human army and other issues, would abandon the equipment on this planet and simply blow it up.
Even though Cawl knew his teacher wasn't someone who confused right and wrong or priorities, he still harbored this concern in his heart.
After a moment of thought, Noah spoke.
"Seize them, huh? What kind of troops do we need to send to seize them?"
"We need an extremely elite combat team to infiltrate the Necron Tomb World to seize those devices. Can ordinary Space Marines execute this plan?"
Cawl shook his head; clearly, ordinary Space Marines couldn't execute this plan. It would require the strongest among the Space Marines, or the deployment of Grey Knights or Custodian Guard forces.
After thinking for a while, Cawl said to Noah:
"Teacher, the Necrons have phase teleportation devices and technology. If we launch a large-scale attack, the Necrons are very likely to use this technology to teleport the equipment away directly. We can only send a small force to infiltrate."
"I suggest we select the strongest among the Space Marines and Custodian Guard we have brought and form a small assault force to deploy onto the Tomb World."
"Using our Tyranid Swarm as cover, our small force can move freely on the Tomb World and seize those devices. lictor of the Tyranid Swarm will serve as our vanguard and scout."
..."Teacher, these devices are very important to the Imperium, and also very important to you. We should still send troops to seize them."
Cawl offered his advice one last time, and Noah chose to accept it.
"Alright, if that's the case, then let's send a small force to seize that thing, Cawl."
"Who will lead this force?"
"How many people should we select for this team to execute this plan, Cawl?"
If it were commanding naval battles, Noah was somewhat skilled, after all, his good brother, Kane, was the Terran Dominion's most formidable legendary military commander.
At his peak, this brother of his could directly command tens of millions of Federation warships, down to the nanometer level, issuing individual commands to all vessels, embedding the entire battle situation firmly in his mind.
Noah had once fought alongside his good brother, so he had some accomplishments in warship command, but what was least seen in the Federation was ground combat.
Compared to the large number of naval commanders within the Terran Dominion, the number of army commanders was pitifully small. There were only two Army Generals in the entire Federation... Due to this situation, Noah simply couldn't manage any decapitation strikes.
Large-scale army cluster operations were fine, after all, Noah wasn't an idiot; he could learn them. But as for the configuration and details of decapitation strikes, Noah really couldn't handle them.
As Noah was about to ask his student, Cawl, the Fabricator-General of Mars, a new army once again joined the battlefield, and at the forefront of the fleet was the imperial regent Guilliman's Macragge's Honor.
The Macragge's Honor had undergone several modifications and reconstructions. Now, its combat power was not inferior to any titan ship, and it even had the ability to independently destroy a Titan!
Guilliman has arrived!
This regent of the Imperium of Man, this regent Guilliman, who would launch the Indomitus Crusade when Noah was not present, once again stepped onto his own battlefield.
Behind him was the vast war fleet of the Ultramarines of Mankind, along with some Custodian Guard fleets stationed on Terra. To protect this regent of the Imperium of Man, the Custodian Guard once again dispatched a Custodian Guard escort led by 10 Tribunes.
Over 100,000 Custodian Guard protected Guilliman to prevent the regent from falling.
The Ultramarines' Honor Guard also continuously protected their Primarch, fearing that their Primarch would once again charge madly into battle.
However, none of this was truly important to Noah, but when he saw Guilliman's fleet appear behind him, a smile appeared on Noah's face.
"Alright, Cawl, it seems we don't need to worry about how to seize those devices. Look, isn't Guilliman here?"
"Professional matters should be handled by professionals. Since the elves are here, the problem will be handed over to him."
"Go and welcome Guilliman, have him come to my flagship, and explain the situation on the way.
Make it clear to Guilliman that he should select powerful individuals from among the Ultramarines and Custodian Guard to seize those devices."
"To ensure your safety, I will deploy more fleets to continue fighting the Necrons, keeping them preoccupied."
While instructing his student, Noah once again commanded the Human Legion's fleet, resuming an offensive formation and launching an attack towards the Necrons.
The stronger the firepower and combat capability on the main battlefield, the more security the Tyranid Swarm fleet and special elite squad on the rear battlefield could obtain.
Noah knew this well.
Cawl accepted the task his teacher had given him.
Just as an eager Guilliman was about to lead his fleet into the battle-zone, Cawl appeared before him the moment he arrived.
"Primarch," Cawl bowed slightly.
The instant he saw Cawl, Guilliman's heart skipped a beat.
Hadn't they agreed he could commit troops to the fight?
Why was Cawl here now—did some new duty await?
Freshly freed from the mountain-range–sized piles of Imperium paperwork, Guilliman stared at the Archmagos, every mental alarm blaring.
"My master asks you to come aboard the flagship; something requires your personal command. Rest assured, you won't be sent back to your desk."
A single glance let Cawl read Guilliman's fears; after all, he had known this Primarch a long time.
Ever since Cawl became Fabricator-General of Mars their contact had grown even closer.
Long familiarity told Cawl exactly how Guilliman would react.
Hearing it wasn't about administration, Guilliman exhaled in relief.
"Then let's go—can't keep the Warmaster waiting. As long as it's not paperwork you can count me in. You hauled me out here to fight, don't you dare ship me back to a desk."
The Imperium of Man was drowning in documents, especially while expanding—whole warehouses stuffed as though filling seas and mountains.
Even with Noah assigning vast bureaucratic staffs to pre-filter reports,
Guilliman could swear the paperwork that finally reached him, after every cutback, was still four times what the old Imperium had handled.
In the past, the Imperium claimed a million worlds, yet only those whose tithes actually arrived on Holy Terra were tallied; unreported planets were ignored.
Consequently the sprawling empire couldn't tell whether it held one million or several million worlds—until Noah appeared and imposed a working administration.
Through relentless effort, those millions of human worlds were folded into the bureaucracy; even triple-filtered, the submissions from every Sub-sector and Sector still arrived on Holy Terra in a blizzard of data.
Not that Guilliman shirked duty or desired anything less than mankind's ascendance—but a vacation snatched away hurts anyone.
Cawl smiled; he understood the Primarch's dread.
To tease him, Cawl sent a message to Guilliman's display.
It summarized the newly discovered Necron Tomb World and the Imperium's plan for a ground assault, though Cawl added a mischievous twist.
The operational file should have been flagged "Military," yet he re-labelled it "Administrative."
[Ding-dong—urgent business! regent, please handle at once!]
The familiar chime made Guilliman's heart stall for a beat.
He had installed that alert to clear his schedule for true emergencies on Holy Terra.
Any top-priority item triggered the sound, forcing him to act immediately.
Guilliman's face went ashen.
With shaking fingers he opened the message, bracing for bureaucratic torment.
But the title read "Tomb World Infiltration Operation Plan." He blinked, then burst into laughter.
"Cawl, you—!" He pointed, half laughing, half groaning. "You nearly stopped my heart!"
"Apologies, Primarch." Callow's grin turned uncharacteristically sly. "Still, it is an 'urgent task,' wouldn't you agree?"
Guilliman skimmed the plan, eyes sharpening. "Femto-scale Gear… Attometer Instruments…"
"No wonder the Warmaster wants boots on the ground—he needs this hardware! We must seize it."
Whatever Noah required became the Imperium's top priority; his standing was beyond question.
If the Warmaster needed something, the Imperium would move heaven and earth to deliver.
Every one of Noah's requests touched mankind's rise and the Imperium's future, hence rated absolute priority.
"Precisely because of those cutting-edge devices, my master cancelled the demonstration of 149 whirlwind torpedoes that would have erased the Necron Tomb World."
"Our pet Swarm Tendril's lictor spotted the equipment, so the Warmaster revised the op. I persuaded him to send an elite team to capture it instead."
"The job calls for a professional—clearly not me, I'm just a tech-priest."
"My master feels the same; he can fleet-command, but ground assaults aren't his forte."
"So he summoned me?" Guilliman's eyes lit up.
He refused to believe Noah couldn't manage a ground war.
The Warmaster handled Webway and naval battles with ease—how could a raid be beyond him? Clearly Noah was giving the overworked Primarch a break.
That was Guilliman's happy conclusion.
"Move, Cawl! The Warmaster's needs come first—let's go!"
The Avenging Son could no longer contain his excitement; a warrior needs war to stay sane.
Once, war had been everywhere in the galaxy, easy to find.
But ever since Noah arrived, Guilliman had been chained to Terra's bureaucracy, suffocating.
Peace was welcome—unless it meant working like a galley-slave twenty-four hours a day.
For Guilliman, combat had become recreation.
Seeing his exhilaration, Cawl said no more; he activated the inter-ship warp-bridge to reach Noah quickly.
When Cawl and Guilliman arrived, Noah was busy directing the fleet against the Necrons.
He didn't even turn around as they stepped onto the flagship, simply tossing over his shoulder,
"I'm leaving the rest to you two. Reassign whoever you need, requisition whatever support you require.
Tell me what sort of attack you want from the main fleet and I'll launch it for you."
Cawl and Guilliman exchanged glances and instantly snapped into action.
To seize the equipment they needed from the Tomb World, they first had to pinpoint where those devices were located, as well as map the planet's terrain.
This was crucial—the operation could only be carried out by a small elite force. The moment the Imperium's armies landed in strength, the Necrons would realize humans had come to steal their relics.
Yet neither Cawl nor Guilliman had any data on the planet's topography. After locking eyes, they powered up a battleship.
They also embarked the Ultramarines' Honor Guard, two thousand Custodians, and two Custodian Tribunes.
"Translate into the Necron Tomb World," Cawl and Guilliman ordered the battleship's captain in unison.
Cawl had already forced his own vessel through emergency and Warp jumps; he had no choice but to swap into a spare body.
This battleship, however, had yet to be used—its Warp drive was still pristine.
Under Cawl's command the battleship flashed white and vanished.
When it reappeared, it had joined the forge ark fleet and the human Patrol Fleet orbiting the Tomb World, gliding slowly into the formation.
A shuttle detached from the battleship and streaked toward Cawl's forge ark.
Minutes later the two of them were back aboard Cawl's ark.
To learn everything about the Tomb World, the best approach was to dispatch a research vessel for a detailed survey.
The Necrons, of course, would never allow that.
But humanity was not out of options—they still possessed a secret weapon.
OReel, among the Tyranid Swarm there is a specialized unit called the lictor; beyond it lie its evolved forms: the Death-Leaper and the Raveners.
Long wars against the Imperium had forced the Tyranid Swarm to develop some remarkably useful organisms, and now those very creatures served as humanity's finest helpers.
"OReel, how's the battlefront? How far has your brood pushed?"
Cawl opened a channel to OReel; the Swarm Tendril answered at once.
"We've advanced two kilometres planet-side—nothing more."
The Necrons' gauss weapons are too powerful; anything they hit simply ceases to exist. It's a losing bargain."
OReel's tone was thick with annoyance.
"This fight is maddening. If you hadn't told me the Warmaster himself needs what's down there, I'd have pulled my forces already—it's too costly!"
Swarms loathe Necrons; their gauss flayers disintegrate biomass on the physical level.
Thus, in wars against the Necrons, the Swarm gains no sustenance whatsoever.
The cycle of throw troops, let them die, then recycle the biomass is broken when facing the Necrons.
Most Necron Warriors simply phase out when destroyed, only to reanimate and fight again.
Even when a lictor or some other specialist manages to actually kill one, the corpse is useless as food.
In the end the Necrons just teleport the carcass away and slot in a fresh mind.
That is why the Silent King's legions can hold the vast Tyranid hordes at the galaxy's edge and allow them not a single step farther.
Cawl and Guilliman exchanged a look and elegantly ignored OReel's complaints.
Had the strike force been Imperial Space Marines, Custodians, or Grey Knights, they might have felt a pang of loss—but lictors?
Feed this tendril enough biomass and it will spawn oceans of lictors to drown the planet.
One requires decades of careful training; the other merely needs a meal to birth a battle-hardened organism. Only a fool would mourn the cost.
"Come now, OReel, don't sulk," Cawl offered with perfunctory sympathy.
"Your comfort is woefully half-hearted, Cawl."
"We've worked together so long—how can you watch me suffer like this?"
The tendril bristled. "What are you saying, Lille?"
"Those things dying down there aren't you."
"Give you enough food and you'll churn out more. Why mourn? Here—on my master's behalf, an extra ration."
The moment Cawl finished, the accompanying battleship released two emerald cubes of biomass.
"There—two biomass blocks. Eat up and get to work."
Send your lictors to sweep the planet inch by inch; map the terrain and, most importantly, locate those devices."
At the sight of the cubes OReel's tendrils whipped forward: "Deal!"
Countless lictors poured from the swarm fleet like a black tide and surged toward the Tomb World.
These specially evolved scouts could sense the faintest energy fluctuations, and—crucially—their shared sensor web streamed live data back to Cawl's ark.
"Receiving data," Cawl said, fingers flying across the console.
The holographic map began to fill in, though lictors were being cut down by Necrons even as he watched.
Yet neither the tendril OReel, nor Cawl, nor Guilliman batted an eye.
The Necrons were no pushovers; losing a few lictors to Warriors or Lychguard was only to be expected.
While the lictors expanded the holo-map, Guilliman was donning his power armor.
A suit of cobalt-blue plate—personally designed by Noah—clasped itself around the imperial regent.
Roboute Guilliman, 13th Primarch of the Imperium of Man.
A son of vengeance with a Warp-touched soul, born for war—after endless politicking on Terra, he had decided the stakes justified taking the field himself.
Cawl, absorbed in perfecting the hologram, never noticed Guilliman's preparations.
Only when the map was nearly complete did Cawl spin round, jubilant, to order the deployment—and found the regent already armored and waiting.
"What are you doing, Guilliman!" Cawl shrieked.
Cawl had summoned Guilliman to co-command the assault and seize the equipment—not to have the imperial regent wade into the fray himself.
In Cawl's eyes Guilliman's antics right now were pure Big-Silly-Chun.
"Big-Silly-Chun, what are you doing?
Don't be stupid—take off that power armor. The regent doesn't fight yet."
To Cawl's screeching, Guilliman—long drowned by endless paperwork on Terra—only flashed a bright grin and shot back a thumbs-up.
"No!"
"Equipment this vital—doesn't that warrant the imperial regent in person?
No, I'm doing it myself. It's for the Imperium; you can't stop me, Cawl."
As if he'd found the perfect excuse, Guilliman openly started deceiving himself.
Was the gear on this Tomb World crucial to mankind?
Absolutely.
But weighed against a regent who could steer the entire Imperium?
That answer became rather interesting.
Conclusion: the equipment paled beside the regent.
Guilliman's greatest worth lay in keeping the whole Imperium running from the Senatorum on Terra.
Fairly speaking, Noah could also do it.
Yet Noah had to guide the Imperium onward; he lacked the hours for paperwork—Guilliman's role shone bright.
"What are you waiting for? Move—strip the regent's armor; he's not fighting!"
Seeing words fail, Cawl barked at the Custodian Tribunes beside him.
The tribunes reflexively stepped up to peel the armor off Guilliman.
Spotting Custodes closing in, Guilliman roared:
"Hold! No one moves! I'm still the imperial regent—my father himself decreed it. Obey me: stand fast!"
"I am the regent—who dares touch me? Who can?"
"I said I fight, so I fight—none may stop me!"
Endless paperwork; ever since Noah appeared Guilliman hadn't led troops in person.
The Rebirth Age had buried him in administration; finally given a chance, he wouldn't waste a minute.
Now the Custodes were stuck—Cawl's order to keep the regent safe was sound.
Yet Guilliman, as regent, spoke with the Emperor's authority; the Custodes had to heed him.
This Guilliman wielded far greater clout than before.
As regent he could command the Custodes, leaving them trapped between advance and retreat.
Guilliman beamed at Cawl and said in the smuggest tone imaginable,
"Cawl, I'm imperial regent. You're Martian Forge Master, but I oversee all state affairs; only the Warmaster or my father can overrule me."
Elated, he was finally marching to war… Cawl said nothing, only pointed behind him.
"Mighty Lord regent, perhaps curb your joy and turn around to see who's arrived."
Cawl watched the Emperor's psychic specter loom behind Guilliman while Custodes knelt in unison, pitying the regent.
"Huh?" A terrible foreboding struck Guilliman.
"What do you mean? Speak plainly, Cawl!"
"I don't believe anyone can change my mind. In this galaxy only my father or the great Warmaster could stop me, and I'm going in person!"
"Is that so?" a regal voice sounded behind him. "What if it's me?"
???
"Eh?"
Guilliman slowly turned and saw the figure behind him.
The next instant he slumped to the deck.
"Dad, what're you doing here? Aren't you stuck on the Golden Throne?" he croaked, guilt-ridden.
Blimey—only two beings in the galaxy could Boss him around, and one of them, his father, had just shown up.
"Hmph. If you can come, why can't I?"
the Emperor's tone was utterly flat, as though chatting with his son—yet the calmer he sounded, the more Guilliman panicked.
"You mustn't fall; you're my son."
A flicker of paternal warmth—Guilliman almost felt touched.
Then the warmth vanished.
"The Imperium's paperwork still needs you."
…and the worst was yet to come; the Emperor continued,
"If anything happens to you, Noah would have to run the state and command the armies—he'd be overworked; that won't do."
"Your safety is mandatory, or my dear Warmaster might tire himself out."
When the Emperor finished, Guilliman's face twisted through a parade of conflicting emotions.
In a way, this was his father caring for him.
For a Primarch, receiving the Emperor's concern was rare indeed.
the Emperor seldom showed such care for any of his sons.
Yet the direction of that care left Guilliman deeply unsettled.
What did he mean—if something happened to Guilliman, Noah would be stuck doing everything?
That it would tire the beloved Warmaster?
"You're not going, Guilliman. Lion will take your place.
In a day he'll be aboard your ship; let him handle this—he's better suited."
With that the Emperor vanished, leaving dumbstruck Guilliman and Cawl behind.
So the Emperor had come not to let Guilliman fight, but—valuing the gear and Noah—dispatched another son.
"Real father—absolutely, positively, his real father!" Cawl muttered, having heard every word.
Guilliman slumped in his chair, looking at Cawl with a complicated expression. "Am I even his real son...?"
"At least it proves the Emperor values you highly." Cawl tried to comfort him, but the amusement in his voice was undeniable. "After all, only you can handle such important work as governance."
"I'd rather go fight a war." Guilliman covered his face miserably.
A day later, when Lion ElJonson, the Primarch of the Dark Angels, arrived on Cawl's forge ark, the first thing he saw was Guilliman still slumped in his chair, having yet to recover his composure.
Trailing behind him was a contingent of Emperors Children.
These were individuals within the Dark Angels Legion who had once been branded as traitors, and they were now the most powerful Space Marines in the Dark Angels Legion.
Ten thousand years had made these veterans even stronger!
"Father said you needed help." Lion's voice was cold and hard as iron. "Where is the equipment?"
Guilliman's mood did not improve upon Lion's arrival; all he felt was the bitterness of having his toy snatched away.
It was too painful. He had arrived first, the Warmaster's order was clearly for him to take over command, and Cawl had sought him out first. Why had this combat assignment fallen to his brother again?
"The exact location of the equipment hasn't been found yet, but we have a few general targets. The first target is the Ancient Tomb Fortress of the Necron Overlord within this Tomb World."
"Due to the excessively strong Necron defenses inside the Ancient Tomb Fortress, our Tyranid Swarm units were unable to detect any information within it."
"Considering that this Necron Tomb World is a research-type world, the most advanced research equipment is highly likely to be stored there."
Cawl placed the most difficult, yet most probable, target before Lion first.
"Hmm." Lion nodded in agreement. If it was a research-type Tomb World, then it made sense.
"What about the others?" Since the specific location of the equipment hadn't been confirmed, other places were naturally possible as well.
As the Primarch of the First Legion, having been tempered by ten thousand years of time, Lion had become more rational.
"Look here, Your Excellency. Aside from the Ancient Tomb Fortress, the Necrons also have the Silent Archives dedicated to scientific research, which is this area."
Cawl pointed to the most magnificent cluster of tombs on the Necron Tomb World.
"According to the lictor's report, this cluster of tombs is the Necron Silent Archives, which also stores a large number of Necron research laboratories and equipment."
"This is likely the second most probable location."
"Our Tyranid Swarm lictor previously found the equipment here, but after the lictor's discovery, the equipment seemed to have been teleported away using Phase Teleportation Technology. The Necrons clearly value this equipment highly."
"After the equipment was teleported away, it became difficult for us to figure out its current whereabouts, but it is highly likely still within this architectural complex."
Cawl showed the second location only to Lion.
After reviewing it, Lion offered his opinion.
"According to what you said, the Necrons possess highly advanced Phase Teleportation Technology. Even if I lead the warriors of the Dark Angels Legion to rush in and seize the equipment, we won't be able to prevent them from teleporting it away."
"If that is the case, then all our actions would be meaningless."
As the Primarch of the Dark Angels Legion, who had campaigned throughout the Great Crusade, Lion immediately saw the dilemma they faced in trying to seize this equipment.
The Necron defensive forces and equipment on the Tomb World were the first challenge the Imperium of Man's armies had to face, while the Necron Phase Teleportation Technology was the second challenge the Human forces faced.
If there was no way to restrict the Necron's Phase Teleportation Technology, then even reaching the equipment would be pointless.
"Yes, Primarch, your insight remains keen. Therefore, I obtained a small piece of equipment from the Spirit-Cleansing Death Zone from my teacher."
Cawl took out a uniquely shaped blackstone fortress. The fortress was roughly the size of a cabbage.
Except that a cabbage is round, while the fortress was triangular.
Green and blue energy streams flowed continuously over the fortress.
The moment Lion saw the device, he could feel the energy contained within it. At the same time, he felt that his Warp talent seemed to be slightly suppressed.
But the feeling wasn't very obvious; it was just that the surrounding space had become firmer.
The Warp essence of Lion ElJonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, corresponds to Forest Walking.
This ability allows him to create a pocket Warp dimension resembling a mirrored Caliban forest. He can not only travel safely within it to achieve Warp translocation but also lead others through this dimension to other planets.
Furthermore, this translocation is not blocked by physical obstacles like Void Shields or rock formations, allowing him to lead a force directly onto an enemy vessel, giving it immense tactical value in combat.
The awakening of this ability is deeply connected to his early experiences surviving alone in the forests of Caliban.
Lion's ability is related to space, and he could feel that the nearby space seemed to have been forcibly solidified.
"This device is a Spatial Stasis Generator."
"It was personally developed by my teacher, Warmaster Noah, specifically targeting the Necron's Phase Teleportation Technology.
Originally, we planned to implement it on a large scale in the Spirit-Cleansing Death Zone to prevent the Necrons from using their phase technology for guerrilla warfare."
"It primarily targets the Necron's Phase Teleportation Technology, so it should not affect your Primarch Warp talent."
"Even if there is some slight effect, it should be minor, not significant."
Cawl explained why Lion might feel a slight discomfort.
Following this, he began explaining the device's usage to Lion.
"This device is idiot-proof; it doesn't require complex operation.
You only need to place this device on the target instrument, and the Necron's Phase Teleportation Technology will immediately fail."
"This way, you can choose to bring the equipment back directly. Using your Psychic Talent, transporting this item back should pose no problem."
Lion was undoubtedly the best choice to execute this plan, given his inherent Warp essence and talent.
Through his Forest Walking, he could create a space, easily carrying both troops and equipment.
The Emperor had made the best arrangements, choosing the most suitable person to handle this matter, which was why Guilliman now looked utterly defeated.
He knew very well that, compared to himself, his brother was far more suitable.
"I've got the full picture. In that case, I'll set off at once."
Leon nodded to Kael, then cast one last glance at Guilliman, who sat slumped in his chair, looking utterly lifeless.
After all, he was the Primarch of the First Legion, the eldest of the Primarchs.
Leon couldn't bear to see his brother like this—even if that brother was, in his eyes, the most ambitious of them all, Guilliman.
Guilliman had once been suspected of ambition because of his great power, but Leon no longer worried about that.
If Guilliman truly wanted to become Emperor, their father would crush him effortlessly—never mind that Warmaster Noah stood nearby.
This Warmaster was the mightiest in the history of the Imperium of Man; even if Guilliman were ambitious, it would avail him nothing.
Besides, before Leon's return Guilliman had single-handedly kept the vast Imperium alive, proof enough of his loyalty.
Had he really wanted the Imperium, had he truly meant to betray their father, the best moment would have been
when Guilliman was the only Primarch in the Imperium.
Under these circumstances, Leon naturally set aside his lingering wariness of Guilliman.
As for why Leon felt no need to guard against Noah—
Guilliman's ambition was tolerable only because he had the strength to rebel and the Dark Angels had the strength to stop him. In short, Guilliman was a little ambitious, but not strong enough.
Noah… reluctant as Leon was to admit it, if Noah ever chose to betray the Imperium and claim it for himself, he could do so with ease; his power was unmatched.
Vast astartes hosts, ranks of Custodians, Titan Legions and cyber rex battle construct legions at his beck and call had made Noah the supreme power in the Imperium next to the Emperor himself.
Should Noah desire the Imperium, the Imperium could not resist—never mind that Noah had healed their father.
Their father could now rise from the Golden Throne and speak with them.
Leon knew full well that their father had more than once declared that if Noah wanted the Imperium of Man, he would hand it over gladly.
From every angle, Leon had no cause for vigilance.
Sometimes the sheer gulf in power really does put all doubts to rest.
But back to the matter at hand.
Looking at the pitiful Guilliman slumped on the floor, Leon finally softened. He spoke:
"My brother, would you accompany me to a Tomb World to reclaim those devices for the Warmaster?"
Guilliman's eyes lit up instantly.
He sprang from his chair, then froze as realization struck; his face fell. "Father won't allow it."
"Father's objection is simply that once you enter, you may never leave.
Necron technology far exceeds our expectations; you'd have no way out, and Father doesn't wish to see you die in a Tomb World."
"But with me at your side, none of that matters. I can bring you out safe and sound. Are you telling me a Primarch lacks even that much fight?"
As he spoke, Leon walked up to Guilliman's power armor—a suit Noah had crafted, brimming with technology.
Fashioned from high-grade zero-element armor, its life-support, weapons and shield systems all testified to its might.
More importantly, this zero-element armor outright defied the laws of physics.
zero-element armor, being neutron-star matter, should possess crushing gravity, yet Guilliman's suit had no anti-grav system at all.
Even so, the armor weighed no more than a feather in his hands; when worn,
it felt like a second skin, imposing no hindrance whatsoever.
The power armor might as well have been his own flesh, hindering him not in the least.
Such was power great enough to twist physical law itself.
The laws of physics simply did not apply to this suit. Who could believe zero-element armor with neutron-star defense lacked neutron-star gravity?
"My brother, even if you doubt your own prowess, surely you trust the armor the Warmaster gave you."
Leon's hand brushed lightly over Guilliman's power armor, envy and longing in his eyes.
Such armor was nearly impossible to build; the tech and materials lay far beyond the Imperium's current reach, all drawn from the small spatial backpack Noah had carried when he first arrived in the galaxy.
The technologies and materials embodied in this suit were things Leon could only dream of for now.
Compared to ordinary power armor sporting only basic shields—or none at all—
Guilliman's suit carried a layer of dark-matter shielding… Leon was heartily sick of the word "envy," yet he felt no jealousy; Guilliman's station demanded absolute protection.
imperial regent, after all.
"Fair point," Guilliman roused himself from his half-dead torpor.
"In that case, I'll go with you!" At the prospect of action instead of endless desk duty, Guilliman's vigor returned.
A single step, and the power armor snapped onto Guilliman's frame.
"Let's move, Leon—let's reclaim those devices for the Warmaster!" Guilliman could hardly wait; he itched to bloody the Necrons and flaunt his strength.
Like a wage-slave who'd pulled years of 007 shifts without a single holiday suddenly spotting a vacation package, Guilliman was elated.
"Not so fast, my lords Primarch," Cawl interjected, stepping forward with two small communicators in hand.
"Your power armor lacks the gear to speak with OReel, so I've prepared these for you."
"Our Swarm has deployed numerous lictors inside the Necron Tomb World; if need be, those Tyranid units can lend support."
"Our warriors are precious, whereas Swarm units are expendable; when necessary, let the Swarm handle tasks unfit for our own troops."
The Swarm has no will of its own; apart from the Swarm Tendril OReel, every unit is deployed and directed by OReel personally.
Some act on instinct, others under OReel's direct control, but either way the Swarm cares nothing for its own losses.