However, even when facing such a horrifying monster, Cybia's face did not betray the slightest hint of fear.
After all, all fear stems from a lack of firepower.
And as an Alpha-grade psyker, Cybia's "firepower" was clearly in an exceptionally abundant phase.
"What exact species of xenos is this..."
The Inquisitor dug through her vast repository of knowledge, but unfortunately, not a single xenos profile matched the characteristics of the monstrosity before her.
"Forget it. I'll refrain from overthinking it for now and have soone else properly identify this thing later. Perhaps soone else knows of this xenos."
Having yielded no results from her ntal search, Cybia abandoned the effort.
At that mont, the monster was already charging at her. Its tallic feet clanked sharply against the floor as it prepared to chop this seemingly shell-shocked human into eight pieces.
Naturally, it didn't manage to charge more than a few steps before its body was violently brought to a screeching halt.
Cybia's eyes flared with blinding azure light, radiating a vast, oceanic wave of psychic energy. Invisible telekinetic force seized the monster in a vice grip and, in a fraction of a second, effortlessly tore it to shreds.
tallic fragnts rained down like a sudden downpour, clattering and scattering all over the floor.
A strange expression crossed Cybia's face.
"Dead matter? A machine?"
The sensory feedback from her psychic powers told her... she could not detect the existence of a soul within this monster.
After pondering for a mont, Cybia decisively chose not to dwell on the anomaly.
Ti to call for backup!
...
"Wait, a Necron Flayed One?"
Rowan, who had just finished guiding Yarrick in forging his chanical power klaw and bionic eye, received Cybia's telepathic vox with considerable surprise.
Scanning through her combat logs via the ntal link, he stroked his chin and spoke in astonishnt.
"Lord Rowan, you recognize this xenos?"
Deep within the Governor's Palace, Cybia leaned against a wall, projecting her thoughts to her distant target.
Truth be told, she found this esoteric connection between a Reality Bender and the "converted" to be utterly fascinating.
What exactly was the chanism behind this telepathic link? Did it have tangible limitations? If the two were located on entirely different planets, separated by distances asured in light-years, how would this connection fare?
However, now was not the ti to get to the bottom of it.
Just monts ago, Cybia had watched with her own eyes as the skeletal monster she had psychically dismantled into chanical scrap slowly knit itself back together and crawled up from the floor.
This ti, the monster directly tore open an eerie green portal right where it stood, but before it could even step inside, Cybia dragged it back out and tore it to pieces a second ti.
"Yes, I certainly recognize it."
Rowan organized his thoughts and explained, "This xenos species is called the Necrons. During the ancient epochs of the galaxy, long before humanity even existed, they established a colossal empire."
"These xenos possess hyper-advanced real-space technology. The monster you encountered is one of their specialized unit types—a Flayed One."
Without questioning how Lord Rowan possessed knowledge of such obscure, ancient secrets, Cybia frowned and asked:
"But that Flayed One appeared to possess absolutely zero rationality. It was entirely consud by a state of absolute madness. Is this a defining characteristic of this xenos species?"
"...No. There is a very long history behind that," Rowan answered. "For now, you can simply understand it as them being infected by a cursed virus. Normal Necrons do not behave this way; in fact, they harbor deep disgust for these infected kin and avoid them at all costs."
In truth, the matter was quite straightforward.
The Necrons had simply committed a catastrophic blunder that many races in this galaxy were prone to making.
They failed to properly manage the relationship between their own race and their gods.
For example: the ancient Aeldari who pulled the ultimate stunt and birthed Slaanesh; humanity, whose entire species would likely be dood the mont the Emperor died and the Dark King manifested; and the T'au, who in the future would slaughter their own auxiliaries for worshiping the Goddess T'au'va.
The Necrons were no different. Using their staggering intellect, they experienced a "slight" friction with the C'tan they worshiped.
The ultimate result was mutually assured destruction. The true "Necrontyr" civilization was entirely eradicated, leaving behind only their crude, soulless replicas—the walking tombstones known as the Necrons. As for the C'tan, they were violently shattered into countless shards, enslaved by the Necron civilization to be used as living batteries and weapons of mass destruction.
And the Flayer Virus originated from one of the only C'tan to be completely obliterated: Llandu'gor the Flayer.
In its death throes, the dying god forged this virus and cursed the Necrons. Victims infected by this curse would lose their minds entirely, devolving into lunatics intoxicated by the bloody slaughter of flesh.
However, looking at the situation...
The appearance of a Flayed One confird a very specific reality.
"We need to prepare. There might be a grueling battle ahead of us."
"What?" Inquisitor Cybia paused, taken aback.
"Because the presence of this Flayed One indicates a very high probability that there is a Necron Tomb World slumbering beneath this planet," Rowan explained.
After fighting the War in Heaven and subsequently backstabbing the C'tan, the Necrons' strength was severely depleted. To avoid the rising Aeldari Empire, the Silent King, Szarekh, ordered the entire Necron race to enter the Great Sleep within their Tomb Worlds.
Therefore, theoretically speaking, you could dig up these skeletal xenos' graves on almost any given planet.
Naturally, what Rowan cared about the most was this:
In the imdiate future, he might be able to excavate so undeniably top-tier loot from this tomb.
For instance, so Necron technological artifacts.
Or perhaps... C'tan shards.
Granted, the power scaling of C'tan shards varied wildly. A particularly large, potent shard possessed enough apocalyptic might to erase an entire Imperial Crusade fleet from existence. A smaller, weaker shard might rely equate to a Titan-class threat.
But even if the C'tan shard buried in this Tomb World contained too little authority to instantly propel him to a Level 4 Reality Bender, absorbing it would still provide a massive boost to his ontological density.
However, a Necron tomb wasn't sothing you could just casually raid.
If it belonged to a minor Necron Dynasty that had been thoroughly eroded by the relentless march of ti, it would be manageable. But if the tomb's preservation protocols were even slightly intact, they would face an absolutely formidable force.
Therefore, Rowan needed to reinforce his own combat strength.
He cast his gaze forward.
Standing ramrod straight in his pitch-black uniform was Commissar Yarrick, his expression grave and resolute.
At this exact mont, his right arm had been entirely replaced by a terrifyingly massive, distinctly Ork-style chanical power klaw, and his left eye had been swapped out for a bionic optic that glowed with a piercing, crimson light.
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