Facing the imminent bloody conflict, the Necron Overlord had no intention of entering the fray personally.
The green fire in its eyes flickered several tis, seemingly evaluating the entertainnt value of the battle. Then, with a contemptuous wave of its tachyon arrow-tipped scepter, it did not charge forward but instead drifted backward, ascending a floating platform nearby.
"Since you are so impatient to display your ridiculous savagery," the Overlord's voice echoed through the hall with a superior sense of mockery, "I shall use it to pass so of the rare boredom of these long eons. Co, perform a rare drama to amuse , primitive creatures."
As the Overlord retreated to the absolute safety of the observation area, the battlefield below instantly ignited.
The Lychguards marched with synchronized steps, eting the red tide like an immovable dam.
The Lychguards' fighting style was full of cold calculation and absolute efficiency. When a Flesh Tearer's chainsword swung down with a roar, a Lychguard would always raise its dispersion shield at the last possible millisecond. The green energy field flared upon contact, easily neutralizing kinetic energy capable of slicing through tanks.
Next ca the lethal counterattack.
Taking advantage of the mont when a Space Marine's montum was spent and his next move not yet begun, the Lychguard's hyperphase sword thrust out like a viper's tongue. This weapon could sever molecular bonds; even Astartes ceramite power armor was no sturdier than paper before it.
Squelch—
The head of a Flesh Tearer veteran flew off, the cut as smooth as a mirror. Another brother was sliced in half at the waist, his upper body crashing heavily to the ground.
But this did not deter the Flesh Tearers; instead, it enraged them further. These madn in red armor displayed a ferocity that startled even the Necrons—the Astartes who had been cut in half did not die imdiately. He clawed at the ground with his hands, dragging his mangled torso and spilling entrails, crawling to the feet of the Lychguard that struck him and detonating a string of grenades.
In the thunderous explosion, even the Lychguard stumbled back, its shield overloaded.
"For Sanguinius! For—even unto death!"
A massive Dreadnought crashed into the Lychguard ranks with heavy, thundering steps. "Blood-Soaked Kausuron" swung a giant power claw, his right-hand storm bolter pouring out fire.
Kausuron's ancient, slightly distorted roar bood through the vox-grille: "I have spent a thousand years! Finally, I have reached this damned planet—what was this planet called again?"
The murderous roar stuttered for a mont, as the ancient battle-brother had clearly lost so trivial mories during his long slumber.
But the awkward pause lasted less than a second. Kausuron's flickering ocular sensors swept over the tall tal skeletons. The sight of the xenos triggered the hatred etched deep into his genes, and his brain took over. I don't know where I am, but I know I'm going to kill everything!
"Horus! That traitorous bastard! Where is he?!"
With a deafening roar, the massive Dreadnought charged like a runaway train into the tight Lychguard formation. His giant power claw grabbed a Lychguard's head, ignoring the deep gouges the hyperphase sword left on his armor, and squeezed.
Cranch! The living tal skull was crushed into scrap tal.
"Die! Traitor!" Kausuron hurled the headless wreck like trash at another enemy, forcibly smashing a gap in the perfect defensive line.
On the other side of this gap, Chapter Master Seth seized the opportunity.
The massive two-handed chainsword in Seth's hands shrieked, feeling weightless in his grip. He did not look for flaws in the enemy's defense; he used pure strength to create them.
Theoretically, Lychguards possess supre tactical calculation capabilities. Within their processors, hundreds of millions of simulations run every millisecond, calculating the angle and force of an enemy's attack to formulate the perfect parry and counter-strike.
But before Seth, these calculations failed. Seth's attacks lacked logic; there was only extre speed and savage power.
By the ti a Lychguard calculated it should parry left, Seth's blade had already shattered its shield arm. When another guard tried to counter, Seth had already ground its head to pieces with his chainsword.
Watching the fortress-like Dreadnought and Gabriel Seth plow through his Lychguard guard like a bulldozer, drawing closer and closer, the Overlord's playful mood atop the platform turned grim.
Actually, if he truly wanted to win, as a Necron Overlord with high-technology at his disposal, he had ten thousand ways to toy these two barbarians to death. For instance, he could activate phase-shift devices and use the pyramid's complex spatial structure to lead them on a marathon. By stalling for ti, the constantly self-repairing Lychguards could wear the humans down with sheer numbers.
But that... would look terrible.
That style of fighting was for lowly Deathmarks. As a noble of the phrit Dynasty, did he not have dignity? Winning wasn't supposed to happen that way; it would be an indelible stain on his eternal life.
"Fine, humans. I must admit you have so skill, enough to warrant my personal intervention—"
The Necron Overlord composed himself, tilted his chin haughtily, and slowly pointed his scepter at Seth. He prepared to announce, according to ancient interstellar etiquette, that he would engage the human in an honorable one-on-one duel.
However, the response was not a knightly bow, but two high-speed charging trucks.
Blood-Soaked Kausuron and Seth had no intention of slowing down, charging with enough kinetic energy to collapse a city wall. Before the Overlord could finish his simulated noble opening remarks, the suffocating killing intent forced him into a clumsy sideways roll, nearly dropping his scepter of authority.
"Have you no manners?! At least let finish speaking!"
The Overlord scrambled up from the ground, shouting in exasperation. His ornate cloak was stained with dirt—a supre humiliation for a noble.
Seth didn't even offer a grunt in response. He simply adjusted his center of gravity and charged again alongside Kausuron.
He wasn't stupid; he could see the Necron Overlord wanted so "honorable duel." But to Seth, that was nonsense. His battle-brothers were fighting hard nearby, children of the Blood Angels were bleeding and dying every second, and every wasted mont was a sin.
Why would he have the ti or mood to play house with a tal-head? Chopping the leader into bits was the only priority.
More importantly, Seth could not let him finish saying "I challenge you to a duel." Once a formal challenge was issued, as an Astartes—especially one carrying the blood of Sanguinius—refusing it could, in a way, damage the Chapter's honor.
Therefore, the best way was to shut him up forever.
During the second charge, the Necron Overlord could not escape.
He was forced to raise his phase scythe and scepter to parry. But what was he facing? One was the strongest Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers, and the other was an ancient Dreadnought on the brink of the Black Rage, whose entire mind was occupied with killing Horus.
There was no suspense in this handicap match.
The Necron Overlord barely blocked a strike from Kausuron's tank-crushing power claw before the terrifying force stalled his movents. In that split second of rigidity, Seth's chainsword swept through with a mournful shriek.
Cranch!
With the ear-piercing sound of tearing tal, the Overlord's proud living tal body was sliced clean in half by Seth's blade. The upper body crashed to the floor while the lower half remained standing, twitching.
"Wretched humans! Damned savage creatures!" The half-bodied Overlord shouted in frustration. "Just you wait! I will definitely be back!"
"You think you've won? To eliminate you, the phrit Dynasty has dispatched thirteen Overlords, including myself! I am rely one of them, and the most rciful! The other twelve each have their own extraordinary strengths—"
Crunch.
The tal skull, still rambling, was crushed into a flat piece of scrap tal by Seth's heavy ceramite boot.
Blood-Soaked Kausuron's massive chanical fra ca to a halt, seemingly regaining a sliver of sanity as his primary target vanished. He looked down at the wreckage and asked in a low, booming voice: "Should we not have let him continue? Perhaps it was important intelligence."
Seth stepped over the corpse and said coldly, "Just so mindless babble. No need to listen."
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