"You are nothing but slaves to gods, cowards willing to abandon eternal power—"
Imotekh the Stormlord had always looked down on these Necrontyr who would cast aside everything just to restore their flesh and souls.
Especially that Lord of Hope, who liked to use faith in gods to manipulate power yet had no battle record whatsoever.
"You cannot possibly think that by relying on a sneak attack to assault the Throne of Dominion, you can become true kings, can you?
How are such foolish notions any different from those of flesh-and-blood vermin?
You are too weak. Perhaps I should never have regarded you as an opponent in the first place. That was a disgrace!"
Imotekh's gaze was disdainful, and his words were thick with contempt, as though he were about to teach him a lesson.
???
Ron stared at the Stormlord before him, somewhat speechless. What was this guy babbling about?
He could not be bothered with him anymore. He took a slight step back and continued checking the data from the sensor array, confirming whether any traps were hidden in this core area.
He had to avoid falling into the trap of that Old Schemer, the Silent King.
"Slaves of gods, faith is nothing but the crutch of the weak, while Living Metal is the true power that will allow the Necrontyr to rule the Galaxy!"
Imotekh noticed Ron's retreating movement, and in his heart he looked down on this so-called Lord of Hope even more.
"My followers, destroy these slaves of gods, these Necrontyr traitors—"
He lost interest in challenging the Lord of Hope and led the high-ranking Phaerakhs in a sudden charge.
Imotekh only wanted to destroy the enemy as quickly as possible, to dispel the anger in his heart and win greater prestige.
As for a