Dorn Felt Uneasy

"It really was like that. C'tan might look mighty and impressive, but if one was starving to the point of collapse, even a nest-world miner could smash it to pieces. Still, their hunger cycles were probably measured in millions of years." Lin Fan nodded from one corner of the table.

Everyone believed him. After all, Lin Fan had no reason to lie.

"So now the Imperium's enemies are not only the rampant Chaos Gods in the Warp, but also these C'tan who treat the laws of reality like toilet paper? Wonderful..." Perturabo grumbled gloomily.

"To ensure the C'tan do not become a major problem for us, I hope you will properly govern your territories and deal with any churches that worship the C'tan." Inamars made his request.

"All right..."

Seeing that the primarchs had, for the moment, accepted the suggestion, the Phaeron rose to leave. "We will escort you to the Big Hotel Galaxy, then continue our search for the hidden Deceiver. I hope we meet again in the future."

The meeting ended. Everyone returned to their ships to process the information they had received, while Lin Fan processed the indescribable lump of meat he had eaten.

The Phaeron returned to his warship and sat upon his throne, looking over his empty hall. A hundred Chronomancers, a hundred Plasmancers, and his powerful, courageous overlords would once have stood here.

After the war against the Flayed Ones, the surviving Crypteks and overlords could only barely add up to a little over a hundred.

The Necrontyr were powerful, truly powerful—powerful enough to control the rules themselves.

But the Necrontyr were also frail. Once their high-ranking members died, they could never be replaced.

They were an extinct species forever withering away, a group of dead men marching toward their inevitable graves by cold