Overlord

The ruler of the Seventh Dynasty stood atop the pyramid, gazing at the army gathering below, a surge of pride welling up within him.

After 65 million years, his warriors can finally step onto the battlefield once again.

It wasn't for defense, it wasn't for survival, it was for conquest.

The ruler of the Ninth Dynasty is inspecting his fleet.

The warships, like giant metal whales, hovered in the void, awaiting the order to attack.

He looked at the warships, a slight smile appearing on his lips.

The ruler of the Fourteenth Dynasty is holding its final military conference with the ruler of the Seventeenth Dynasty.

Their army will serve as the vanguard, spearheading the assault on the outer defenses of the Imperium of Man.

"One hundred million," said the overlord of the Fourteenth Dynasty. "His Majesty only allocated one hundred million."

The ruler of the Seventeenth Dynasty nodded. "That's enough."

The Imperium of Man has only 2.5 million Ultramarines.

Even if each of them could fight a thousand ordinary Space Marines, that would only amount to 2.5 billion combat power.

"And we have one hundred million."

He paused, his eyes brimming with confidence. "One hundred million versus two billion five hundred million. Although they have the numerical advantage, our technology is sixty million years more advanced than theirs."

The ruler of the Fourteenth Dynasty laughed, "Besides, we are just the vanguard."

If necessary, Your Majesty may mobilize more troops at any time.

The number of Necrons is in the trillions.

trillions.

This number is enough to drive any enemy to despair.

The Silent King stood at the highest point of the throne room, looking down at the army that was gathering below.

One hundred million Necron Warriors, arranged in neat square formations, their eerie green light stretching out like a burning Milky Way.

He recalled that 60 million years ago, he was the leader of the Necrontyr, leading his people in rebellion against the rule of the C'tan.

Back then, they were still flesh and blood; they felt pain, cried, and died.

But they won.

They defeated the C'tan, pinning those arrogant beings under their thrones and using them as batteries.

Sixty million years later, his enemy became humankind.

A young, vibrant, and rising race.

Their individual strength is outrageously high, their technology is advancing at breakneck speed, and their leader is a madman, a madman who would wage war against the entire Milky Way for his mother.

The Silent King suddenly laughed.

That smile contained nostalgia, appreciation, and a hint of murderous intent.

He thought of the Old Ones Eldar, the Eldar, and the Orks.

Those races that once dominated the Milky Way have now declined.

The Old Ones vanished, the Eldar split, and the Orks became madmen who could only shout "Waaagh."

Humanity is repeating the path it once walked.

"Sixty million years ago, I defeated the C'tan." The Silent King's voice was soft, yet it resonated throughout the entire Necron Empire. "Sixty million years later, I will make these humans understand who the true master of the Milky Way is."

He raised his staff, its eerie green light illuminating the entire void. "Let's go."

One hundred million Necron Warriors charged forward simultaneously, the eerie green torrent surging into the void, toward the Imperium of Man, toward Terra, toward the impending war.

The Silent King stood at the highest point of the throne room, gazing at the receding torrent, a cold smile playing on his lips.

The Imperium of Man? The Son of War? Two and a half million Ultramarines? Before him, they were all fleeting clouds.

"Punching the Old Ones, kicking the Eldar, and brutally beating the Orks."

He murmured, his voice brimming with confidence, "Today, let's add another one... crushing humanity!"

Deep within the void, countless eerie green lights are illuminating.

The light emanated from every corner of the Milky Way, from slumbering Tomb Worlds, from hidden star fortresses, and from dark starfields never before explored by humankind.

Each ray of light represents the awakening of an army of Necrons.

Each ray of light represents the response of an ancient dynasty.

The Silent King's command spread throughout the entire Necron Empire in 0.3 seconds.

All the Necron Overlord, all the dynastic lords, and all the Tomb Worlds received that brief message at the same moment. "Assemble."

Target: Terra.

Scale, tens of billions.

The Seventh Dynasty was the first to respond.

Their overlord was a veteran who had experienced the War in Heaven and had personally killed three Old Ones 65 million years ago.

His army surged forth from the Tomb Worlds on the eastern edge of the Milky Way, like a ghostly green torrent flowing into the void.

Their warships were the pinnacle of Necron Technology —massive Reaper-class -class battleships, each tens of kilometers long, covered with thick Living Metal armor, and equipped with "Doomsday Rift Cannon" at the bow capable of tearing through planetary shields.

The Seventh Dynasty deployed a full ten thousand of these warships.

The Fourteenth Dynasty followed closely behind.

Their overlord was known for his tactical cunning, and his army was equipped with a large number of "Ghost Ark"—the Necrons' most terrifying fast assault vehicles.

The Ghost Ark can traverse Phase World, ignoring any material barriers, and appear directly from inside enemy defenses.

Each Ghost Ark can carry one hundred Necron Warriors, allowing them to land before the enemy can react.

The Fourteenth Dynasty deployed 50,000 Ghost Ark.

Then came the Ninth Dynasty, the Twelfth Dynasty, the Nineteenth Dynasty, the Twenty-first Dynasty... each dynasty responding to the Silent King's call.

Their armies surged forth from their respective Tomb Worlds, converging into an ever-growing torrent.

10 billion.

This number echoed in the void, suffocating anyone who heard it.

One hundred billion Necron Warriors —that's one percent of the Necron Empire's military strength.

Only one percent.

But this 10 billion is already countless times more than all the Space Marines in the Imperium of Man combined.

Their warships blotted out the sky, their weapons were powerful enough to tear stars apart, and their will was cold and unwavering, never wavering for 65 million years.

The Silent King stood at the highest point of the throne room, overlooking the army that was gathering.

His eyes reflected that eerie green light, which stretched out like a burning Milky Way.

He reached out and gently touched the light, feeling the power contained within its coldness.

He closed his eyes, and another image appeared in his mind—the scene from 65 million years ago when he first assembled his entire army.

At that time, he was still the leader of the Necrontyr, a mortal who longed for eternal life.

At that time, his enemy was the Old Ones, the being who created countless races, and the ruler of the universe who possessed power close to that of a god.

At that time, his allies were the Krork and the Ancient Eldar, those ancient races that had not yet fallen.

He remembered what the Old Ones sage looked like.

They were tall, with blurred faces, and were enveloped in a glow of Psionic Energy.

They don't need warships or weapons; with just a thought, they can tear through the void and create stars.

Their army is their creation—massive Psionic Energy constructs, each capable of taking on an entire Necrons fleet.

Those constructs were like living mountains; the earth trembled when they moved, and the sky burned when they attacked.

The Old Ones ' method of warfare was cosmic-scale Psionic Energy bombardment.

They can detonate stars, create black holes, and tear apart the structure of reality.