Destroyer

One Destroyers can kill an entire city in a matter of minutes.

The core of the army is the "Lychguard" square formation.

Lychguard is Necrons's most elite warrior and the overlord's personal guard.

Their bodies are made of the top-grade Living Metal, and they hold "phase blades" in their hands that can split Titans's armor.

Their fighting skills are extremely exquisite, every move is calculated hundreds of millions of times, and every blow is precise and fatal.

They are Necrons's last line of defense and the strongest spearhead.

And above this green ocean is the battleship Necrons.

Reaper-class Battleship, Ghost Ark, and those giant aircraft that cannot be named.

Their surfaces are flowing with the luster of Living Metal, their engines spit out dark green flames, and their weapons are fully charged, waiting for the command to attack.

Silent King stood at the highest point of the throne room, looking at the huge army, and was silent for a long time.

Then, he raised the staff in his hand.

"Let's go."

Ten billion Necron Warriors moved forward at the same time, and the green torrent poured into the void, heading in the direction of Imperium of Man, towards the direction of Terra.

Their speed was so fast that the battleship's engine light dragged out a long trajectory in the void.

They passed through countless galaxies and countless civilizations, but they did not stop.

They disdain to attack those marginal planets, those weak human worlds, those insignificant existences not worth looking at.

Silent King is not willing to attack the weak.

He is the former overlord of Milky Way, the one who defeated C'tan, and the supreme ruler of the Necron Empire.

He has only one enemy - the core of Imperium of Man, the location of Golden Throne, and the residence of Dark King.

Terra.

He stood on the bridge of the flagship, looking at the endless void ahead.

His eyes reflected the light of the stars. The light was cold and distant, just like his heart at the moment.

"Terra." He said softly, with a hint of expectation in his voice, "Let me see if you are qualified to become Necrons's opponent."

In the void behind him, ten billion Necron Warriors are advancing.

Their light illuminated half of Milky Way, their footsteps shook the stars, and their will was cold and firm.

Sixty-five million years ago, they defeated Old Ones.

Sixty-five million years ago, they shattered C'tan.

Sixty-five million years ago, they became the overlords of Milky Way.

Today, they want mankind to understand who is the real owner of Milky Way.

Imperial Palace's meeting hall has not been this lively for a long time.

Around the huge round table, seven Primarch were sitting at the moment.

Guilliman was sitting in the main seat, with a thick stack of military intelligence briefings piled in front of him, but his eyes fell on every brother at the table.

Lion sat on his right side, the lion's brows furrowed, and he played with an ancient Caliban badge in his hand.

Sanguinius sat next to Lion, his long golden hair glowing softly under the light. His expression was calm, but his eyes were like burning stars.

Dorn sat to the left of Guilliman, with no emotion on his stone-like face, and just listened quietly.

Perturabo is sitting next to Dorn. The former Lord of Iron is rarely silent at this moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table, the rhythm is irritating and rapid.

Angron Sitting opposite Perturabo, there was no madness in the eyes of the Lord of the Red Sand, only an almost peaceful concentration.

Magnus sat next to Angron, with the light of Psionic Energy flashing in his one eye, and his lips moved slightly, as if he was calculating something.

Seven digits Primarch.

This number is almost comparable to half of the peak era.

And it is a state of unity.

Ten thousand years ago, they fell apart, brothers killed each other, and Imperium was reduced to ruins.

Ten thousand years later, they sit together and face a common enemy.

Malcador stands at the end of the round table.

His long white hair is as flowing as snow, his blue eyes are as bright as stars, and his face is handsome and young. He looks to be in his early twenties.

But his true age has been calculated since the Dark Ages.

He is the youngest Perpetual besides Vulkan, but his seniority is still the uncle of Guilliman and others.

The Imperium prime minister stood there quietly, looking at these Primarchs, a trace of relief flashed in his eyes.

"Necrons," Malcador spoke, his voice calm and steady, "When I was born, they were already asleep. Milky Way doesn't even have their legends, there are only some ancient ruins reminding people that there was once a race that ruled this sea of stars."

Guilliman looked at him and listened carefully.

Malcador continued, "But I know very well that this is a race that has reached the peak of Milky Way. Their technology is not weaker than Imperium of Man of Golden Age."

Lion's fingers stopped.

The tapping sound of Perturabo also stopped.

All Primarch are looking at Malcador.

"Of course," Malcador smiled slightly, "Strictly speaking, Golden Age's Imperium of Man is stronger."

"How much stronger?" Perturabo asked, with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Malcador looked at him and was silent for a moment. "At that time, Imperium of Man was only one step away from being able to ascend to dimension."

Guilliman frowned. "Dimension ascending? What is that?"

Malcador shook his head, a trace of confusion appeared on the young face. "I don't know. It seems to be a... realm.

At that time, humans were constantly changing their own genes, and the road to evolution had almost come to an end.

The road to science and technology, and even the utilization efficiency of Warp, has reached an unprecedented level.

Therefore, some leaders speculate that if human beings take another step forward, they may transcend the constraints of Material Universe and Warp and become an unprecedented existence."

"Only one step away?" Perturabo asked with a frown.

Malcador looked at him, with an indescribable depth in those blue eyes:

"Don't underestimate that step. The distance between that step is probably as big as the distance from Imperium of Man to Golden Age today."

Everyone was silent.

It was so quiet in the meeting hall that you could hear breathing.