Shutdown

He turned around and looked at the overlord beside him.

"Report casualties."

The Overlord's voice was still mechanical, but there seemed to be an imperceptible tremor in the machinery.

"Forty-seven percent of the vanguard fleet was lost."

Ghost Ark had eight thousand ships destroyed and Reaper-class Battleship lost five hundred ships.

Enemy troops...

He paused.

The enemy suffered zero casualties.

Blade Phaeron's fingers stopped.

Zero casualties.

This number made his cold core processor tremble.

He called up the battle scene, zoomed in, slowed it down, and analyzed the fighting methods of those blue figures frame by frame.

His tactical analysis array was in full swing, trying to find these human weaknesses.

But he couldn't find it.

Their speed is extremely fast, their strength is ridiculously strong, and their reflexes are incredibly sensitive.

Every movement is precise and deadly, every movement is just right, and every blow takes away several Necrons.

They shuttled across the battlefield like a dance, and the price of that dance was countless Necrons fragments.

Blade Phaeron turned off the holographic image and was silent for a long time.

Then, he spoke, and there was confusion in his voice that he had never seen in 65 million years.

"Are all humans this strong today?"

He paused, as if confirming every word he said.

"Why do you feel they are more powerful than Orks?"

He thought of those Krork.

That is the ultimate biological weapon created by Old Ones, possessing unparalleled power and crazy fighting spirit.

Each Krork war boss is fifty meters tall and powerful enough to tear Titans apart with his bare hands.

Their army was like a green tsunami, leaving no grass growing in its path.

But those blue warriors are more terrifying than those Krork.

They not only have the power of Krork, but also the agility of Eldar, and even the precision of Necrons.

They were a perfect army - strength, speed, discipline, tactics, impeccable in every aspect.

He retrieved more information and analyzed the energy signals of those warriors.

Then, he saw a fact that shocked him - the energy intensity of each blue warrior reached the level of Adeptus Custodes.

Blade Phaeron was silent.

His eyes fell on one person.

That was the warrior at the front. His Power Armour was more gorgeous than the others, the blue was deeper, the gold was more dazzling, and the sentinel emblem on the left shoulder armor was larger than the others.

His swordsmanship is sharper than others, every sword is full of determination to kill, and every cut is just right.

His murderous intention was stronger than others, and that killing intention was like substance, making the surrounding void distort.

He swept through the Necrons fleet like a harvester, turning countless Necrons into pieces wherever he passed.

Ghost Ark is like paper in front of him, Immortals is like an ant under his sword, and Destroyers's madness is not worth mentioning in front of him.

Blade Phaeron calls up his information.

Demetrian·Titus.

Ultramarines Second Company Commander, Master of the Watch, Ultramar Watcher.

He was investigated by Ultramarines High Tribunal for his meritorious service against Chaos, and was later personally pardoned by Guilliman and promoted to company commander of Second Company.

In Imperium Nihilus, he killed countless Chaos Daemons, single-handedly destroyed an entire Tyranid Hive fleet, fought side by side with Blood Angels in the battle of Ark of Omen, and killed countless elites under Vashtorr.

Guilliman personally blessed Law of Eternity for him, and his Power Armour and weapons were personally blessed by Primarch.

Blade Phaeron looked at the figure who was killing crazily and was silent for a long time.

Then, the corners of his mouth raised slightly.

If Necrons had a corner of his mouth.

For the first time in sixty-five million years, he met an opponent that interested him.

Those Krork were too barbaric, those Ancient Eldar were too fragile, those Primarch he failed to fight, and those Chaos Daemons were too dirty.

But this human, this warrior named Titus - he's worth fighting.

"Send the order," his voice sounded over the communication channel, spreading throughout the entire fleet.

"All troops, shrink the defense."

Don't confront those humans head-on.

He turned around and strode towards Cryptek behind him.

Those technicians are Necron Empire's top craftsmen, and they are responsible for maintaining Three Saints's equipment.

Their robotic arms are covered with various precision calibration tools, and the dark green optical sensors are waiting for instructions from Phaeron.

"Adjust the equipment for me," Blade Phaeron's voice was cold and firm.

"I want to meet the human named Titus personally."

Crypteks are busy.

They used the most sophisticated quantum scanners to examine every inch of the Prime King's body, from the tassel on the top of his head to the joints on the soles of his feet.

They used the most advanced nano-repair array to calibrate each of his joints to ensure that every movement was accurate to the micron level.

They filled every energy circuit of his with the purest Blackstone energy, allowing the power of C'tan Shard to flow like blood in his body.

They coated him with the most advanced phase protection coating, which could deflect any physical attack.

They gave him the most powerful energy shield, which was enough to withstand Imperial Navy Macro-cannon's volleys.

They injected him with the purest C'tan energy, allowing his power to reach its peak in a short period of time.

The whole process lasted three minutes and twelve seconds.

Blade Phaeron stood there, motionless like a sculpture.

His optical sensors were always locked on the blue figure in the holographic image, locked on his fierce swordsmanship, locked on his crazy killing intent, locked on his tireless fighting.

"Phaeron," an overlord's voice sounded.

"All adjustments completed."

Your equipment is in optimal condition.

The integrity of Necrodermis's body is 100%, the strength of the energy shield exceeds the normal value by 37%, and the energy output of Dust Scythe has been calibrated to the highest threshold.

Blade Phaeron nodded and lifted the Dust Scythe.

The sickle blade trembled slightly in his hand, and the green energy light flowed on the blade, as if he felt the master's fighting intention.

For sixty-five million years, this sickle has killed countless enemies, from the Psionic Energy structure of Old Ones to the fragments of C'tan, from the war chief of Krork to Daemon Prince of Chaos.

Today, it wants to drink the blood of a new enemy.

He turned around and strode towards the hangar.

The steps were steady and powerful, each step was solid, and each step left deep footprints on the metal deck.

Behind him, countless Necron Warriors were staring at him, and a glimmer of light flashed in those emotionless eyes at this moment.

That's expectation.