The arrival of the Heavenly Blade Legion was like pouring a basin of liquid nitrogen into a boiling vat of oil.
The brutal Necron civil war at the heart of the Tredica System came to an eerie standstill before this unimaginable sacred pressure.
Storm King Imotekh's fleet still had its guns trained on the Silent King's remaining forces, but the ghostly green light had frozen within the barrels, never firing.
The core processor hidden deep within his fleet spun frantically, scanning this suddenly appearing pure-white armada.
That planet-sized flagship shaped like a colossal crystal sword, those densely packed auxiliary fleets radiating an icy sacred aura, that absolute sense of order which ignored the battlefield's chaos and formed its own system... all of it lay beyond his understanding of the known galactic powers.
What the unknown brought was extreme wariness.
Having never encountered the Hilling Empire or witnessed the terror of the Forerunner Fleet, the Storm King chose the most cautious strategy: halt the attack and observe. His crimson "eyes" remained fixed on that field of white as his cold logical core assessed whether this fleet could be used.
On the other side, aboard the flagship Song of Oblivion, Silent King Szarekh's fingers around the Sceptre of Eternal Glory relaxed ever so slightly.
His hollow eye sockets gazed at the dazzling Crystal Cross emblem, and a complicated ripple passed through the depths of his core.
He had seen the Forerunner Fleet's formidable combat power at Baal and knew that the level of power mastered by this mysterious Imperium might already surpass even the Necron Dynasties at their peak.
More importantly, they held the key to his hope of reversing biotransference and regaining flesh and blood! The arrival of this stronger, more central fleet was not a bad thing for him.
"All