Chapter 878. The Historical Perspective of the 320 Magi, That Distant One
White light shone like day.
Hundreds of starlights pierced through the galaxy, like pure threads slicing across countless starfields. Though the hundreds of lascannons launched by humanity still bore flecks of static at their edges compared to the World Engine weapons fired by the Necrons—
They were enough to illuminate a stretch of space.
One after another, humans clad in red robes, their bodies made of metal, raised their arms high. The longbows in their hands were drawn taut like rainbows. Across savage lands and smooth decks, those immense, clumsy artificial structures lifted their heads, gazing into the stars alongside these tiny people.
[095 launch successful. Target arrival probability: 75.1%.]
[127 launch successful. Target arrival probability: 41.9%.]
[005 launch successful. Target arrival probability: 89.1%.]
Their mechanical eyes reflected the god they had thought of and prayed to day and night. At that moment, the Underworld Sea was black as ink, proving the maxim from the "Sayings of the Underking": "Darkness aids thought and reflects the true wisdom of the wise."
Yet now, these believers had turned their blades and guns upon the Underking they prayed to every day.
Lascannon after lascannon cut through the vast starry void, wildly stabbing, thin and long like the spears ancient humans had hurled at mammoths crossing the wilderness.
But not every Magos was saddened or unable to accept this act of betrayal. Quite a few Magi of Psychic Power and anti-Psychic Power fields danced with delight, electrical arcs racing through their engines so violently they nearly pierced their chips. Whatever happened next would become material for future Magi's papers—enough to write about for a thousand years.
It was not as though they had only now suddenly realized that they were betraying their