Beyond the spiral arms of the Milky Way, there was no absolute void.
This region was known as the "Galactic Rift," a desolate expanse where the density of star systems plummeted, filled with cold interstellar dust, wandering stellar remnants, and forgotten lost worlds.
It had once been a natural barrier shielding the Necron Dynasties through their long slumber. Now, it had become the bloodiest slaughterhouse between the all-devouring swarm and the ancient beings who had awakened.
Answering the Silent King's summons, the Szerakhan Dynasty's fleet swept through the thin belt of stardust at the edge of the galaxy like a cold, silver torrent.
They were not fighting alone, but the forces of other Dynasties that had answered the Triarch Council's emergency summons made up only a small fraction of the vast fleet.
More Dynasties had chosen to wait and see, or sent a few reconnaissance ships as a token gesture.
Among them, the small Sautekh Dynasty reconnaissance fleet dispatched by Imotekh trailed far behind the Szerakhan main force like a ghost.
On the bridge, a trace of skepticism showed on the cold, living-metal face of Nekhtaneb, a Necron Noble and lord of the Sautekh Dynasty.
The cold messages he exchanged with the other Sautekh lords echoed through the communications channel:
"What trick is Szarekh playing now? Mobilizing such an enormous force just to deal with a bunch of... insects?"
"Our king, His Majesty Imotekh, has good reason for concern. These 'Tyranids'? Ha! While we slept, even the Imperium of Man, ruled by those short-lived creatures, could swat them away like flies. Before our Gauss Disintegrator, their Bio-ships are nothing but organic waste waiting to be reclaimed."
"The Silent King is too cautious. His dominion is so vast that he sees danger everywhere. Look at those feeble humans. They can fight