Seeing the wariness on Bona's face, Szarekh gave a barely audible snort, then turned and sat back on his throne.
"You seem rather pleased with your little tricks, but if you think we are so easily dealt with, you are truly naive."
"For over ten thousand years, countless civilizations have fallen at our hands. Beings more powerful than you were no more than weeds to us. I once slew one of the mightiest C'tan with my own hands, alone."
"If you expect these petty tricks to coerce us, you are far more naive than I imagined."
A Canoptek Scarab crawled aside and projected an image.
Within it stood the Emperor of ancient times.
He still wore ancient armor and rode a white horse.
Before him stood a dragon breathing flames.
The Emperor frowned slightly, then raised his lance and charged without hesitation.
"I do not deny that your vision is appealing, human."
"Indeed, human bodies would be among the finest vessels for the Necrontyr."
"But you must understand: the Emperor you worship, the dark gods you fear, and the future you yearn for are nothing more than vermin to us."
The hologram suddenly shifted, revealing intricate technical formulas and the vast armies of the Necrons in the blink of an eye.
"Our power is enough to destroy any being in the galaxy, and the Great Rift in the Warp that you so fear is something we could close with a mere gesture."
"In ancient times, we had already unraveled the nature of the Warp. Even the Old Ones, its masters, fell before us."
"So tell me, since we possess such strength, why should we bow and scrape before your so-called God-Emperor?"
Yet to Szarekh's surprise, the trace of panic on Bona's face vanished completely, replaced by...
A smile.
Bona tore