As the jump ended, Imotekh surveyed the chaotic battlefield ahead.
"Hmm... this war will end up even more boring than I imagined," the Storm King said listlessly from his throne.
"The intelligence of these lesser races amounts to less than one hundredth of yours, great Stormlord," Asmonk said.
"At least they have courage enough, Lord of the Furious Sea. These pitiful lesser races were born in the wrong age. They are far too weak," Imotekh said.
He saw the human fleet that had remained inactive ignite its engines and advance toward him.
He had already guessed that it was the false king's fleet.
"Do not destroy that flagship. I will reclaim the scepter myself."
As the Storm King Imotekh's immense fleet arrived, blotting out the battlefield, the surviving soldiers' hearts sank into an icy abyss.
Every spectral enemy vessel radiated the chill of death, its unsettling geometric construction looking especially sinister against the backdrop of space.
To disable the two star-devouring World Engines that had activated earlier, the main forces of both human expeditionary armies had already landed, fighting countless Necron mechanical servants on the engines' surfaces.
Now, they had no forces left to spare against this fresh enemy fleet, which held an overwhelming advantage in both numbers and firepower.
More lethally still, the Storm King's fleet had clearly come prepared. Its warships swiftly deployed an energy interdiction net across the entire combat zone, layering ghostly green force fields like a spiderweb.
Meanwhile, the two World Engines Imotekh had brought were fully activated, cold killing intent spreading from their cores.
The atmosphere on the flagship's bridge was almost suffocating, yet Bona's face remained calm beneath the flashing red alarm lights.
He raised a hand, his voice quiet but carrying across the bridge. "All personnel, prepare to counterattack."
The order