It was a circular chamber of unimaginable size. At its center floated an enormous Plasma Orb, like an artificial sun, supplying energy to the entire Dynasty. Around the Plasma Orb stood more than a dozen Obelisks forged from living metal.
At the top of every Obelisk, a C'tan Shard was imprisoned.
Confined within force fields, they had the divine power within them continuously extracted by cold metal conduits with brutal efficiency, like fruit in a juicer. Once converted, that power was mercilessly pumped into the central Plasma Orb.
Liu Zhipeng could clearly sense the emotions filling the chamber. Though the shards possessed only fragmented consciousnesses, their rage, resentment, humiliation, and endless suffering wove together into a dirge that only a c'tan could understand. After millions of years of torment in their energy shackles, their minds had long since descended into chaos and madness, leaving nothing but primal hatred.
Liu Zhipeng tilted his head back and looked at the grand, brutal spectacle, unable to suppress a derisive remark. "Using gods who once ruled the stars as Nanfu batteries and power banks, and even wiring them up in parallel... I reckon only you Necrons could pull off something this utterly deranged in the whole Milky Way Galaxy."
He did not act immediately.
He could sense that something was wrong with this room.
It was too quiet.
This was Stormlord Imotekh's lifeline. Given Imotekh's deeply suspicious, paranoid nature, the sort that would have him setting precautions against his own shadow, how could he leave such an important "ultimate power bank," one capable of deciding the Dynasty's rise or fall, somewhere so "easy" to infiltrate? No matter how tight the outer defenses were, this core chamber should not have been empty, without even a single elite guard in sight.
Its internal defenses were even