In the depths of space, enormous, bizarrely shaped warships resembling ancient tombs materialized out of nowhere. Pitch-black hulls were covered in geometric runes that radiated an ominous green glow. Like pyramids floating among the stars, the massive energy cores at their prows were gathering light powerful enough to destroy planets. Around them, countless Jackal-class terror cruisers, as agile as their namesakes, glided silently into an airtight encirclement.
Liu Zhipeng turned to Marcus-018. The machine priest was still lost in his ecstasy over the new technology. "Marcus, I need you and your Tech-Priests to begin manufacturing and installing Short-Jump Engines immediately. Can you do it?"
Marcus-018 jerked his head up, resolve flashing in his red mechanical eyes. "For the Omnissiah! For you, the embodiment of the Omnissiah! The Forge will operate at any cost! But we... need time!"
"That's right. Time." Liu Zhipeng nodded, then turned to face the vast Necron fleet beyond the viewport. A proud, imperious gleam flashed through his golden eyes.
"I'll buy you that time."
With that, his entire body became a brilliant streak of golden light. He passed straight through the Hammer of God's hull armor, dozens of meters thick, and slipped like a phantom into the cold void of space.
Everyone in the conference room stared, dumbstruck by the miraculous sight.
"He... he just went out like that?"
"Relay my orders!" Overlord Maran was the first to react, roaring with all his strength. "Activate every ship's void shields at maximum power! Train every gun on the enemy! Engineering! Build those new engines, whatever it takes! Move! Move! Move!"
The Necron Dynasty, Zerath's Tomb World, the Sacred Workshop.
Zerath, the Necron master artisan, sat on a throne constructed from the energy of countless wailing souls, watching the "performance" in the Naphil Sector through an enormous holographic