The Squigs strained to pull the loading racks, while the Gretchin loaders shoved fresh rockets into the launch tubes at astonishing speed.
The second salvo soared into the sky!
But the Necrons' fleet had already responded. The Tomb Scythes began evasive maneuvers, releasing screening smoke and decoys. The rockets' hit rate plummeted.
Worse still, the Scythes began to return fire.
Weapon ports opened along both sides of their hulls, and hundreds of small Gauss Cannons poured fire onto the ground.
Green beams rained down, plowing blackened furrows through the open ground outside the trenches.
One beam struck a bunker. The entire structure, along with the five Gretchin inside, instantly disintegrated into green mist.
"Take cover! Take cover!"
The Gretchin quickly ducked into the trenches and hid behind cover.
The Tomb Scythes descended lower and lower, finally hovering about fifty meters above the ground.
Necron Warriors dropped from the sky in a dense, endless rain!
Some jumped straight down, relying on their living metal bodies to absorb the impact of a hard landing; others activated Phase Shift, dissolving into green motes in midair and teleporting directly to the ground.
Within minutes, hundreds of thousands of Necron Warriors had deployed onto the battlefield.
They quickly formed up, cold green fire burning in the eye sockets of their metal skulls, their Gauss Rifles all pointing toward the trenches.
Without orders, without emotion, they began to advance.
Orderly. Uniform. Like machines.
Their steps fell in perfect synchronization, the clack of colliding metal beating like the drums of death.
Sharpfang drew a deep breath as he watched that ocean of metal surge toward them like a tide.
"All units, listen up." His voice carried across the entire defensive line through the communicator. "Once the enemy enters range, wait for my command."
"Remember what Ghazghk taught