V3 Chapter 55: I'll Leave This to Them for Now. I'll Be Back.
Hektarren Sautekh sat upon his throne, watching with contempt as the lesser race warriors pressed their assault against the Royal Guard and the Triarch Stalkers in the distance.
That these flesh-creatures had fought their way from the outer defence perimeter all the way to his throne hall was combat capability far beyond his initial assessment.
At the entrance to the throne hall, the roar of bolters and the clash of phase weapons continued without pause. The defence line formed by the Royal Guard was being compressed inch by inch, and those tall warriors kept pressing forward.
What displeased Hektarren even more was that the ground situation had also taken a sharp turn for the worse once the enemy's massive war machines entered the field.
Those Imperial Titans were advancing across the surface, and Vulcantia's defence nodes were losing contact one after another. The outer structure of the blackstone silence array had been destroyed, and multiple tomb entrances had already been sealed by orbital bombardment and heavy firepower.
Hektarren had to admit it: he had underestimated this race.
These flesh-creatures were short-lived, crude, fanatical, and wasteful in how they fought. But their capacity for war mobilisation, the sheer number of their heavy war machines, and their willingness to advance at any cost had all proven considerably greater than he had anticipated.
Beside him, Tomb Cryptek Septarakh was continuously deploying more tomb constructs.
New Destroyer squads were woken, Scarab swarms poured out from the maintenance passages, and the last of the Necron Warriors were committed to the nodes that were falling one after another. They were doing everything they could to hold back the human warriors' advance by the most direct means available.
"My lord, the third protective ring has stopped responding." Septarakh's voice came from behind his metal faceplate. "The intruders are destroying key positions within the tomb. Blackstone silence nodes seven, nine, and thirteen are confirmed disabled."
Hektarren did not answer immediately.
Septarakh continued his report. "The main body of the Royal Guard is pinned down by the enemy force approaching the throne hall. The Triarch Stalkers have taken severe losses. Ordinary Necron Warriors alone can no longer hold back the assaults at the other positions."
The projection above the throne flickered continuously.
Red markers representing the Imperial assault forces were driving into the underground tomb from multiple directions. Those markers moved with tremendous speed, and every time one paused, the nearby tomb node it had reached would fall out of contact.
"Orbital space is completely lost," Septarakh said. "The atmospheric battlefield is out of control as well. The surface line is collapsing under the fire of those heavy enemy war machines."
Hektarren's fingers tapped slowly against the armrest of his throne.
"And Cereris?"
"The surface and shallow tomb levels of Cereris are largely lost." Septarakh answered quickly. "The deep tomb is executing containment and withdrawal protocols. A portion of the constructs and data cores have already been transferred, but a great number of low-value units cannot be recovered in time."
By this point, the outcome was already clear.
Hektarren knew that these two worlds were no longer worth committing further strength to. If he continued to hold his ground, he would only bury his own royal court core, his tomb technicians, and what remained of his elite forces here alongside them.
But the pride of the Necrons made him unwilling to admit defeat outright.
He was the Lord of the Serakht Tomb, guardian of the blackstone silence nodes, the rightful ruler of these two worlds. These flesh-races were nothing but vermin who had wandered into ancient territory.
But now, that vermin was closing in on his throne.
Just then, a dynastic directive from the Sautekh Dynasty's core, the Court of the Golden Mandala, suddenly cut into the communication protocols of the tomb beneath Vulcantia.
Septarakh's head turned slightly, the green light in his eye sockets flickering rapidly. He began at once to decode the dynastic order that had travelled such a vast distance to reach them.
Several seconds later, a rare pause entered his voice.
"My lord. The core directive from the Court of the Golden Mandala has been confirmed."
Hektarren looked at him.
"Speak."
"The Sautekh Dynasty's civil war has ended," Septarakh said. "The victor was not any of the old nobility contesting the throne. It was our dynasty's Crowned General, Imotekh."
For a moment, the air in the hall seemed to still.
Septarakh continued. "He now styles himself the Stormlord. He has ordered every Sautekh Dynasty tomb world to cease its civil war and submit to him. He declares himself the dynasty's sole destined ruler, and claims he will lead the Sautekh Dynasty back to its former height."
"Imotekh..."
Hektarren spoke the name under his breath.
He remembered that Crowned General well. Proud, cold, arrogant, contemptuous of all weakness; once nothing more than the dynasty's sharpest weapon of war.
He had not expected that the one to finally seize the Phaeron's throne would be him.
Hektarren was silent for a moment, then rose from his throne.
At the entrance to the throne hall, the Royal Guard's line had already been pushed back further inward. That shield-bearing human warrior continued to advance, the Astartes and Skitarii behind him pressing steadily forward as well.
The flash of bolter fire lit the blackstone walls, and the war cries of humans carried through the hall.
Hektarren met the distant shield-bearer's gaze for a brief moment.
He let out a cold laugh.
There was no longer any point in holding this ground.
Imotekh had now become the Stormlord, and with him the Sautekh Dynasty's civil war had come to an end. He needed to bring his royal court, his technicians, his data, and whatever forces could still be withdrawn back into the dynasty's fold.
This defeat could be recorded as the temporary loss of a peripheral tomb. So long as he brought back sufficient intelligence, these losses could one day be repaid in full.
Hektarren turned his head toward Septarakh.
"Initiate the deep withdrawal protocol."
Septarakh's mechanical lens flickered.
"My lord, a great deal of surface structure on both Vulcantia and Cereris remains unsealed. A portion of the shallow tomb units cannot be recovered either."
"Then let these two worlds go to this pack of fanatical fools, for now."
Hektarren's voice was cold.
"We will return. Next time, I will come back in the name of the Stormlord Phaeron, with the true might of Sautekh behind me. And these creatures of flesh will understand that what they seized today was nothing but worthless dust."
"Your will be done."
Septarakh carried out the order at once.
Deep within the throne hall, the phase transfer array began to activate, green light rising from the runes etched into the blackstone floor. More high-order Necron units received the withdrawal order and began falling back toward the deeper passages and phase nodes.
Hektarren cast one last glance at the human warrior standing at the entrance to the throne hall.
Today's humiliation would be recorded.
Next time, he would make these creatures of flesh pay a price worthy of it.
Duvette remained standing in the strategic command room aboard the Macragge's Honour.
He watched the holographic projection before him, where markers representing the Imperial legions' advance routes drove one after another into the enemy's core territory. Astartes assault formations continued pushing forward through the underground tomb, the Skitarii and Tech-Priests marked key nodes, and the Titan Legion on the surface cleared out the Necrons' major positions with their main guns.
Orbital superiority now lay entirely in Imperial hands.
The atmospheric air battle had essentially concluded as well, the remaining Doom Scythes being cleared away steadily by fleet fire and fighter formations. The ground battlefield had begun tilting rapidly toward the Imperium's favour once the Titan Legion committed.
Combined with his own enhancements, this peripheral Necron world could no longer hold against the Imperium's advance.
But Duvette did not let himself relax because of it.
The Necrons were not like other xenos. Their withdrawals often did not mean simple defeat. They could just as easily signal a phase trap, a deep-level lockdown, or some form of self-destruct protocol.
Just then, a flood of battle reports came in from the front.
The enemy had begun to withdraw.
Multiple underground passages on Vulcantia were registering phase transfer activity, with the Royal Guard and high-order constructs breaking contact. On the Cereris front, the deep tomb had begun sealing itself, and the remaining Necron units were voluntarily abandoning their shallow positions.
Duvette narrowed his eyes.
"Trying to run?"
That did not fit the proud temperament of Necron nobility at all.
He raised a hand at once, enlarging the strategic projection, his gaze sweeping across both the Vulcantia and Cereris fronts. The green markers were contracting, some areas beginning to vanish from the map entirely.
"Order every front to advance across the board."
The staff officers around him began relaying the command immediately.
Duvette continued. "But do not blindly pursue into unknown phase passages. Astartes formations are to prioritise sealing off the area around the throne hall. Skitarii and Tech-Priests are to prioritise seizing the data sanctum and the tomb's control core."
"Request continued fleet surveillance of orbital and surface energy anomalies. Any major structure launching, or any sign of phase transfer, flag it immediately."
"Understood!"
Duvette watched the Necron markers steadily contracting on the projection, his tone remaining calm.
"Tell the front line, pursuit is permitted, but don't let them lead us into a trap."
He paused for a moment, then added, "Priority is intercepting anything they don't have time to take with them."
Orders overlapped one after another throughout the strategic command room.
Duvette gave the holographic projection one last look. The outcome of the Vulcantia campaign was now decided; what remained was only the cleanup, and how to handle everything the Necrons had left behind.
Blackstone data. Tomb wreckage. Necron constructs. The Mechanicus's appetite for recovery. The Inquisition's need for oversight. And that Necron Overlord, very likely already preparing to withdraw.
All of these problems would need someone to deal with them.
Duvette turned and walked toward where Guilliman stood.
Time now to see this through to the end.