"I am the Crown-Breaker, wielder of the Karlozasa Dynasty's authority—let the very stars tremble!"
Zabok didn't know when a scepter had appeared in his hand. He slammed it hard into the ground, and the blackstone core set into it erupted with a blinding green radiance.
The energy spread outward, illuminating the entire ruin in an instant. Dust thrown into the air was ionized by the field.
Driven by fury, the Phaeron released more of the will he had long kept buried.
Plasma crackled and snapped, leaping from one Canoptek Spyder to another, spearing from one Immortal to the next, until the entire area was saturated with warped ions.
The dynasty's ruler was mobilizing his army. Batch after batch of Necrons received new control protocols.
Centered on Zabok, a vast energy ring took shape. Signals carried by the shockwaves propagated across living-metal dermal fields at millisecond speed.
Very quickly, he received a response.
Canoptek Spyders burst from the ground like cockroaches. Canoptek Doomstalkers buzzed up into the air, broadcasting further signals.
In those hollow eye-sockets, ominous emerald fire throbbed. The rasp of metal bones grinding against metal was like nails in the ear.
A five-meter-tall, scorpion-shaped lord smashed out of the rubble, crushing broken masonry beneath it. Its mechanical limbs gouged furrows straight through thick wall-sections.
After it came more Immortals, and more Necron Warriors—row after row—appearing atop the shattered ruins.
Exalted protocols linked them together.
The Karlozasa Dynasty had awakened!
The underhive.
Buildings shuddered faintly beneath aftershocks. A mass of refugees huddled and trembled inside a triangular zone formed by a Necron phase field.
"Emperor… why have You abandoned Your loyal lambs?"
"What mistake did we make—and how can we ever atone for this sin?!"
"Forgive us… forgive the poor people of Fanes…"
Some believers refused to stop praying, desperate to claw back what had been lost.
But more people had gone numb, stripped of their old expectations.
Dead-eyed. Hollow.
Not long ago, they had been declared heretics by the Ecclesiarchy, then attacked by the Third Diocese fleet.
In barely half a day, the people of Fanes had lost their spiritual anchor. They no longer knew where they were supposed to go.
Hope was being extinguished, and this planet was sliding toward darkness.
Their only consolation was that this region—under the Karlozasa Dynasty's protection—was now safe enough.
At least they had survived the disaster.
At least they would not die immediately.
And yet people noticed that some of the guardians were quietly leaving, as if being dispatched for a new mission.
The refugees watched those worthy guardians depart, tension creeping in.
That probably wasn't a good sign.
In the crowd, a tall figure wrapped in tattered burlap stood out.
He curled in on himself, wretched-looking, sheltering from secondary collapse like the other refugees.
He looked like an underhive beggar—one who lived day to day, never knowing whether tomorrow would come.
Clatter—
The beggar's broken bowl slipped from his hands and shattered on the ground.
His metal mandible clicked, and his voice trembled with excitement.
"The great Crown-Breaker has finally contacted me. This—this is what the Karlozasa Dynasty is supposed to look like.
If we hadn't been bound by the ethical protocols, that fleet up there wouldn't be worth mentioning."
The beggar's sudden rise—and his height, over three meters—startled the refugees around him.
Because beneath the ragged burlap was a savage, living-metal body, and the emerald energy humming across him now sizzled and spat.
He radiated a faint, instinctive intimidation.
In truth, the beggar's real identity was a Necron Overlord known as Reaper.
Begging was simply the trade he used to survive after his fall from grace.
Back when the Karlozasa Dynasty had ruled Fanes under a human identity, the Necron nobility had also been deeply involved in governance.
But they quickly lost out under the Imperium's political system. They retained only their noble titles, receiving a generous stipend once every Holy Eleven Tithe cycle.
Yet some Necron nobles had no concept of money at all. The moment they received it, they spent it with abandon.
They couldn't last until the next tithe cycle, and they became penniless.
So those Necron nobles could only fend for themselves—just like bankrupt humans.
The better-off found ways to live in the upper hive: security work, factory work, skilled trades.
But high-ranking Necrons like Reaper—who knew nothing but slaughter—fell straight into the underhive to "experience life" as a beggar.
At least people felt some sympathy for those afflicted with a "strange illness." Now and then, he could receive coins or sawdust bread. With luck, he could even drink a little cheap liquor.
Life was… manageable. He wouldn't "starve."
Of course, this was nothing more than a clumsy imitation of humanity by Necrons whose minds were failing, whose awareness had gone wrong.
They couldn't eat at all.
They also couldn't truly starve.
Unless they decided they ought to starve—and then forced themselves into dormancy.
A few years ago, another friend of Reaper's—a fellow beggar, also a Necron Overlord—had spent too long failing to get food. Eventually he decided he must be "dying of hunger."
On a night that was "cold and starving," that beggar-overlord collapsed in an underhive street. The green glow in his eye-sockets no longer shone.
He entered hibernation, allowing himself to be dragged away by Canoptek Spyders tasked with street-cleaning.
People sighed over it. He was one of the very few beings on that street who had "starved to death," and the administrators were condemned for it.
Some kind-hearted underhive workers even regretted it—why hadn't they given the beggar a little food?
At the beggar-overlord's funeral, a priest came specifically to pray for the poor, fallen noble, then had him buried in the underhive's public cemetery.
Reaper attended too. He was deeply saddened.
And he decided that he needed to beg harder—get more food.
So he wouldn't starve to death.
Yet Reaper discovered something unexpected: ever since that beggar-overlord "died," people had become more willing to give him food.
They were probably afraid that this huge, sickly "man" would die as well. People showed more respect to those "humans" with the strange illness.
Among the Karlozasa Dynasty nobles, besides those who went bankrupt and drifted into the underhive, some played all sorts of roles.
Underriver air-fishers. Dock workers. Bryologists. Some even scavenged trash in the deep underhive—
They called it "studying the lower ecology."
They immersed themselves in their human roles so deeply that it became absurdly comical.
But aside from burning money and roleplaying, these noble classes had hardly done anything truly heinous. If anything, they stimulated local commerce and prosperity.
That was why Fanes, compared to Imperial worlds filled with cannibal predators, had developed far better.
And now all of it had been ruined.
Fanes had suffered geological catastrophe and bombardment, forcing them to stop the lives they'd been living.
Worse, they had received the Crown-Breaker Phaeron's summons—an existence burning with wrath.
He had decided to go to war!
Within the minds of those Necron Overlords and dynasty nobles, more memories of war resurfaced. More than ever, they wanted to protect this planet.
Of course, due to long-term erosion of memory, some dynasty nobles still felt uneasy about going to war with the Imperium.
"Emperor above… are we Fanes really going to go to war with the Imperium? Wouldn't that be blasphemy against the great existence?"
A Necron Overlord clawed his way up from the underhive public cemetery, filthy from head to toe.
He didn't know what had happened, babbling as he spoke.
"The Imperium labeled us heretics and attacked Fanes. The Karlozasa Dynasty must strike back…"
Another dynasty noble answered him, sending the relevant information as a pulse of energy.
The Karlozasa Dynasty nobles' transmissions moved and collided within the energy field as they communicated.
More presences answered the call, their voices joining in:
"Crown-Breaker—my noble Lord of the Stars—you have finally summoned the masters of your tombs…"
"Ah… I feel as if I've regained more freedom. Ancient memories are awakening. The Karlozasa Dynasty is so great—so vast…"
"We Fanes will never accept slander, never submit to shellfire. Even if we must set the whole starfield ablaze, we will prove our courage and loyalty!"
"Bzzzt—
Great Crown-Breaker, we should activate those tomb worlds. Only then can we withstand more Imperial fleets. At least five tomb worlds are awaiting your summons."
"Has war finally begun?
War! I want more war! The gauss heavy cannons are preheating—I can't wait to annihilate every enemy and blow that fleet apart!"
"Waaagh—"
"No—bad. That one's gone insane. He thinks he's a greenskin Ork and doesn't recognize friend from foe. Strip him out of the energy field before he contaminates the rest of us."
"Humans? What humans? Aren't we Necrontyr?
Did the Old Ones' white-furred ape armies come to attack again? Has the Star God issued new orders?!"
"Another one's snapped—strip him out as well!"
After a round of chaos, the Karlozasa Dynasty finally consolidated all information and removed the mad ones.
Those Necron Overlords and dynasty nobles began moving toward the upper hive to meet their great Crown-Breaker—Phaeron Zabok.
The atmosphere on Fanes grew heavier by the minute. More terrifying war machines were activated, and emerald ripples of power lit up the region.
After answering the summons, Reaper stepped out of the crowd as well, heading toward a massive scorpion-shaped living-metal machine that had just arrived.
"Big guy—Fanes is going to war?"
An underhive vendor suddenly called out. He recognized the fallen oddball who had been begging on these streets.
He'd heard the man used to be an upper-hive noble, and had even attended the governor's banquets.
"Yes."
Reaper paused. A cold electronic voice came through.
"But this isn't our fault. The Imperium attacked Fanes first. The governor has already issued the war order.
We will destroy all invading enemies and defend our home. The guardians will fight to the last—until the final drop of blood is spent."
"Then we and the Imperium…"
"We Fanes are loyal—but we must fight. Perhaps Fanes will leave the Imperium forever, but at least we might survive."
After saying that, Reaper climbed onto the scorpion-shaped Destroyer vehicle and left the refugee shelter.
His blades had been restrained for too long.
He wanted to reap every enemy life—tear apart every flesh-bound body.
The underhive vendor and the refugees stared blankly as the oddball departed. There was a question they still hadn't managed to ask.
Could they still worship the Emperor in the future?
If not… then what being were they supposed to worship?
Thinking of everything that had happened, the people in this region clenched their fists.
Perhaps they should join the fighting too—resist the invaders.
Clack clack clack—
On the streets of the hive's ruined districts, a black tide of Necrons appeared. Their footsteps struck the ground with mechanical indifference.
Collapsed-sector tombs were awakened. Regimented armies marched out from monumental tomb structures, replenishing the dynasty's strength.
A merciless living-metal host, bound by protocol, would eradicate every enemy.
In the rubble of a nearby ruin, several genestealers quietly poked their heads out, as if trying to spy.
But the instant they revealed even a sliver of themselves, a sweeping ion beam turned them into drifting blood-mist.
Even the ruin they hid in was bombarded, leaving them no chance to resist.
Now that the Karlozasa Dynasty had initiated its war protocols, all life other than the people of Fanes was an enemy.
Whether it was the Imperial Ecclesiarchy fleet above, or opportunistic heretical xenos trying to invade—
All would be targets.
This was a war of survival.
"Hiss…
This is getting dangerous.
The signal interference is too severe—those trashy Third Diocese systems can't project messages at all.
And those tin-cans are too materialistic. Mirage-visions are hard to project…"
After the spying genestealers were killed, Eden's vision was cut off, and his brow tightened.
But through the countless streams of biological data, he could roughly grasp what was happening on Fanes.
That Crown-Breaker Phaeron was furious. Under his command, the Karlozasa Dynasty was already preparing for war—and their strength exceeded Eden's earlier estimates.
"That Third Diocese fleet's armaments are like little snacks in front of them.
This is power that could sweep an entire sector.
Forget this sector—even the Imperium itself would have to treat it with caution.
If the Crown-Breaker Phaeron truly rises up, it could become the most terrifying Necron invasion the Imperium has ever faced."
That was what Eden thought.
He knew a Phaeron's power went far beyond this. This was a high-tier existence—one who had once fought beside the Silent King, overthrowing the Old Ones and the Star Gods.
There weren't many like that even among the Necrons.
Now this power would not become Eden's support.
It had become a massive obstacle.
It would make the Vigilance Star campaign brutally difficult.
Worse, Eden couldn't even send down Hexbound Genestealers to bluff with "miracles" anymore.
If he did, odds were it would turn into a straight brawl the moment they landed.
The Karlozasa Dynasty was sharpening its blades, ready to counterattack the Imperium. The Third Diocese fleet might get swallowed whole—and at such a critical moment.
"Frekbor… that bastard really deserved to die ten thousand times over…"
Eden grit his teeth.
He considered forcibly pulling Imperial armies over to solve this, but that could also hollow out other defenses—
Handing the Chaos Gods and the Silent King an opening.
"It feels like some force is pushing me to redeploy the Imperium's garrison armies. If I actually do it, I'll be stepping right into their trap."
Muttering that, Eden extinguished the idea of issuing a mobilization order.
He chose to wait—watch how Fanes evolved.
And he wasn't doing nothing.
If that plan failed, then he would have no choice but to bring troops in and purge the place by force.
He would not allow this to affect the Vigilance Star situation.
No one was going to stop him from getting the Blackstone!
Then, suddenly, Eden exploded in a string of curses, feeling numb all the way through.
"Emperor damn it—how does the Karlozasa Dynasty even have something like this?! How the hell are we supposed to fight that?!"
At the same time, on the surface of Fanes—
The ground in the hive's outskirts cracked and sank, revealing a pitch-black chasm below. Azure energy blossomed outward.
A blue sphere rose slowly from the depths.
Beneath it was a blackstone plinth, coated in extremely complex mechanical structures.
Just the portion exposed aboveground already stood more than twenty kilometers tall.
It was the Eternity Orb.
An ancient and rare weapon—one that had once been used against the Old Ones during the War in Heaven.
More precisely, it was a terrifying cannon—
And its ammunition was a fragment of a star!
(End of Chapter)
[Get +30 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Zaelum"]
[Every 300 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]