The ruins of Argon Theta were a sprawling graveyard of twisted metal, burning wreckage, and shattered flesh. The once-great defenses of the Imperium lay broken under the relentless advance of Broodarch Star Eater and his Tyranomarine legion. Skitarii, Guardsmen, and even Titans had fallen before the monstrous fury of the Bio-Titans, and now the land was soaked in the blood of those who had once sworn to defend it.

But the Night Lords—those shadows that thrived on terror—were not so easily broken. They slithered through the remnants of the manufactorum, clinging to the darkness like specters, waiting for the moment to strike back. Yet, Broodarch was not concerned. He could feel them, sense them through the web of fear that permeated the battlefield. His Lectors, engineered to be the apex predators, stalked them in the dark, drawing closer with each moment.

And Broodarch Star Eater was walking toward them.

His enormous, hulking form cast long shadows across the broken terrain. Every step was a rumble of power, his claws flexing in anticipation of the hunt. He didn't rush. He didn't need to. The Lectors were already on the move, their forms nearly invisible as they picked off the Night Lords one by one, each death sending a satisfying wave of finality through Broodarch's mind.

But there was one prey that interested him above all: Captain Valek, leader of this ragged warband of shadows. Broodarch had seen the defiance in Valek's eyes, the fire that refused to die. The Night Lord was a relic of another age, still clinging to tactics of fear and terror—tactics that no longer worked against the evolved might of the Tyranomarine horde.

Broodarch's mind reached out to his Lectors, seeing through their eyes as they drew closer to the Night Lords hiding in the shadows. His connection to them was absolute—he could feel their claws rend through flesh, hear the last breaths of the dying Night Lords as they were picked off like prey. But Valek… Valek was still out there, fighting, defying.

"Valek," Broodarch hissed, his voice like a whisper on the wind, "I'm coming for you."

In the darkness of the manufactorum ruins, Captain Valek could feel the presence of death closing in on him. His warband, once masters of stealth and terror, had been reduced to scattered, desperate fighters, hunted like animals by the terrifying Lectors. Valek's own breath came in ragged bursts, his armor chipped and bloodied, his lightning claws humming with raw energy as he waited for the next strike.

His warriors had been whispering over the vox—panic, desperation. The Lectors weren't like any foe they had faced. They moved through the darkness with a terrifying silence, appearing and vanishing in the blink of an eye, their claws and fangs drenched in blood. The terror tactics of the Night Lords did not affect them. These creatures didn't feel fear. They didn't retreat. They hunted.

"We're being hunted," one of Valek's warriors growled over the vox. "These things are demons!"

"Stay together," Valek snarled in response, though he could feel the fear gnawing at his own resolve. "We are Night Lords. We are the hunters."

But even as he spoke, another Lector appeared from the shadows, its claws glinting in the dim light as it lunged at one of Valek's warriors. The Night Lord didn't even have time to scream before the Lector's claws tore through his armor, shredding him in a spray of blood and metal.

Valek roared in frustration, spinning around and slashing with his lightning claws, but the Lector had already vanished back into the darkness.

"They're not demons," Valek growled, his voice laced with venom. "They're Tyranids. And I'll cut them all down."

Broodarch smiled as he watched the struggle through the eyes of his Lectors. Valek's defiance amused him, but he could feel the growing desperation, the cracks forming in the Night Lord's cold façade. And it was that desperation that Broodarch wanted to savor. Every Lector's strike, every death, brought him closer to his prey.

But it was time to end the game.

With a flex of his massive claws, Broodarch began to move faster, his hulking form closing the distance between him and the remnants of Valek's warband. He could feel the pulse of the bio-network growing stronger as he drew nearer, the connection with his Tyranomarines and Lectors flooding his mind with information. He didn't need to see them directly—he could feel them, see through their eyes, move through their senses. Valek's every movement, every breath, was known to him.

He was the hunt.

Valek stood at the center of the crumbling manufactorum, his body tense, his eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. He could feel the presence of the Lectors all around him, their eyes watching, waiting for the moment to strike.

But there was something else—a presence far more terrifying. He could feel it, growing closer with every second. A weight in the air, a cold pressure that made his skin crawl.

Then he heard the voice. Deep, rumbling, like the growl of a beast in the dark.

"Valek…"

The voice was followed by a heavy, echoing footstep. Then another. And another. The ground trembled with each step, and Valek's heart pounded in his chest.

"I see you," Broodarch's voice whispered again, closer this time. "You cannot hide from me."

Valek spun around, his lightning claws crackling with energy. "Show yourself!" he roared into the darkness.

And then, from the shadows, Broodarch Star Eater emerged.

The Tyranid monstrosity towered over the Night Lord, his claws dripping with venom, his body a grotesque fusion of chitin, metal, and muscle. His glowing eyes locked onto Valek, a predatory grin spreading across his monstrous face.

"You've been running for so long, Valek," Broodarch growled, his voice a low, mocking rumble. "But now… the hunt ends."

The battle that followed was fierce and brutal. Valek roared in defiance, his lightning claws flashing as he lunged at Broodarch with all the fury of a cornered predator. The Night Lord captain moved with the speed and precision of a master killer, his blades slashing through the air, seeking to find a weakness in the Tyranid's armor.

But Broodarch was more than a match. His claws met Valek's strikes with bone-crushing force, each blow sending sparks flying as metal clashed with chitin. The ground shook beneath their feet as they circled each other, the air crackling with the energy of their rage.

Valek fought like a demon, his every strike fueled by hatred and desperation. But Broodarch was relentless. He moved with terrifying speed for something so large, his claws slicing through the air with lethal precision. Every time Valek struck, Broodarch countered, his monstrous strength overwhelming the Night Lord captain.

"You cannot win," Broodarch growled, his claws smashing Valek to the ground with a bone-crushing impact. "You are nothing compared to me."

Valek snarled in defiance, his body bloodied and broken, but he refused to stay down. He rose to his feet, his lightning claws crackling with energy as he prepared to strike again. "I'll never bow to you, beast!"

Broodarch laughed, a deep, guttural sound that echoed through the ruins. "Oh, you will bow, Valek. You will evolve."

With a speed that belied his massive size, Broodarch lunged forward, his claws wrapping around Valek's throat with crushing force. The Night Lord struggled, but Broodarch's grip was like iron, unbreakable.

"I see your potential," Broodarch whispered, his voice cold and cruel. "You will be more than this. I will make you into something greater."

Valek's eyes widened in horror as he felt Broodarch's will seep into his mind, the bio-network reaching into his very being. He tried to fight it, tried to resist, but Broodarch's power was too great. His body convulsed as the Tyranid's influence took hold.

"You will evolve," Broodarch whispered again, his voice filled with dark promise. "You will be mine."

Broodarch personally delivered Valek to the Bio-Crafters aboard the Dreadmaw as the Lectors dragged the rest of his warband, alive and dead alike, behind him. His forces ravaged Argon Theta, leaving nothing alive. They took every piece of knowledge and technology along with every scrap of biomass. Thr world was a barren rock when they moved on. The call of a Genestealer cult on a Tau world calling out to Star Eater like a dinner bell.