Not human.
The scanners, capable of detecting just about any physical thing, including the genetics of any living creature, pinged that the humanoid thing that flew into the human encampment, carrying a Rangdan Monolith, which weighed a staggering five hundred metric tons, was most definitely not a member of the Homo Sapiens race. Its genetics, however, were incredibly interesting, the sort of stuff that would occupy a biologist for a hundred years and then some.
What the scanners and biologists likely could not and would never be able to explain, however, was the creature's ability for flight, its incredibly strength, and – likely – its durability. Because nothing about its biology, as far as their scanners were concerned, indicated any form of bio-enhancement. So, how was it capable of such strength? Because no amount of bio-engineering could possibly grant a creature of that size that amount of strength. No. The mere idea of it was simply absurd. But there was no denying its strength, either.
So, how was such a thing even remotely possible?
It used no technology, as far as the scanners were concerned and certainly did not call upon the reality-altering powers of the Immaterium, that incessant cesspool of a realm. Otherwise, their pylons would've detected such an unsavory thing. And, surely, this being could not possibly possess the same power as one of the dreaded C'tan, right?
But that would, more or less, explain every anomalous thing about the creature, its power, its might.
So, what was it and why did it mingle with the... humans? Why did it seem to enjoy their company, when it was so clearly of a superior race? With its strength and power, the creature could've very easily conquered this planet and any of the surrounding worlds, enslaving the human populace. Sure, the Phaeron would take notice and take drastic measures to protect his little pets, but the point still stood.
Those who bore great power often were tempted and lulled to use that power for their own gain, to take from others and to conquer and devour the weak and the feeble. Such was the way of things. He'd seen thousands of empires rise and fall, some before the bio-transference, and all of them rose to power and dominance the same way, every single time – war, conquest, and dominion. The strong devoured the weak in the same manner that the Ancient Necrontyr were devoured by the Old Ones, before the coming of the C'tan, who – in turn – devoured the Old Ones. It was a cycle – never ending.
It was the natural order of things.
Even now, based off its physical feats entirely, it'd be incredibly difficult to destroy the anomalous creature. And, if his more generous estimates were to be believed, then it was likely capable of flying at the speed of light, perhaps even faster than that. Impossible. Incomprehensible. Irrational. But, their scans of the 'battle' that'd raged just above the planet's atmosphere said otherwise. The apes of this planet had no formal navy – no ships of their own. Well, their ancestors did, but these primitives likely already lost the means to pilot them. Regardless, without the aid of the Phaeron, the hairless bipeds would not have otherwise been capable of defending themselves from orbital bombardment.
And then, it was during this most hopeless moment that the anomaly was first recorded. In what seemed to be an instant, the Rangdan Fleet, thousands of vessels, each one capable of reducing entire cities to dust, was suddenly silenced. Or, more accurately, the entire fleet simply ceased to exist, just like that. One moment they were there and suddenly all that was left of them was a burning wreckage, a graveyard in the void.
That had been the first first time he paid attention, because the Rangdan, vermin though they were, made use of technology that placed them far above the reach of these primitive mortals, far above them. One might even compare them to the early Aeldari, before they truly reached their potential. After all, the Rangdan had always been there, watching and waiting, like scavenging vermin, feeding off the remnants of great battles and fleeing whenever a truly great power sets its eyes on them. That was essentially how the Rangdan survived for millions and millions of years; they come out and conquer a few primitive aliens, then Necrons or the Aeldari beat them back, and they lay low for the next hundred thousand years or so.
The only reason the Necron Dynasties still hadn't fully annihilated these miscreants was because doing so took far too much effort and it really wasn't worth it. For one, the Rangdan were not a threat to the Necrons. And the other reason was that the Rangdan Homeworld lay beyond the Black Stars, beyond the native system of the ancient Necrontyr, right by the edge of the known galaxy, in a place that was known only as the Long Dark, a place so shrouded in darkness and so horrifyingly absent of life that not even Necrons ventured there. In fact, they knew, for certain, that not even the Immaterium, that dreadful unreality, could reach that desolate place.
Though, there were rumors and records of expeditions that sought to explore that place, but each of them turned up nothing or disappeared altogether, fleets of Aeldari and Necron alike, lost forever. Was that not the strangest thing?
But, seeing as there was nothing there worth risking even more ships for, any further expeditions were banned by the Triarch Council and everyone just sort of went with it, honestly.
And so the Rangdan were allowed to flourish, the most ancient and the most resilient of vermin, beaten countless times but never hunted down to extinction.
And along came this... anomaly, whose body bore enough power to shatter an entire fleet in an instant, simply by moving through them at close to the speed of light, which accelerated every single particle around it into blazing projectiles that could pierce through any shield and any hull. The Rangdan fleet stood no chance. They hadn't even had the chance to fire off a single shot, before they were utterly annihilated.
The Grand Carrier, he'd thought, might've held enough firepower and enough shielding to maybe stop the aberration. Both of those assumptions were very quickly proven false when the damn thing stood there and tanked city-destroying shots with just its face. It avoided some, but there was no reason to; the closest possibility, one that hardly made sense, was that the anomaly was trying to save its outfit from utter destruction. It was more concerned for its clothes than for its physical safety.
And then, it destroyed the Grand Carrier. And it did so without utilizing any fancy or flashy display of power or technological might. Instead, from Jzahth's understanding, the anomaly simply entered the ship and destroyed it from the inside by surging through its open halls at the speed of light. A Rangdan Vessel, one that even he could recognize as suitably powerful, was ruined with utmost ease by a single entity – not even a ship, not a boarding party, just one, single, solitary entity.
Inconceivable.
Because it meant that this anomaly held more power than a C'tan Shard.
Just what was this creature? What sort of environmental hazards and evolutionary pressures could've resulted in the birth of such a being? Was it natural? Was it artificial? If so, Jzahth was certain of the fact that the Old Ones could not have created this being. No, their creations always possessed a clear and active connection to the abominable Immaterium. So, what sort of power could've given birth to such an aberration?
Jzahth, Cryptek of the Sulekh Dynasty, right hand of Phaeron Koteph, had no answer. And it irked him. As a seeker of knowledge and a practitioner of science, he hated this state of not knowing, this lack of understanding. However, he would also admit that finding such an incomprehensibly powerful entity was exciting. It meant his knowledge was incomplete; it meant there was more out there than what he already knew. Jzahth was certain that every scientist, like himself, shared this feeling, at least.
Wonder.
"Ah, Honorable Cryptek Jzahth," The voice of his Phaeron brought him out of his stupor. And Jzahth bowed his head to his Phaeron, Lord Khoteph – as he now called himself. "What have you discovered about this... anomaly?"
"Truthfully, my lord? Very little. Its existence defies logic and its power defies reason." Jzahth answered, replaying every single recording and viewing every single analysis he had of the anomaly, each time coming up with a single, simple conclusion – that he had no idea what in the blazes he was looking at, that all his knowledge of science failed to account for such an anomalous existence. "That thing might as well be a C'tan Shard; its ability, its power, is beyond my understanding. It simply is. Perhaps, if we were able to obtain its corpse and I were allowed further, more intimate, study then I may be able to understand more of its nature. But, as of now, I am loathed to admit that I know almost nothing about it, save for the fact that its physical prowess and its ability to fly faster than light itself boggles my understanding."
"I thought as much." Lord Khoteph said, performing their equivalent of a sigh, which was expressed simply in coded expressions. Otherwise, their faces and their bodies showed nothing, a reminder that both he and his lord had long since parted from flesh, despite their most fervent wish and endeavor being to return to such a state. Immortality mattered little if one felt nothing. It was a curse. "I analyzed him myself. I could not make sense of his abilities. Do you think he might be a shard of the Deceiver? You never know with that one."
"If he were truly one of the C'tan, my lord Phaeron, our instruments would've detected it already."
"Yes, but the Deceiver is known for, ya know, deception." His Phaeron answered. And Jzahth had to admit that his lord was right. "I think a C'tan would easily be capable of fooling our sensors, don't you agree?"
"I will attempt to recalibrate our sensors, my lord Phaeron; a C'tan cannot possibly hide the immense energies that lie within them." And so he did. Jzahth adjusted their C'tan sensors in an attempt to measure the internal energies within each and every thing on the planet and found that it was not the anomaly that held the highest internal energy, but his supposed son, the one called Argall, his lord's latest project. The anomaly itself did not contain enough internal energy to even register as a possible threat – another mystery as to how its power actually functioned. "No, my lord Phaeron; our sensors indicate that the anomaly does not contain large amounts of energy as a C'tan would. I conclude that he is not one of the fractured gods, but I shall continue my investigation with that in mind."
"Ya know, I was actually hoping for it to be a shard of the Deceiver; at least, that would've made sense. Now, its existence is even more confusing." His lord said, before sighing once more. "Oh well, can't understand everything immediately. Continue studying it, but maintain your distance. I do not want hostilities with a creature that potentially has the ability to destroy an entire planet with nothing more than brute physical force."
Oh, that was precisely the reason why Jzahth hadn't already tried to capture the anomalous entity. Its physical power boggled the mind and he did not wish to find out if it truly was capable of ruining an entire world by simply flying through its crust at the speed of light. Such a possibility threatened the Tomb Complex. And so, Jzahth could not take such a risk. Though, he had plenty of colleagues who would've made an attempt; Jzahth could not quite imagine that going as smoothly as they would've otherwise expect.