"It is all too common for us to, by sheer accident, limit the power of the Deus Mechanicus. By our doubts, we inadvertently commit blasphemy and presume that all things are in fact not designed by the holy three-in-one. Through the blinding veil of our noospheric data clouds and for all we do to be like the blessed machine we deny the infinite power of the Omnissiah by insinuating that he did not create all things, Xenos included. This mistake limits our understanding of the machines placed in this galaxy for the rightful inheritors to discover and unify with."
- From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36
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Though a mere fraction of what it would become should the Xenos abominations fully come to bear, the battle was at a fever pitch. Dust clouded the sky, but the hatred felt between these forces cut through the artificial sandstorm. This was not the first time this Dynasty had dealt with the Mechanicus, the machinations Gauritekh of the Ratufuhk dynasty had repeatedly seen the Rizekh dynasty's tomb worlds demolished by the human cultists, their blackstone harvested, and their works older than time left as little more than rubble. The Mechanicus were unaware of this grudge older than the biotransference, and it mattered less than little.
These things were a continued insult to the Deus Mechanicus, and no matter how they fought each other all of them must be exterminated. The fleet hailed from Mars, so the dust did little but remind them of a home they all longed to see again. Driving them forward to fight harder, even as the Necrons increased their efforts to break through to the back lines. The arrival of the High Marshal was normally little more than a conduit for the will of the priesthood, but with very few priests present at the battle yet the Enginseers and Manipulus priests were hard pressed keeping vehicles upright and functional under heavy fire from automated defenses.
Epsilon, atop an old Cyberhound, presented a different hope for the rapidly faltering Skitarii. A swing of his relic sword left wild lightning in the air behind it, Noospheric data flowed from him over the battlefield, uploading new directives. Unique, creative directives that kept the Necrons at a medium distance. In a head on fight, they were sure to lose. But if they leveraged their perfect union and planning they could beat back the Nephilimech.
The Skitarii roared a shrieking binharic war cry, and recited High Gothic cants to the Omnissiah as they carried out their programmed orders. Vanguard teams left basic Canoptek constructs and low ranking warriors little more than shredded shrapnel under the withering fire of their carbines, Ranger squads picked off high profile destroyers before they could get into threat range, Epsilon felt connected to every machine spirit at once. He heard everything, saw the data as threads of shimmering light and flickering information curtains informing him of the state of every quadrant of the battlefield. For that brief moment, in the heat of a holy battle, he saw what it was like to be Magos Tahr'kull. He had always seen the datastreams and noosphere, he knew binharic, but he had never fully appreciated the beauty of it. The tapestry that laid before him, threads of data waiting to be weaved into a perfect battle.
"Marshal unit β! What are you doing out of position on an improperly assigned cyberhound unit?!"
Epsilon was brought crashing back to reality, ripped free of his enthrallment to the Noosphere by the shrill, static-laden voice of Pythagoras. Oh how he hated dealing with Pythagoras. He was, still, Skitarii and therefore subject to the will of the adepts. But he worked predominantly with Quill, which gave him a unique disdain for Pythagoras among the cybernetic soldiers of the Mechanicus. Epsilon didn't actually know where their grudge started, whether it was caused by Quill or Pythagoras, if it was over philosophy, strategy, or personalities. He only knew why he hated the Datasmith. For years, Epsilon had to watch him make terrible decisions strategically that wasted Skitarii lives. He witnessed Pythagoras send Kastelan reinforcements in with little heed for the soldiers in their way. Only now, he could feel that disdain boiling under what remained of his skin.
"Skitarii forces outside of effective protocol distribution range for present augmetics, datastream jammed by unknown source. Unit β entering the fray to add additional efficacy of directive delivery. Awaiting priesthood for additional orders." That was only a partial lie, Epsilon would have had a hard time directing the battle from the rear command post, it wasn't necessary that he ran into the battle himself but he wasn't going to sit by and allow the deaths of the men and women under his command.
Pythagoras snarled through the vox, and Epsilon felt a sudden pull at his mind and body. "You are to pull back at once! The priesthood will arrive as soon as your master completes their mission! You will then be sent for an evaluation to explain abnormal behaviors over the last two cycles. Am I understood, Marshal?"
The only response that came was Vox static, violent and strange static that was normally the result of more jamming. The datasmith stormed off to his Kastelans and began uploading their protocols. If that headstrong Skitarii wanted to stand in the way of their heavy support, let him.
As Quill made his way through the tomb, he began to notice certain oddities appear around them. Blast marks and signs of an old but not ancient battle. Scars left on the walls that came not from Necron or Xenos technology, but very human weapons. Evidence of bolter fire, lightning cannons, cuts from power weapons, and scorch marks from flamers and meltas. These signs of battle were accompanied by scattered remains of Canoptek that had not yet been salvaged by other constructs. Per every report he had read about this planet, no other human incursions into the tomb had been recorded.
"Sergeant Azracai. Who or what lived here before the creation of your waystation?"
"Other than scattered Xenos wildlife? No one we know of. The planet was overgrown to an almost impenetrable extent."
Quill ran numerous simulations in an instant, trying to find any logical explanation for how human weaponry would find its way down here to destroy Canoptek before their arrival. Rogue Skitarii? No, he would have been notified if there were Skitarii abandoning the battle to explore the tomb. An old destroyed civilization? No, they wouldn't have arc rifles or meltaguns. Nothing in his logic processors could return a valid answer, so he had no choice but to proceed without an answer. An outcome that many Mechanicus agreed was unacceptable. From their initial entry, the lighting grew brighter, a paler yellow-green illuminating shelves of ancient relics of the Necrontyr empires of old.
"I should very much enjoy smashing these blasphemous icons of the Necrons under my boot…" Said Araleal as he finished applying the third explosive charge. "We unfortunately cannot without drawing more attention to ourselves. Crypteks are very protective of their trinkets, should we destroy them they will likely discover our defacement and divert forces to flush us out."
Lazaron chuckled, "Now Magos, surely these Necrons are not so petulant as to risk the battle at the surface just to get revenge over some smashed vases." Quill turned to face the Epistolary. "We have reports of numerous instances of Imperium victories over the Necrons specifically due to staggering amounts of Necron infighting and pride. It wouldn't surprise me if there was sabotage from another dynasty I've dealt with before. They are indeed that petulant."
"It is an unholy miracle they were ever powerful if they're still so intent on destroying each other." Said Azracai. Quill shook his head, he dared not speak it but he knew humanity was very similar in that regard. They'd spent almost their entire existence as a species fighting each other as much as they fought the things beyond the stars. Humanity's long history of infighting was almost as decorated as these Necrons they fought today. To speak such a thought was inconceivable, equating the magnum opus of the Omnissiah to the forsaken Nephilimech was of the highest heresies he could think of.
The tomb rumbled deeply, dust collected by untold eons shook loose and fell onto the six. All of which stood at a threshold weakened by the battle scars quill had noted along their journey. The Dark Angels exchanged glances and at the same time Quill's cogitators analyzed the structural integrity of the archway above them. The entire squad came to the same conclusion and darted out of the way as cracks spread across the structure, collapsing where they had previously stood. Rubble kicked up a duststorm to rival that above the battlefield, blackstone crashed down with lethal force as the entire wall deformed and dipped. The aftershock of a massive ordnance strike faded, as the Mechanicus army reoriented their aim. The sounds of battle left them standing in the relative silence from before, aside from the echoes of Necron footsteps and the chittering of idle scarabs or spyders. Azracai, Lazaron, Haradia, and Araleal stood on one side of the wreckage. Quill and Armaros stood opposite them.
"Are all of you alive?!"
"We are fine, Magos!" Azracai responded, "We can continue the mission from our position, but how will you rejoin us?" Quill took a moment to check their position on his readout of the tomb, "Brother Armaros and I can get to the Cryptek from our position and end his foul existence. You four continue with the demolition preparation and then rejoin us at our initial entrance." Brother Armaros hefted his flamer, "Magos Tahr'Kull, what of our objective to destroy the stasis chambers?"
"If your brothers follow my plans to the letter, their demolition charges should be able to destroy much of the sleeping Necrons. Buying us just enough time to extract the STC Fragment and make our retreat from the planet." Azracai reviewed the battle plans in his helmet's ocular display, they were sound. Well calculated strikes that would bring down large sections of the tomb right onto the slumbering Xenos. They had three more charges to plant, one at their previously established target and two at the Cryptek's Canoptek factory.
"Very well, Magos. The four of us will finish our side of the mission, you and Brother Armaros destroy their leader, good hunting." The four astartes clapped a fist over their breastplates and descended further into the tomb. Quill and Armaros turned and left as well, though Quill was sure to keep his burning hot eradication ray out of sight. It was only by extremely precise and careful timing he'd managed to shoot down the archway without being caught, he didn't want the lingering effects of his sabotage to give away his motives just yet.
Blood sprayed across the pews lining the sanctum walkway, darkening the red rug and staining the white cog occultaris. The sound of flesh smacking against the steel floor plates echoed dully in the high ceiling. Accompanied by the metal clangs, arcing lightning, and hum of dwindling energy weapons. Caenryx and Fiachyth had proven to be far too much to handle for a group of unprepared Electro priests. After being electrocuted one too many times, Caenryx snarled in annoyance and with a flourish left two Corpuscarii without their heads. Crumbling to the ground accompanied by a wild burst of stored electricity.
Fiachyth caught a stray bolt of power, knocking her blade aside. She was left with only her shuriken pistol as a Fulgurite bore down on her with expert staff work. Her armor was battered by the battle, she was slower than Caenryx and subject to much more retaliation from the cultists. The priest, riddled with wounds from her slicing armaments, ignored the blood pouring from his exposed flesh. He prepared a strike, electro-leech stave coursing with excess power. Too much for her armor to handle, but the strike never came. Instead the blinded human was left stunned by a strike faster than even she could track. Caenryx walked around the final surviving human like a sculptor admiring a brand new masterwork.
The human twitched, their staff slipped from their weakening grip and clanged to the floor. A thin line of blood seeped from their body, all the way up forming a vertical line in the center of their body. Caenryx slowly put the flat of his blade onto the priest's shoulder and pushed it aside. Just enough for that half to fall away a bit quicker. The electro priest fell into two halves, bisected by an unfathomably fast swing of the blade. Caenryx had decided this fight had gone from entertaining to merely tedious, but he was surely going to salvage some satisfaction from his final kill. The body spattered against the ground, organs fell free and blood pooled rapidly at the Eldars' feet. Fiachyth turned her nose up at the decaying flesh, scarred by years of exposure to pure electricity.
"Barbaric creatures… All of them. These Mon'Keigh are even worse than the normal variety." Caenryx shrugged and kicked one half aside while continuing deeper into Quill's sanctum. "Trust me, there's worse. Far worse. The kind that work with she who thirsts, the kind that align themselves with the ancient evils of Chaos. To worship their machines as gods is… bizarre but ultimately harmless compared to what else we've discovered."
"You call our current situation harmless?"
"No, this one's an outlier. Now focus your mind, feel the soul calling to you, cousin. Are they still here?" Fiachyth took a deep breath and cleared her mind, listening for the faint pull of the soulstone on her own being. A brief communion so she could find her lost kin. There, up on a balcony overlooking the room. There was a hidden compartment in a wall, she couldn't see the stone directly nor did she know how to open the compartment. But she was sure the Mon'Keigh had stashed their stolen spirits away there. With the swiftness of the wind, Caenryx swung his blade, digging it into the metal and prying open the hiding spot. Electricity stuttered, something briefly felt very off about the cathedral room, but with a metal groan and a loud snap the soulstone flew out and landed on the ground nearby.
Fiachyth leapt at it, and held it like a mother would cradle a long lost child. "By the ancient ones, I'm surprised yet relieved it is still intact! I had assumed these monstrous creatures would destroy it in some terrible experiment."
Caenryx had already begun his search for the stone relic Quill stole after their first encounter. The return of the soulstone was good, it meant less headache from people, which oddly he outranked, in the mission debrief. The more he searched, the more he felt a familiar presence. It wasn't identical… But it was close enough to the foul influence lingering like a layer of clouds over the Dark City. He couldn't be sure if it was localized here, or if it was just one more thread to follow him out of Commorragh.
"I don't think that's what this specific Mon'Keigh had in mind, cousin. This place… Reeks of foul influence, newly found influence. Something has inhabited this room that's neither Machine nor Mon'Keigh."
"Do you think any of your Corsairs could help identify what we're up against?"
"My team? Maybe but we need a more definite answer if we can't find the relic here… What do you know about the Harlequins?"
Quill felt off, that wasn't too abnormal whenever he was forced to delve into Necron tombs but this was different. He felt his connection to the great Machine Spirit of Praeco Voltaic as he always did, but the spirit wavered ever slightly. It wasn't enough to make him abandon the mission for fear of his vessel, but it put a seed of lingering doubt that he couldn't manage to isolate in his mind. Emotion vaults slipped, his augmetics betrayed his growing concern.
"Astartes Armaros, we should improve our speed to ensure minimal resistance. Please, let's get moving, double time." Without explaining the sudden urgency, Quill's mechanical frame drove him further faster, for the Astartes it was as simple as going from a relaxed walk to a speed walk. "Magos, is something the matter?" Quill scanned through any long range communication networks, all of which were still inaccessible. Except… For one. It wasn't from his ship, it wasn't from the Dark Angels, it wasn't even modern. It was…
"Magos?"
Quill shook himself and turned his attention away from the flow of data.
"It is simply Lord Anaxagoras informing me of the position at the surface, they are facing more resistance than we presumed initially. If we do not complete our objective sooner than anticipated our losses will begin to mount to unacceptable levels." Armaros nodded and continued at their quickened pace. Quill froze when a spider limb clanged against an oddly shaped hunk of scrap metal. He stepped back and a mechadendrite snatched up the metal, "Magos, if time is of the essence we cannot stop any time you want to study a Xenos drone."
Quill put up a hand in an attempt to silence the marine, "No, this is not… Xenos." The mechadendrite rotated the burnt metal and Quill saw the telltale signs of ancient machinery on the interior. He had seen schematics like this before.
"What is it?"
"... It is the faceplate of a Thallax."
Quill rapidly looked around for more wreckage until he found what he was looking for, a lancelike weapon, emblazoned in the stamps and engravings of its manufactorum of origin. He hefted the weapon and inspected it for damage. It was in shockingly good condition, it appeared to be in working order as well. Quill's servo skull and mechadendrites began examining the weapon. If he found it was properly maintained, by some miracle, he would eagerly implement it into his body plan.
"Magos… Is that… A Photon Cannon?"
"You are well studied, Astartes. This has not been witnessed in many millenia, by all knowledge of the Adpetus Mechanicus finding one in working order is an infinitesimally small chance. Do me a favor and carry it for me, I would be greatly appreciative."
The astartes nodded, placing his flamer onto his back and hefting the Darkfire cannon, getting a feel for it in his hands. After a brief instruction from Quill, he felt comfortable using it. Comfortable enough to at least keep it around without concern for it backfiring on them. Quill's mechadendrites snaked around behind Armaros, grabbing the faceplate and a battered mask hidden from Armaros's view. Stashing both within the Priest's robes.
"I suppose this explains the signs of battle we witnessed so far."
"Mayhaps, Magos, but it opens up far too many questions for comfort. How did such ancient technology arrive at this place? And in working condition no less."
"Rogue sects of the Cult Mechanicum that were wiped out years ago, the machinery of humanity is a tenacious thing. My working theory is that an isolated sect of tribal Skitarii or a rogue priest lost contact with the Mechanicum and sustained here. They likely found the tomb and were wiped out by Canoptek." Quill didn't believe a single word of what he said, but he couldn't afford an astartes that knew of heresy era technology looking at things with a skeptical gaze. Quill's worries were misplaced, Armaros didn't believe the explanation either. But he still nodded and continued on his way. Their voxes buzzed, and Sergeant Azracai's muddled voice emerged from the other end, "Magos, Brother, the final explosive charge is in place. Proceeding to Canoptek foundry now, are you almost to the Cryptek's location?"
"We are, Sergeant," said Quill, "we will arrive shortly, it would help if you made some noise at the final objective to divert constructs. It will be dangerous, but our chances of success against the Necron sub-commander increase exponentially in inverse relation to the number of Canoptek they can bring to bear."
"We will see to it that you see little resistance, may the Emperor's light guide you both to victory."
"What exactly is our estimated time to the target, Magos?" Quill was already moving down the nearest pathway, "With no more distractions, not far. Prepare yourself for battle." Quill approached an awning blackstone door with a glowing green symbol carved into it at a monolithic scale. "Our victim hides behind fortress walls," One of his mechadendrites produced a meltabomb from his robes, "shall we show them to oblivion?"
An entire conversation was occurring in an instant, a thought transmitted through the void to the headquarters of the Cackling Squall. Caenryx's band of Corsairs. "Uroth, the relic is gone. I imagine it's with the Mon'Keigh priest."
"... And?" Uroth Kían's psychic response was laced with his usual amount of annoyance.
"And I need you to get us out of here to plan our next move. We have the soulstone, Nym and the Harlequins should have an idea of what that stone box was."
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait. Transporting someone that distance takes alot of effort, I need to rest a while longer before I can open the webway for your return."
Caenryx sighed, the psychic link cut abruptly. Being stuck here was the opposite of what he wanted, it was only a matter of time before the army below returned with their priests. If they were still aboard this ship when that happened they'd be hunted down. To compound the danger, Caenryx didn't know his way around human ships. He'd sabotage their reactor, if he knew where it was.
"Hey, cousin, you have any idea how to navigate a human vessel of this size?" Fiachyth shook her head. Caneryx paced, they had two objectives. Survive long enough to make it through a webway portal and secure the soulstone. They had a limited time to prepare, but surely in a vessel this big they would find hidden alcoves abandoned by the human cult.
"Come on. We gotta get out of this sanctum." Fiachyth followed Caenryx back out of the massive doors, passing by the servitor again. It was still slack jawed and drooling. With a flourish of his blade he sliced through an entry hatch leading to a maintenance hallway and slipped in. "Where are we going?" Asked Fiachyth.
"Into the belly of this beast until we can get a ride out of here. Come on, let's keep it as quiet as possible."
Rapid beeping preceded a fiery explosion, leaving molten scarring on the blackstone door. The remains flew in, crushed to rubble and dust by a ceramite battering ram followed by the skittering tech priest accompanying him. The chamber was large, coated in runes and machinery of unfathomable function. Star maps, arcing spheres of antimatter and electricity, and machines run by ritualistic protocols written before fathomable time. Quill's cogitators struggled at the inload of new data, heretical terrible data that attempted to pierce into his systems. A cryptek stood behind a hexagonal table, lights danced around his form, curtains of geometric shapes orbited his arms and staff like a mockery of the Noosphere.
"In enters vermin, come to deface the works of their superiors." Boomed the voice of the Cryptek, "Or have you come to witness our awakening? The reclamation of the glory of our dynasty and the eradication of the blight of mortal life."
Quill stepped forward slowly, accompanied by Armaros, "It would not surprise me if those grandiose speeches were pre programmed into you Nephilimech monsters."
"Quaint," retorted the Cryptek, "lesser beings clinging to primitive ideas of smug humor in their final hours. Such things will not save you, I will gladly present your heads to Lord Atournikh. Or will you retreat in shame like the last robed mechanical flesh thing that came here?"
Quill looked up, "Wait… What do you mean?"
"Enough words, vermin," The Cryptek raised their staff, and was soon flanked by a small swarm of scarabs and two wraiths shimmering with spectral disruption, "kill the interlopers while I prepare the awakening rituals for our lords." Green energy burst from the Cryptek's podium.
"They cannot be allowed to finish that wretched incantation!" Armaros shouted while preparing his flamer for the swarm. "Don't you think I know that astartes!?" Quill's weapons spun up in mere seconds, plumes of flame jutted from the Astartes' weapon, rendering several scarabs into molten slag. Though not enough to stop the encroaching abominant machines.
The Wraiths shrieked towards Quill, his implants sent neural impulses to his muscles and machine body both at inhuman speeds. Quill's axe connected with an oncoming wraith right as it returned to realspace, the canoptek writhed with pulses of electricity. Just as Quill tried to end the thing's life before it could endanger them further another wraith slashed at him.
A screaming engine heralded screeching metal teeth digging into the Wraith's arm, sparks exploded from the point of contact. Necrodermis was rended, and the sharpened limb was sent clattering to the ground.
"Be more careful Magos! You are still needed to win the day, no one else down in this tomb can interface with the explosives from afar!"
"Ave Deus Mechanicus, why not?! Do you not have a detonator?" Quill's eradication ray charged a wide shot and destroyed another small wave of Scarabs as the wraiths regrouped.
"It was lost in the fight with the sentinel construct earlier." Armaros launched another torrent of flaming promethium to keep the wave back, slowly the two were being encircled by chittering Necron monsters. Ready to dismantle what little remained of their carcasses. Green lightning ripped through the noise of battle from the Cryptek, slamming into Armaros and launching him back into the swarm. The chittering things were upon him in an instant, Quill jumped in to assist but he was knocked back by a Wraith reentering reality. Slashing at him, forcing him to go on the defensive. A mechadendrite knocked it back, scoring the Necrodermis. The wraith immediately sliced through Quill's robotic appendage and sent it to the ground with a spray of lubricator fluid and machine blood.
A blast from Quill's eradicator beam caught the Wraith mid attack, leaving its body damaged beyond repair. The close range strike left its oculars bubbling glass and ruined circuitry.
"Armaros! I'm on my-" Quill was cut off by another bolt of energy striking him in the back. His cogitators and neural augmetics spasmed and shorted briefly. Pain seared through every neuron just as the motive force, but twisted into something horrid. He felt a weight on his back, the stone relic he'd brought with him was secured to his person. Something about the meeting of electricity and Necron energy was stirring the machine spirit within.
"Magos…"
Quill's vision blurred briefly but returned in time for him to fend off the second wraith, mere inches away from a fatal blow. Another strike of Necron lightning sent him reeling.
"Magos… The Deus Mechanicus hears you."
The voice was coming from nowhere, yet everywhere. Quill could tell no one else could hear whatever was producing the sound. "Blessed spirit? Is that you?" Nearby Armaros bellowed a warcry, breaking loose of the Scarabs and throwing one at the Wraith attacking Quill, knocking it aside for a precious moment of breathing room.
"You need more power, Magos. Always more."
"There is no more blessed spirit, this thing has overwhelmed us. I expected less resistance." Elsewhere in the tomb, explosives shook the walls. The Cryptek's incantation was very briefly halted, the constructs all briefly flickered in kind. Their directives distracted just slightly enough, Quill knew what made that sound. Standard issue Astartes grenades.
"What trickery is this, vermin?" Armaros pointed his flamer straight down, and sent a cloud of searing flames all around him. Clearing the Scarabs from his armor and giving him enough room to charge through to the tech priest. "Your monstrous thinking machines will soon be no more, Xenos," Sneered Armaros, "my brothers are wrecking your damned facilities as we fight. Kill us you might, but you'll soon run out of machine slaves to throw at the army above!"
The Cryptek simply returned to his ritual, "I care little for that, soon we will have the Necrontyr army to contend with your pitiful forces." Clearly the jeering and taunts wouldn't shake this one's resolve.
"There is power all around you, Magos. Take it. You will need all of it."
"Brother Armaros," Quill said through labored breaths as his augmetics recovered from a very unpleasant forced reboot, "I need to get to that power generator on our left." Quill uploaded the needed data to the Marine's armor, without looking Armaros noted the plasma generator fueling the Cryptek's spells.
"It will be done, Magos."
"That damned Wraith will not allow us to make it so easily."
"The First Legion works best when put up against impossible odds."
Quill's eradication ray charged again, sending a blast towards the Cryptek out of nowhere. The Necron's mannerisms betrayed nothing, as an energy barrier appeared to defend against the blast. Armaros began to carve through the Scarabs towards the generator. The Wraith came at them with alarming speed, but Quill sent another blast towards the Cryptek. Power was pulled from the awakening protocols for the slumbering commanders. The forcefield was reinforced, but Quill drove more of the holy motive force into his weapon. He approached the generator, and laid more withering fire onto the Cryptek. The barrier grew weak, and the Wraith was called back to protect its master.
Only then did the Necron realize what the Magos was planning.
"Stop them! At all costs!"
Quill's eradication ray went quiet, he scrambled with all haste to the generator and slammed his dataspike into the Interface port. Power surged within him, his weapons flared back to life. Volkite and Eradication fire chewed through Canopteks at an astounding rate. Armaros caught the wraith down the middle with his chainsword as it tried one last time to kill the Magos. It spasmed, and soon fell dead. The Scarabs had dwindled to negligible numbers until they could replicate more.
The sound of whirring machinery and clacking locks came from the barrel of Quill's gun, it was being fed with a different power source now. Green overwhelming energy launched from the barrel, tearing it apart in the process leaving nothing but a destroyed stump, the beam of power slammed into the Cryptek. A faint scream and a cry of enrapture filled Quill's auditory sensors from two different sources.
"More! We must have MORE!"
More power coursed over him, he felt the blinding white light begin to wash over his vision but he willed it away as best as he could. His other weapons pounded into the Cryprek's necrodermis, until he felt a steel grip pull him and his dataspike free of the Necron generator.
"Magos! Magos it's dead! Cease or you'll kill yourself!"
And just as fast, it was quiet again. No voice in his mind, no overwhelming power, no roar of battle. A ceramite boot smashed down on the last Scarab. "We… Should take a moment, Magos. To recover."Armaros turned to face where the slag remains of the Cryptek were, there was hardly anything left to recall to the repair bays but the process started. Its body began to fade as it warped, Quill shot the staff from its hand with his Volkite blaster just in time to prevent that from going as well.
"Magos, why did you-" Armaros felt his armor lock up, his body wracked with pain as electricity scoured it. He couldn't move, he could barely speak, everything was malfunctioning as Quill's data spike slammed into his armor, sending override codes at blistering speed.
"I believe, Astartes, it is time we forgo the charade. You should take better care of the security of your communication networks, especially your long range comms.
"I have no such comms!"
"I am a member in good standing of the Adeptus Mechanicus, I'm not so easily fooled or lied to. You thought I wouldn't check the Noosphere for abnormalities? Or search for outgoing and incoming communications? Did you truly think so little of me?" Armaros was silent now, his armor seemed to struggle to keep its shape, parts of it suddenly seemed wrong. Illusory technology faded, deep green turning to teal blue. A sword and wings was replaced by an equally ancient heraldry.
"I heard every word you said behind your 'brothers'' backs. I heard the only two words I needed to hear…" Armaros fell to his knees, straining against the intrusive code pouring from Quill but it was no use. He was no tech marine, and certainly no Lord Discordant.
"Why did you say, Hydra Dominatus?"
The death of the Cryptek below heralded the turning of the battle above. Canoptek creatures and Necron soldiers were bereft of all cohesion now. No leader was awake to guide their strategy, at least, that's what should be happening. They certainly had less elites, and the Canoptek constructs had reduced drastically but they were still competent, there was still a method to their breakout attempts.
Epsilon pulled his sword free of a Necron Immortal's head, the Cyberhound he rode carried him to any squads that needed his assistance, but they had regained the foothold of the battle. Every once in a while, Pythagoras tried again to hail him and return him to the rear command post but he'd managed to play it off as interference each time.
Kastelan reinforcements crashed into the Necrons, scattering what remained of their breakout attempt. Crushing the resistance they could manage under massive steel steps. Epsilon had just enough time to move his soldiers out of the way, and silently he invoked the Deus Mechanicus to end that miserable fool Pythagoras for his careless actions. Unfortunately, before he could return to directing the end of the battle and to the blessed veils of gorgeous data, a voice cut through his vox that he couldn't ignore.
"Marshal unit, Necron resistance is temporarily broken. Begin invasion at once. Send your teams in to start locating the holy archeotech."
"Lord Anaxagoras, statistical likelihood of Necron regroup and retaliation within the time that would take approaches absolute certainty. Standard protocols suggest-"
"I tire of your resistance, the conclaves have descended and will make planetfall soon. With priesthood personnel present, Necron counterattack efficacy reaches negligible levels. Magos Tahr'Kull has successfully decapitated the initial wave of Necron leadership, you have your orders now carry them out at once. Your performance has exceeded expected parameters, do not tarnish a victory with insolence and shame."
The vox link was cut again, abruptly. Epsilon could at least take comfort in the fact he wasn't ordered to turn himself in for a reset. He began to send the invasion order, against his better judgment but if they had backup from the Secutor and Dominus Magi then they may be able to break the Necrons with a decisive egress into their territory. Still, shouldn't they wait for the cohort first?
Dust began to kick up, in a rhythmic pattern. Almost like massive approaching footsteps, Epsilon gave a stop command to all Skitarii present. And looked up in time to see a lumbering monstrosity emerge from the shadowed depths of the tomb. He'd heard about these things, a previously believed antiquated model of sentinel construct. Unbeknownst to Quill and Epsilon, the Cryptek sent one last protocol, one last battle plan to the forces of the tomb world. A final spiteful decree that would ensure the Mechanicus would be too slow to stop more Necrons from waking up.
Epsilon looked up in horror and began sending emergency retreat protocols to everyone at the front line. As the Seraptek vaporized entire platoons of Skitarii in singular blasts of its horrific weapons.