Chapter 111: The Traveler Anlakai

The pale green flame of Gao Si’s energy rifle illuminated the pitch-black Pertita.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, stepped onto this frozen planet, his body radiating a pale blue glow.

His precious warriors, the towering Undying Necrons, walked beside him.

In the age when Necrons were Stillborn, these Undying warriors were the professional soldiers of the Stillborn Dynasty.

Their metallic bodies were larger and more robust than ordinary Necrons, advancing like hammers along the battle line.

The enemies blocking their path were the grotesque, mad Skinsawers.

These were Anlakai’er’s own kin, now transformed into deranged monsters.

Their bodies hunched and draped in simian skin and flesh, their metallic frames sprouted razor-sharp claws.

The Skinsawer Curse was a curse placed upon the Necrons by a dead Star God.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, found this infuriating.

These infected ones were undeniably a stain upon the Necron Empire’s eternal dominion.

And the dynasty slumbering beneath this planet, Pertita, had clearly been infected by this same stain.

“It makes me want to vomit,” Anlakai’er, the Traveler, said with revulsion.

Even though he had long since lost the ability to vomit.

“Cleanse these Necrons who have succumbed to the ‘Landugor’ Curse.”

Landugor was the name of the Star God—the Skinsawer “Landugor.”

The Necrons had truly killed Him, not merely shattered Him into fragments.

Thus Landugor cursed the Necrons, spreading a blasphemous cognitive virus.

Those infected by it descended into madness, craving the flesh of the living.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler’s, soldiers eradicated the Skinsawers wandering the planet’s surface.

Meanwhile, other Necrons, their bodies enveloped in orange light, began appearing on the planet.

Their orange-red glow mimicked stellar radiance, bathing the frozen world in light.

In stark contrast to Anlakai’er, the Traveler’s cold blue aura.

The Meifurei Dynasty.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, coldly recalled the identity of the slumbering royal nest on this planet.

The ruler of this dynasty was the Overlord Zalasusa.

This dynasty excelled in harnessing stellar energy, knowing how to use a star’s immense heat as power or weapon.

They had been awakened by the alarm of Tyranid invasion.

And that same alarm had summoned Anlakai’er, the Traveler.

Unlike his deranged kin, erratic and brimming with destructive urges,

He had come to reforge the great Necron dominion; thus he could not allow the Tyranids to devour his kin’s worlds—or the entire galaxy.

He came to protect. He came to aid.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, moved his metallic frame toward the Necrons glowing with orange light.

“I am Anlakai’er, the Traveler. I am the Overlord. I am the Awakener. I come to reunite all Necron dynasties.”

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, declared with pride, head held high:

“I am your aid. Be grateful!”

The Necrons glowing with orange light stared blankly at Anlakai’er, the Traveler, like true corpses.

“Oh,” they replied to Anlakai’er’s lengthy proclamation.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, was instantly disappointed.

It seemed these kin’s minds had been damaged by their long slumber. May their ruler still retain basic sanity.

“Take me to your Overlord,” Anlakai’er, the Traveler, said.

The Necrons glowing with orange light shifted their metallic bodies slightly, clearing a path for Anlakai’er, the Traveler.

“The Great ‘One Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken,’ Zalasusa, awaits you,” said the Necrons glowing with orange light.

“One Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken”?

A foolish title.

Anlakai’er, the Traveler, thought, as he followed the orange-glowing Necrons into the dark mountains.

On a crimson sofa, Viceroy Augustus Flax lay like a pile of slumped mud.

He swirled a crystal goblet in his hand; the rare red wine within swayed, filling the air with the scent of alcohol and grapes.

This was the underground palace he had designed and planned for years.

After the Tyranids descended upon the planet, Augustus Flax had hidden here.

But he was not ignorant of events beyond. Long before the Tyranids arrived, he had released numerous Servitor Skulls into the city.

He could use them to observe conditions within the city.

The streets of the Lower Nest of Fudia were packed with terrifying Tyranid creatures.

Augustus Flax watched them crawl across the ground, devouring everything within sight.

Yet the Imperial Guard had clearly prepared in advance.

Before evacuating, they had planted explosives in certain buildings; when the Tyranids, drawn by the scent of biomass, entered, the explosives detonated.

In the districts still held by the Imperial Guard, they had erected street fortifications along narrow alleys.

Cadian shock troops and local Asford thugs guarded these fortifications together?

Augustus Flax spotted a familiar figure atop one of the fortifications.

The figure noticed the hovering Servitor Skull, smiled, and looked up toward it. Augustus Flax felt his muscles lock rigidly; his whole body trembled involuntarily.

Zhou Yun stood before the Servitor Skull, staring at him, lips curled in a chilling smile, his gaze piercing through the skull as if directly stabbing into Augustus Flax’s heart.

He raised his laser rifle and pulled the trigger—

A searing laser beam shot toward Augustus Flax.

“Aaaahhh!!!!” Augustus Flax screamed in terror, as if the laser had truly pierced his body.

The Servitor Skull was shot down. Augustus Flax immediately switched to other nearby Servitor Skulls.

Before he could even shift the feed, those skulls exploded under a barrage of laser beams.

Augustus Flax nearly vomited from fear.

He curled up, hastily switching the feed away from the Servitor Skull near Zhou Yun.

The displays on the servitors continued showing the Tyranid-occupied city.

This sight, oddly, brought Augustus Flax a sense of relief—as if the planet’s fate had nothing to do with him.

Suddenly, a shadow flashed past the Servitor Skull.

It was a massive, six-to-seven-meter-tall abomination, covered in chitinous armor and bearing four sharp limbs.

!. Read

It twisted its triangular head toward the Servitor Skull.

Its horrifying eyes glowed with malice, hatred, and resentment.

Augustus Flax’s crystal goblet shattered on the ground, crimson wine pooling into a dark stain.

“Tiberius.”

Augustus Flax whispered his brother’s name through clenched teeth.

It was coming. It was coming for him.

Zhou Yun rubbed his eyes and woke from the Lower Nest’s fortification line.

Imperial Guard soldiers often say tomorrow and death arrive unpredictably.

But this time, for the Imperial Guard, tomorrow arrived first.

Zhou Yun stretched his limbs and rose from his ground mat.

General Droster sat beside him, exhausted.

“Incredible,” General Droster sighed. “Amid gunfire, artillery, and the Tyranids’ shrieks, you still managed to sleep.”

Last night, the Tyranids had only launched minor harassment raids, yet the sounds of war had been deafening.

General Droster prided himself on his battle-hardened endurance, yet he could not match Zhou Yun’s ability to sleep soundly on the battlefield.

Zhou Yun had lain down on his mat and fallen into sweet sleep in less than a second.

General Droster could only envy him.

Seeing General Droster’s weary expression, Zhou Yun knew he had not rested well.

Yesterday’s daytime battle had successfully repelled the Hive Fleet’s first assault.

The Tyranids needed time to digest the six-tenths of the Lower Nest they had captured, and time to hatch and produce new units to gather strength for their next attack.

The Cadian Shock Troopers gained brief rest; Zhou Yun, General Droster, and Leina each got some sleep.

“How long did I sleep?” Zhou Yun rubbed his temples.

“About three hours,” General Droster replied wearily.

His sleep quality paled beside Zhou Yun’s; exhaustion clung to every inch of him.

Zhou Yun exhaled slowly, as if expelling yesterday’s fatigue.

He was a mortal, not an Astartes or Primarch—he still grew tired and worn.

But fortunately, his current sleep quality was high; three hours of rest was enough to dispel much of his weariness.

“Want to rest a little longer?” Zhou Yun stood up, looking at the exhausted General Droster.

He knew General Droste had undergone a life-extension procedure, but he still showed signs of aging.

“Cardians are not this fragile,” General Droste said, his tone suddenly tightening.

He stood up, his body straight as a man far younger than a hundred years.

For an instant, Zhou Yun felt General Droste’s exhaustion had vanished into thin air.

But soon Zhou Yun realized General Droste had merely buried his exhaustion deep within his body.

“Today will likely be another hard fight,” General Droste said calmly.

The hive swarm has already secured a foothold at Asford; digestors, capillary towers, and hatcheries must already be under construction.

More and stronger Tyranic creatures will appear within the hive city.

And the gene-thieves have yet to show themselves.

After the two stepped out onto the street bastion, Leina and Old One-eye stood beside a table behind it, frowning at the map on it.

(End of Chapter)