Chapter 143: Praise the God of All Machines

Fire, searing and burning, extended from the void, weaving into intertwined coronal ribbons that encircled the Burning Star-God's fragment.

The flaming figure moved at a speed Dante could not comprehend, evading the attacks of both Insect Saints.

In an instant, the fist wreathed in coronal fire tore through one Insect Saint's psychic shield and slammed into its chitinous carapace.

The Insect Saint staggered backward; the Burning One wielded fire as a blade, ripping a gushing wound across its chitinous shell.

Then, its searing fist drove into flesh, and blazing flames surged violently into the beast's body.

The beast let out a agonized scream.

The flames engulfing the Burning One ignited every part of its body; orange-yellow fire burst from the cracks in its chitinous shell, causing the Insect Saint's body to swell, heat, and glow red.

Then, with a thunderous explosion, the Insect Saint's body shattered, its charred flesh spraying everywhere, splattering across the already ash-blackened ruins.

"ROAR!!!"

A low roar emanated from the Burning Star-God's fragment, and the material world responded with a cry and tremor, as flames continuously erupted from the void in defiance of physical law.

The Burning Star-God's fragment spat out a string of stammering, strange words.

Dante guessed they might have been words once used by the Necrons.

Anarakel's metallic body stiffened slightly; he cast a swift glance at the Star-God fragment floating midair.

The fragment had just spoken the name of the Silent King in Necron tongue.

The voice carried traces of hatred.

This Star-God fragment seemed to be faintly recalling its ancient grudge, gradually slipping free of Anarakel's control.

The Star-God fragment roared, and the law-defying flames surging from the void coalesced into a blinding sphere of sunlight.

The Burning One seized the sun with one hand and hurled it toward the approaching Insect Saint.

In an instant, even the psychic shield woven from the power of the Empyrean ignited; the sun smashed directly into the Insect Saint's skull.

Instantly, the star exploded, and searing coronae and sparks devoured most of the Insect Saint's body, causing the beast to collapse with a crash.

Anarakel projected his will toward the Star-God fragment still partially under his control.

The Star-God fragment must journey to Tartarus, use its own power to manually align the Grand Prism, channel stellar energy into it, and ultimately ignite the entire star system.

May it still remain under Anarakel's command after completing this task.

The Burning Star-God fragment roared; searing flames coiled into a ring around it, then erupted outward, reducing everything nearby to ash, while the Burning One became a blazing fire Liuxing, shooting into the sky, piercing the atmosphere and entering the stars.

The alliance of Anarakel and Dante swiftly exterminated the last group of Tyranids guarding the mechanical spire and arrived before its sealed gate.

The gate of the mechanical spire remained shut; Anarakel disdainfully waved his hand.

The gate opened immediately; compared to Anarakel's impossibly complex mental labyrinth, these primitive human machines were child's play.

The Tyrant and Dante stepped into the ruined corridor within the spire, followed closely by the Blood Angels and Necron Warriors.

Pipes and machinery formed intricate passageways within the spire, while the rampant Tyranid symbiotes rendered the place even more horrifying.

Cadia warriors once stationed in the spire and workers who had not escaped lay dead along the corridors; the hive swarm feasted upon them.

The Tyranids turned their heads toward Anarakel and Dante.

Their mouths still dripped with the blood and viscera of the loyal.

Dante let out a furious roar; his power axe cleaved the beast's skull in an instant.

Anarakel seemed unwilling to be outdone; he stepped forward swiftly, his scythe flashing through the air, sparks crackling loudly.

Soon, Anarakel outpaced Dante by several steps, slicing through the swarm like a blade.

Whether it was an illusion or not, Anarakel felt a surge of competitive emotion within him.

"My Lord." Morpheston's voice suddenly echoed in Dante's mind.

Dante gave a subtle nod, knowing Morpheston was communicating with him via psychic means.

For Necrons, who lacked souls and could not touch the Warp, this method of communication was utterly secure.

"That Necron Tyrant named Anarakel is… unusual."

Morpheston's tone was thick with confusion:

"To be precise, all Necrons are unusual."

"Hmm?" Dante raised an eyebrow in bewilderment.

"They… have come alive."

Morpheston seemed to be organizing his words, striving for clarity:

"The Necron Tyrant is faintly resonating within the Warp."

"If ordinary humans in the Warp are candles about to be extinguished, his resonance is the faint spark flickering from the flame."

"This is not a true soul—merely something akin to a machine spirit—but he has indeed begun to resonate within the Warp, no longer a purely physical entity."

"And the other Necrons… seem to be developing the same tendency, though far weaker than Anarakel's." Dante blinked lightly; his Astartes-enhanced intellect swiftly grasped Morpheston's words.

Anarakel was resonating within the Warp.

This was deeply strange. According to Dante's knowledge, Necrons were pure soulless entities—cold machines whose every emotion was merely an intricate feedback loop simulated by metal circuitry, possessing no true feeling or soul.

In a sense, Necrons were merely hate-driven intelligences, utterly insulated from the Warp.

Yet Morpheston told him Anarakel had gained a faint soul, a resonance within the Warp—though Morpheston could not explain how this change had occurred.

Even Anarakel and the other Necrons themselves had not noticed this change.

Only Morpheston, with his immense psychic power, could perceive such a subtle shift in the Warp.

This matter held great significance for the Necrons. According to Dante's knowledge, many Necrons longed to reverse death, regain souls, and escape their cold bodies.

Dante glanced at Anarakel ahead.

The Necron Tyrant seemed to have grown excited from battle.

Dante and the Blood Angels were now six or seven meters behind him.

"Gene-witch-modified apes, you're moving far too slowly," Anarakel said, glancing back at Dante with contempt.

"." Dante stared at Anarakel for a moment.

Anarakel noticed Dante's strange gaze.

"What?" Anarakel tilted his blue-glowing head.

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"No, nothing," Dante said without blinking. "I just remembered something unimportant."

"What?" Anarakel asked, puzzled.

"Nothing. I've forgotten it." The Dante wearing the Golden Mask of Sanguinius gave Anarakel a slight nod, signaling him to proceed.

Though the Necrons had temporarily allied with the Blood Angels, they remained xenos—enemies of humanity; their regained souls might not be good for mankind.

Moreover,

Dante knew that if he could uncover why the Necrons had begun resonating in the Warp, and seize this secret, he could hold leverage over many Necron factions.

But now was not the time to investigate this matter.

Once the crisis on Baal was resolved, Dante would return to the Acheron System to investigate why this change had occurred.

Necron Warriors beside Anarakel occasionally collapsed, their living-metal bodies torn open by Tyranid attacks, then teleported away.

The Tyranids then tried to decapitate Anarakel, only to be slaughtered by him in return.

These Necron Warriors from the Acheron System's Perdita were far less loyal than Anarakel's Eternal Legion.

Unfortunately, Anarakel had to keep his veterans guarding his ship and stasis tombs.

Anarakel swung his scythe, dismembering the Necron Warriors who lunged at him.

Dante, wielding his power axe, advanced swiftly, hacking Tyranids into bloody chunks.

Together, their alliance pressed forward step by step until they broke through the swarm's blockade and reached the Grand Prism's central control platform atop the spire.

Anarakel's scythe swiftly cut open the control platform's door; he and Dante stepped inside.

All manner of incredibly complex instruments lined the platform.

But Anarakel's immense will could be imposed upon any machine, granting him absolute control over these steel constructs.

To Anarakel, these complex human devices were mere children's toys.

Overwhelming the control platform's will was as easy for him as subduing a child.

Meanwhile, those ignorant human Red Robes required elaborate rituals, prayers, and appeasements to command what they called "machine spirits."

Anarakel needed only a single thought and gesture to link his will to the control system.

The machinery hummed—but Anarakel paused slightly.

He could faintly sense, within this control platform linked to the entire Asford Grand Prism energy system, a simple, bestial will, babbling its joy through instinct.

It was singing in celebration of some presence's arrival—but that presence was not Anarakel. It was…

"Praise the God of All Machines. Praise the God of All Machines."

Fragmented, broken voices echoed in Anarakel's ears, causing him to freeze.

Then the control platform began humming, actively assisting Anarakel in adjusting the Grand Prism's power.

Children, I have returned.

(End of Chapter)