Chapter 613: The Reserve, Stand Fast!

Howling spiritual energy erupted across the surface of a Lament-class assault vessel.

Melphiston's spiritual energy coalesced into a spear shimmering with starlight, tearing through the void to pierce the living-metal hull of the vessel, leaving a molten burn scar.

The Red Tear's light lances and macro-cannons followed, effortlessly shredding the crescent-shaped Necron vessel.

The Blood Angels' fleet, centered on the mighty Glorious Queen-class battleship Red Tear, launched a swift strike against the exposed left flank of the Storm King's fleet.

The force guarding the Storm King's left flank was led by Zhalang, overlord of the vassal dynasty Alrimalok.

This Necron overlord had never suppressed his impulse to pursue the Wailing Angels, and like Nazar on the right flank, chose to turn his course rightward.

This left Zhalang's left flank protruding and vulnerable.

When the Blood Angels' fleet suddenly appeared, Zhalang did not order a halt to the turn or a reformation of formation.

For he saw the Storm King had unleashed three Star-fragment deities, and assumed the Blood Angels' fleet could never break through the line formed by three such entities.

Only after Xigaoqi emerged from the Webway and used lies as threads to deceive and manipulate the three Star-fragment deities into turning on each other did Zhalang frantically order his fleet to reverse course.

He demanded his fleet swiftly shift from right turn to left turn to block the Blood Angels, but it was already too late.

Xigaoqi warped spacetime with the Master Star-fragment, instantly shortening the distance between the Blood Angels' fleet and Zhalang's fleet—within the blink of an eye, the human fleet sliced into Zhalang's like a sharp blade.

At that moment, Zhalang's fleet was still executing his left-turn command; the two maneuvers overlapping caused his forces to descend into chaos.

Emerald light exploded in the void, countless vessels torn apart, the entire universe seeming dyed green.

The Red Tear was a streak of crimson within that emerald, the flagship of Saint Guilliman, the Primarch's warship, the Glorious Queen-class battleship's might laid bare before the Necrons.

Powerful Necron vessels were crushed by the Red Tear and the nine Melphistons standing atop its prow, as the ship surged straight toward Zhalang's flagship.

Zhalang desperately called for aid from the Storm King, begging him to turn leftward to support him.

"Has Xigaoqi stripped him of all military sense?!"

The Storm King growled in accusation.

This was not an insult to Zhalang—it was the Storm King's genuine perception: since Xigaoqi's appearance, nearly all Necron minds had grown dull, impulsive, easily deceived.

This was Xigaoqi's power—he was the Great Jester, the First Fool, the God of Deception and Trickery; his laughter slowed all life's thought, his mockery weakened reason and stirred impulse.

It was under this effect that Zhalang made his fatal error.

The Storm King fixed his gaze on the battlefield displayed before him.

Now his forces resembled a banana peeled halfway.

His own forces were the flesh, still pressed against Nazar's on the right; Zhalang's forces were the peeled skin, stripped away.

This created a gap between the Storm King's and Zhalang's forces, and the gap was widening.

If a fleet now appeared and drove straight through this gap, the Storm King's forces would be split cleanly in two, and his center would be exposed to enemy fire.

But the Storm King had no intention of obeying Zhalang's plea and turning left.

For such a move violated military logic—even if he did, his fleet would only appear behind Zhalang's forces, blocked by their chaos.

This would not aid Zhalang against the Blood Angels; instead, it would separate his fleet from Nazar's on the right, scattering his entire formation.

The Storm King stared at the battlefield—not with fear, but with rising exhilaration, an unmatched battle-lust surging within him.

This feeling rippled through his body, making his cold metal frame feel not cold, but strangely satisfied.

A vector swiftly drew itself on his battlefield map: it extended from his fleet, curved rightward, spiraled in a circle, and formed an ellipse pointing behind the Blood Angels' fleet.

This was the Storm King's solution: keep turning right, loop around in the void, and position himself behind the Blood Angels to strike them from both front and rear with Zhalang's forces.

But speed was essential—he must act before the enemy reacted.

Fortunately, speed was the Necron fleet's strength. The only obstacle was the Wailing Angels.

A single chapter of a thousand Astartes, mostly newly cast recruits.

Crush this pebble.

The Storm King swiftly ordered Zhalang to hold his line at all costs and block the Blood Angels, and commanded Nazar to crush the Wailing Angels immediately.

On the Tears-of-the-Maiden, flagship of the Wailing Angels,

blood, shattered metal, damaged ceramite power armor, and emerald coolant mingled together,

gunfire,

Nazar, overlord of the Storm King's vassal dynasty Sekhtal, received the Storm King's order.

This massive, heavy-built overlord naturally wished to crush the tiny, insignificant Wailing Angels fleet before him.

But the tenacity of this force exceeded Nazar's expectations: despite being vastly outnumbered by Necron vessels, the Wailing Angels had not retreated a single step, clinging to their line and entangling themselves in constant combat with the Necrons.

One Wailing Angels vessel after another fell in horrific fashion, many even sacrificing themselves in suicide attacks to take down Necron ships.

Yet even such horrific losses failed to shake the Wailing Angels' formation even slightly.

As if they had endured far worse battles than this, rendering them utterly fearless before the Necron fleet.

Nazar had to admit—he was awed by these humans, stirred with a sense of respect toward them.

To fulfill the Storm King's order and to honor these humans, Nazar boarded the Tears-of-the-Maiden, seeking to decapitate their commander directly.