Chapter 688: The Hive Mind, I Have Brought You the Twenty-Second Century

The roar of beasts rose from the Stone Fortress as the Titan Hive Saint rose towering above the ramparts.

Several Titan Hive Saints were simultaneously deployed atop the Stone Fortress, and the fortress’s firepower instantly locked onto those colossal bio-beasts, massive as mountains.

Artillery rained down, and blue ripples spread across the bodies of the Titan Hive Saints like waves crashing in succession.

Psynergy—around each Hive Saint swirled an extremely potent psynergy shield, and Azriel, leveraging his Astartes’ transcendent power, faintly perceived a blue, shell-encased brain with tentacles hovering above each Hive Saint’s body.

Around those blue brains floated countless smaller spores, their brain tissue exposed, seemingly interconnected into a psynergy matrix that, in concert with the Hive Saint’s internal psynergy tissues, wove a powerful psynergy network, transforming each Hive Saint into a siege engine armored in psynergy.

The Tyrant Brain Cysts, these extraordinary psynergy-bearing Hive Tyrants, fused together with the Hive Saints.

Azriel’s heart tightened; he involuntarily imagined himself as the Stone Fortress’s commander, pondering how to break the deadlock.

But he soon realized his concern was unnecessary.

The head of one Titan Hive Saint flew into the sky, a golden flash vanished, and pure white wings beat as it soared away.

Saint Guilliman had joined the battlefield unseen, instantly piercing through the psynergy barrier woven around the Titan Hive Saint and cleaving off its head with his Spear of Vengeance.

That was the Primarch.

Azriel’s eyes trembled slightly—it was the first time he had witnessed a Primarch fighting at full power; even bio-Titans endowed with immense psynergy could not withstand their strength.

Suddenly, Azriel felt a sensation—he tilted his head slightly, gazing toward another Titan Hive Saint nearby.

He saw several leaves drifting down from the forest, and a figure clad in dark green power armor appeared on the Titan Hive Saint’s back.

The Brain Tyrant sensed the figure, its brain tissue writhing as sharp psynergy lightning erupted from nowhere, lashing toward the intruder.

The Kite Shield swung, effortlessly deflecting the psynergy lightning; a sharp power blade slashed downward, splitting the Brain Tyrant cleanly in two.

Then the blade pierced deep into the Titan Hive Saint’s brainstem.

Azriel’s gaze was utterly fixed on that figure.

Father.

“Brother, it’s our turn.” Haelir appeared behind Azriel, his voice low.

Azriel’s body trembled slightly; he nodded and retreated into formation.

Their ship soon departed from the Stone Fortress, joining the fleet, attempting to break through the encirclement of the Hive Fleet.

It was not difficult—the Glory Queen-class battleship Red Tear and the Abyss-class battleship Dora Cabinet began to unleash their extraordinary power.

They tore a gap through the bio-fleet and led the armada like a spear thrust toward the designated target: Ziafrya.

“It’s going smoothly,” Azriel murmured.

But no sooner had he spoken than he felt it—a sensation of being watched, of being stared at—as if an invisible giant eye in the void was fixed upon him.

Azriel followed the direction of the gaze and saw only deep void—and a planet.

A planet?

Azriel had read the data on the Tiamat system; he knew its seven planets had not been entirely consumed by the Hive Mind, but instead were modified, twisted, and covered by a Hive bio-layer.

Every blade of grass, every bacterium, every virus on these planets was a branch of the Hive gene-tree… Could it be?

As if to confirm Azriel’s thought, the planet in his vision trembled visibly—the surface, covered in mycelium and chitin, slowly parted, revealing a grotesque, fleshy maw lined with countless spinning, razor-sharp fangs, as if ready to swallow the entire fleet whole.

Azriel’s suspicion was confirmed—it was a planetary-scale Tyranid organism.

Sharp tentacles erupted from the planet’s body, lashing toward the Imperial fleet; the entire fleet’s formation twisted under its immense gravity, drawn toward the tentacles.

At that moment, countless mini-Dora-Cabinets burst forth from within the fleet, each carrying a crimson cloak that collided with the tentacle.

The tentacle, fired from the planetary-scale Tyranid, was violently repelled.

But it was not over—the planetary-scale Tyranid beast charged straight toward the fleet.

The ship beneath Azriel shuddered violently; only by pushing its engines to full power did it resist the gravitational pull.

“Prepare for impact!” Haelir roared. “Orders from above: the gravitational environment will become extremely complex shortly.”

Gravitational environment complex? Azriel was still pondering what could cause such complexity when, high above this system, the Saint Dora-A-Meng, locked in battle with the Hive Mind, moved.

A round fist slammed into the Hive Mind’s face, forcing it to roar and stagger backward into reality; seizing the moment, Saint Dora-A-Meng’s round hand plunged into the pocket on its belly.

Three planets were pulled from the pocket—three planet-sized Necron constructs glowing with emerald light, their surfaces covered in black stone.

World Engines—the Necrons’ planetary warships—were cast into the battlefield.

Instantly, the gravitational environment within the system became wildly complex; the Hive Fleet was thrown into chaos by the gravitational upheaval, while the Imperial Fleet, anticipating this, barely held its formation.

Simultaneously, all planets except Ziafrya began to tremble—their mycelium and chitinous shells split open, revealing their biological nature.

The six planets besides Ziafrya were all planetary-scale Tyranid organisms.

Three World Engines immediately unleashed their firepower upon the six Tyranid planetary organisms; a stalemate formed in the void.

Three against six. Azriel watched the battle in silence—under these conditions, the World Engines were clearly at a severe disadvantage.

At that moment, a searing light erupted from one of the World Engines.

On the World Engine, Auran felt the rhythm of the stars, the surge of heat and light beneath dimensions.

A hollow divinity called to Him.

Auran knew how to ascend into a Star God—he had done so more than once—but he disliked the feeling.

It was a tearing sensation, a hollowing—his original will dissolved into divinity, like a drop of water vanishing and diluting in an ocean.

Especially since being granted a soul, every time he recalled that sensation, he felt a piercing agony deep within his soul.