Although the Silent King remained in endless slumber, able to spare only fragments of his will to watch over the movements of each subject, not a single Necron dared to defy his command.
Even the Overlords who commanded vast legions and ruled over entire galactic spiral arms would never dare utter a word of resistance against the Silent King's unceasing scrutiny.
This obedience was not merely because the Silent King was the great sovereign who had led the Necron race through the transformation of their very existence—from mortal flesh and blood to ascension as eternal star-borne deathless forms.
It was because, in truth, every Necron's consciousness was nothing more than a node of the Silent King's own will.
Though they had abandoned mortal bodies and obtained life everlasting in name, the cost of this eternity was that their cycle of existence and annihilation lay wholly within the Silent King's grasp.
From the lowest cannon fodder, to the skeletal warriors who formed the empire's hardened core, and even the mighty Overlords who controlled vast armies—every life, every status, every privilege, existed solely at the Silent King's whim.
Thus, when the Silent King, for the first time in countless millennia, directly issued such an unequivocal order, the Seventh Overlord had no choice at all.
Even should he crash headlong into a nascent god watching over the planet below, and even if that god annihilated him on the spot, there was still a very high chance the Silent King would resurrect him from the databanks.
But if he dared disobey and flee, then once the Silent King awakened, his death would be absolute—and there would be no possibility of rebirth.
"Drop the assault troops! Exterminate every moving thing on this planet!"
The Seventh Overlord slammed a hand on the throne's armrest, and a surge of viridian particles carried his order through every level of the fleet.
At that moment, a colossal pyramid—each edge nearly the length of the pirate star's equator—finally descended into position above the planet.
Like a green firmament, it unfurled to cover the heavens beyond the pirate world.
Once again, the sky turned into that dreaded deathly green which had long struck terror into mortals. Yet this time, it was far darker, far heavier.
But unlike before, the people no longer panicked, nor did they kneel to their so-called creators.
For that golden pillar of light still surged upward, ramming against the deathly green shroud pressing down. It remained steadfast—a presence they could trust, even worship.
With its support, golden radiance shimmered faintly across the firmament. Though still sparse, it was enough to shatter all oppression that the deathly pall had brought.
The people had already taken action, sending the elderly, women, and children into the underground shelters dug into the outskirts of Pangaea City.
The able-bodied stayed behind, armed with weapons, guarding every entrance.
Behind them, massive bio-metal gates, over a meter thick, were sealed tight. Even if every defender perished, they would not open from within.
Their conviction was now unshakable: if you want to erase our race and our civilization, then you must first trample across our corpses!
And they were but the final line of defense for the pirate star.
Fifty thousand Navy warriors, reforged into gene-enhanced Primarch soldiers, had already been stationed at every chokepoint within Pangaea City.
Encased in full ship-grade metal armor, wielding standard-issue chainswords alongside their customized auxiliary weapons, these fearless, battle-hardened elites would ensure the enemy paid dearly for every step of their invasion.
Meanwhile, the countless pirates and revolutionaries roamed throughout the vast new city, ready to wage guerrilla warfare and urban combat at a moment's notice.
The entire pirate star had been fully mobilized for a battle to the death.
And at this very moment, the enemy began their ground assault.
The side of the massive pyramid facing the pirate star shimmered, turning transparent, transforming into a veil of necro-green light.
Inside, endless rows of skeletal warriors erupted in emerald flame. Like dumplings dropped into boiling water, they plunged straight through the veil, drawn by the planet's gravity, crashing down upon its surface!
This method of planetary assault was unexpected, but perfectly exploited the traits of the Necron legions.
Necrons did not breathe; they required no landing craft or atmospheric carriers. Simply dropping them sufficed.
Their bodies were forged of bio-metal, impervious to heat or attrition. Even free-falling naked through the atmosphere, buffeted by frictional fire, they would suffer no harm.
And their impact on the surface rivaled meteorites.
When such a storm of bodies rained down like a deluge of emerald meteors, what world's terrain could possibly withstand it? Entire landscapes might be shattered to rubble.
Even the lowest cannon-fodder skeletons, built from the most inferior grade of bio-metal and incapable of enduring such colossal impact, mattered little.
Given time, they would simply reconstitute their frames and rejoin the fight.
Cannon fodder, after all, was made to be spent.
An aerial bombardment and orbital drop rolled into one—such was the force of a single wave of Necron assault.
In the Seventh Overlord's long galactic conquests, no world had ever withstood such an attack.
Ordinarily, a single fully equipped landing division was more than enough to annihilate all surface defenses of an advanced civilization.
But this time, under the Silent King's decree, the Seventh Overlord deployed not one, but twelve full divisions at once.
At all costs—this planet must be crushed.
If one could ascend high above the skies now, they would behold the sight: skeletal warriors of varying size and density falling like a torrent of green meteors.
The smallest in size—yet vast in number—were the cannon fodder units.
When these wretches of base bio-metal struck the dome woven from Roya's spirit and the planet's core essence, they melted instantly upon impact.
They failed to damage the shield at all; instead, they became fuel for it!
For bio-metal was a fusion of planetary essence and arcane energy drawn from the warp.
To the star-spirit and to Roya, breaking down this lowest grade of bio-metal and absorbing it as energy was effortless.
The Seventh Overlord was the first to notice the peculiarity of this golden-tinted shield. But never in his darkest calculations did he imagine that the Necron's most unstoppable tactic—the meteor-storm drop—would be broken so utterly here.
This was no longer an all-out assault.
It was, without doubt, feeding the enemy instead.
Please drop some power stones support me at my
PS: Access the complete/finished chapters/series at Patreon: NanamiTL