Inside the immense spherical chamber within Mount Pharos, countless streams of luminous silvery data clung to the walls and floors like living nerves. The radiance pulsated rhythmically, sketching the outlines of ancient hieroglyphs. The Great Sage Cawl stood before a control panel pulsating with green light, operating the embedded component he himself had developed. With this, he had hacked into the ancient Pharos's core database and acquired the highest level of access. The undead constructs surrounding him were now under his control, showing no hostility toward any humans entering the hall.
The only problem remaining was that the recently liberated C'tan's Shards, Zarhulash, was difficult to manage. Upon appearing, Zarhulash had severely wounded Alpha, leaving him collapsed in a corner of the hall. At this moment, Alpha was struggling desperately to get back up. His once imposing proto-primaris power armor had been smashed, a huge crack gaping along the breastplate, along which bright crimson blood now oozed, coagulating over the battered plates. His pauldrons were twisted, the helmet's visor fractured. With every labored, blood-flecked breath, it was clear how grievously he had suffered.
Considering the terrible blow he'd sustained at the hands of Fabius Bile, this proto-primaris leader could truly be called unlucky. The moment Datch laid eyes on him, he couldn't help thinking such a man should always be escorted by helmet, laurel crown, and stretcher.
Overseeing all this chaos was the instigator, Zarhulash, floating above with an arrogant, self-important air. The C'tan's appearance was strikingly human; its skin shimmered like liquid silver metal, beneath which a star seemed to shine with unmatched brilliance. Its face was void of mortal emotion—only an aura of cold, furious, supernova-like majesty emanated from it.
This divine being was compelling the Great Sage Cawl to submit and seize control of the surrounding undead constructs.
"Abandon your fear of death," it whispered, "and let me grant you true freedom."
Before the Celestial War erupted, the masters of the galaxy were the Old Ones—ancient sages with near-immortal bodies, who used arcane technologies to weave webs and spread life to worlds across the stars. The Eldar owed their rise to inheriting the legacy of the Old Ones. The precursors of the Necron dynasties, known as the Necrontyr, also rose during this era. But, cursed by their home planet, their lives were desperately short. Not even genetic engineering could break the curse. When they encountered the ancient saints, they envied their lifespan and so launched the first war.
The Old Ones easily defeated the Necrontyr and exiled them. But the defeated became ever more radical. Determined to win, the Necrontyr allied with the C'tans, beings who devoured stars and were, at the time, pure energy. In order to bring these ancient beings to their side, the Necrontyr crafted bodies for them, allowing the C'tans to walk the world. Influenced by the C'tans, the Necrontyr sacrificed their own bodies and souls, uploading their consciousnesses into living metal—thus becoming the undying Necrons.
With the help of the C'tans, the Necrons quickly seized power, beginning a new war against the Old Ones—known as the Celestial War, the true dawn of despair in the world of Warhammer. This war marked the end of the pastoral age. The entire galaxy was plunged into violent conflict, as both sides wielded terrible weapons, changing the galaxy forever, fostering conditions for the rise of dark gods, and pushing the galaxy toward the precipice.
In the end, the Old Ones perished in the Celestial War for various reasons. The C'tans, weakened by internal strife, were then ruthlessly ambushed and shattered into Shards by the victorious Necrons. These Shards were locked into dimensional cubes, used as power sources and secret weapons. The C'tans, by nature energy beings, could return to their true forms—and freedom—if released from the bonds of undead shapes. In energy form, it would be far easier for them to reunite their shards and regain their former might.
Now, as Datch and his subordinates burst in, Zarhulash's gaze fell upon them, his aura menacing.
"Is there someone else here?"
Zarhulash's voice resounded directly in their minds with an arrogant, dismissive tone— not through air, but some kind of psychic resonance.
"Cawl, are these people yours as well? All feeble, pitiful beings."
Zarhulash stretched out his left hand. Silver light gathered, coalescing into an oddly-shaped silver scepter, its blade gleaming with mysterious energy. At the same time, a complex, majestic silver crown manifested above his head, projecting invisible pressure.
"Kneel. Submit. In this cruel galaxy, I may allow you wretched carbon lifeforms to survive, if you serve me."
As he lightly struck the scepter, rings of light rippled outward.
"With my return, the rules of the galaxy will be rewritten. Tremble, for Zarhulash returns to the world of men."
The Great Sage Cawl was about to shift his attention from his work to the Nameless One when... He had already prepared detailed emergency plans for such surprises, fully believing he could outwit this newly freed C'tan Shards. But before he could speak, he was stunned by the Nameless One's next move.
Datch raised a magical staff, emitting soft, pure light, and shouted a command. In the next instant, a burst of light exploded from the crystal in Datch's hand like a supernova, enveloping his form—its brightness outshone even the silver radiance from Zarhulash. Instinctively, everyone in the control room shut their eyes or dimmed their light sensors.
When the blinding glare faded, a majestic giant of light stood in the circular hall: a body of smooth, powerful silver, striped with red and purple, opal eyes, and a glowing blue energy core in its chest. Due to the rotunda's height, the giant stood only about fifteen meters tall—far from its past magnificent form—but its sacred presence was enough to inspire awe in all.
Datch originally wanted to transform into Tiga, don Emperor Armor, and test his battle power. But as soon as he assumed the form of Ultraman Tiga, he realized his energy was draining at an even more astonishing rate than when he had transformed into Unit 01. With Emperor Armor added, the transformation would break in under a minute. Deciding, Datch resolutely gave up that plan.
The core of the Great Sage Cawl's logic crumbled. No one had expected this enigmatic figure to hide such cards. Even Alpha, forgetting to spit his blood for a moment, stared blankly at the giant. The Scythes of the Emperor squad, led by Oberdeii, followed close behind—but they all froze, jaws dropped in shock.
The nameless one had transformed into a giant? Even Zarhulash displayed a rare look of surprise across his cold, proud silver face. But as a C'tan, even a Shards, his knowledge and arrogance far surpassed mortals. He soon reverted to his dismissive, probing regard.
"Interesting trick. I did not expect a new energy lifeform to emerge in the galaxy."
"But unfortunately, you now face the true ruler of time and space—the embodiment of physical law! Do you know the price of defying a god?"
"I'll give you but one chance. Kneel and submit, and your life will be spared. Otherwise, feel a force that can shake even the stars!"
Tiga said nothing. He counterattacked instantly with a lightning-fast punch. The titan's massive silver fist, wreathed in pure light energy, cut through the air and smashed towards Zarhulash's face! Zarhulash snorted coldly, swung his scepter, and instantly a wall of light appeared before him. The giant's punch landed on the barrier with a thunderous boom, a dazzling spray of light bursting wildly. The whole rotunda shook violently.
Immediately after, Zarhulash unleashed a scorching beam—a pulse intended to pierce Ultraman Tiga. Disguised as Tiga, Datch waved a hand, unleashing his own pulse beam; the attack struck the wall and vanished. Zarhulash, not expecting the giant—who was really a mere human's avatar—to possess such power, frowned. He flicked his fingers, sending a searing, high-energy ray straight towards Tiga's forehead, even pausing local time to freeze Tiga's movements.
The C'tan's attacks bent physics with devastating, blinding force. Datch retaliated, launching various beam attacks from Tiga's body; the two titans dueled fiercely, every impact sending destructive energy waves racing through the hall. Yet, for all his unmatched power, Datch as Tiga could not unleash Tiga's true might.
"Damn it, damn it," muttered Great Sage Cawl, realizing the plan could no longer proceed as expected. The nameless one must not fail. Swiftly, the sage rescinded his control of the undead constructs. The previously docile scarabs froze, all turning in unison to face Zarhulash. Countless green eyes locked on the C'tan. Top priority became subduing the escaped god.
The undead constructs attacked with unbelievable ferocity, swarming relentlessly; waves of them fell, only to be replaced by more. Datch, in Tiga's form, seized the opportunity to join in—the titan's heavy kicks, lightning punches, and strikes hit with overwhelming force. The aftershocks split walls and floor alike.
Although Tiga was in his normal form, Zarhulash—merely a Shards—was surrounded by undead constructs. With their help, Tiga gained the upper hand. Blocking the scarabs' assault, Datch crossed his arms in front of his chest, then suddenly swung forward, unleashing the Specium Ray. A blinding blue-white beam shot from Tiga's arms—its power breathtaking!
Zarhulash hastily formed another light barrier, but the beam shattered it and struck his chest.
"Uwaaah!" The C'tan's shard shrieked—a mixture of pain and fury beyond human. The silver body was hurled backward, crashed into the curved control room wall, and fell to the floor.
Seeing this, the Great Sage Cawl immediately regained control of the undead, ordering them to cease attacking the C'tan. Cawl could do so easily for two reasons:
First, the Mount Pharos was only protected by a defense pact—there were no true lord-tier units present;
Second, during prior cooperation, Zarhulash had revealed the Space Necron security protocols to Cawl, helping him secure control of Mount Pharos. Thus, Cawl could freely seize authority and command the undead constructs.
The Zarhulash, his eyes blazing with rage, struggled to stand. As Tiga passed by, Zarhulash let out a howl:
"Enough, you ants, you wretched carbon slaves! I am a god! The embodiment of law, the supreme divinity—I… I will never allow you to treat me this way…"
The furious declaration was abruptly cut short. Tiga strode forward and, with his giant hand, seized Zarhulash's ankle.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Clang!
Just like beating a sack, he smashed the C'tan's Shards into the ultra-hard metallic floor over and over. Each impact resounded with stifled groans and massive tremors through the hall—a brutal, almost comical scene of violence.
At last, Tiga let go and flung the battered Shards aside.
"And that calls itself a god?"
Zarhulash tried to retort but could only fall silent, suffocating with humiliation. Tiga fired a beam attack, shrinking the Overlord to human size and sealing his power. Almost immediately, Datch reverted himself. Now in human form, he staggered, close to losing his balance.
"Hah… hah… This energy drain is insane!" Datch felt his cells exhausted to the bone—a fatigue like being dragged on a 3-day trip with bookish neighbors and their strict parents, his legs nearly buckling under him.
"No wonder Ultraman's hosts can only last three minutes. Who could possibly handle that load?!"
After steadying his breathing, Datch turned to see Zarhulash, now human-sized and lying on the floor. Smiling, he produced a red and white Master Ball from his inventory. Gathering his remaining strength, he tossed it toward Zarhulash with a cry:
"Become my pet, Zarhulash!"
His words thundered around the hall.
"Pet...?!"
The Great Sage Cawl's logic circuits were nearly overloaded and short-circuited. He'd expected the Nameless One to be unpredictable, but to tame a C'tan Shards as a pet?! That was utterly beyond comprehension. It was worth noting—a C'tan was, at its peak, the living embodiment of the laws of matter, literally a god.
Just how many astonishing tricks was this man hiding? Could he actually be a Creator God?
Alpha and Oberdeii, along with the Scythes of the Emperor squad, watched on in stunned disbelief. The nameless one had not only defeated a C'tan, but tried to make it a pet!
A weakened Zarhulash roared. "How dare you insult the gods!"
Even weakened, Zarhulash was still a C'tan, inviolable. But as the Master Ball spun toward him, for the first time, real terror flickered in his heart. He struggled to destroy the ball but found himself powerless.
The ball struck his forehead and bounced. It opened, a red beam firing out and enveloping him. Amid his reluctant scream, Zarhulash's form was shrunk, pulled inside the ball with a hissing sound. The ball closed, fell to the floor, and thudded three times before finally clicking shut with a crisp snap.
The control room was as silent as the grave. All that could be heard was the faint hum of machinery and the ragged breathing of those inside.
The Scythes of the Emperor squad was slack-jawed, their expressions frozen with shock. Oberdeii wondered if perhaps the chapter's entire history—and xenobiology—needed revising. Had their ancestors ever imagined C'tans could be caught and kept as pets?
Datch walked over, bent to pick up the Master Ball, tossed it lightly in his hand a few times, then pocketed it with satisfaction.
He cast his gaze around, eyes settling on the former leader still coughing up blood in the corner. Alpha, noticing Datch's gaze, felt a surge of humiliation. Beaten by a traitor, wounded by a C'tan—he had shown nothing but a pitiful sight before this enigmatic stranger. No wonder the Great Sage valued others above him now.
I can only blame myself for being so useless, he thought.
Alpha smiled wryly and looked up at Datch. "Come to laugh at me?"
Datch ignored the NPC's speech and took out the magical Golden Hammer from his game inventory. Approaching Alpha, he gently tapped him on the cracked helmet.
Buzz—!
A golden light appeared. Alpha's battered body and armor began to heal—his chest's terrible gash visibly mended, twisted components self-corrected, broken bones and organs rapidly recovering.
Within a few breaths, Alpha found his strength returning, his pain gone, feeling even better than before. After holstering the golden hammer, Datch left with a spring in his step.
Alpha, feeling his body renewed, watched Datch's skipping figure fade into the distance with a complicated expression. He could not fathom why this person acted as he did. He'd always been cold and resentful toward Datch, even envied and disliked him…
Who could have guessed he would completely ignore old grievances, and help instantly when Alpha was wounded?
What a magnanimous heart!
Compared to him, what am I?… From this day on, none shall speak ill of the nameless one in Alpha's presence. If anyone dared slander or defame him…
Alpha quietly vowed—he himself would challenge them to a duel.
Great Sage Cawl noticed the change in Alpha. At first, shock, then gratitude, and finally zeal lit Alpha's eyes—leaving the sage uncomfortable.
"Alpha, I designed and raised you; your life sprang from my wisdom," Cawl chided, "but you belong to all of mankind."
Yet Alpha's gaze remained fixed on Datch.
Bitterness of jealousy welled up painfully in Cawl's heart. I am clearly your creator, he thought, but you worship another?
…
Datch was unaware of the deep-seated grievances between master and sage, father and son. He simply landed before the spirit-calling device—once used by Zarhulash to stabilize the Pharos, now with the C'tan relegated to being a pet. The stability of the Mount Pharos thus needed a solution— or else it would eventually collapse into a singularity, swallowing everything nearby.
Datch struck the main system with his golden hammer, sending golden light radiating from the impact, activating secondary systems to relieve stress from the main. At the same time, the Pharos's output was reduced to just enough for self-sustaining operation.
Immediately, Datch took out a teleport gun, opened a portal in the wall, and departed from Pharos's core.
Where did he go?
Oberdeii strode to the now-vanished portal, finding only cold metal.
"He's gone," Cawl intoned without looking up.
But after a few minutes, as the Great Sage concentrated on downloading and backing up the Pharos's core data, he suddenly witnessed, through the shared vision of the scattered scarab constructs, a scene outside that shook all his logical circuits.
After a pause, he quietly projected the external view on the control room's main screen.
"Take a look at this," he suggested.
Alpha, Oberdeii, the Scythes of the Emperor, and numerous Tech-Priests all looked up. The projection showed the Nameless One standing atop barren Mount Pharos, reshaping the Tyranid-devoured planet Sotha.
First, Datch produced the Weather Cube, summoning a spirit made of elemental energy to bring rains. Soon after, a round, vital spirit—Life Spirit—was summoned, singing a mystical song as it danced through the sky. Wherever it passed, countless tender green sprouts, wildflowers, and delicate saplings shot up from the dead earth, quickly taking root and spreading. Rainwater flowed, filling dried-up rivers and lakebeds, finally gushing toward the former sea. Blue water rapidly spread and rose.
A dead world had come back to life.
Color replaced grey over the canvas of the world.
Mountains and meadows burst into greenery, valleys rippled with blue, while even the wind through new leaves and the trickle of water could be faintly heard.
Inside the rotunda, the Scythes of the Emperor squad watched the outside in spellbound silence. The nameless one's actions matched the creation myths recorded in ancient legend.
...
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