"This statue bearing the likeness of the Emperor... it cannot truly be a functional Titan, can it?"
Vulkan stared at the grand icon, hesitating as a wave of sheer bewilderment washed over him. The Lord of Drakes and his gene-sons were masters of the forge, renowned for crafting their own masterwork armor and uniquely stylized vehicles. Yet, despite having forged countless relics, some of which were massive enough to be mounted as starship weaponry, he had never conceived of anything quite so absurd.
Beside him, the automata chimed in, addressing his unspoken doubt.
"This is a specialized heavy ceremonial machine constructed in the image of the Holy Aquila's Master. However, its baseline combat efficiency is suboptimal." The automata's monotone voice echoed through the chamber. "By the Adeptus Mechanicus' strict structural classifications, this chassis qualifies as a Warlord-class Titan. However, its battlefield efficacy exceeds that of a standard-pattern Warlord by a mere 172%."
The automata's declaration plunged the chamber into an even more bizarre silence.
The four Primarchs had all marched alongside the Emperor during the Great Crusade. As they collectively tried to visualize a battlefield populated by towering, metallic iterations of their Father's visage, sprinting across the mud while swinging colossal power swords, they felt a profound sense of cognitive dissonance. Yet, when they pictured that majestic form utterly annihilating the enemies of the Imperium, the concept somehow ceased to feel entirely unreasonable.
"Warning. Vessel entering the Warp conduit. External viewing ports closing."
The abrupt, synthesized warning echoed throughout the massive hull. Lion immediately shook off his bizarre reverie, turning toward the attendant automata and demanding, "What is the meaning of this?"
The automata raised a hand in a placating gesture before explaining, "Authorization protocols have been fully executed. My Lords, please follow me to the primary bridge."
With that, the cybernetic guide began to move forward.
Swallowing their trepidation, the Primarchs and their retinues followed closely. As they departed the grand chapel, the four demigods cast one final look back at the hundred baseline humans standing in the distance. Strangely, the knot of unease in their chests loosened slightly. Though the Men of Iron's revelations were nothing short of terrifying, the data gathered thus far proved one consistent truth: these ancient machines had never spoken a falsehood.
They had no choice but to trust them.
As the Void Sword suddenly roared to life and plunged headlong into the Immaterium, the trailing Imperial vessels left in its wake fell into a state of minor panic. Such an unheralded, sudden translation into the Warp was deeply unsettling.
However, once vox-communications were established between the gene-sons of the respective Primarchs, the alarm was quickly suppressed. These were the Primarchs, after all; any panic on their part would be entirely redundant.
By the time the Void Sword broke realspace and exited the Warp conduit, Guilliman and his brothers had just been escorted by the automata into a colossal, spherical chamber.
The curved, panoramic walls of the compartment projected an unblemished view of the void outside the Titan-ship. Not far away, suspended in the dark vacuum, was a desolate, rocky world. As the Void Sword's scanning arrays, systems vastly superior to anything possessed by the modern Imperium, snapped back online, the image of the planet was instantly magnified, dragging the terrain into sharp focus before their eyes.
The sharp-eyed Jaghatai was the first to notice the far side of the planetary projection.
"There… an Aeldari xenos fleet!"
Unlike Imperial warships, which routinely utilized a planet's shadow to evade augur detection, the ancient machine-intelligence utilized cosmic background radiation fluctuations to create a mirror-imaging effect. This allowed them to map obscured sectors with absolute precision, utilizing advanced logic arrays to render the data into real-time imagery. Within the Titan-ship's direct scanning envelope, which spanned several astronomical units, all conventional forms of stealth were rendered utterly useless.
As the view of the planet's far side was rotated into full view, a fleet composed of over a dozen Aeldari vessels could be seen holding position in low orbit. Beams of sapphire and brilliant emerald light flashed between the surface and the void.
Yet, this was no simple orbital bombardment. On the cracked crust below, the Aeldari forces were launching a desperate assault against a massive, monolithic blackstone fortress belonging to the Necrons.
And the tide was rapidly turning against them.
Amidst the Aeldari frontline, flares of dimensional displacement light flashed continuously. Squads of Hexmark Destroyers, insane, heavily modified Deathmarks, materialized directly into the xenos ranks. Their six appendages, grafted on by mad Crypteks, brandished hyperphase thresher blades and synaptic disintegrators, while the seven emerald optical lenses arranged across their arachnid skulls flickered with malevolent green light.
The moment these specialized Destroyers emerged from dimensional transit, the slaughter began. Their emerald beams dissolved the surrounding Aeldari warriors into atomic dust in a fraction of a second.
Nearby, Skorpekh Destroyers tore through the center of the battlefield, their hyperphase reap-blades flashing in deadly arcs. The three tripod legs of their heavy skeletal chassis stamped down, easily impaling the fragile armor of Aspect Warriors. Whole squads of Aeldari were reaped like chaff, their bodies left broken and dismembered.
Hovering behind them were strange, snail-like Necron constructs moving on compact, tri-pedal chassis. These Canoptek Plasmacytes continuously injected arcs of erratic, emerald energy into the Skorpekh Destroyers. Enveloped in this volatile power, the Destroyers' lethal efficacy spiked exponentially, their combat doctrines devolving into pure, unadulterated frenzy.
A short distance away, cohorts of Heavy Lokhust Destroyers drifted over the jagged terrain on anti-gravity repulsor sleds. Their upper torsos were fused with devastating gauss destructors and enmitic annihilators. Thick beams of green light raked across the stone, leaving behind glowing, irradiated furrows; the Aeldari caught in the backwash vanished into ash before a scream could even clear their throats. Even the heavy Fire Prism grav-tanks, constructed upon the venerable Falcon chassis, were being torn open like cheap tin.
The Aeldari counter-offensive was proving utterly futile. The focused lances of light fired by the Fire Prisms were dissipated harmlessly across shifting quantum shielding, while the Necrons' return gauss fire sheared effortlessly through the unshielded wraithbone hulls.
A towering Canoptek Reanimator lurched across the blood-soaked earth. Flanked by a phalanx of Immortals, it cast beams of sub-atomic restoration upon the shattered remains of fallen Necron Warriors. Almost instantly, the living metal began to re-knit and repair itself, the mechanical horrors rising once more to resume their cold slaughter of the xenos. Further back, Canoptek Doomstalkers unleashed a devastating hail of fire from their underslung twin gauss flayers and the massive doomsday blasters mounted atop their towering statures.
Yet, as the Primarchs scrutinized the unfolding carnage, Guilliman's eyes locked onto several familiar figures scattered among the xenos lines. Amidst the distinctive heraldry and armor liveries of the Craftworld Asuryani, he spotted the unmistakable markings of the Ynnari.
The hololith display shifted rapidly, zooming in on a desperate pocket of resistance.
A lone Aeldari female was fighting like a demon possessed. In one hand, she clutched a device that bore the distinct, clinical design language of the Iron Men; in her other, she wielded a shimmering power blade, weaving through a phalanx of Necron Warriors like a gale of wind. With every elegant sweep of her blade, mechanical heads were severed from their torsos.
Despite the chaotic distortion of the feed, Guilliman recognized her instantly.
"Distress signal origin confirmed," the automata's voice cut through the silence. "Quantum signal alignment complete. Warp-beacon guidance array activated. Teleportation systems engaged."