The Return

It is the forty-first millennium. For more than a hundred centuries, the Emperor of the Imperium of Man; has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Holy Terra.

He is the Master of Mankind by the will of all Mankind to which owe him fealty and devotion. He is the Lord of over a million worlds by the hand of his inexhaustible armies.

He is a rotting carcass that writhes in eternal pain and anguish. His soul, forever anchored to the Material Realm by the powers and sciences of forgotten machines from the Dark Age of Technology.

He is the Carrion-Lord of the vast Imperium to whom a thousand psychic-souls are sacrificed everyday to so that he may never truly 'die.'

Yet even in his undeath state, the Emperor continues his ever vigilant defense of Mankind, to which his soul is ripped apart over and over again, only being reconstructed with his psychic strength.

Numerous battlefleets roar with power and might as they battle in the vastness of space against the numerous armadas of the Imperium's enemies.

Crossing the daemonic realm of the Warp, the only way for humanity to traverse the great lengths of space. The path of which is laced with the servants of the Four, only being stopped from harassing the fleets by the light of the Astronomican.

The psychic manifestation of the Emperor's power and will. The only thing that which assists the Navigators of the Imperium to traverse the Warp.

Vast armies battle on uncountable worlds in the glory of His name. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines.

Bioengineered super soldiers, their comrades in arms are legions.

To name only a few:

The Imperial Guard, men and women conscripted from every corner of the Imperium to be the first line of defense of the Imperium against any and all threats that oppose it. Countless trillions call themselves guardsmen with each one of them averaging only a few hours of combat until finally being replaced by another guardsman.

The Innumerable Planetary-Defense-Forces, planetary armies which are made to protect their planets from threats so innumerable and mighty that the Guardsmen's line fell and allowed those same threats to conquer Imperial worlds.

The ever-present Inquisitors of the Inquisition, men and women trained to oversee the internal protection of the Imperium through the oversight of not just Imperial civilians but even to that of the Adeptus Astartes. Nigh only the highest of ranking officials in the Imperium do not answer to an Inquisitor.

The Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus, those who are adepts of the Martian vassal of the Imperium. They are the greatest scientists and engineers of the Imperium of Man to whom seek the Tech-Priests assistance and aid for their sciences and technologies.

The Adepta Sororitas of the Adeptus Ministorum; the only military power of the Adeptus Ministorum, the Adepta Sororitas or their Low Gothic name of 'Sisters of Battle,' are the mortal power armored maidens of the Ecclessiarchy who fight in the name of the God-Emperor.

They are only a few of the nigh dozens of different armies of the Imperium.

But for all their numbers, they are barely enough to oversee the innumerous fronts and battles that which calls for numerous millions of men each to hold the ever-present threats of Humankind.

From xenos, heretics, creatures of monstrous origins, and abominations that the mortal mind has little power to comprehend.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold trillions. It is to live in the darkest, most wicked, and bloodiest regime imaginable. This is a tale of such times.

Forget the power of technology and sciences, for so much has been forgotten and lost, to never be remembered or found again. Forget the promises of progress and understanding. For in the grim darkness, there is only war.

There is no such word for peace in the times of the Milky Way.

There is, and only be, an eternal cycle of carnage, slaughter, death and suffering...

With the laughter of thirsting Gods resounding throughout the cosmos...

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In the fringes of one of the Imperial worlds, there battled the Imperial armies of the 278th and 72nd Infantry Regiments.

Alongside them were the sons of Vulkan, the Salamanders of the Adeptus Astartes. And along with them were the Maidens of the Ecclessiarchy, the Sisters of Battle of the Adepta Sororitas.

Summoned to the world of Korus VIII because of the awakening of the unknown but dreaded Necrons. For the Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus uncovered that the world of Korus VIII was a horrific Tomb World of the Necrons.

It was here, at the center of the capital city of Attunia, where the Imperial Guardsman made camp and solidified their defenses, though meek as they were compared to the weapons of the Necrons.

It is only with the power and might of the weapons of the Salamanders and the Sororitas that the city has yet to fall. The Necron soldiers' gauss weaponry disintegrates any and all matter it touches as even the the hardened Ceramite of the Marines quickly disappear as if it hadn't existed.

With reinforcements incapable of advancing to the aid of the forces, they are left with only the choice of defending the planet but the thunderous sounds of the waking Tomb World makes even Captain Mez-Kalur, captain of the present Salamander force, doubt the survival of the city.

For over a week, the Imperial forces did their best to defend the city, the autocannons of the city already depleting their last reserves as their supplies already depleting to nearly none with the last of the .75 caliber ammunition only capable of supplying only a few hundred of the nearly two thousand Astartes and Sororitas.

Mez-Kalur already commanding the ammunition-less Astartes to use their chainswords and power swords alongside any weapon they could use.

As the sounds of the marching of the soulless legions of the Necrons thundered outside of the city's battered and crumbling walls. Mez-Kalur had only one thought in his mind.

'If I shall die today, I shall take down as many of them with me. They may be Legion but my will and a few dozen frag grenades shall assist me in burning these xenos with me.'

"Lord-Astartes."

Commander Arthur Brivetus said, commander of the 72nd Infantry Regiment and the stand-in Commander of the 278th as the former died from a gauss flayer.

"Commander Arthur, what brings you to me?"

"I have come to inform you that some of my guardsman have seen the orbital machines working, I have overlooked it and have noted that a gigantic fleet of over a hundred vessels are arriving to the system."

"And have you checked the communications systems? Has there been any word from the Ministorum, my Chapter, and the Militarum?"

"Unfortunately, my Lord... There were none to be listened to."

"Then what vessels are arriving here?"

It was in that moment did Mez-Kalur felt great anguish and sorrow as the information of over a hundred vessels arriving at their location meant only one thing.

A xenos incursion into Korus VIII for unknown reasons. Many documents stated that each time a Necron Tomb World was awakened, it was expected for the Eldar to quickly arrive at or nearby the Tomb World.

For in the archives of some Eldar libraries were the stories and tales of a War, on a scale unimaginable to even the Adeptus Astartes who know of it.

It is here where the Imperium first learned the name of the Necrons and their Star Gods, the C'Tan.

With haste, Mez-Kalur informed his battle-brothers of the newfound information.

"Brothers! It is in the quickest of haste of Commander Arthur that I have been informed that a fleet of over a hundred vessels are to arrive here."

His voice carried with it the gentleness of their gene-sire but the strength also attributed to him.

His battle-brothers quiet and near noiseless, standing ever at the ready.

"And yet, in these turbulent times I have tried my best to keep our spirits up but I tell you now that lying shall not assist us in our goals.

It is my upmost regret to inform you that this fleet is not one of friendship and allies but one of unknowns and mysteries.

One of, most likely, xenos origins with their exact race unknown. The highest probability of which is placed on the Eldar."

His brothers remained stoic and silent. Commander Arthur standing at the side of the Captain, awaiting orders from the Marine.

"But let it be known that when our lives are inscribed into the Imperial Records. Let it be known! That we died taking down as much of the xenos with us!

This world may be lost but we will not give it without a price. A price of blood and steel!"

At the end of his speech, the Space Marines all unsheathed their swords, raising it to the sky with the sounds of the marines using their free hand to hit their chests, making a thunderous noise akin to an applause.

"Lord-Astartes. Orders?"

"Prepare your men with any tools or weapons you can find. A guardsmen never dies without taking down his enemy with him."

Commander Arthur nodded and quickly walked away to his company.

Behind all of them were the Sororitas, having only a magazine for three quarters of their numbers. It was through the wits of Canoness Preceptor: Sister Alexandra, who reserved at least one magazine for each of the Sororitas.

They were high up the buildings and roofs of Attunia. Even if a single bullet does nothing to the Necron, it shall hinder its advance.

As the Necrons advanced to the center of Attunia, the guardsmen started raining Lasgun fire on them, nothing affected the Necrons as the Lasgun's nickname of 'Flashlight,' truly lived up to its name that moment.

The Astartes stayed behind as their tactics called for the immediate evacuation to the city hall of Attunia.

With the nearing of the Necrons, the guardsmen immediately retreated to their fallback line. The Necrons taking down a few of the retreating guardsmen.

The remaining guardsmen, stationed in defended areas behind the Astartes and the Sororitas directly commanded by Sister Alexandra.

From here, the battle became a mess as the onslaught of the Necrons advanced slowly yet with each step another dozen or so men and women died.

With the last of the Sororitas ammunitions depleted, they relocated from the buildings and roofs and reinforced their Canoness at the city hall.

Side by side, Guardsman, Astartes, and Sororitas fought. None of them were discriminated or left as every man and woman were targeted by the Necrons.

From the broken windows of the city hall, Necron scarabs rushed through them as they picked apart many of the remaining ten thousand guardsmen.

The bodies of the guards taken to be used for whatever malicious and monstrous reasons the Necrons would have.

'Glory be to the martyred. Praise to the warriors of the Imperium. For there is no greater glory than to die in the name of the Emperor.'

Mez-Kalur thought as his right shoulder pauldron was made to ash from a lone gauss flayer. Already he could feel the pain on his right shoulder.

Then suddenly, the Necrons stopped in their carnage as all of them looked up to the sky. The Imperial Forces were perplexed as to why such things happened.

I'm response, the guardsmen reorganized their forces with the Astartes and Sororitas killed as much Necrons as they could while they were paralyzed.

It would be a lone guardsmen who looked up at the sky who saw the truth.

"Commander! Commander! Ships! Ships in the sky!"

Immediately, Commander Arthur looked up into the sky and... He gasped.

"N-necrons."

With the speed of a transhuman, Arthur ran to Mez-Kalur to inform him of the happenings.

"Lord-Astartes! Lord-Astartes!"

"Commander. What has taken you to a craze, my friend?"

"Ships... In the sky. Of- of Necron design."

"No."

It was in that moment when Mez-Kalur lost all hope in victory as the sheer image before him made him cease in his movements.

His battle-brothers looked at him with confusion at first then looked up at the sky and knew that their defeat was imminent and their deaths close.

Or worse, they be taken in as prisoners of war and be experimented for unknown reasons.

It was then when their judgement was but carried out that drop pods were sent down yet to the horror of the Imperial Forces, these drop pods were ten, if not, twenty times larger than that of the marines' own.

As the drop pods crashed unto the surface of the world. The sheer force of the impact making the faintest of quakes, the pods were silent for a few seconds until a hissing sound was made.

Indication that they were about to open up. Sounds that only an animal could make resounded from the inside of the pods as puffs of smoke emanated from the opened entrance.

Then, as if ordered, the things. No. Abominations stormed out of their pods and roared into the sky.

These monstrous abominations were akin to the Orks yet also not. They were meters in height, nigh as large as a titan one could say.

Their tusks lengths far larger than that of the greenskins as one could see the sharpness of them, their sharpness having a glint with a near shine upon them when the starlight shone on them.

The muscles one could see on the super-orks were ginormous, beyond even the proportions of a marine. Even a standard man could see that all that muscle and meat could weigh more than an Imperial Knight.

Yet what truly took the attention of the Imperial Forces was not the gigantic height or the large muscles of these bioengineered weapons. No. It was the dark green, almost jade, color of their eyes.

It would only be moments later when the present Necron soldiers would start raining Gauss fire upon the 'orks.'

In response, the 'orks,' took the resistance of the Necrons and firmly stood their ground as if hit by a mere fire from a lasgun.

Amazed from these revelations, Mez-Kalur ordered for all Imperial Forces to regroup back in the city hall and stay hidden from all enemy and unknown forces.

"Retreat."

"Excuse me, Brother-Captain?"

"I said retreat, brother! Retreat to the city hall!"

Without a moment's notice, the Marines started their retreat as guardsmen followed yet stopped by Commander Arthur.

"Commander Arthur! If you'd have a mind on the situation, you'd also order your men to retreat! I advise you too, Canoness."

Both officers nodded at Mez-Kalur. Not wanting to argue with one of the Emperor's Angels.

Looking back at the firing Necron soldiers, Mez-Kalur could see that the one of the Orks was nearing the Necrons, its movement slow as its skin, uncaring to the gauss firepower it was under.

Turning his head, Mez-Kalur was about to run to the city hall but in front of him stood another of the Orks.

Its eyes staring directly into his as the saliva of the creature flowed out of its mouth and made a pool of itself below it.

Knowing any resistance would fail him, Mez-Kalur took his destiny head first and saw the inevitable and did not resist.

Standing firm in his defiance, Mez-Kalur hoped that the abominations would not come to harm his brothers and newfound friends.

Keeping his eyes shut, Mez-Kalur heard the grumble of the beast until, to his surprise, the beast walked right past him and ignored him.

Was it an act of mercy? Or was it because the beast did not see the Astartes as a worthy enough specimen to kill?

Mez-Kalur did not continue his train of thought as he sprinted to the doors of the city hall.

Springing with the greatest power the marine could conjure, he sprinted past the door as behind him, his brothers closed it shut.

"Ho-how did you survive, Brother-Captain?"

"I- I do not have any thoughts as to why, brother. Maybe the beast did not see me as any threat, it saw me as a being to be ignored."

"It is the God-Emperor! He made a shield around you, Lord-Astartes!"

From his back, a lone guardsman shouted as his fellow guardsmen tensed, prepared to be reprimanded by either their commander, or worse, Mez-Kalur.

Commander Arthur already at the ready to oversee punishment yet Mez hindered him to do so. Instead giving a remark to the comment of the guardsman.

"I would hope so, guardsman... I would hope so."

The Imperial Forces remained inside the city hall as the sounds of the battle outside filled their thoughts. None dared to peer out, even from the windows, the risk of the beasts seeing them and wanting a 'dinner,' was too great of a risk to take.

And so, for hours, the remaining men and women of the Imperium on Korus VIII sat and stood in silence inside the hall.

__________________________________________________

Up in the skies of the void, beyond the atmosphere of Korus VIII. The armada that which constituted of Necron design laid idle as those on the ships waited for the Tork to finish their onslaught.

Inside the command chambers of the largest vessel of the armada: The Construct of Souls, sat upon the Seat of Dominions, Amhir-Urena.

Who's name in the human tongues was the Lord of Souls or the direct translation of Soul Lord.

It is this armada that which constituted a total of over a hundred vessels though the true size of which exceeds even numbers of the War in Heaven.

Inside the command chambers, the C'Tan Lord of Souls oversaw the conquest of the world below.

"The Torks are proceeding as expected, my Lord. The soldiers of the False King's dynasty fall under the weight of the Torks power.

Under further calculation, our tactical-strategics modules say that the presence of the Maldurai are not needed.

The decision still falls upon you, my Lord. What shall be our course of action?"

The humanoid form of the C'Tan: a slender figure, as slender as an Eldar's, coated around darkness as the only things giving light to the godly being were its shining purple eyes.

"We will not send the Maldurai. They shall be needed on other fronts, fronts that which the Torks have no such experience in. Diplomacy."

The Lord's voice ever so light on the tone yet having the power to pull in a being's ears and drown them with his voice until they were but fixated on him.

"Calculations estimate a 23.2% for the humans on the world to be open to peaceful talks. A further 43.7% if we were to only speak with the humans' super warriors of the Space Marines."

"In the end, if they prove to be stubborn against us. They shall be no obstacle to our goals. Send a team of the Maldurai to speak with the Marines.

If they prove too stubborn, inform the Maldurai that lethal force is to be applied."

"By your orders, my Lord."

After that, the Lord of Souls stood from the Seat of Dominions and spoke.

"This is the day when the C'Tan re-emerge into the galaxy. The day when the Fallen Ones shall know that their rebellion may have succeeded but they shall know that they have lived on borrowed time.

Time which I was generous to give to them to start awaking from their slumbers. They will know of death and destruction, they will know the true meaning of torment and anguish.

For their only destinies shall be to fuel the fires of our war machines."