Chapter 39: The Will of the Omnissiah
This wasn't a machine spirit's wrath. No, in the eyes of the Tech-Priests, this was nothing less than divine intervention.
To the adepts of the Mechanicus, the sudden awakening of the city's ancient macro-cannons could only mean one thing: the Omnissiah had descended.
Battered old anti-air emplacements, once dormant, roared with sacred fury. Their gears churned, pistons shrieked, and barrels glowed as they hurled barrage after barrage into the heavens. The sky above the hive city became a crucible of light and thunder as ancient flak batteries and massive Earthshaker cannons turned their wrath toward the skies—toward the Necron invaders.
Bathed in the glow of the rising firestorm, a Tech-Priest dropped to his knees, static-laced praise escaping from his vox-grille in reverent Binary.
"The Omnissiah walks among us. This is no malfunction. This is a miracle."
Servitor-choirs marched alongside robed machine acolytes, swinging censers and chanting binary hymns to soothe the raging machine spirits. But their efforts were in vain. The guns would not stop. They were beyond appeasement. They were angry.
Under this divine fusillade, the Elegy-class assault ship, a Necron warship capable of annihilating entire battlegroups of Sword-class frigates, began to falter. Its shimmering green hull sparked under the relentless assault, shimmering like a wounded god.
From above, Trazyn the Infinite watched with growing irritation.
"These primitive, hairless apes are interrupting my entertainment."
With a casual flick of his hand, he dispatched phalanxes of Necron Warriors to cleanse the surface of resistance.
Yet even as Godzilla's earlier radiation beam had nearly torn the Dirge-class ship in half, the true horror of Necron technology revealed itself.
The damage began to reverse.
No servitors. No engineers. No repair drones.
Just metal, warping and knitting itself back together. Plates that had been slagged and scattered reassembled themselves as if time itself had turned back. Hull fissures closed. Structural integrity returned. Even vaporized components were being remade from nothing.
"Still not destroyed…?"
[That's a Necron ship. Surely I don't need to explain the problem with that.]
Living metal. Not even the Adeptus Mechanicus had anything close. The Imperium required multiple capital ships to put down a single Necron vessel. The best way to kill one?
Join a gang.
That was how Godzilla remembered it—jokingly, half-mockery, half-truth from old Warhammer memes. And yet, it was working.
Trazyn, however, ignored the hive's futile counterattack. It might sting, but it wasn't enough to take down the Elegy-class. His focus returned to his true prize: suppressing Godzilla.
"Continue the attack."
But the ship didn't respond.
Trazyn's emerald eye flickered. He scanned for feedback from his ship's systems—only to freeze.
"What... When did those scaly beasts get inside my ship?!"
Deep in the interior of the Elegy-class, the Lizardman Jump Gang had breached the hull. At their head was Isis, personally leading the assault.
Necron warriors opened fire with Gauss Flayers, beams of molecular unmaking ripping across the corridor. But Isis stood tall, her psychic barrier gleaming violet-blue against the green energy. Behind her, the lizardmen responded with fire of their own—literally.
Yellow flames spewed from their jaws, washing over the living metal bodies of the Necrons. Limbs blackened, plates cracked, and the air filled with the sound of sizzling metal.
"DRINK!!"
With a thunderous stomp, Isis slammed her staff down, unleashing a psychic shockwave that tore through the corridor. Necron Warriors and beetle-like Scarabs were blasted backward, collapsing into their auto-repair stasis states.
Her warriors moved in without hesitation, smashing skulls with spiked clubs, seeking to keep the Necrons offline long enough to do real damage.
It wasn't a kill. But it slowed them.
And that was all they needed.
"These metal bastards just don't quit!"
But Isis's momentum faltered as a sudden pressure pressed down on her mind. Her psychic strength began to shrink—like a well running dry.
"Blackstone..."
The device had activated. She could feel it. A null-field, resonant with the same tech used in the Blackstone Fortress. It wasn't just suppressing her power—it was killing it.
"You noticed me…"
A voice echoed through the corridor.
"Pitiful reptiles."
Trazyn the Infinite stepped forward, robes glittering with arcane circuitry, the head of his staff humming with energy.
"Your power is nothing in the face of the Necron dynasties."
Isis snarled. "How dare you say that."
But she knew—this was Necron supremacy. Their anti-psychic tech could negate even the ruinous powers of Chaos. Cadian Blackstone Obelisks had once held back the tides of the Warp itself. Her psionics were next to useless.
"I know who you are, Trazyn. Lapdog of the C'tan."
Trazyn's expression twisted, his single eye narrowing. "Lackey of the Star Gods? Where did you hear that filth?" Then he paused, eye scanning her closely. Her limbs, her skin, her ears...
It clicked.
"You... You know we were once the Necrontyr. How?"
Trazyn's mind began to race. Isis and her kin—scaled, bipedal, psychic—resembled the creations of the Old Ones, the ancient toad-like beings who once ruled the galaxy. It couldn't be. The Old Ones had been extinct for over sixty million years. But...
"Are you… one of them?"
Isis said nothing.
She didn't need to.
"It can't be. The Old Ones made many races—Orks, Eldar, even those damned Hrud. Another… it's not impossible."
But Isis growled, "I don't care what an 'Old One' is. I only serve my god—Godzilla."
Trazyn scoffed. "Whatever you are, get off my ship."
He slammed his staff into the floor. The corridor flooded with Necron reinforcements. Warriors. Scarabs. Deathmarks.
But then the ship shook violently.
A blue-green beam of nuclear fire tore into the left flank of the Elegy-class. The hull twisted under the heat. Alarms shrieked across the vessel.
"What in the Void—this energy output... this is biological?!"
Radiation levels spiked to catastrophic. Trazyn's diagnostic systems went into panic mode. The signature was unmistakable. Nuclear reaction organs. No Necron had ever seen one in a living creature before.
"He's doing it again! Another beam—?!"
The second blast rocked the ship. Isis didn't hesitate. She launched forward like a bolt of psychic lightning.
"WHAT?!"
Trazyn tried to retreat, but she was too fast. Faster than an Eldar Howling Banshee, she slid beneath the hail of Gauss fire, dodged scarabs, and brought her chainsword down in a blur of motion.
Trazyn raised his staff just in time.
CLANG!
But the blade bit through.
The ornate tomb-royal form of Trazyn the Infinite was split in half.
And then—he was gone.
His form dissolved into green mist, revealing the shell was just another puppet—a low-ranked Necron warrior. Trazyn had transferred his consciousness before the final blow. He always had a spare.
"Hmph. Such strength. Such speed. No doubt—Old One craftsmanship. Just like the Eldar."
His gaze returned to Godzilla. For the first time, he looked beyond the threat and saw the data.
Power signatures. Mass. Internal reactor structure. Organ density. Radiation flux. Core venting capabilities.
The results were staggering.
"My Silent King… This creature has a nuclear reactor inside its body?!"
Even the Necrons—masters of living metal and quantum technology—felt awe.
Because if there was one thing even they feared... it was radiation.
And this creature was made of it.
******
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