Robert sat up in bed and opened his eyes. However, the scene that greeted him was no longer the Spartan office he had grown accustomed to, cluttered with data slates and holographic projections.
Before him was a macabre banquet. A dim, matcha-green light cast down from a towering ceiling, carrying a sickly, spectral chill that illuminated rows of neatly arranged metal skeletons.
These were the Necrons. At this moment, they were clumsily yet persistently attempting to stuff fresh flesh and blood from the tables into their mouths. However, their living metal bodies lacked digestive organs; the chunks of meat simply slid down their hollow eye sockets and metal faceplates, leaving behind crimson streaks and stray bits of fur. The scene was as grotesque as it was absurd.
Having just been roused from a deep sleep, Robert's mind went blank for a split second. Then, reality set in. There was no panic, no screaming—instead, he felt a strange sense of relief. He knew that the moment he had been tensely awaiting for so long had finally arrived.
Calmly, he began to mimic the actions of the Necrons. He reached out and grabbed a hunk of raw meat, still matted with fur and dripping with blood. The meat emitted a primal, musky stench, but he didn't hesitate to shove it into his mouth. After all, "consuming flesh" was something he had already experienced back when he first entered this world.
However, as he began to chew, he noticed something odd. The texture of the fibers and the specific gaminess were entirely different from the taste of human flesh in his memory.
"Huh? This isn't human meat," he muttered to himself after a few chews.
Admittedly, even Robert wasn't sure if he should feel happy or miserable about possessing the "skill" to distinguish the taste of human flesh.
"Necrons are not cruel, alien," a voice rang out from the head of the table. Robert looked up to see the one seated at the center: the Matriarch of the Maynarkh Dynasty, **Xun'bakyr**. "We will not force you to devour the flesh of your own kind."
"Uh," Robert put down the meat, which was now stained with blood from the corner of his mouth. He wiped his face. "But if I'm not mistaken, your next move is to exterminate all life in the Orpheus Sector."
"Yes, but what has that to do with cruelty? These aliens have no merit to our species," Bakyr replied coldly, its optical sensors devoid of emotion. "Following ancient etiquette, we shall grant you the duration of one solar cycle. At that time, the fleet of the Maynarkh Dynasty will descend to cleanse these short-lived beings who have stolen our domain."
"No need to wait that long. We are already prepared," Robert looked Bakyr directly in the eye. "You can come right now."
Bakyr's head tilted slightly, as if processing this unexpected response. A flicker of something—was it *interest*?—passed through those hollow eyes.
"We Necrons follow etiquette regardless of an alien's thoughts," Bakyr's voice remained calm, but the underlying pressure intensified. "But human, we shall remember these words of yours."
As soon as the words fell, Robert felt a surge of intense vertigo. The entire macabre banquet shattered like broken glass, twisting and deforming. When his vision cleared, he found himself back in his familiar office within the underground bunker of Amara Prime.
Golden light filtered down from the ceiling, casting mottled shadows on the floor. Everything looked so real, as if the "banquet" had been nothing but a bizarre dream. However, the lingering metallic taste of blood in his mouth and Bakyr's chilling words in his mind served as stark reminders: it was no dream.
Taking a deep breath, Robert tried to steady his racing thoughts. He picked up the vox-caster on his desk and hit the emergency call button.
"Assassin, get over here immediately," he said, his voice laced with urgency.
Within moments, the office door pushed open, and Assassin appeared at the entrance.
"Assassin, gather the others. We're holding a meeting," Robert said bluntly.
Assassin looked surprised, his eyebrows arching slightly. "Ah, so you know already, Doctor?"
His gaze then fell upon the corner of Robert's mouth—the lingering, dried blood—and the tiny hairs clinging to his sleeve. "Oh. You were just pulled away by the Necrons, weren't you?"
"Hmm?" Robert paused. He hadn't expected Assassin to guess so directly, but he caught on quickly. Assassin's tone and the phrase "you know already" clearly referred to a major event. "Did something happen to the binary stars?"
Ever since they had settled in the Orpheus Sector, everyone's attention had been locked onto the Karakur binary stars. If Assassin was asking if he "knew," the first thing Robert thought of were those two celestial bodies foretelling catastrophe.
"Yeah, they went supernova. About an hour ago," Assassin walked to the desk, his voice tinged with a complex mix of emotions; he was clearly shaken by the cosmic spectacle. "The view outside is quite beautiful right now, Doctor. You should see it for yourself later—I won't spoil it, but it's a miracle of nature like nothing we've ever seen."
He paused, then added: "Also, Lord Macragge has already convened the Senate. High-ranking officials from the Navy, Guard, and Astartes are all there. When he heard you were still sleeping, he said to let you rest a bit longer and they'd just send you a copy of the minutes later."
Robert touched the corner of his mouth, his fingertips meeting the cold, dried blood. He looked at his blood-stained sleeve and shook his head helplessly.
"Joining halfway through wouldn't be ideal, and looking like this..." He gave a wry smile, gesturing to the remnants of alien flesh on his person. "I'd better clean myself up first."
Robert stood up and walked toward the small sink in his office. He looked at his reflection—tired, yet burning with a strange excitement. The blood on his lips and the fur on his sleeve were proof that it hadn't been an illusion. The Necrons had awakened; the curtain on the war had been pulled back.
He turned on the tap. The cold water washed over his face, flushing away the lingering images of the green-lit banquet. As he washed away the filth, he knew that a challenge unlike any other was waiting for him and the rest of human civilization.