novelHome #3444 - Flayer's Captive
#3444 - Flayer's Captive
After gathering the main members of the Bone Dynasty, Sochoyan announced that he would once again lead the Bone Dynasty on an expedition. This time, the target was to hunt the Genestealers, servants of the Star Dragons, who needed to be prioritized for elimination, and there would be plenty of prey!
However, during the mustering of troops, another group of Flayers appeared. Through the crowned generals leading the legion, Sochoyan learned that they came from the Orosk Dynasty, which had now been destroyed. During a conquest campaign, they were ambushed by a mysterious force, the Phaeron was killed in battle, most of his subjects were annihilated, and the remaining survivors had to seek refuge with Drazakh's Bone Dynasty.
This shocked Sochoyan. The Orosk Dynasty was practically under his control, but now it was completely wiped out, a huge loss.
He should have met with the leader of the Orosk Dynasty sooner. If they had been transformed like Valgûl, they would not have been easily destroyed. However, his inner resistance to the power of the Star Gods caused the matter to be delayed again and again.
And now it had led to trouble.
Without even thinking, Sochoyan guessed who was responsible, but he could only blame himself.
Besides this, Urgûl also had a unique gift to offer Sochoyan, something he had obtained unintentionally and had been waiting to give Sochoyan upon his return.
When Sochoyan was led by Urgûl to the massive prison in his royal court, he was immediately attracted by what was inside—
The bells began to ring, their chimes were shrill and chaotic, echoing across the land, foretelling the arrival of apotheosis. From Sukan's proud capital of Mistra, to Kradis's fortress, and even further afield, the mountains trembled, the earth cracked open with huge fissures, and emerald lightning tore across the sky. The ignorant commoners, fearing the impending doom, cried out.
But Rakzan knew this was not the end. He stood before the towering bio-transformation furnace, filled with pride and anticipation, his army behind him.
He was once a prince of the Sukan Dynasty. When the great Triarch Council issued the order for bio-transformation, he sincerely believed it would turn the tide of the war between the Necrontyr and the vile Old Ones. Their bodies were too fragile to fight those who possessed endless life but refused to offer any assistance, instead inflicting numerous sorcerous curses upon the Necrontyr. Bio-transformation would free them from the pain of flesh, embrace eternity and power, and their armies would gain the strength to crush the Old Ones and their weak servants.
The only problem was that his family, even his people, were too ignorant and weak. They feared change, they resisted the Star Gods who generously extended their hand to the Necrontyr.
Rakzan was furious. He craved victory, not to cower in their increasingly barren homeland and wait for death.
Authorized by the Triarch Council, he launched an attack on his own dynasty. His father, brothers, and sisters were caught off guard, even thinking he was mad, and the people began calling him the "Demon Prince."
The time of bio-transformation was at hand.
A狂暴 wave surged through the capital world of the Sukan Dynasty, a huge rift tore open the sky, dispersing the surrounding dark clouds. Above the massive transformation furnace, the most supreme and powerful beings could be seen, shining like the sun, praising his efforts. Following them was a foul stench, the odor of decay, the smell of burnt bones, and a pungent musk.
An indescribable scream tore through the air, growing louder every second, until the blinding light ignited the final layer of the transformation furnace.
Scorching soulfire erupted from the abyss, massive black stone spires surged forth like fangs, and the soul-seizing bells echoed, their piercing ringing drowning out the land's gradually slowing tremors, seemingly forcing it into submission.
Rakzan opened his arms and took the first step.
An era had ended, and another was about to begin.
The moment of rebirth for the Sukan Dynasty was at hand!
"My lord, he came here willingly, alone, with an empty tomb ship, prepared with many weapons."
Black grit and cold ashes swirled in the wailing wind, slapping against the metal face of Sukan Dynasty Phaeron Rakzan. Around him stood countless gray figures, obedient warriors and Immortals advancing against those elusive enemies.
Rakzan's sensory circuits clearly received every impact on his metal body. Since his organic organs were replaced by those hard materials, all senses had become analytical signals for logic circuits. Every microscopic damage caused by particle impacts would awaken the living metal on his face to repair it, but he didn't actually feel anything.
Suddenly, he quickly took a step back, as a longsword flashing with ghostly blue light swept past an inch from his face, the humming sound emitted from the blade somewhat resembling the sound of a scarab.
It was an Aeldari swordsman wearing phoenix-decorated armor and a tall red crown. Missing the strike, he did not continue his attack, but deftly avoided the Phaeron's next possible counterattack. These swordsmen possessed the most basic precognitive abilities, able to sense events a few seconds or even a dozen seconds in the future.
He avoided all trajectories before the high-speed rays arrived, the blade in his hand striking like a viper's tongue.
The protective orbs on Rakzan's body flickered, allowing the deadly blade to only slightly cut open his completely metallic face and the headdress bearing the dynasty's insignia.
The Phaeron retreated a distance, noticing his injury, but he was even more insulted that a mere insect dared to touch him.
In an instant, the wound that had split his lip had already closed, and the scepter in his hand stabbed out like lightning, but the opponent had already moved out of his attack range.
The vile attacker pulled back and lowered his stance before suddenly leaping up, unleashing a series of slashes, blocks, and thrusts, attempting to breach the Phaeron's defenses. Rakzan's ornate scepter repeatedly blocked the attacks in a flash of sparks, mechanically and efficiently blocking and countering an opponent with cunning sorcerous power.
Suddenly, darkness enveloped the two, and the Aeldari swordsman realized something was wrong. However, in this night shroud, his psychic powers could not be used. Just as he tried to escape, Rakzan appeared behind him, swinging his scepter to break the opponent's weapon, then using the bladed head of the scepter to cut the opponent's throat.
Aeldari blood drew a familiar arc. Watching the head, along with the tall helmet, fly in a parabola through the air, Rakzan's memory circuits briefly sparked, as if the being he once called father had met a similar end.