With the boarding order given, Rhodes's sons surged like a tide onto the Necron fortress. Teleport flares lit the surface as hundreds of Marines appeared on the outer edges.

Their armor shimmered with Pedanium shields; chainswords and power swords hummed, hungry for battle.

"For the Gene-Father! For Glory!" Titus raised his power sword and charged a Necron Immortal.

His sword sliced a blazing arc, cleaving into the Necron's metal body. Sparks flew as sword met Gauss weapon. The Necron was split but lashed back with a Gauss spear. Titus dodged, then hacked off its head and tore it apart.

Emboldened, the Marines pressed the attack.

But these Necrons are no ordinary foes—they know no fatigue, pain, or fear. They counterattacked mercilessly.

The fighting was fierce—chainswords screamed.

"These metal skeletons are tougher than I thought!" Titus cursed, pressing forward.

"Hold formation, advance by squads of ten, groups of a hundred under their own officers—move!" he ordered.

Meanwhile, Tyberos led the Space Sharks in a brutal assault—chainswords roaring, tearing through Necron ranks. Pedanium ray guns fired rainbow beams, burning through Necron armor. The Necrons had no real defense against them.

"Kill these xenos! Show them our power!" Tyberos shouted, chainsword shredding a Necron.

The Space Sharks fought ferociously—each one an elite.

But the Necrons were just as fierce—elite Immortals swung giant power weapons like reaper scythes. The battle was brutal—Marines' shields faltered under concentrated Gauss fire, and some fell.

"Careful! Gauss weapons can pierce shields!" a Marine warned, only to be vaporized by a green beam.

"Vengeance!" The Marines fired back.

Imperial Space Marines know no fear.

"For the Gene-Father! Don't fall back!" Titus bellowed, leading the charge.

Their power swords and chainswords cut Necron bodies, Pedanium rays carved deadly arcs. The slaughter was intense.

The fortress's corridors were tight and booby-trapped. Necron numbers seemed endless—they poured in from all directions.

"Tyberos! We need to find the control center and destroy the tomb core!" Titus called.

Having served in the Deathwatch, he knew these aliens—killing Necron warriors means nothing; they just resurrect in the Tomb World. To win, you must destroy the core.

"Understood! Follow me!" Tyberos replied, leading elites deeper inside.

But the defense wasn't just warriors—massive Necron constructs appeared, bristling with Gauss cannons and phase blades.

"Damn! These things are tough!" a Marine cursed, firing his Pedanium gun, but the construct's shield held.

"Concentrate fire—target the joints!" Titus ordered. Focused fire broke the shields; beams burned through joints, and the huge construct toppled.

Marines rushed to hack the fallen constructs apart.

"Keep moving! No time to waste!" Titus yelled, storming deeper.

He and the squad leaders, wielding storm shields, even activated gigantification—growing to 60 meters tall, crushing Necrons.

The fighting grew bloodier; casualties mounted, but morale stayed high.

Whenever a brother fell, another took his place.

Their weapons tore Necron bodies, Pedanium rays killed by the dozens, and some Marines even ripped Necrons apart bare-handed.

At last, Titus and Tyberos's assault team reached the core control room—a huge green energy core flickered at its center, surrounded by Necron tech.

Guarding it were five-meter-tall Necron Lychguard with massive weapons.

Titus charged, smashing a Lychguard to pulp, then pulled out a Zetton capsule Rhodes had given him, releasing two Zettons.

To ensure success, Rhodes had equipped his commander with these monsters.

"This is it! Destroy it!" Titus roared, leading the charge.

But as they neared the core, a green shield rose, blocking them, while dozens of elite Necron guards appeared with phase spears, eyes cold and murderous. Deathmark snipers fired from afar—deadly green beams lancing at the Marines.

"We need to take these guys out first!" Tyberos sneered, chainsword roaring.

"For the Gene-Father—kill!" Titus and his men charged the elite guards.

"Destroy their core!" Titus's voice echoed in the control room.

….

Meanwhile, Tyberos and his elites engaged the remaining Necron elites.

The clamor of chainswords, power blades, and Pedanium gunfire filled the room, sparks and energy flares everywhere.

But as the battle reached its peak, a blinding green light flashed in the center.

A Necron Chronomancer in ornate robes stepped out, holding a staff with a green gem—his eyes cold and deep.

"Foolish invaders, did you really think you could destroy our core?" he sneered, voice metallic and mocking.

"Chronomancer! Careful—he controls time!" Titus warned, pulling back.

The Chronomancer laughed, waving his staff—suddenly, the air thickened, time slowed, and Titus and Tyberos moved sluggishly, even their thoughts bogged down.

"Damn, it's a time-slow field!" Tyberos gritted his teeth, struggling to move.

The Chronomancer approached, staff glowing, ready to strike Titus down.

But at the last second, Titus broke free in a flash of red light, immune to the time effect—he went berserk, slashing with his power sword and vibro-knife, bisecting the stunned Chronomancer.