Serpion5: In the Face of Reason
Two steps. A swing, a decapitation, a spray of blood. Three more steps. A thrust, a crunch and a sputtering of bile and vomit. They were suffering now, all of them. The Necron once known as Mithrahc was in his element. Striding the battlefield like the ancient god of death that he was, he wrought pain and ruin upon any and all that stood before him.
This isn`t who you are...
He surged forward, the legion of undying metal warriors at his side reacting to his will. The human attack was renewing itself and even now more weapons fire had begun to fall upon him. Pitiful laser weaponry for the most part, but there were stronger weapons amidst the humans ranks as well. A crude fragmentation explosive detonated nearby, knocking several of his warriors from their feet and damaging a third. It was inconsequential, as moments later the felled Necrons stood once more. Mithrahc laughed a hoarse metallic laugh and swung his staff in a wide arc, brutally cutting down four more human soldiers.
You shouldn`t be doing this.
He ignored the voices in the back of his mind. They had come and gone for millennia, even before his great sleep had begun. Part of him had hoped that the voice may have vanished under the weight of time, but it had persisted, just like the rest of him had. He paid it no mind as he willed his army to advance. He saw the crude lumbering armour of the young race`s devising struggling to inflict anything more than superficial damage to his grand monoliths. He grinned savagely, a truly terrifying expression on the death mask he wore, and with a thought summoned those who would spearhead the next surge.
It isn`t too late. You can still spare these poor people.
There was no chance any of these humans would survive this. Once the pathetic defenders were taken care of, the populace infesting his glorious home planet would be purged. There would be nothing but necrontyr presence upon this, the jewel in his kingdom`s crown. These lands were once barren and lifeless, the way all should be. He had seen to it that every plant, every animal, every damn microbe on his world had died. How rude it had been of these creatures to simply assume they could take it from him! His anger was renewed and he watched with morbid fascination as the destroyers zoomed overhead. These were Necrons lost to the Destroyer Curse. Their only thoughts were to destroy and they fitted this role perfectly. Mithrahc nodded in grim satisfaction as the green arcs of the destroyers gauss cannon fire annihilated humans by the dozen with each salvo.
Is this how you want to be remembered? As a tyrant? A murderer?
He paused. He had always been a great ruler. They had never called him a tyrant! Never! He growled in frustration as he increased his pace. At his unspoken command, his warriors followed suit, many of them breaking into a run. None would dare to fall short of absolute perfection, especially in the presence of their Royarch.
You are a tyrant.
He roared in anger as he brought his staff down. The blade cleft an unfortunate human in two and he decapitated another on the backswing. He was a patriot, a herald of necrontyr dominion. Long ago the slaves of the Old Ones had tried to destroy his kingdom and false gods had subsequently tried to enslave his race. He had been foremost in their salvation. It had been his decision to rally the royarchs of the many kingdoms to strike back at the height of the false gods tyranny. They had acquired the technology and the fortitude needed for the task, and their counter-crusade had been successful. Why then, did he have this doubt at the back of his mind? He had ignored it for so long that it had become an entity of itself, threatening to invade and destroy who he was!
Who you think you are? You are wrong. You were never supposed to be this.
He screamed a metallic curse at the darkening sky and broke into a run. There were only pockets of resistance now before the humans space port and these were beginning to break and retreat. He could see the non combatants of this pathetic species attempting to escape their doom. As one of the shuttles made to take off, Mithrahc waved a simple gesture towards it. From several miles behind, a beam of intense green energy scorched the air and hit the ship hard. There was no impact, no concussive force, no explosion. Such was the nature and power of the Gauss Pylon`s wrath that the shuttle was simply gone but for the smouldering rear section and one of its wings. He laughed maniacally as the screams began.
He was not these things! He was a saviour of his people! He was a hero of his time! He led the spearhead as the wall of the spaceport was reduced to nothing by gauss fire. His guardians followed him in, staves and scythes reaping a bloody tally from their hapless prey. It was almost too easy for him to snuff out their worthless existences. As he stopped to survey the carnage, willing his guards to continue unabated, his gaze came to rest on one of the few surviving human militia of this world. The human`s eyes met his, and at once he saw the fierce determination in the mortals eyes.
He is you. A mere mortal facing down a deathless enemy. Do you remember?
He fell to one knee, beset by a doubt stronger than any he had ever felt. Almost instinctively, the foremost of his guards vanished from the melee ahead only to rematerialize at his lords side. Mithrahc looked up at his trusted protector, grateful for the loyalty of Alkvar. The warrior had been his champion and guardian through life and the eternity that followed, but more than this, Alkvar had been a constant reminder of what it meant to stay strong and true.
I may have been this, once.
He thought. And I may always have these doubts. But no matter what you say, you cannot change what I have become. This is who I am. Who I was is no longer relevant.
He listened. Following his acceptance of the doubt in his mind, the voice had fallen silent. It would always be there, but he would never let it hinder him.
For he sought the resurrection of his kingdom. How could he doubt that?