213: Chapter 213 The Demise of the Spirit Race

When news of the agreement between Han Zhe and the Silent King reached the Ark of Last Hope, the last Seers of the Eldar fell into despair.

It wasn't because the Human Federation had grown stronger, but because the Necrons had defected.

Those Necrons, who had been their enemies for billions of years and had once pushed the Eldar Empire toward ruin, had actually chosen to ally with humanity. What did this mean? It meant the Eldar no longer had any allies within the Galaxy; it meant their flight into the abyss was a true exile; it meant their prophecies were heading toward the darkest version.

But the Seers did not give up.

They made one final, mad decision: no more running, strike back.

Using the ark's final energy, the resonance of hundreds of millions of Eldar soul stones, and all the prophetic power they had accumulated over billions of years, they wove an ultimate Web of Destiny, attempting to drag the Human Federation Fleet hunting them into an eternal spatiotemporal labyrinth.

That web covered an entire star sector three light-years across.

That web consumed two-thirds of the ark's energy reserves.

That web, if successful, would cause the Human Federation's Extragalactic Pursuit Fleet to get lost in fragments of countless parallel realities, never to return.

But the Human Federation was no longer an existence that could be bound by destiny.

While the Eldar wove the Web of Destiny, the adjudicator was also analyzing the underlying logic of that web. The moment the web finally took shape, the adjudicator did only one thing: fire the Causality Eradication Cannon at the source of the web.

The source of that web was the core of the Ark of Last Hope, the resonance point of those hundreds of millions of Eldar soul stones.

The Causality Eradication Cannon did not hit the ark, nor the soul stones, nor any physical existence.

It struck the foundation of the Eldar's prophecies—the causal chain itself, accumulated over billions of years, which allowed the Eldar to see the future. At that moment, on the Ark of Last Hope, all Seers lost their prophetic abilities simultaneously.

They opened their eyes to find only a blank void before them—no future, no past, only the present.

And the present was the twelve source of order-class battleships of the Human Federation Fleet, three million kilometers ahead of them, their main cannons fully charged.

"Fire."

Lei Huan's command was as calm as ever.

Twelve colorless ripples shot simultaneously toward the ark that carried the last hope of the Eldar.

There was no explosion, no screams, no tragic grandeur that could be captured by the senses.

Only that ark, under the wash of the Causality Eradication Cannon, dissipated inch by inch like a phantom that had never existed, melting away into nothingness.

As the last trace of the Eldar vanished into the void, Lei Huan glanced at the timer.

From firing to the end: 3.7 seconds.

The Eldar, that ancient race that once ruled the Galaxy for sixty million years, that brilliant civilization that flourished before humanity was even born, that proud existence that wove destiny with prophecy and shook the stars with psychic power, ended in 3.7 seconds.

The news of the Eldar's extinction caused something akin to relief to emerge for the first time within the Silent King's cold logical core.

He felt fortunate that he had chosen trade over confrontation.

But he had no time to savor this unfamiliar feeling. Because his new mission had already begun.

Defending against The Swarm outside the Galaxy.

This was no simple defense. This was the atonement and mission bestowed upon the Silent King by the Human Federation—to use his knowledge accumulated over billions of years, his last loyal dynasties, and his deep understanding of the extragalactic reaches to construct a Silent Line of Defense that no natural disaster could cross.

The core of the defense line: a massive warning network covering three hundred light-years, fused from Necron phase technology and Human Federation Void Barrier technology. Every node in the network was modified from a Necron Tomb World and commanded personally by the Silent King.

The front line: a Silent Hand assault group composed of a mixed fleet of Necron Fleets and Human Federation Extragalactic Pursuit Task Forces. Their mission was not defense, but to take the initiative, strike deep into the stars, scout Swarm movements, clear potential threats, and strangle The Swarm in their nests before they reached the Galaxy.

The deepest part of the defense line: a divine node permanently connected to the Sea of Order, guarded personally by the Emperor—now the Order God-Emperor. When the scale of The Swarm exceeded the Silent Hand's capacity, the Order God-Emperor could project power directly from that node, extending the light of the Sea of Order beyond the Galaxy.

The Silent King stood on the bridge of his flagship, gazing at the Extragalactic Systems that were being progressively rewritten by Necron technology and Human Federation laws.

Beside him stood a human, Lei Huan, the commander-in-chief of the Extragalactic Pursuit Fleet and the highest representative of the Human Federation stationed with the Silent Hand.

"Do you regret it?" Lei Huan asked.

The Silent King was silent for a moment.

"Regret what?"

"Choosing to stand with humanity. Choosing to become our Silent Hand. Choosing to give up billions of years of independence and pride."

Within the Silent King's ghostly green eye sockets, the light flickered slightly.

"Pride?" His voice carried a trace of indescribable relief after billions of years of loneliness. "Do you know how long I have lived?"

Lei Huan shook his head.

"Longer than your sun. Longer than the Eldar. Longer than anything currently existing in this Galaxy."

"So long that I have forgotten what pride feels like. I only remember one thing: living."

He turned to face Lei Huan.

"Living to see civilizations rise and fall. Living to see enemies become friends and then enemies again. Living to see the laws of this universe change bit by bit, yet never being able to understand the meaning of living."

"But now, I understand."

"Living is not for oneself."

"It is to let more people, more existences like you who struggle in despair and light torches in the darkness, live on."

He turned back toward the boundless Extragalactic Systems.

"The Swarm is coming. I will hold them back."

"Not because I want to live."

"Because I have finally found something more important than living."

Within the Galaxy, the last batch of Necron Dynasties completed their transfer to the Human Federation. Their Tomb Worlds were converted into Void Barrier nodes, their technology was incorporated into the Human Federation's database, and their warriors—those who volunteered to keep their shells—were organized into the Silent Hand, led personally by the Silent King.

Within the Galaxy, no non-human, organized intelligent life remained.

The Eldar were extinct. The Necrons had surrendered. Chaos was suppressed. The Swarm was held outside the Galaxy.

Humanity became the sole ruler of the Galaxy.

On Terra, at the site of the old Golden Throne, a brand-new building now stood: the Temple of Order. Inside the temple, there were no statues or altars, only a massive Monument of Order condensed from dark golden light. Inscribed on the monument were the names of every Human Federation citizen who died in the five hundred years of war, from the first guard who sacrificed himself on an ark to the last crew member who fell while hunting the Eldar.

Han Zhe stood before the monument, gazing at the densely packed names.

Behind him, Alpha-01's voice sounded: "Archon, Guilliman requests an audience. He says there are issues with the modification of a batch of former Imperial remnants that require your adjudication."

Han Zhe did not look back.

"Tell him to proceed according to Article 7 of the keystone charter. If there are objections, have them come to Terra to speak with me in person."

"Yes."

The sound of footsteps faded away.

Han Zhe continued to gaze at the monument.

Five hundred years of war. Hundreds of quadrillions of sacrifices. Countless worlds destroyed and rebuilt. One enemy after another destroyed or assimilated.

All of it was inscribed on this monument.

He reached out and gently touched the surface of the monument.

The dark golden light seemed to feel his touch, pulsing slightly.

"Do you see this?" he whispered to himself, his voice audible only to him. "We did it."

"The Galaxy is ours."

"But this is only the beginning."

He withdrew his hand, turned, and walked toward the exit of the temple.

Outside the door was the starry sky of Terra—no, it was the starry sky of the entire human Galaxy. That starry sky covered in dark golden light, free of war, belonging to humanity.

But his gaze went beyond that starry sky, toward a place much further away.

Toward the Extragalactic Systems.

Toward that unknown darkness being monitored by the Silent King, gazed upon by the Order God-Emperor, and coveted by The Swarm.

Toward the direction where Slaanesh had fled.

Toward the coordinates where the cold observer had vanished.

Toward those existences that had yet to be discovered, yet to be named, and yet to be brought into order.

"The Galaxy is only the starting point," he whispered, repeating the words he had said five years ago. "The universe is the destination."

He stepped out of the temple and into the dark golden light.

Behind him, the names on the Monument of Order flickered quietly in the light, as if responding to his oath, as if declaring: the journey of the Human Federation is far from over.