The T'au are a young race—far too young. Ten thousand years ago, when the Emperor and His Primarchs were forging the Imperium in fire and blood, the T'au were little more than primitive beasts, barely grasping the rudiments of fire.
Yet, in a mere six millennia, these xenos had risen from savagery to an interstellar empire, commanding hundreds of life-bearing worlds. Unlike the fractured and war-torn polities of the galaxy, the T'au Empire was a rarity: a civilization united under a single doctrine—the so-called "Greater Good."
To Dukel, this rapid ascension reeked of something unnatural. He had long suspected that some hidden force lurked behind their rise. But as his fleet breached the borders of T'au space, those musings became irrelevant.
Because no matter what secrets lay buried within their history, soon they would be nothing more than ashes.
His fleet detected a T'au border world, and he wasted no time.
"Purge the xenos!" Dukel commanded. "Charge!"
The planetary defenses crumbled beneath the Imperial onslaught. The void battle was brief, and once orbital supremacy was secured, Dukel led the first wave of the assault himself.
Launching from his drop pod, he surged forward, his presence towering and undeniable.
"For the Imperium!"
The warriors of the Second Legion echoed his cry, storming across the battlefield without hesitation.
Most of the worlds held by his Legion were harsh wastelands, wracked by endless sandstorms and desertification, much like their homeworld. This battlefield was no different. The Imperial forces advanced openly through the swirling sands, their arrival noticed almost immediately by the T'au defenders.
"Enemy attack!"
"Humans? Here? Impossible!"
"Rally the troops! For the Greater Good, we must hold the line!"
The T'au responded swiftly, but futilely. Dukel advanced with terrifying speed, a monolithic figure cutting through their defensive lines like a monomolecular blade through flesh. Their hastily-formed battle formations collapsed before his onslaught, leaving a trail of severed limbs and smoldering corpses in his wake.
Standing amidst the carnage, Dukel let his voice carry over the flames consuming the battlefield. "I came all this way at the invitation of your commander, yet they have not seen fit to greet me. How uncivilized. Then again, what more can one expect from barbaric xenos?"
The T'au soldiers faltered, confusion flickering in their eyes before realization dawned.
"Commander Shadowsun?" one murmured, dread seeping into his voice.
Could she have led them into this catastrophe?
The Fire Caste officer commanding the defense bristled with fury. "For the Greater Good, these human invaders shall be reduced to corpses!" he roared.
"Fire!"
A storm of pulse rounds erupted from the disciplined ranks of Fire Warriors.
This was T'au territory. Under the banner of the Greater Good, they would not fall. What could a handful of primitive humans possibly achieve against the firepower of the Empire?
"Wait, that human is—"
A Water Caste observer, tasked with recording the battle, suddenly realized who Dukel was. His breath caught in his throat.
He never had a chance to finish his sentence.
A detonation of crimson flame tore through the battlefield, incinerating everything in its path. The scorching heat melted sand into molten glass, reducing T'au warriors to charred husks in an instant. Gunfire fell silent, replaced by the crackling roar of the inferno.
Dukel's eyes glowed in the reflection of the blaze.
"Shadowsun, is it? I recall the name from the briefing. The same T'au who orchestrated the assassination of the Raven Guard—how quaint."
Flames surged higher, a towering pyre that seemed to consume the very sky. Fear seeped into the remaining defenders. Against such overwhelming might, what hope did they have?
In short order, the T'au forces were annihilated.
Dukel turned to his men. "Strip this world of all useful assets. Anything that cannot be taken, destroy."
"Understood!" The Imperial troops swiftly moved to plunder the planet's supplies—military stockpiles, food, raw materials. Dukel knew well the Imperium's resource constraints. Exterminatus was always an option, but why waste valuable war materiel when it could be seized?
"Once the looting is complete, we move to the next world!"
The soldiers cheered.
"Praise the Lord of the Second Legion!"
"For the Imperium!"
"Kill the xenos!"
Elsewhere, Yingyang arrived at the coordinates provided by her enigmatic allies.
"The Imperium's Second Primarch is drawing near," she announced, her voice echoing across the altar. "Are you prepared?"
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a creature of liquid darkness, its very essence exuding an unnatural presence. Eyes hidden in the void scrutinized Yingyang before speaking in a rasping tone.
"You deviated from the plan. What went wrong?"
This being, shrouded in mystery, possessed an unsettling ability to peer into minds. It had likely discerned her thoughts from the moment she arrived.
"That is none of your concern," she replied coldly. "We are not your puppets. The Second Primarch is coming. I have done my part. Now, fulfill yours. I trust your plan will prove as effective as you claimed."
The T'au fleet was convinced Dukel was still in pursuit. They believed his relentless chase was inevitable.
Yet the T'au's understanding of the Warp was rudimentary at best. They lacked the psychic potential to perceive its depths, nor did they grasp the peril it concealed. Their scholars had dismissed the immaterium as an irrelevance before the Greater Good, something best left to the reckless and the damned.
Because of their ignorance, Yingyang remained unaware that their sacrifice of auxiliary forces had momentarily severed Dukel's pursuit. In contrast, Imperial fleets actively sought out psychic signatures, making any worlds populated by psyker-heavy xenos glaring beacons to their hunt.
The shadowed being chuckled. "Hope that everything proceeds as planned."
As its form began to dissolve, Yingyang called out, "Wait. What happens if the plan fails? If the Second Primarch does not follow?"
The entity's laughter sharpened.
"It hardly matters, child. From the moment you engaged the Second Primarch, our mission was already accomplished."
Meanwhile, in the depths of the galaxy, Trazyn the Infinite waited.
An entire star system had been enveloped in a null-spirit field, a region where even the Warp itself recoiled. A vast arsenal of ancient war machines lay in wait, prepared to spring the perfect trap for a returning Primarch.
And so he waited.
One month. Two. Ten. Twenty.
"...Where is he?"
A sense of irritation, rare among Necrons, crept into his circuits. He shifted upon his throne, the metal beneath him groaning in protest.
"Why hasn't the Human Primarch returned yet?!"
Even the Infinite One—patient beyond mortal comprehension—found himself growing restless.
If he did not have a certain understanding of the Primarch's bravery, he might have doubted whether the Second Primarch of the Imperium had perished on the way.
"Perhaps waiting is not the right choice," mused Trazyn the Infinite, growing restless.
For a Necron, a few years were but the blink of an eye. But waiting indefinitely, without results? That, even he could not tolerate.
If the Primarch did not return for ten millennia, was he expected to sit here and wait for ten millennia as well?
"I should take the initiative and search for clues. As an ancient steward of the galaxy, I understand the value of time better than most."
With this thought, Trazyn activated his systems, and his immense war-pyramid lifted off from the desolate world.
Using his vast computing power, he traced the possible trajectory of the Primarch and deployed countless canoptek constructs to investigate.
Although the Adeptus Mechanicus had cleansed the battlefield of the Tau engagement, Necron technology was superior. Trazyn still found remnants, echoes of past battles, and ghostly signatures in the void.
A month later:
"Traces of a void battle."
Trazyn peered into the stellar abyss, his mechanical mind processing astronomical data at incalculable speed. A faint green glow reflected off his metallic frame.
"Error detected. The number of vessels does not match."
When Trazyn had last received intelligence from his Cryptek agents, the Primarch had been aboard a mere frigate.
Yet, judging by the warp-scars and void residue left in the ether, the battle had involved a cruiser fleet of at least three hundred warships.
"This doesn't add up. Could this be a different Imperial fleet? The probability is low... but possible."
He pondered for a moment, then dismissed hesitation. "Precision is a virtue. I will continue my search."
Trazyn followed the trail through the void.
More evidence surfaced.
"More battle remnants... And the fleet has grown in size yet again?"
"Could it be that two separate Imperial battlegroups engaged the Tau?"
Yet the deeper he searched, the more consistent the evidence became. The fleet's expansion was deliberate, methodical.
"This is the Primarch's doing."
Trazyn pieced together the story from fragments of data and tactical projections:
"The Primarch, commanding a single Imperial frigate, engaged and defeated a Tau armada of over four thousand ships with near-zero losses. Not only that, but he also seized a vast number of enemy vessels and incorporated them into his fleet."
Trazyn experienced a rare moment of astonishment.
"If this assessment holds, then the war potential of the Second Primarch must be reevaluated."
Marking his next destination on the star map, Trazyn's pyramid shifted course.
"If my calculations are correct, he will leave an even greater mark in the void ahead."
Another month passed. More battle wreckage surfaced in the immaterium.
This time, the fleet was even larger.
"As expected," Trazyn murmured, activating his stasis vaults in preparation.
"Then, by my calculations, his next destination should be..." He marked the coordinates.
The war-pyramid surged forward, cutting through the void like a blade.
"It is time for two of the galaxy's greatest collectors to reunite."
A planet within the Tau Empire.
Boom!
Dukel's flames consumed the world.
"My lord, all supplies have been secured." An Imperial officer saluted before the Primarch.
"Good," Dukel acknowledged. "Set the course for the next Tau-held world."
He turned to his commanders. "Distribute 22 percent of the captured materials among the troops. Destroy anything we cannot take."
"Understood, my lord!" The Imperial warriors saluted, their faces alight with satisfaction.
As servants of the Imperium, they had little personal desire for wealth. But spoils of war were sacred—honorable prizes taken from xenos hands. None would refuse such bounty.
This marked the sixteenth Tau world to fall to Dukel's crusade, and each conquest had only strengthened the warriors' resolve.
At first, they traded their winnings for Thrones. Then, as their plunder grew, they began converting currency into munitions—bolter shells, plasma charges, grenades.
Even the mortal auxilia serving Dukel's war effort had begun amassing fortunes.
Loyalty. Honor. Wealth.
The Lord of the Second Legion had made the battlefield their proving ground.
They would fight. They would win. And they would take all that was rightfully theirs.
At this moment, as the warriors gazed upon their Primarch, their eyes shone with unwavering devotion.
"Prepare to advance." Dukel turned his gaze to the next conquest. "Shall I grant you time to rest?"
"We do not rest!" The Imperial warriors roared in unison. "We fight until victory or death!"
They burned with fervor. They were the Emperor's chosen, expanding the Imperium's dominion, carving a new legend into the stars.
"Truly," one auxiliary soldier muttered, hefting a bag heavy with treasures, "we fight for the Emperor and the Primarch alone. That's all that matters."
Then he smirked at his comrades.
"Of course... that doesn't mean we can't enjoy the rewards."