The strongest astral army in Warhammer 40K

**The Vengeful Spirit: Strategic Chamber**

The murky light of the warp shone through the observation window, casting distorted shadows on Abaddon's black armor. His fingers dug deep into the edge of the tactical table, the metal groaning under the corrosive force of the chaos.

“Russell has banished half my fleet, the Lion King is assembling his battleband for the Second Indomitable Expedition, and Guilliman—” his voice was like sandpaper scraping, “is awakening even more dormant Imperial forces.”

Just then, the air in the sealed room suddenly rippled, and a thin purple mist seeped out from the ventilation ducts, gradually condensing into a slender figure—**Saint Ivis, the Lord of a Thousand Changes**.

He wore a mask inlaid with countless pupils, and the patterns on his robe were ever-changing, sometimes resembling a raven spreading its wings, sometimes a grinning demon.

"Why should the War General be anxious?" Saint Ives's voice echoed like a thousand times. "The Empire may seem to be rising, but it is actually fraught with crises."

Abaddon scoffed, "Your riddles are useless against me, wizard."

Saint Ives chuckled and raised his hand to draw a star map in the air—**The territory of the Necromancer Dynasty in Space is expanding rapidly**, and several border star systems have been turned into lifeless metal tombs.

"The King of Silence has awakened," Saint Ives's voice trembled with pleasure, "and Lion King Ryan Eljonsson... will not stand idly by."

……

The War General's scarlet goggles flickered slightly.

The Space Necromancers—this ancient race nearly wiped out the Ancient Ones in the War of the Ancients, and their awakening is indeed a greater threat than the Empire. If the Lion King leads the main force to suppress them…

"Are you sure Ryan will split his forces?" Abaddon asked in a deep voice.

A smiling face made of Tzeentch's flames appeared on Saint Ives's mask: "He has already dispatched the main fleet of the Dark Angels to the border of the **Sothek Dynasty**, three days ago."

The holographic star map shifted accordingly, revealing the Lion King fleet's movements. Even more surprising to Abaddon was that the Ultramarines' Second Chapter was also converging on that star system.

“As for Russell…” Saint Ives tapped his finger, and the scene shifted to a lone reconnaissance ship, “Let him go find him. Vulcan, Corax… do you think their disappearance for ten thousand years was just a coincidence?”

Abaddon looked up abruptly: "What do you mean?"

The figure of the Master of a Thousand Changes began to fade, leaving only a final whisper:

"Some Primarchs should never have returned..."

……

After Saint Ives completely disappeared, Abaddon punched the star map, and the image of the Sotek dynasty shattered.

"Give the order!" His roar shook the bridge. "All warbands, assemble at **Eye of Terror** and abandon the pursuit of Russell!"

The adjutant exclaimed incredulously, "But the commander of the Imperial Guards is currently—"

“Let him search!” Abaddon’s eyes gleamed with a new scheme. “Once the Lion King’s main force is bogged down by the undead, once Guilliman’s forces are dispersed…”

He brought up a 3D projection of Terra, in which the light of the golden throne flickered faintly.

"At that time, we went straight for the heart."

Meanwhile, the Dawn Recaller had just emerged from its warp jump. Russell stood by the porthole, gazing at the planet enveloped in a green nebula ahead—the coordinate endpoint given by the **Spirit of the Forge**.

Valerian rushed over: "Commander, we've received an encrypted communication from the Lion King's fleet. They're heading towards the Sothek Dynasty's border and request our—"

“Ignore it,” Russell interrupted. “Ryan knows what he’s doing.”

The fiery brand on his palm suddenly burned intensely. Through the pain, he saw the illusion again—

A giant obsidian figure, resembling lava, was bound by chains, the other end of which was connected to a massive metal pyramid.

"Sir, what are we going to do?"

Russell hesitated for a moment and said: "Let's report this matter to Lord Guilliman for now and let him decide!"

…………

The first rays of dawn streamed through the towering stained-glass windows, but could not dispel the heavy darkness within the hall. Robert Guilliman stood alone before the holographic star map, the cold light of the projection illuminating his weary face. On the star map, countless red markers flashed—**Orcs WAAAGH!** ravaging the eastern galaxy, **Eldar Ark Worlds** appearing in the hazy star system, the shadows of **Tyranid Hive Fleets** writhing at the edge of the galaxy… and most recently appeared were those eerie green dots—**the awakening signal of the Necromancer Empire in space**.

“The Sotek Dynasty, the Sareh Dynasty, the Nekmund Dynasty…” Guilliman’s fingers traced the expanding territories of death, his voice low and menacing, “Three thousand years have passed, why have they all awakened now?”

A projection of the Mechanicus Grand Sage, Caul, flickered nearby: "According to the remnants of the Black Library, the awakening of space necromancers is often accompanied by..."

“A violent fluctuation in the warp,” Guilliman continued, his gaze fixed on the Eye of Fear. “Abaddon’s Thirteenth Black Crusade, Russell’s activation of the Ancient Beacon, and our restart of the Primalforging program—the balance of the galaxy has been broken.”

He clenched his fist tightly, and the star map distorted in response.

As the ministers of the High Lords Council clamored for "prioritizing the suppression of Chaos," Guilliman slammed his fist on the adamantite table, the loud noise silencing everyone instantly.

“You simply don’t understand!” The Primarch’s voice was unusually out of control. “Chaos corrupts the soul, and the Necromancer devours reality! A planet transformed by the Necromancer cannot even be corrupted by the warp—they will turn the universe into a cold tomb!”

The holographic projection shifts to show **Caddis III**, which was just recently turned into an undead world—a once thriving agricultural world now covered in living metal, with nano-miasma floating in the atmosphere, and all biomass completely drained. Even more terrifying, any troops attempting to land will encounter a **fully resurrected undead army**, whose weapons can instantly shatter plasma shields, and whose warriors, once destroyed, will reassemble in metal tombs.

"Conscript all available legions." Guilliman finally gave the order, his voice regaining its cold rationality. "The Ultramarines Third and Seventh Companies are to reinforce the front lines immediately. All Mechanicus units from Blackrock Fortress are to be deployed to the border of the Necropolis."

He paused for a moment, then looked at Ryan's encrypted channel on the communicator: "As for Lion King..."

A hologram of Ryan Eljonsson appeared before the strategy table. His armor still bore the marks of the recent battle, with several jagged scratches appearing on the edge of the Imperial Shield—marks left from the fight with Angron.

"I'm already on my way," the Lion King's voice boomed like thunder. "The main force of the Dark Angels will arrive at the Sotek border within 72 hours."

Guilliman nodded slightly: "I need you to do two things—destroy their **world engines** and find their **silent kings**."

"And then?" A sharp glint flashed in Ryan's eyes. "You know that the undead cannot be truly destroyed."

“Then let them remain dormant.” Guilliman pulled up an ancient data record. “According to classified Martian files, the awakening of the space undead depends on some kind of **Star God Fragment Power System**. Destroy it, and they will return to their graves.”

The holographic image flickered suddenly, a distorted signal from the Eye of Terror forcibly cutting in—Abaddon's provocative message. The Chaos Warmaster's figure grinned amidst the static interference: "While you're playing with the metal skeletons, see you on Terra, Primarch."

Ryan's fists clenched so tightly they cracked: "Should we get back on defense?"

“No.” Guilliman shut down the communication. “Terra has the Custodians and the Sisters of Silence, and…”

His gaze was fixed on the depths of the palace, towards the golden throne.

As the strategic meeting concluded and Guilliman walked alone toward the observatory, a golden light emerged from the shadows—it was Russell, who had just returned to Terra. The armor of the Commander of the Imperial Guard still bore the slag of the Orctalis, and the fiery brand on his palm glowed faintly.

"Any news from Vulcan?" Killieman asked directly.

"He's imprisoned within some kind of **ancient saint-necromantic hybrid construct**." Russell unfolded a data panel displaying an eerie pyramid image. "This isn't kidnapping, but... some kind of seal."

Guilliman's pupils constricted sharply: "The fusion of space necromancy and Old One technology? That's impossible!"

“Unless they share a common goal,” Russell said in a low voice. “In my visions, I see Vulcan being forced into some kind of forging—reforging some weapon with his eternal fire.”

The setting sun outside the window was suddenly obscured by shadows—a massive necromancer ship swept across Terra's orbit at that moment, but it vanished in an instant, as if it were just an illusion.

Guilliman's fingertips dug deep into the marble railing: "Find him, Russell. If the Necromancer uses the Primarch again..."

“Then the other missing brothers might also be prey,” Russell continued. “I will bring the Lord of Fire Dragons home.”