It would be a lie to say I wasn't moved.
Trazyn, the ruler of the Solemnath Tomb World, the director of the Solemnath Museum, the king of figures, a random figure picker, a history enthusiast, and an ordinary passerby.
For a moment, he considered the possibility of collecting a Primarch.
Trazyn's purpose of this trip was not to find the Primarch - he had a more ambitious goal. The sleeping Lord of the Underworld was waiting for him, like an attractive piece of ownerless gold, a huge, dazzling and rare diamond.
What's more, Hades' value is more than that... Trazyn has his own plans regarding Hades and the others he is involved with.
This cunning space overlord is standing on a larger chessboard. To the dead spirits who have been sleeping for thousands of years, human history is just a moment. A great rebellion will tear the galaxy apart, but that is humanity's business - he only needs to ensure that the subspace and the physical world do not become unbalanced.
He is just. This galaxy needs order. The warp should not interfere too much with the order of the physical world, and this world cannot accommodate another warp god.
The Lord of Mankind can never become a god. Given the size of the Warp of the human race, the Dark Lord will once again stir up an unimaginable Warp storm.
On the other hand, out of Trazyn's own will, he was willing to help Hades - even if he didn't have that special physique, the interesting and profound soul in him was enough to make Trazyn's heart move.
An interesting and upright interracial friend who needs this collection.
Of course... there's more to it than that.
But this plan will be longer-term, spanning thousands or even tens of thousands of years, with the ambition of racial revival.
Trazyn, who claimed to be still alive, wanted to give it a try.
He wouldn't lose anything. At worst, the program would shut down and he would fall into deep sleep again.
Trazyn pondered, the indicator light on his face flashing at the same frequency as the human mechanical sages. He "looked" at the vigilant Corax behind him and felt his love for history burning.
Each Primarch was unique, but there were always some that fascinated Trazyn more than others.
He had not paid special attention to Corax before, but as he came into contact with the Primarch, this Primarch who subconsciously treated people equally attracted Trazyn's attention.
The Necrontyr, the predecessor of the Necrons, is a highly centralized race. The overlords enjoy everything, and the leader on the highest throne has the power to decide the fate of the entire race.
It was also the Silent King's arbitrary decision that led the Necrontyr to embark on the tragic river of transformation into the Necrons.
The Silent King believed the C'tan's deception and transformed the Necrontyr into the bloodless and fleshless Necrons. They had no souls, could not die, and had no rebirth - as a race, they had completely failed simply because no new blood was joining them.
Trazyn had little memory of the day he was transformed into a Necron.
Did he resist that day? He must have resisted, but it must have been useless - a highly centralized society does not tolerate any contrary words.
Trazyn once thought, if... if the original Necrontyr, the original Silent King was a being who could listen to the advice of other Necrontyr, or if the Necrontyr society was not highly centralized, then would their end not be so cold
He didn't know that Trazyn could only touch his hard fingertips subconsciously, and the touch on his soul had long disappeared.
Trazyn's sensors were faithfully reporting Corax's actions to him. The Primarch was even subconsciously willing to help him. He was trying to shield Trazyn from the enemy's sight as much as possible. Corax might have thought that this was his battlefield, the Primarch's battlefield.
Trazyn was acutely aware that Corax would have done the same thing even if it had not been him standing here, but any other Raven Guard or one of Corax's men.
Trazyn felt his own thoughts stirring. He admired this kind of existence - until now, Trazyn thought, maybe this was why he respected and admired Hades. He was the same kind of person as Corax.
No... no... Hades was more interesting, but the historical value revealed by Corax was enough to make Trazyn excited.
This is a collection that is very suitable to be placed in the center of the human exhibition hall, illuminated by a spotlight, standing on a high ground, posing as if it is following his charge.
Even Corax itself looked gloomy—perhaps Trazyn needed to make some adjustments to the lighting, or put the Raven Lord in a dark corner? Trazyn wondered.
He'd better also collect some of the Raven Guard who followed Corax, the mortal auxiliaries, and place them beside Corax.
A sneer suddenly brought Trazyn back to thinking about how to place the new exhibits - no, not now, not now.
He cannot just pick up and take away a chess piece he likes from a chessboard in progress.
You should be more patient, Trazyn, the Necron thought.
When the game is over and the lights go out,
He took action again.
As a passing messenger of justice who helped mankind, Trazyn believed that the Lord of Mankind would not be so narrow-minded.
I just borrowed it to display.
Can you keep up
Corax's whispers fell on Trazyn's red robes. Trazyn recalled the top speed of his body and shook his head.
His strongest body could not disguise himself as a mechanical sage, so Trazyn only chose a body that was closest to a sage.
[…As expected.]
This posture is also suitable for display as an exhibit.
Trazyn thought that he knew what was going to happen next, and his sensors told him that everything would be in time, so he was not nervous at all, and his exhibits would be intact.
Intact, into his pavilion.
Unlike the leisurely Taraxin beside him, Corax swallowed subconsciously. He stared nervously at the opposite side of him, his eyes bloodshot, the blasphemous scene almost made him shed tears of blood.
He saw his brother Alpha.
In the pool of blood, the pitch-black claw that could hardly be called a hand stretched out, carrying with it a bloody aura. Rough scales like brass climbed on the arm, and blood slowly flowed down from the grooves of the scales.
Corax didn't understand—he couldn't understand—it was an image no one with a conscience could tolerate—that of a soul that was utterly depraved.
But deep down in his heart, what Corax could not accept was that his soul was vaguely resonating with this crude picture of hell.
The Primarch's black pupils widened, and Corax used his reason to suppress his instincts. Run, run quickly, don't think about anything else.
This is a hell that magnifies the gap of desire.
He smelled the stench of decay at the tip of his nose, and the rotten monster behind him was vomited out of the cocoon. Corax felt his hairs stand on end, and for a moment, he seemed unable to move. The Primarch's abdomen, which was pierced by Horus, was in severe pain. Corax was sure that there were forces here that he could not see, and they were staring at him and putting pressure on his soul.
However, the sage beside him moved, and he watched as Trazyn took a slight step back.
Corax, you need to pull yourself together.
The Primarch thought, there are more people here than just you, and you are not the only one who needs to be saved.
[…]
The Primarch let out a gasp of pain, his lips moved -
[three.]
The Primarch whispered at that moment, and Trazyn felt his body floating up!
The technology from the Necrons didn't even react at that moment. The sensors beeped and Trazyn miraculously found himself "flying".
Corax was running, holding the Archmagos in one hand as he dashed, fleeing, trying to avoid his fallen brother.
The Primarch's speed was indeed beyond Trazyn's imagination.
Trazyn once again reaffirmed his determination to collect Corax. He recorded this rare scene - the experience of being carried by the Primarch and flying would be unique in this galaxy.
Corax was panting and running. He heard their roars. His vision began to blur. The road ahead became hazy and blurry. The Primarch let out an angry roar like a trapped beast. His other hand clenched the three-headed power whip. He listened to Alpha's wild laughter behind him. It was unbelievable that Alpha was faster than him.
[Go find the Khan!]
Corax roared, aiming at the long corridor in the distance and throwing Trazyn out. His eyes became increasingly blurry. Something happened here that Corax could not understand.
But there was no time to react to this, as Corax suddenly raised his hand, and the power whip collided with the battle axe flying towards him with a crisp sound!
The whip took a lot of the force off him, but even so, Corax still felt his arms numbed by the huge force.
[Your opponent is me.]
He spoke calmly as the Raven Lord stood there, waiting for his enemy, the power whip in his hand arcing with electricity.
He stared at the two beings—were they still alive? Could he kill the dead? Corax was silent.
Delay a little longer, the Primarch thought, and then he would find another opportunity to leave here.
The white fog obscured the direction of Trazyn. Corax gritted his teeth. If Trazyn was trustworthy, then he at least hoped that Trazyn could leave.
A sage cannot possibly get involved in the war between primarchs, Corax thought.
He raised his whip and looked at his enemy with a fearless look of death.
—————
Trazyn fell to the ground and struggled to raise his head.
He saw a pair of feet, a pair of feet covered with dead leaves and ashes,
"This way, please."
Trazyn's electronic voice spoke dryly, his calmness seemed to disappear, the Necron pointed behind him, and Mortarion in front of him, who seemed to be in a hurry, stopped, and the Pale Lord was staring at him with a bad face.
+? +
Mortarion made a puzzled sound.
Yay!
(End of this chapter)