Warhammer [455-457] (Patreon)

Chapter 455: Trazyn Breaks Down, the Living Necron

Before coming here, Rhodes had already worked out a detailed plan with AsanethAyu to thoroughly provoke and break the composure of the Necron Overlord, Trazyn!

"Trazyn the infinite, noble Necron Overlord! How nostalgic! You Necrons have already forgotten the glory of the Necrontyr," AsanethAyu sneered.

"You know me? How did you come to this world? Who created you?" Trazyn asked.

He valued this living kin—one who still possessed a body—not to add them to his collection, but because they represented hope for their race.

The Necrons: their current bodies may be immortal, but are they still themselves? Their souls were long ago devoured by the C'tan.

"My name is AsanethAyu. I was once a minor Chronomancer in an unremarkable dynasty. Thanks to Lord Rhodes's help, I regained my body and truly escaped that eternal, horrifying curse," AsanethAyu explained.

"You—you mean to say this is possible? That's impossible! Humans could never… Humans can't possibly restore a Necron to flesh. That's absolutely impossible." Trazyn was visibly shaken.

His thought-core fell into unprecedented chaos.

His electronic neurons blinked frantically, searching for a thread of logic in this unbelievable reality. But no matter how he calculated or analyzed, the facts before him stabbed deep into his cold mechanical heart like a sharp blade.

"This… can't be… absolutely impossible…" Trazyn's voice trembled, almost muttering to himself.

His optics locked onto AsanethAyu, searching for any flaw or tell.

But what he saw was a living, soulful Necrontyr—a being he thought could never exist again.

But how? Their souls were devoured by the C'tan long ago! It should be impossible to restore them!

"You can't possibly have a soul! If you said you were a clone, I could accept that, but how can you be the real AsanethAyu?" The Necron Overlord Trazyn spoke, agitated.

"Nothing is impossible! Trazyn, I'm standing right in front of you. Do I look like a soulless shell?" AsanethAyu sneered.

Toying with such a powerful Necron Overlord was truly entertaining. Since regaining a real body, he no longer recognized these Necrons as kin.

"You… you really have your soul again?"

Trazyn's voice was tinged with undisguised longing and jealousy. His thought-core traced back through memories—of the Necrontyr' glory, their flesh, their souls and emotions.

He too had once been a Necrontyr, a being of flesh and spirit.

But the C'tan's trickery and curse had turned them into cold machines, their souls devoured, their glory forgotten. Many of his kin had become nothing but machines.

"Trazyn, what are you still doubting?" Rhodes's voice suddenly sounded, mocking and amused.

He walked to AsanethAyu's side, his gaze piercing as he looked at Trazyn. "What you see is what you desire most—a living, soulful Necrontyr. She is my subordinate, and I gave her all this."

Trazyn's thought-core jolted, as if struck by lightning. His optics shifted to Rhodes, flickering with complex emotions—anger, jealousy, longing, despair—all swirling in his mechanical heart, forming a chaotic tide of data that even pressed on his core.

No Necron could remain calm in the face of this.

"How… How did you achieve this?" Trazyn's voice quavered, barely suppressing his inner turmoil. "How could a human possess such technology? It's… it's impossible!"

"Impossible?" Rhodes sneered, full of disdain. "Trazyn, you're too arrogant.

You think Necron technology is the pinnacle of the universe? You think what you can't do, no one else can? Ridiculous."

Trazyn's mechanical body trembled under the pressure. His thought-core raced, searching for a rebuttal, but found none. AsanethAyu's existence was a hammer shattering his arrogance.

"How did you obtain such technology? Tell me—I'm willing to trade all my collections, anything you want, just name it." The Trazyn the infinite spoke.

Resurrection! 

More precious than all his collections—Orks, other Necron lords, Primarch clones, Dark Eldar warriors, ancient Krork, even treasures no human could refuse.

"And that's not all, Trazyn. I've also obtained what all Necrontyr dream of—true immortality." AsanethAyu grew gigantic before Trazyn's eyes.

She transformed into a massive beast, sixty meters tall, exuding an indescribable sense of oppression—a true evolution, an elevation of life.

At this moment, AsanethAyu was the most perfect of all Necrontyr—without equal.

"See? This is the perfect form, the true power Necrontyr yearn for. As long as I'm not killed, I could live hundreds of thousands of years," AsanethAyu said.

"Rhodes… just tell me, and I'll give you anything. All my collections, anything you want." Trazyn seemed to make a decision, speaking resolutely.

Trazyn's body shook as he endured the pressure. The Necrons had lost too much—souls, glory, even themselves.

All that remained was cold metal and endless emptiness. Now, at last, there was a chance to set things right.

If this human revealed everything, it meant there was room to bargain. Otherwise, there would be no point in showing him all this.

"Everything?"

Rhodes sneered, full of disdain. "Trazyn, do you think you have anything left to offer? Your collections? Your technology? Your power? None of it matters to me.

Because soon, everything you have will be mine. I'm telling you all this just to humiliate you, nothing more."

"AsanethAyu… you really choose to follow him? Have you forgotten our glory? We were once rulers of the galaxy, victors of the War in Heaven." Trazyn turned to his kin.

"Trazyn, don't you get it yet?"

AsanethAyu sneered. "I am no longer your kin. I am no longer cursed by the C'tan.

Now, I have a soul, flesh, real life, even greater perfection—and all of it is a gift from Lord Rhodes."

So-called victors of the War in Heaven—was there ever a true winner? If they had really won, they wouldn't have slumbered for sixty million years, only to wake with digital plagues.

They beat the C'tan and Old Ones, but the Old Ones' creations cornered them.

Trazyn's mechanical body trembled under the weight of it all.

He knew AsanethAyu spoke the truth. She was no longer cursed.

She had regained her soul, her life, even the longevity others dreamed of.

But he remained trapped in cold metal, as did all his kin.

"Rhodes, you cannot kill me, nor take all my collections.

Don't underestimate me. I've roamed the galaxy for sixty million years, looting countless civilizations, even visiting your Earth before humanity left the stone age, teaching your ancestors how to build pyramids.

It's not that simple. This body, this tomb world—they're just avatars. I have more than one museum.

I can detonate this core any time. You may escape, but my collections and your subordinates will die. If you want to gamble, come at me!" Trazyn threatened.

Rhodes's expression shifted—black holes weren't to be taken lightly. Necrons could manipulate them.

"If you let me go, I'll give you all my human-related collections.

There's one thing you won't be able to refuse—a true Primarch, not a clone." Trazyn offered.

Chapter 456: The Captured Primarch, Rogal Dorn

Trazyn's words made Rhodes frown. He knew this guy hoarded many treasures, including some cloned Primarchs—Fulgrim, Lorgar, Horus.

But he never imagined Trazyn might have a real Primarch. Who could it be? The Wolf King? The Khan? Rogal Dorn? The Raven King?

"Don't lie to me. How could you collect a real Primarch?" Rhodes challenged.

"Don't overestimate them. Primarchs are only ten thousand years old! Back then, we killed beings far stronger than Primarchs.

Their uniqueness is just their sub-warp god souls. I have an Old One creation—a primordial Ork.

He's just a soldier, but his body is at Primarch level," Trazyn explained.

That Krork warboss was one of his prized pieces, rivaling a Primarch in strength.

Of course, that was compared to Primarchs of the past, not the current ones who could unleash godlike power.

Rhodes knew of this ancient Krork—he truly was a match for Primarchs in physical might, though the essence of a Primarch was different.

The power wielded in the War in Heaven was truly beyond the current Imperium.

Trazyn was the most mysterious existence in the galaxy—he could well have captured a real Primarch.

"Tell me, which Primarch did you capture? I need to know, or you'll trick me with a traitor," Rhodes insisted.

He wouldn't trust Trazyn easily—a defective product wouldn't do.

"You can trust me on this. He's my favorite collection! It took immense effort to capture him in that war—I'll give him to you if you let me go," Trazyn answered.

"Tell me his name. I won't ask twice. Once I confirm, I'll consider releasing you," Rhodes demanded.

"His name is Rogal Dorn, the Imperial Fists Primarch. It took a lot to capture him—I even broke one of his arms," Trazyn revealed.

Rhodes narrowed his eyes—just as he suspected. Dorn went missing during an ambush against Chaos Marines. Given his power, he shouldn't have lost, but after the battle, only his arm and some battle marks were left.

All the Chaos Marines were dead. If they'd beaten Dorn, Abaddon would have boasted about it.

Clearly, a mysterious party was responsible, and only Trazyn could pull it off.

"So it was Rogal Dorn! What dirty trick did you use?" Rhodes asked.

"Just a little trick. He put up a fight, but I got him in the end," Trazyn said.

"And something else—besides all human collections, give me that ancient Ork," Rhodes demanded.

If it was Dorn, he had to be rescued.

"Fine, I agree. Follow me. I'll show you my collection—I'm always happy to have a guest," Trazyn gestured.

"Isn't a real Primarch too dangerous? Let me guard you," Titus said.

"No need. Take all the brothers back to the ship, prepare for a warp jump. I only need Tartarus with me," Rhodes replied.

If danger arose, Tartarus—the galaxy's top escape artist—could get them out!

Plus, he had Zog and Isha with him.

"Yes, my Primarch. Be careful," Titus replied, and began to rally the battle brothers back to the ship.

After a brief discussion, Rhodes followed Trazyn into his gallery, seeing a dazzling array of treasures.

Some were dead objects of mere collectible value, but some were truly priceless.

Rhodes even saw at least a squad of Custodes—so the Ultraman released on Cadia wasn't the only one Trazyn had caught.

There were even loyalist and traitor Astartes—uncorrupted, captured during the Great Crusade, before Horus's betrayal.

Soon, Rhodes stopped before a display case holding a 12-meter-tall, dark green, power-armored ancient Ork.

"This is the ancient Krork?"

"Yes, my collection. I captured him in the War in Heaven.

I can't give you his body—it's too precious—but I can give you a piece of his flesh.

You know how Orks work—a piece of flesh is a whole army," Trazyn said.

"Oh? I doubt even ancient Orks were this powerful—he must be at least a commander!" Rhodes replied.

The Krork's aura was immense, his psychic power strong—a general at least. If all ancient Orks were this strong, the Old Ones could have wiped out the Necrons and C'tan easily.

"Hahaha! You have a keen eye. He was indeed a general—otherwise he'd never enter my gallery," Trazyn said.

"Now, hand over all your human collections!" Rhodes demanded.

"No rush. Let's take a look—they're all stored in tesseract cubes.

Just take them away when the time comes. Since we've struck a deal, I won't go back on my word," Trazyn said, privately thinking he'd just start collecting again later, unless he was killed.

Following Trazyn, Rhodes saw more exhibits—Primarch clones: Fulgrim, Lorgar, Horus.

Rhodes cared little for clones—his tech could create them anytime. The true value of a Primarch was their soul.

With Trazyn, Rhodes entered a hidden room. Trazyn operated a series of controls and passwords, opening a chamber.

Inside lay a 3.7-meter-tall man, missing an arm, clad in power armor—the captured Primarch, Rogal Dorn.

With psychic senses, Rhodes could feel the sub-god soul—this was no clone, but the real thing!

Well done, Trazyn! Dorn was in your hands all along.

"Mr. Rhodes, this is the last human collection. You may take them all, as promised," Trazyn said.

Rhodes nodded, had Tartarus open a portal, and sent all the tesseract cubes to his ship.

After sending the last one—Dorn's—Rhodes turned with a smile to Trazyn.

"Our deal is done. Now, please leave my territory," Trazyn said.

A heavy loss, but the information gained was priceless—for all Necrons.

"I'll give you a gift, as a symbol of our friendship," Rhodes said, winking at Tartarus.

Tartarus immediately used his time powers to revert Trazyn's body to his Necrontyr form.

Then he summoned the Cosmic Vermillion Bird, gifting Trazyn a soul and a spark of rebirth, granting him several decades of life.

With this done, Rhodes turned and left.

Trazyn would revive, but only as an avatar. Now, a living Necrontyr Trazyn existed alongside the Necron Trazyn.

So—which was the real one? Let them figure it out!

Chapter 457: Necrontyr Trazyn vs. Necron Overlord Trazyn

Rhodes's departure escaped the Necrontyr Trazyn's notice—or rather, the one who would notice was lost in frenzied calculation.

At that moment, Necrontyr Trazyn was immersed in the joy of resurrection, feeling the miracle of life.

"I never thought I'd be revived, awake again!

 I am the galaxy's greatest museum curator, the Necr—no, not anymore—I am Necrontyr Trazyn!" Trazyn spread his arms, breathing fresh air.

In the instant of revival, he felt indescribable beauty—something impossible as a Necron.

He was then filled with deep remorse for his past actions.

 "How crude! How could I do such things? It's wrong—we're a noble, advanced civilization. I'll change everything," Trazyn resolved.

Now with about 50-60 years of life—an eyeblink for one so ancient—his priority was to extend it.

All species in the galaxy have sought life extension, inventing various technologies—humans, Old Ones, others.

But these didn't work for Necrontyr, cursed at the DNA level by their homeworld's toxic sun—a curse millions of years in the making.

Revived, only to die again soon? Unacceptable.

Trazyn grew furious. He hurried to his lab for DNA analysis, recalling Rhodes's promise of a precious gift.

He didn't notice that nearby Necron constructs were observing him, confused, having received two conflicting orders: one from the core to capture him, one from him to stand by.

Whom to obey? 

All Necron constructs froze. Their rigid hierarchy meant all obeyed the Silent King unless the command protocol was lifted, then Necrontyr controlled Overlords, Overlords their subordinates.

Here stood the living Necrontyr Trazyn, but the core database still recognized the Necron Overlord Trazyn. Yet, Necrons were ascended Necrontyr. All high-level Necrons began calculating madly, even blowing fuses, unable to resolve this paradox.

Necrontyr Trazyn took a blood sample, analyzed it, and was overjoyed—Rhodes had gifted him the Phoenix's rebirth flame, cleansing the toxic sun's effect from his DNA.

"Hahahaha! Rhodes, my friend, thank you!

 You've saved our race. You're our savior! The Necrons are saved!" Necrontyr Trazyn rejoiced.

Freed from the homeworld's curse, he could now use all the galaxy's life extension methods. His collection included not just items, but knowledge.

With this knowledge—including Old One tech—he could transform himself into an immortal.

This tomb world only held physical artifacts—he had other tomb worlds for knowledge.

After sixty million years, he had more than one lair.

Trazyn was ecstatic, eager to head to another tomb world and use its life extension tech.

"The great Necrontyr Trazyn is reborn!" he exulted.

Just then, a cold voice sounded from his communicator: "Sorry to interrupt, but if you're Trazyn, then who am I?"

Trazyn's laughter stopped. He turned stiffly.

A metal skeleton in Overlord regalia and staff appeared. At the sight, Necrontyr Trazyn's heart pounded, his mind stalling.

"Impossible! Who—who are you?

You're just a backup protocol—I'm the real master! I've revived, you're just data!" Trazyn snapped.

"You are revived, and have all my memories, but I am still Necron Overlord Trazyn!" the Overlord replied coldly.

Another self—a living, soulful self.

When this body revived, the data link was severed, memory sharing ending with Rhodes's resurrection.

Necrons lack souls; theirs were devoured. In theory, the one with a soul is the real Trazyn.

At first, the Overlord Trazyn thought so—perhaps he was just backup, and should obey the revived original.

Especially after learning the original was free of the curse and could use life extension—he felt both excitement and rage, jealousy, hatred.

Why? Why do you get what I dreamed of?

 Why am I just data? Why do you have a soul?

This wasn't right. After much thought—

The Overlord Trazyn used his teleportation tech to bring his main body here, to confront his living self and confirm things.

Even if this body was destroyed, he could always build a new one elsewhere.

"Activate Necrontyr authorization, Necrontyr Trazyn, system verification, initiate highest control protocol."

Trazyn went to the tomb world's core, placing his palm on it.

This was a program dormant for sixty million years, only activated by a living Necron Overlord or Necrontyr, giving ultimate control.

Instantly, the entire tomb world's control passed to Trazyn.

Even the Overlord before him couldn't resist—Necrontyr had the highest authority.

"I order you—erase your data, delete all records of Overlord Trazyn," Trazyn commanded coldly.

He understood now: he truly was revived.

When the Necrons underwent mechanization, they kept data backups. As long as a tomb core survived, so did he. Before resurrection, all backups were him—like a supercomputer.

But now, with a true revival, the backups were a threat—they had to be deleted.

"I knew you'd do this—because I am you, aren't I?

 But you only control this tomb world. While you were celebrating, I transferred most treasures away.

Other tomb world cores are sealed with alien tech—you'll never access them, even with highest authority.

You've only gained this one tomb world.

I am the true Necron Overlord Trazyn!

 And I'll broadcast our conversation to all Necrontyr and Overlords—Silent King included," the Overlord said coldly.

"No! You can't! You're just data, you should obey me! I'm the living one, the preserver of galactic history! You can't do this, there's no reason!" Trazyn cried, unable to comprehend a backup's betrayal.

He knew this footage would shake all of Necron society.

"Maybe AsanethAyu was right. The moment you revived, you ceased to be a Necron.

Our coldness, evil, cruelty, hatred—you have lost them," said the Overlord Trazyn quietly.