"You've never seen one?"
Sutton shot him a look of instant suspicion.
No way, bro.
I summoned you to this Tomb World so you could feed me intelligence from the wider cosmos and plug the holes in my own.
And now you tell me you don't know?
Aren't you ashamed to say that out loud?
"No, that's not what I meant!"
Reading the subtext, Trazyn sputtered, "A sight like this shouldn't even exist! Quick example—would you ever expect to bump into the Triarch Praetorians of the Silent King on a routine excursion?"
Moments earlier, through the eyes of a Canoptek Scarab, Trazyn had spotted several high-ranking units of the Imperium of Man.
Inquisitor, Imperial Guard, Living Saint, Archagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Astartes… all marching in the same strike team, shoulder to shoulder.
To Trazyn, who knew the Imperium, the scene was flat-out impossible.
How had those maniacs ended up in the same squad? Since when did the Imperium move that fast? And why hadn't they started killing one another first? Has the universe finally gone mad?!
"Fine—what's your counter-move?"
Sutton's necrodermis irises glowed a ghostly green.
"None."
Trazyn spread his hands. "Of course, if you'd let my bodyguard gate in through the Eternity Gate, we'd have options."
"…Please don't treat me like an idiot Trazyn."
Sutton snapped.
Ever since the supreme command protocols were scrapped, the old lord-overlord-pharaonic chain of the Necrons had turned to rust; dynasties now pulled in opposite directions.
And if any other Necron had floated the idea, maybe. But Trazyn—whose reputation among the Necrons was barely better than a common thief—Sutton could only imagine what would be left of his Tomb World once that escort finished "helping."
Still, as a Tomb Technician who commanded the pinnacle of real-space science, Sutton was hardly out of tricks.
"Analysis shows conventional forces won't stop these intruders. Time to play my trump card."
???
Trazyn sensed something off and raised an eyebrow. "You can still stall an elite team like that? Interesting."
His curiosity lit up. "Mind showing me how?"
Sutton weighed the request; knowing Trazyn, curiosity could not be denied. He gave a grudging nod.
The two towering metal forms strode down the Tomb World's gallery; guided by a Tomb Spider, they soon reached what looked like a laboratory.
Cold light spilled across the chamber. Trazyn swept his gaze around.
"Interesting."
Canoptek Scarabs and Tomb Spiders bustled everywhere, while ranks of suspension pods held creatures he recognized at a glance: ordinary humans.
Each pod cradled a limp body in green nutrient fluid, every one of them unconscious.
Trazyn wasn't surprised to find mortals in a Tomb Technician's lab.
These days, any Technician with ambition tried to crack the Necrons' ultimate problem—reverse biotransference and win back flesh—and humans, the galaxy's most plentiful sapients, made convenient test references.
What did surprise him was their condition.
Apart from needle tracks, the specimens were intact; no limbs hacked away, no gross mutilation.
"Didn't expect you to keep the old habits."
Trazyn turned, studying Sutton.
"Hah. You misunderstand."
Sutton's voice was cold. "The humans who disturbed my rest and my work are one thing. Invaders get no courtesy.
But the two aren't the same. I respect every thinking being's life—even if their so-called noble Governor sold them to me without a second thought."
"In human terms, that sounds… precious."
Trazyn needled.
"Precious? Maybe. But aren't you the same, Eternal Wanderer?"
Sutton countered. "They say you collect historical curios and turned your Tomb World into a giant museum."
"Our souls were devoured by those abominable star gods. We Necrons are mere echoes of the dead—tombstones carrying memories and personality data. Even if we regain flesh, the old soul is gone. Without something to cling to, we aren't 'alive' at all."
Even the ever-chipper Trazyn fell silent for a beat.
He shifted topics. "So, what's your final solution?"
Sutton didn't linger; he answered at once. "Coincidentally, it ties to the star gods I just mentioned."
He tapped the floor with his staff; a lab wall slid aside, revealing a hidden inner chamber.
Frigid light poured in. What greeted Trazyn was achingly familiar.
A Tesseract Vault.
The ultimate Necron ground engine: a blackstone hull blazing with light, torrents of extradimensional energy bleeding through the seals while Canoptek Leeches scuttled over the surface, repairing damage wrought by the fury of the prisoner within.
At the vault's center, a Tomb Sentinel of light-draining alloy pinned the captive with its multi-armed frame, forcing the inmate to obey its master.
The truth was simple.
A C'tan shard.
The definitive last-resort of the Necron race.
Trazyn's expression hardened; a Necron Overlord's experience let him place the fragment in an instant.
It was a shard of the star god Mag'ladroth.
Or, by its far more famous name—the Void Dragon.
___________
Ah yes just gift wrap Adam his way to Level 4 reality warper, good job, what a nice Christmas present