After executing a series of precise calculations, the Cryptek quickly arrived at a conclusion.
This was indeed a threat that warranted serious consideration.
It appeared that these biologicals who called themselves "Humanity" possessed so slight, redeeming qualities in the realm of technology.
The precision and sheer devastating yield of that plasma bombardnt were certainly noteworthy. Even among Crypteks—scholars who dedicated their eternal existences to the absolute mastery of ion-manipulation thodologies—such an application of raw energy was worthy of comndation.
It was just...
The Cryptek fell into deep contemplation.
Having only recently awoken from the Great Sleep, he possessed absolutely no current teletry regarding the state of the galaxy. Therefore, he lacked any specific intelligence regarding these invaders or the precise nature of the weapon system they were deploying.
Fortunately, he had alternative thods at his disposal.
The Cryptek resud his asured pace, striding down the grand processional avenue until he reached his destination.
His chanical chassis slowly tilted upward, his optical sensors locking onto the colossal structure towering before him.
It was a massive, perfectly cubic monolith forged from pitch-black noctilith, its apex crowned with four heavy Gauss Flux Arcs. From the cavernous, open portal at its base, a profound, erald-green light bled outward.
This was a Necron Monolith—a terrifying, anti-gravitic mobile fortress. Not only was it ard with devastating Gauss weaponry, but its core housed a captive Eternity Gate, a localized dinsional breach capable of teleporting reinforcents directly from distant Tomb Worlds onto the battlefield.
The Cryptek did not have to wait long.
Soon, a tall, tallic figure gripping a long staff and wearing an ornate, sweeping cloak strode out from the Monolith's portal.
Unlike the typically rigid, regal elegance displayed by most Necron nobility, this Overlord appeared remarkably casual. The mont he stepped through, he began swiveling his head, peering around with intense curiosity, evaluating his surroundings before finally fixing his gaze upon the waiting Cryptek.
"It has been far too long, my old friend."
The newcor spoke, his synthesized voice carrying a distinct, lively inflection. "Sutekh, the Voidbringer... Has it been a hundred thousand years? Several hundred thousand? Oh, dear, I've completely lost count."
He perford an exaggerated, highly human-like sigh—a gesture exceedingly rare among Necrons—and continued, "To see you fully reawakened, your cognitive engrams untainted by the degradation of the Great Sleep, brings imnse joy."
"The pleasure is mutual," Cryptek Sutekh nodded calmly, his gaze fixed upon the Overlord. "Particularly upon learning that your chassis is equally intact, and that you apparently awakened quite early, having bypassed the Great Sleep entirely."
"Trazyn the Infinite."
His voice echoed through the cavernous hall, directly stating the na of the entity standing before him.
Trazyn the Infinite. Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, Preserver of History, Lord of the Tomb World of Solemnace, forr Chief Archivist of the Necrontyr prior to biotransference, and arguably the greatest collector in the entire galaxy.
Even among the inherently eccentric and idiosyncratic ranks of the Necron nobility, he stood out as an absolute anomaly.
Even having his full title invoked did not faze Trazyn in the slightest. He rely continued to elegantly survey his surroundings.
"Cease your appraisals. I possess absolutely nothing here worthy of being added to your 'collection'." Sutekh flatly interrupted Trazyn's fantasies.
"It is not theft! It is the temporary, indefinite safeguarding of historical artifacts, I assure you. Wait a mont..."
Suddenly realizing a logical inconsistency, Trazyn froze, his optical sensors narrowing suspiciously. "Did you not state you only just awakened?"
Do I not know you well enough by now?
Sutekh was montarily speechless, but after a microsecond of calculation, he smoothly shifted the bla onto a certain Cryptek who was conveniently absent.
"Orikan the Diviner inford ."
"I knew it!" Trazyn ground his tallic teeth. Sutekh even managed to pick up the faint audio feed of Trazyn muttering several highly derogatory terms—archaic profanities dating back to the flesh-and-blood era of the Necrontyr.
After a mont, Trazyn finally recalled the primary objective.
"It is exceedingly rare for you to invite to your domain. Has an anomaly occurred?"
"An anomaly has indeed occurred. My Canoptek Scarab swarms initiated ergency awakening protocols. It appears the civilization that festered on the surface while we slumbered has begun actively excavating my tomb, forcing my premature reawakening..."
Having rapidly summarized the tactical dilemma he faced, Sutekh looked at the Overlord before him.
"I require comprehensive intelligence regarding the civilizations that have developed in the galaxy since our Great Sleep. You are the optimal candidate to provide this data, given how long you have been active."
"Ah, you have certainly co to the right Overlord!"
Trazyn's enthusiasm spiked. He raised his hands, pantomiming the playing of a nonexistent musical instrunt across his chest, and began to speak with theatrical flair. "...There is absolutely no Necron in this galaxy who understands humanity better than I do!"
Watching Trazyn's eccentric performance, Sutekh felt a distinct, simulated sensation of profound exhaustion wash over his cognitive engrams.
Is his logic core malfunctioning again? Does he seriously not need a Cryptek to run a diagnostic on his primary processors?
One hour later.
After rapidly processing the combat teletry projected by the Canoptek Spyder, Trazyn—absentmindedly stroking the Empathic Obliterator in his hand—began his comprehensive briefing.
Regarding the origins, organizational structure, and specific unit classifications of the Adeptus chanicus forces displayed in the holographic feed, he possessed an encyclopedic knowledge, reciting the data effortlessly as if enurating his own family treasures.
Listening to him, Sutekh couldn't help but wonder exactly what Trazyn had been doing all these millennia to acquire such terrifyingly detailed intelligence.
It's not as if he's actively employed within so departnt of the Imperium of Man, right?
Slightly disturbed by the sudden, absurd thought, Sutekh quickly purged the variable from his mory buffer and asked seriously, "Do you possess any technical data regarding that specific plasma weapon system?"
"That... I do not."
Trazyn stroked his smooth, tallic chin. "However, it is not an entirely unexpected anomaly. These 'Tech-Priests' frequently unearth and deploy highly valuable technological relics from their own hidden vaults. During the era they refer to as the 'Dark Age of Technology,' humanity's scientific advancent was exceedingly high, arguably rivaling our own in certain, specific fields."
"It is entirely logical that they have inherited and successfully preserved a handful of these devastating archeotech relics."
"I see." Sutekh accepted this logical deduction and nodded. "You may return now, Infinite One. I have no further inquiries."
"You're dismissing just like that?"
Trazyn appeared profoundly disappointed, staring at his friend from before the biotransference in sheer shock. "I do not recall you being this cold and utilitarian, Sutekh."
If I don't dismiss you now, what else am I supposed to do? Wait for you to turn my entire Tomb World upside down looking for shiny trinkets?
Feeling a spike of exasperation, Sutekh asked, "What exactly is it that you want?"
"I wish to assist you, my friend."
"And what is the price of this assistance, Infinite One?" Sutekh asked bluntly, without a shred of politeness.
His deep understanding of the entity standing before him dictated that any display of weakness or courtesy would only encourage this notoriously ill-mannered Overlord to push his boundaries.
"What do you intend to extract from my domain? Do you plan to emulate Anrakyr the Traveller and simply demand a tithe of one-tenth of my armory and awakened legions?" Sutekh demanded.
"No, no! How could you suggest such a thing? Do I strike you as that kind of Necron?" Trazyn waved his hands in exaggerated, theatrical denial. "You misunderstand entirely. I rely experienced a sudden, profound interest in that specific object from a purely preservationist perspective."
Pulling a hyperdinsional Tesseract Labyrinth from an unseen dinsional pocket, he held it up between two fingers. "A technological relic possessing such devastating yield is utterly wasted in the crude, greasy hands of the chanicus. They possess absolutely no comprehension of true historical value; they will rely squander it recklessly in battle."
"It is in tis like these that a benevolent, culturally conscious collector must step forward and offer a modicum of... constructive assistance."
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