After a series of precise calculations, the Tomb Technician quickly reached a conclusion.
This is indeed a threat worth taking seriously.
It seems those creatures who call themselves "humans" do have so rits when it cos to technology.
The accuracy and power of this plasma attack are genuinely noteworthy; even among Tomb Technicians who specialize in ionics, it would be considered praiseworthy.
And yet… the Tomb Technician fell into contemplation.
Freshly awakened, he knew too little about this galaxy to identify the attackers or their weapon.
Fortunately, he had other options.
The Tomb Technician strode on, through the grand corridor, and finally stopped.
His chanical fra tilted back, regarding the colossus that lood ahead.
It was a squat black monolith, four arcing cannons crowning its summit, a green glow seeping from the yawning gate in its face.
This was a Necron Obelisk, a terrifying anti-gravitic mobile fortress. Not only did it mount potent gauss-arc projectors, but within it imprisoned a transdinsional gate, able to link to distant Tomb Worlds and ferry troops through.
The Tomb Technician did not wait long.
Soon a tall tal figure, staff in hand and cloak upon his shoulders, stepped from the Obelisk.
Unlike the customary elegance of the Necrons, this Overlord seed relaxed; he erged craning his neck to gaze about in open curiosity, finally resting his eyes on the Tomb Technician before him.
"Long ti no see, old friend."
The newcor spoke, voice tinged with life. "Voidbringer Sardon… has it been a hundred thousand years? A few hundred thousand? Ah, I've lost count."
He perford an exaggerated, almost human sigh—rare among Necrons—and continued, "To see you revived and not maddened by the long sleep delights ."
"I am equally pleased to et you,"
Tomb Technician Sardon replied calmly, studying him, "especially to hear you remain intact and, remarkably, awake so early—never having slipped back into slumber."
"Trazyn the Infinite."
His voice echoed through the vast hall, revealing the na of the one before him.
Trazyn the Infinite, a Necron Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty, guardian of history, protector of the Solemnace Tomb World, chief archivist of the Necrontyr before biotransference, and the greatest collector in the galaxy.
Even among the idiosyncratic Necron nobility, he stood out.
Even with his na spoken aloud, Trazyn rely inspected his surroundings with elegant curiosity.
"Don't bother; there's nothing here worthy of your collection."
Sardon cut his reverie short.
"It's not theft, rely temporary safekeeping—wait…"
Suddenly sensing sothing, Trazyn froze, suspicion clouding his gaze. "Weren't you just revived?"
Do I not know you?
Sardon felt speechless, but after a mont he passed the bla to an absent Tomb Technician.
"Orikan the Diviner told ."
"I knew it!"
Trazyn ground his teeth; Sardon could almost hear him muttering choice Necrontyr-era curses.
After a while, Trazyn finally rembered the matter at hand.
"You rarely summon ; what's happened?"
"Indeed. Canoptek Scarabs woke . Civilizations that arose while we slept have begun desecrating my tomb, forcing to awaken…"
Having swiftly outlined his problem, Sardon looked to the Overlord.
"I need to understand those civilizations that flourished in our absence. You, awake so long, should be able to help."
"You've co to the right Necron!"
Trazyn bead, hands dancing before his chest as though playing an instrunt. "No one understands humans better than I!"
Watching the performance, Sardon felt a headache coming on.
Is this lunacy starting again?
Does he need a Tomb Technician to check his mind-core?
An hour later.
After a brief viewing of war footage projected by a Tomb Spyder, Trazyn, fingers stroking his empathic obliterator, began his lecture.
He rattled off the origins and every unit of the Adeptus chanicus shown in the hololith with effortless familiarity.
Sardon grew curious: what had Trazyn been doing all these millennia to know so much?
Surely he hadn't been working inside so branch of the Imperium of Man?
Shuddering at the thought, Sardon dismissed it and asked, "What do you know of that plasma weapon?"
"That… I don't have."
Trazyn rubbed his smooth tal chin. "But it makes sense; the Adeptus chanicus love to dig out precious relics from their vaults. During the Dark Age of Technology humanity reached heights rivaling our own."
"Finding a surviving artifact would be no surprise."
"I see."
Accepting the explanation, Sardon nodded. "Infinite one, you may go; I have no further questions."
"Just like that, you chase away?"
Trazyn looked wounded, astonished at his pre-transformation friend. "I don't rember you being so cold, Sardon."
What else should I do—wait for you to turn my Tomb World inside out?
Sardon sighed. "What do you want?"
"To help you, my friend."
"Then, Infinite one, what is the price?"
Without a trace of courtesy, Sardon pressed.
He knew any sign of weakness would let this shaless Necron push further.
"What do you seek? Like Thanasar the Traveller, a tenth of my arsenal and troops?"
he demanded.
"No, no! How could you think that of ?"
Trazyn waved extravagantly. "You misunderstand; as a collector I've simply taken an interest."
From nowhere he produced a hyperdinsional micro-maze, cradling it. "Such a potent relic in Adeptus chanicus hands is wasted—they know nothing of historical value and will squander it."
"That is when a kindly collector must offer a little assistance."
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