40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 567 85. Dark Crusade (15, Defendant Trazin)

Staying in the cell that he had just entered less than three minutes ago, Trazin moved his fingers, making the metal joints beat continuously.

His neural pathways are warning, and those precious and tough necromancy technological creations are telling him in their own way that danger is approaching.

But this is actually not necessary, after all, his visual units are all online, and his hearing is not damaged. He could hear the footsteps coming from the darkness, and could also see the male human who was traveling through the darkness and arriving in front of him.

At least that's what it looks like on the outside.

Trazin stood up from the ground gracefully. The decorations on his traveling robes collided with each other, making a crisp sound, and the reactor on his chest also lit up green.

It was a polite greeting, and he wasn't sure if the visitor would recognize it, but Trazin was not one to take it lightly.

"please forgive--"

He bowed slightly, and a gentle enough sound escaped from between his empty ribs.

"——Respected instructor of the Eighth Legion of the Human Empire, I, Trazin the Endless, overlord of the Solems Dynasty, an ordinary archaeologist, pay my respects to you."

"Besides, Your Excellency, I did not mean to appear in front of you at this time. I don't know if you want to believe me, but if you give me a chance, I will try my best to explain."

"What's the explanation?" the person outside the cage asked.

"Yeah" Trazin pondered for a few seconds, then suddenly raised his right index finger and answered the question loudly. "Can I not answer this question?"

"Okay, but don't you have to explain? Explain, Endless One."

Trazin looked at him in surprise, and her voice became hesitant.

"Oh! Ah, well, before we begin, sir, do you know me?"

His guest, who stood behind the gleaming iron bars, did not answer his words, but stared in silence.

Trazin couldn't help but sigh. At this moment, how he wished that the communication link and rune messages had the authority to communicate with God, so that he didn't have to rack his brains to sort out the words.

His equipment had been physically active for a little too long, and with the modifications he had made for today, it was obvious that its neural pathways were abnormally active.

On a normal day, Trazin would welcome this kind of activity, which would give him a real sense of being alive, even though he had long accepted the fact of 'death'

But that's not possible now. He doesn't want to be killed by this person before the matter is done.

Moreover, there is another thing that is also a bit weird.

Trazin began to look for a suitable opening statement. The suffocating silence lasted for more than ten seconds before it ended, and the opening statement he finalized in a hurry did not satisfy him very much. There was nothing he could do about it, the whole set of words he had spent seventy years preparing was not applicable to this situation.

Those fake guys showed up at the wrong time.

"I started planning our meeting today six hundred human - ah, no - Terran years ago, Your Excellency. I hope you understand that I originally had higher expectations for this conversation. But the galaxy we live in has always been cruel to everyone."

"It mercilessly disrupted my plan with a group of idiots who came out of nowhere, and made the meeting between us a bit strange. However, I believe the Emperor's Scythes should have explained it to you. The fact that I surrendered voluntarily.”

The undead overlord said this. He was very fluent in Gothic. Not only that, he even spoke in a cadence, with a dramatic tone that he didn't know where he came from.

After he finished speaking, he paused for a moment, raised his right hand and made a gesture to emphasize his next words.

"Of course, I understand that voluntary surrender is not enough to preserve my innocence. In this matter, I still look very suspicious. Then, Your Excellency, if you don't mind, I would like to formally begin to state my personal statement. testimony.”

The person outside the cage seemed to smile: "Say it, this court allows you to defend yourself."

"Thank you very much." Trazin bowed again and then began to state.

"First of all, what I want to say is the purpose of my coming here. My purpose is very simple, Your Excellency, I am here just to see you."

"oh?"

"My good friend, the astrologer Orrican, who is famous in the Milky Way and is now staying in the territory of your empire known as the Pacific Star Territory, used his extraordinary skills to predict today six centuries ago, or in other words, divination. It’s about you.”

"He was very excited about it, and knowing his silly, arrogant and vain personality, I think it was because he felt like he was getting a step closer to his craft."

"Of course, Your Excellency, I have to say that he is still a half-baked astrologer. He could accurately predict your return and your visit here, but he only missed-"

He paused again, this time for a very long time.

"The Endless?"

"Yes, it's okay, Your Excellency." Trazin said softly, and then magically took out a long pipe from behind the heavy cloak.

"Please accept this gift. It comes from an age older than the ancient times. It is a precious treasure. It can burn about 85% of the discovered substances in this galaxy and transform them into tobacco with different flavors and rich textures. I believe it will definitely bring you some small entertainment in your spare time."

"I dare not accept such a precious gift."

"It's okay, sir." Trazyn said as he walked to the edge of the shining cage.

He reached out and forced the pipe into the judge's hand, even shaking it up and down twice. The light collided with his hand, crackling, but did not cause any damage.

"This is my personal gift." Trazyn said very enthusiastically. "It is not a bribe to the judge by the defendant to try to clear his suspicion. Believe me, I never do such a thing, sir. I respect the law very much."

The judge took a step back indifferently, loosened his hand, and let the pipe float in the air.

"You can continue." He said. "I want to know what you know."

"Of course, of course, Your Honor. In short, I have no idea about the appearance of those strange fools, and everything that has happened before, is happening now, and will happen in the future."

"I came here simply to see you, talk to you, and if possible take a picture to commemorate and put it in one of my museum exhibition halls as a treasure, that's all."

"You have a museum?" the judge asked again.

Taraxin laughed.

At this moment, he threw Orikan, his current situation, and the purpose of coming here behind his mind, and instead began to roar in his neural pathways and those complex synaptic networks. What was extremely weird was an emotion.

He couldn't understand it for the time being, but his thinking units quickly solved this problem. They came to the conclusion: pride, and a strong desire to talk.

This false desire was caused by the identity of the person he was talking to, so special that the Endless, who didn't care much about any visitors, had the urge to invite him to visit his museum. He immediately began to talk about the precious exhibition hall of the War in Heaven, the ancient relics of the Necrontyr era, the exhibition halls of the Orc Empire and the Eldar Empire, and some other races that were short-lived. Then, he started talking about the human exhibition hall. His narration was so passionate and focused that he completely ignored some of the emotions hidden in the judge's questioning. And how he was so forgetful that he dared to talk about such things in front of the judge. If Trazyn was still sober, he could detect them and take emergency shelter, but he was now overwhelmed. He was a very stubborn person before he experienced the transformation of his body. After receiving this eternal torture, his stubbornness has become an indescribable and terrible paranoia. He collected the history of other races and built museums, but he did not welcome anyone, not even his own people, to visit, simply because he did not think they could appreciate and respect these exhibits as he did.

And now, he thought he had found that person.

He was wrong, but not completely wrong.

A hand reached out from outside the cage, grabbed one of his ribs, and then dragged him out of the cage and threw him to the ground quite roughly.

Trazyn did not feel any pain, but the roughness and contempt contained in it made him shout out in pain: "Why is this, your Excellency!"

"Who did you say you caught?"

His judge asked, and the expression on his pale face was gradually changing, just like his identity. He was changing from judge to jury, lawyer and executioner - the last identity was probably the most prominent.

Trazyn suddenly woke up and immediately realized what he had just said, but he quickly calmed down and laughed again.

"La Endymion," he said with fearless and proud complacency. "If you don't mind, sir, I would also like to tell you where I took him from, okay?"

"Go ahead." The executioner said coldly in the tone of a judge.

"Well, this dates back to the 32nd millennium of your chronology. I met this tribune near the defense project of the Galaxy Fortress, which you had not yet completed at that time. I wanted to say hello to him and then evacuate."

"After all, I don't really want to get involved with these, uh, His spies. But, as luck would have it, a Chaos invasion happened to break out at that time."

"So, I stayed for a while, intending to see if I could add a few decent collections to my Demon Exhibition Hall. But I must say that the tribune La Endymion and his army attracted all my attention."

"They used their bodies to fight against enemies that were several times, dozens of times, or even hundreds of times their own. They suffered countless casualties and ran out of ammunition and food, but they did not choose to retreat. Out of humanitarian spirit, I found an opportunity to take them away. Of course, I think my actions are actually saving their lives."

"How many people?" The judge stood up and asked in a slightly slower tone.

"Two hundred and twenty-two people," Trazin said seriously. "The last legacy of an entire fortress world, mortals, Astartes, Custodes - and the corpses of demons around them, the soil soaked with blood."

He stood up, patted his cloak as if nothing happened amidst the scoldings of the Emperor's Scythes who came over, and threw aside his completely disguised self-esteem frustration.

"So, Your Excellency, are you interested in coming and taking a look for yourself? I assure you, it is definitely a tragic and tearful ending that is completely worthy of their heroic ending."

"Give them back."

"Okay, when?" Trazin said simply and neatly.

"We'll talk later," Khalil told him calmly.

He turned around and walked away. The Endless One sighed, shrugged helplessly at the Emperor's Scythes around him, and followed him in stride.

Of course, he would not take this as proof that he had passed the test, so he still did not stop his narrative.

"I scanned those people, Your Excellency."

"What conclusion did you draw?"

"I think it has something to do with an old scientific theory."

Trazin said thoughtfully, his cloak flowing up and down as he walked, and two Emperor's Scythes approached him one on the left and one on the right, surrounding him. He still showed no emotion about it, but seemed more peaceful.

"Unfortunately, I have no evidence to prove that there is really a connection between them. However, I don't think anyone can really complete this theory before us. The initiator must have used some kind of trick."

"This is really disgusting. Scientific progress allows for whims, and even crazy people can find a place in it. However, I feel extremely sad for such opportunistic and fake things."

"So?" Khalil turned around and asked.

"So, I can help," Trazin said, her tone suddenly becoming fanatical. "I will definitely help you find out the mastermind behind this, and then peel off his skin in the name of scientific progress and truth."

"So, what do you want?"

"A meeting."

"how is it like?"

"I will arrange the meeting place, and I will decide the length of time, security measures, and pick-up and drop-off methods. How about it, Your Excellency?"

"Can."

Under the indescribable gazes of the Emperor's Scythes, Khalil nodded unusually calmly.

The white light of the space station was extremely cold, and the blood on the ground was being cleaned up by the servitors. The airborne pod and Thunderhawk have undergone the final maintenance before flight, and Sosa's ground conditions have been entered into the navigation procedures one by one.

At the end of their path, a group of still alive Astartes, calling themselves the Night Lords, were waiting covered in wounds.

The leader calls himself Jando Skelevok, the Tattooed Earl.