40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 635 18. Interlude: Gods and the Dead (Part 2)

A deal with a god, the content of which concerns the future of the entire race.

This sounds a bit suspicious, doesn't it?

Some not-so-good memories followed this thought and surged up a neural pathway in Trazyn, and then spread to the entire neural matrix, so those long-lost memories came back one after another, and in an instant Trazyn's thoughts became very complicated.

He even had to manually activate a security protocol and roughly stuff all those memories back into the neural matrix.

At this moment, they were like a large pile of corpses run over by a chariot, mixed together, staying in a corner of Trazyn's neural matrix, and no one could tell the difference.

However, the first moment he got rid of the influence, Trazyn immediately gave birth to a weird smile.

He thought, it would be hard for him not to call this a sacrifice. From any perspective, this matter should be defined in this way-but if this matter is really defined in this way, then what is he doing?

It's really weird. The Endless sighed and spoke slowly.

"First, I want to ask a question, Your Excellency."

Orikan almost gasped.

His lungs - if he still had any - suddenly began to ache, and all this was because of Trazyn's actions.

The Astrologer almost screamed: The Dead God! Are you going to make conditions before the negotiation even starts? ! You idiot!

Of course, no one knew what he was thinking, and the god nodded slightly to make Orikan swallow his scream back into the sounder. He breathed a sigh of relief, but soon became nervous again because he saw Trazyn smiling.

The unfortunate metals that made up the ugly face had already undergone a small deformation in accordance with the master's opinion, and their excellent characteristics made Trazyn's smile look very obvious at this time.

Orikan's anger rose quietly - yes, he was angry for what Trazyn had not said yet and what he had not done yet.

It turned out that he was right, and he should be angry.

In his anger, Trazyn slowly raised his left hand, pointed at him accurately, and then spoke loudly in the darkness.

"I want to know what the little operating error in my friend's neural matrix is-"

Orikan interrupted him with a trembling voice: "-That's not an error."

He got a look from Trazyn, which was full of confusion and displeasure.

Go to hell. The astrologer cursed secretly. Agreeing to let you lead this conversation is really the biggest mistake of my life

Facing their different opinions, the god tilted his head with interest. And Trazyn sighed deeply, he turned to Orikan, spread his hands helplessly, and a thought came along the communication protocol.

Didn't you agree to let me come out to talk?

I wish I hadn't agreed! Orikan roared in the protocol. Look at what stupid things you have done!

You are the stupid one, my friend Trazyn threw down this sentence and directly exited the communication protocol.

At the cold and empty prompt sound, Orikan was stunned involuntarily, and what Trazyn did next surprised him even more - he saw the fool deliberately walking into the depths of darkness with an elegant step.

A green light quietly lit up, and the Empathy Annihilation Staff fell into Trazyn's hand and shone brightly. The surrounding space began to vibrate, and the anomaly caused by the transmission protocol filled the air with high-pitched noise.

A few seconds later, 130 Astartes wearing black armor appeared here with green light.

Although their armor was all black, the details were completely different. Some of them were obviously carefully repaired and maintained, while others were shabby and some places were even damaged beyond recognition.

Most of the weapons in their hands were also like this. Less than one-third of the weapons were well maintained and had sufficient ammunition. Some people even held a bolt pistol without a magazine in their hands in a funny way.

Trazyn turned around proudly, raised his hands, the staff of empathic annihilation floated in the air, and his cloak was raised high.

"One hundred and thirty!" Orikan heard him shouting in the distance. "All are here!"

Then Trazyn walked back quickly. There was an expression on his face that Orikan didn't want to see at all at this moment. Orikan had seen this expression too many times in the past, so that he could completely guess what Trazyn would do next.

So much so that he felt desperate.

"My level of repairing cultural relics is still good, sir?" Trazyn asked expectantly. "I have done my best!"

"Compared to you, they should not be considered cultural relics," the god responded in a very low voice. "In addition, you should also find a way to improve this occupational disease, Trazyn."

The Endless shrugged very generously.

"If I had a way, it would have been kicked out of my mind long ago. I didn't keep it for fun, it's a stubborn disease that will always follow me until the end of the world. Anyway, let's get down to business, sir."

"Okay." The god said. "Which aspect do you want to start with?"

This sentence made Orikan immediately begin to suspect that there was something wrong with his auditory system—did this sentence really come from the mouth of a god? Waves of waves finally began to appear on his expressionless death mask.

In the end, Orikan had to admit one thing: his understanding of the gods may be different from the living person standing in front of him.

"I don't think this matter needs to be broken down too much and discussed one by one. Your Excellency, this would be a waste of time. Let me get straight to the point: What is the nature of the mistake in Orican's mind?"

"Echo," the god said quietly.

He looked like he was deep in thought, but that was probably not the case.

If Orikan still had the heart to observe, he would definitely be able to detect what the gods were doing at this time from the suddenly rising abnormal readings. But, unfortunately, he is no longer in the mood.

echo.

This simple word thundered in Orican's ears, and millions of different interpretations slowly emerged from it.

There has never been a moment when the astrologer was so eager to get the answer to a certain question that he even had the urge to turn back time to keep thinking and finally learn the truth.

Of course, it was stupid to do so, even he was willing to admit it.

But--

"—What echo?" Trazin asked.

His voice was calm, as if he wasn't troubled in any way. His approach was much more straightforward than Orikan's twisted solution, and this time, the astrologer no longer judged in his heart whether his behavior was appropriate or reasonable.

He no longer had this luxury, and he even began to admire Trazin's courage in spite of himself.

The god smiled slightly, as if confirming, and he slowly spoke: "The last echo left in the subspace by a race called the Necrontyr. Full of regret."

Trazin silently used his security protocol again. He used it as a sledgehammer, angrily beating the unnecessary emotions in his heart at this time. He did not stop until those old phantoms were completely destroyed.

By this time, he had completely calmed down and even had room for bitter self-deprecation.

Perhaps there is some benefit to becoming a Necron, at least you can clear your mind this way. However, in such a galaxy, the more sober a person is, the more miserable he will be.

Trazin spoke again, he refused to sink - at least the pain was real, he kept saying silently.

"So, this kind of echo can be taken out of the subspace and used on us?"

"Can."

"Without any price?"

"Has the Necrophobe perished?" the god asked. There was no doubt that this was a mean question, but Trazin thought about it quite seriously for a moment. Finally, he gave an answer that would outrage many of his countrymen.

"Yes." The Endless One replied solemnly and sadly. "The Necrontyr has perished and ceases to exist."

"Then the price doesn't exist."

".I understand." Trazin whispered. "So, how will this reverberation affect us?"

The god shook his head: "I am not an omniscient and omnipotent god, Trazin, and I don't know the answer. However, one thing is for sure: the echoes of the Necrontyr will help you regain your emotions."

mood

Trazin silently recited this word and felt an unspeakable sourness.

His neural matrix faithfully responded to the programmed program, and according to those logics, the reactions extracted from Librarian Trazin's memory and personality were returned to Trazin through simulation.

Every neural pathway in his core was firing for this very thing. However, how could a truly living creature, a creature that could truly feel emotions, anger, sorrow, and joy, be able to perceive every step and detail of this complex reaction so easily?

For living people, emotional reactions are instincts among instincts, a mechanism that occurs immediately as long as they receive corresponding stimulation without thinking.

The self-deception behind this incident is almost overflowing. What could be more hypocritical than this?

Each Necron noble retains a relatively complete personality and memory, so they can talk to each other as if they were alive. Their emotions do not originate from biological instincts, but are the result of careful calculation.

Trazin felt an uncontrollable fear: What would regaining our emotions make of us?

But fear didn't stop him from getting things done.

He whispered: "Then, let's start with the most basic conditions."

"As you wish," said the god.