When only Blazkowicz remained in the room, the fire crackling, he looked at the empty corner: "Come out, you cannot escape my sight."
"You actually knew of my existence."
With a synthesized mechanical voice, green light flashed in the space, and a humanoid machine emerged from a spatial rift.
"I was contemplating in the dimensional rift, whether your gaze was unintentional or deliberate, but there's no need to dwell on it now."
The newcomer had a steel body, a tall, lead-colored metal frame, a head taller than an Astartes.
It abandoned the traditional robot appearance, resembling more a coffin-shaped chest covered in thick metal, emblazoned with a golden hieroglyphic seal. Inside its chest cavity, mechanical organs made of pipelines were coiled, and an eerie green light emanated from its hollow eye sockets and mouth.
The raised metal behind its head was like a hood, its shoulder pads were remarkably broad, and the dark green cloak on its back hung motionless, like a solidified, gloomy lake.
It was like an ancient mummy from Terra, wrapped in a high-tech shroud, inscribed with mysterious hieroglyphs.
The robot was elegant; one hand held a scepter, the other a green orb.
Elegance transcends race; it is a quality of bearing.
Undoubtedly, the machine's posture was that of an elegant gentleman, its cold green eyes carrying a hint of scrutinizing pride: "It seems you discovered me long ago."
"Your unrestrained gaze betrayed you." Blazkowicz narrowed his eyes, examining the guest. He picked up a piece of steak with his knife, inviting the uninvited guest:
"Care for a bite?"
"...."
The cold, lead-colored machine paused for a moment. Its iron face showed no expression, but confusion flickered in its eye sockets.
It re-examined the human before it, assessing whether it was a jest or some other form of probing: "In my current form, I have lost my taste organs, but I am willing to accept your invitation."
The machine's voice was cold, a chill devoid of a soul's warmth, yet it possessed a contradictory composure and elegance.
It released its grip, and both the scepter and the green orb floated in the void, while its body settled steadily at the edge of the barbecue area.
The warm fire illuminated its cold shell, reflecting a soft glow from the soulless, frigid machine.
It took a plate, its movements precise as if demonstrating a classical etiquette textbook.
"The Undying Trazyn."
Trazyn introduced himself to the person before him, using a knife and fork to dissect the grilled meat, bringing it to its mouth, which could not chew.
As a green light flashed, the grilled meat, which should have fallen from its hollow mouth, disappeared.
"It's delicious, I like it very much." It nodded slightly, as if truly enjoying the meal.
"Blazkowicz Novick." Blazkowicz returned the courtesy of a self-introduction.
He observed the machine before him, naturally aware of its identity, and couldn't help but ask curiously: "Did you taste the flavor, or did data tell you what it should taste like?"
"Hmm~ You've hit the nail on the head." Trazyn put down the plate, and from somewhere produced a cloth, elegantly wiping the corners of its mouth:
"My equipment analyzed the seasonings, calculated every variable, and told me what it tasted like."
"That's quite pitiful." Blazkowicz bit into a piece of meat, grease dripping everywhere.
"...Pitiful?" Trazyn's vocal frequency suddenly dropped, like an old gramophone skipping. "According to the emotional simulation protocol, I should indeed acknowledge that."
It was lamenting that its powerful body, composed of metal, could no longer touch reality.
All external sensations were simulated by its bodily equipment, cold perceptions transmitted by data.
"Necrontyr." Blazkowicz identified the machine, an ancient and powerful race, the instigators of the War in Heaven.
A completely "dead" race, cold machines without souls, a "living" dead race.
Now they are Necrons.
The dead race lives in mechanical bodies. The War in Heaven sixty million years ago had no victors; two powerful races utterly perished.
"You've been observing me for a long time, is there something you need?"
Blazkowicz quietly watched Trazyn. Since stepping onto the planet, he had felt eyes prying on him.
Not sensing any threat, Blazkowicz hadn't revealed its presence, busy with various tasks.
Now that he was free, he naturally had to deal with it; having a peeping tom around wasn't a good thing.
"Necrontyr?" Trazyn's synthesized voice held a hint of surprise, green light emanating from its cold eye sockets, its electronic voice simulating nostalgia: "I haven't heard that name in a long time, it must be sixty million years now."
"Cough~ Cough~ Cough~ Cough~"
Its shoulders shook as it chuckled, its voice synthetically reminiscing: "It seems you've encountered an extraordinary being."
"A big toad." Blazkowicz shrugged indifferently, openly admitting to having seen the Old Ones: "Hiding from disaster in the ethereal void."
"How pitiful." Trazyn sighed at the fate of the Old Ones, not asking further; it didn't want to recall the foolishness of sixty million years ago.
It raised its mechanical arm, reaching into the void to retrieve a wine bottle, and slightly raised it in a gesture: "Wine from the Necron era, would you like to try it?"
Blazkowicz nodded slightly, indicating his willingness to try.
In a strange atmosphere, both sides tasted the delicacies and drank the ancient, treasured wine.
"I came for you." Trazyn swirled its wine glass. After a brief exchange, it began the formal topic, then shook its head, troubled: "Originally, I didn't want to come, but I had to. There aren't many who are awake and capable of action."
Blazkowicz listened quietly, offering no opinion, tasting the Necron wine, and listening to the visitor explain its purpose.
He had heard Life Forger Primal mention that the Necrons had entered the Great Slumber, with only a few traveling the universe.
The Undying Trazyn should be one of them, arriving with some special purpose.
"The self-exiled, the last of the Triarchs, the last Silent King, entrusted me to visit you."
"Visit me?" Blazkowicz raised his thick eyebrows in confusion, not remembering any interaction with the Silent King.
"Yes." Trazyn nodded its mechanical head, leaning back in the chair, comfortably crossing its legs: "The Silent King sent word from deep space, asking me to visit you."
"A powerful warrior, an indomitable one who raised a sword against a god. The Silent King observed in the Warp, hearing your fearless oath."
"He asked me to bring a gift."
As it spoke, Trazyn casually waved its hand, and a rectangular coffin, its front engraved with Necron runes, appeared from the void dimension.
It lay horizontally before them, suspended in the air.
"Unrelated to politics, unrelated to anything else. This is a gift carried with respect, perhaps it can help you achieve the feat of god-slaying."
"Please look." Trazyn stood up, elegantly setting down its goblet, and slowly pushed open the coffin.
Blazkowicz slowly rose, marveling at the ancient race's powerful technology, and curious about what the gift was.
"Fate is truly miraculous." Trazyn's cold voice sighed: "I heard that when this weapon took shape, its form was not fixed."
"After your mark was inscribed, it became what it is now."
Blazkowicz subconsciously touched the mark on his chest, an innate rune that he had never understood.
The Emperor knew, but he was unwilling to reveal it.
"Even the Necron technology for reshaping the universe cannot explain fate; it is simply too mysterious."
It continued to sigh as it pushed open the mysterious stone coffin, and an unexpected weapon came into view.
A shield and an arm guard lay quietly there, deeply captivating Blazkowicz's gaze.
The dark green circular shield had a crimson runic mark in its center, and its edges were sharp serrations. Indeed, as Trazyn said, it was a weapon.
Paired with it was a powerful arm guard, lying quietly beside the shield, a ball of flame burning in its palm.
"The C'tan - The Burning One, Nyadra'zatha. This set of weapons is made from its fragments, possessing infinite power. After your mark was imprinted, it took on this appearance."
"The shield can reflect all physical attacks, and devour or reflect energy attacks. It can be thrown and retrieved via the arm guard's associated device, making it very flexible."
Trazyn stood solemnly nearby, also marveling at the weapon's power: "They were born for you, and they absolutely deserve you."
Blazkowicz quietly caressed the shield, naturally very fond of it.
As a warrior, he naturally liked powerful weapons, conquered by their sharpness.
However, he withdrew his hand from caressing the weapon and looked at The Undying Trazyn, asking distrustfully: "A mere gift?"
Blazkowicz would not believe that a race from sixty million years ago would send its messenger across cosmic distances merely to deliver him a gift.
He didn't think he was important enough to warrant the Silent King's special attention and the bestowal of weapons and equipment.
"It is indeed a gift, I swear by the past glory of the Necrontyr."
Trazyn suddenly stood up, its hand covering the ancient mark on its chest, and solemnly swore: "The Silent King only wants to know if you can defeat the Chaos Gods."
"If this powerful weapon can accompany you in god-slaying, it will also carry the glory of the Necron."
"Really?"
"Indeed!" Trazyn knew what Blazkowicz was thinking and guaranteed with certainty: "No tricks have been played; it is yours to command."
Blazkowicz was half-convinced, removing the data terminal arm guard from his left hand and putting on the burning arm guard.
"The palm holds the Burning One's eternal flame; its power never extinguishes and can emit scorching rays, burning all matter in the physical universe."
"They are miraculous creations, the foundation of the Dynasty, fragments of physical universe gods, forged into divine weapons."
The mechanical synthetic voice hummed, Trazyn's elegant tone chanting a poem, a blessing from the ancient Necron.
The round shield was mounted on Blazkowicz's left arm. With a slight shake, the cutting sawteeth on the shield's edge popped out, rotating at high speed, driven by an engine.
Where the saw blade cut through space, faint tearing gaps were visible, sparkling with sporadic fire.
No experimentation was needed; just looking at it, its destructive power was astonishing.
"A saw blade condensed from the hatred of the Star Gods... I truly can't imagine what in the real universe could withstand it?"
"Tsk~ Tsk~ Tsk~"
The Necron's metal head shook, making sounds of admiration, expressing emotions no different from a human's.
Naturally, Blazkowicz loved such a divine weapon, but he discovered a new problem and said with some regret, "It's a bit inconvenient."
The Crucible Sword could be tucked into his waist, the Super Shotgun could be hung on his waist, but he didn't know where to put this round shield. Carrying it on his back was also inconvenient.
He understood that for such a powerful weapon, a small flaw was acceptable.
"You seem to underestimate Necron artisans."
What kind of existence was The Undying Trazyn?
It originated from the Necron era, went through the War in Heaven, and did not enter the Necron's "Great Sleep," walking the universe for at least sixty million years.
Blazkowicz's slightest emotional change was naturally captured by his mechanical body, analyzing the regret in his micro-expressions.
He gently tapped the shield with his mechanical hand, making a 'clang' sound, revealing the shield's small secret to Blazkowicz:
"The shield has a built-in 'trans-dimensional lasso.' When not in use, it can be placed in an alternate dimension, and you can summon it with your armguard at any time."
"You cannot underestimate any Necron, especially the Forging Masters."
Trazyn was not just admonishing but also deeply agreeing, "They pay attention to every detail and solve it."
Blazkowicz's thoughts stirred, and the round shield vanished into a shimmering green light. He flexibly rotated his arm, "It's indeed very comprehensive."
"If it's a pure gift, I'm willing to accept it."
He nodded. A tailor-made divine artifact, delivered to his doorstep, could not be refused.
"You really have no other requests?" Blazkowicz asked again, suspiciously. Although he accepted the divine artifact, he had no trust in the Silent King.
The Emperor sent the Super Shotgun, and he came to this planet—this was a recent example.
One who eats from another is beholden to them; one who takes from another is indebted to them.
The Silent King was not a trustworthy being. At the end of the War in Heaven, when the Star Gods were exhausted and celebrating victory, he brutally backstabbed them.
He gathered the strength of his entire race and forcibly shattered the Star Gods, who represented the laws of the physical universe.
The Necron imprisoned the Star God fragments, extracting their endless energy to serve the Necron, thereby humiliating the Star Gods.
Such a decisive and patient Silent King, delivering a gift through an envoy across light-years for just a single oath, was very thought-provoking.
"There are no other requests," Trazyn nodded affirmatively. A green light flashed in his eyes, and he added, "At least, that is the commission I received."
One human and one machine looked at each other, seeing deep suspicion, profound apprehension, and distrust in each other's eyes.
Blazkowicz suspected the Silent King had another motive, and Trazyn likewise distrusted the Silent King.
Although their races were different, their attitudes towards the Silent King were consistent.
"Cough~ Cough~ Cough~"
Trazyn covered his mouth with his palm and coughed a few times, "Regardless of his ultimate goal, this weapon is indeed very good."
"Now that official business is done, it's time to talk about a little personal matter."
Trazyn sat back down in the chair, leaning deeply against the backrest. His elegant and composed mechanical posture vanished, and his entire demeanor suddenly changed.
"Personal matter?"
Blazkowicz also sat down. He saw the Necron's elegant demeanor completely disappear, replaced by—lewdness?
He secretly nodded. This was definitely not an illusion.
Trazyn's current appearance was indeed quite lewd, even revealing a hint of roguishness and market-like demeanor.
"Yes, a small personal matter."
"As everyone knows, I am a collector." Trazyn continued to introduce himself, self-absorbed, "A preserver who wants all precious existences to endure permanently."
At this point, the Necron's metal skeleton couldn't help but sit up straight, exuding strong confidence and satisfaction.
Listening to his solemn self-introduction, Blazkowicz tilted his head and asked, somewhat puzzled, "Is there anything here worth collecting for you?"
If there was anything worth collecting, Blazkowicz was willing to give it to Trazyn as a return gift.
After all, he had traveled a long distance from deep space specifically to deliver a divine weapon to him.
"If there's anything you like here, just take it."
Blazkowicz raised his hand and pointed around the room, telling the Necron collector, "You can choose any item here."
They're all alien stuff anyway!
They were all things he didn't care about, so Blazkowicz was very generous, offering them to choose freely.
"Hehehe."
Trazyn let out a lewd laugh, rubbing his hands excitedly, his gaze drifting towards the door, "Then I won't be polite!"
"Hey!" Blazkowicz raised his hand at him, his expression changing to a serious one, "I only said you could pick anything in the room."
"I knew it!"
Trazyn was indignant, but his mechanical voice showed no surprise, "I think I should be more direct, and speak frankly."
"As everyone knows, I am a collector."
He picked up his wine glass, re-emphasizing his identity, and spoke of his proud work, "I not only collect historical fragments, preserve extinct artifacts, and gather all precious things worth preserving."
Blazkowicz nodded. He looked at the Necron collector, unsure of his purpose.
"But—" Trazyn's tone changed, and he suddenly stood up from his chair, grasping his floating staff and green orb.
Blazkowicz's brow furrowed, and he immediately became vigilant, preventing the Necron from suddenly attacking.
"I also like to collect powerful warriors from various races."
After Trazyn finished speaking, he quickly jumped backward, holding his staff and carefully watching Blazkowicz from a distance.
"I thought you had some outrageous request." Blazkowicz suddenly realized that he wanted xenos.
He waved his hand grandly, so generously that Trazyn couldn't believe it, "You can pick any of them!"
"Really?"
The green light in Trazyn's eye sockets flared. He truly hadn't expected the demigod before him to be so generous, willing to give away his offspring.
And let him pick freely?
Even when his data brain simulated dreams, it wouldn't dare to simulate such a beautiful dream!
"You can pick any of the elite Psychneuein Warriors below."
Seeing Trazyn's surprised look, Blazkowicz immediately felt that the collector's mentality was quite ordinary.
He thought the Psychneuein were very ordinary, not even as powerful as the Astartes, just having a few minor advantages.
"Not Psychneuein!" Trazyn was somewhat annoyed, his voice unconsciously growing louder, "How could those lowly things enter my collection sarcophagus?"
"I'm talking about..."
He retreated a bit further, ensuring he had enough distance to escape, "Your offspring, a Doom Slayer."
As the words left his mouth, Trazyn prepared to teleport. He didn't want to face the wrath of a powerful warrior.
However, Blazkowicz didn't immediately attack, which surprised Trazyn and made him sigh in relief.
There's room to negotiate!
Trazyn liked negotiations, trading item for item, treasure for treasure. Such transactions could even become legendary tales.
"A Doom Slayer?" Blazkowicz slowly stood up, a hint of hesitation on his face, even a thoughtful expression.
His tall figure stood erect, looking down at the alien from above, his eyes devoid of emotion.
Not acting immediately, Blazkowicz suppressed his surging anger, fearing that Trazyn would run too fast.
"Yes, just one." Trazyn lowered his guard, let out a long breath, and said cautiously in a softer voice, "My request is not high; I can trade an equivalent treasure for it."
"Hmm." Blazkowicz slowly nodded, deeply agreeing, and said as if he completely understood, "This request is indeed not high."
"Then how about trading your body for it?"
"Good!" Trazyn's thoughts jumped with surprise. He completed the calculation in almost a ten-thousandth of a second, agreeing without any hesitation.
He felt this trade was a huge profit: a overlord's body for a legendary warrior.
Worth it!
But he ignored the raging anger in Blazkowicz's voice.
After his mechanical mind reacted, Trazyn felt his perspective had lowered, level with the floor.
Blazkowicz flashed, delivering a punch that slammed Trazyn's metal skull into his chest cavity.
Eerie green sparks flickered and burst, and the skull, with undiminished force, pierced through the abdominal cavity and embedded itself in the stone floor.
"If there was no negotiation, why didn't you say so earlier? You ambushed me?"
Blazkowicz picked up Trazyn's head, its top deformed by the immense force, sparks flickering inside, still uttering strange words.
He quietly looked at Trazyn, his face still calm, his voice cold and stiff:
"A lesson. Don't ever target them again."
"Get out!!!"
Blazkowicz roared, tightening his fingers and crushing the Necron's metal skull.
Trazyn quickly cut off his consciousness, committing suicide. He dared not gamble whether a Godslayer's concept of eradication could eradicate digital thought.
After suicide, consciousness and thought could be reborn in countless bodies; he dared not gamble on the outcome of being killed.
As consciousness annihilated, the Necron Overlord's body on the ground stopped twitching, the fluorescent green glow dimmed, turning into a dull metal corpse.