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Chapter 228: Trazyn: I'm Going to Have to Sit Up for This
🕑 Added 2025-10-09 11:45:16 +0000 UTCChapter 228: Trazyn: I'm Going to Have to Sit Up for This
Trazyn the Infinite.
Also known as the Historian, the Tomb Looter, the Temporary Guardian of Unclaimed Property, the Redefiner of "Unclaimed Property," the Collector, the King of Figurines, and the Lord of Akihabara.
He was the coolest Necron Overlord, bar none.
If the "madness" of Imotekh the Stormlord lay in his seeing all his enemies as predecessors to the Necrontyr, then Trazyn's "madness" lay in his endless desire to collect. He saw humans as weak Necrontyr, the Aeldari as psychic Necrontyr, the Orks as green Necrontyr, and would treat them all with the courtesy due to his own kind. After defeating them, he would follow ancient protocols and let them go, all while secretly chuckling as his entire dynasty played along with his charade.
Trazyn's museum on Solemnace housed countless priceless treasures, including the legendary Ossified Choir of Chronos, the perfectly preserved head of the Imperial Saint Sebastian Thor, the ossified shell of an Enslaver that had exterminated the Old Ones during the War in Heaven, the World Spirit of Karnak... and a countless number of top-tier individuals from every race, from C'tan shards, the last Krork in the galaxy, a clone of Fulgrim, a Lord Solar, and a Harlequin, down to human heads of special commemorative significance.
As the Necron Overlord of the tomb world of Solemnace, Trazyn was under the jurisdiction of the Nihilakh Dynasty, the wealthiest of all Necron dynasties. This dynasty was known for its insularity. The Phaeron, aside from urging his subordinates to engage in some minor expansion, would not issue any mandatory orders to his lower-ranking individuals. So Trazyn, having awakened early, was living his best life.
Surprisingly, Trazyn's view of humanity was very keen, especially after the Emperor had ascended the Golden Throne. He sincerely believed that this similarly short-lived race was the species that had come closest to the Necrontyr in sixty million years, and had a very good chance of becoming the dominant, leading power in the galaxy—especially in terms of their penchant for self-destruction. So he had always been dedicated to collecting various items related to human history. A clone-body of his had even infiltrated the upper echelons of the Throneworld, allowing him to better discover information that could change history.
But recently, the galactic landscape had quietly begun to change. The last of the Silent Kings, Szarekh, was about to, or had already, returned to the galaxy. In his constant tug-of-war with the Orikan the Diviner, the strongest Necron astromancer who could travel back and forth in time to observe and modify history, Trazyn foresaw that the galaxy was about to get very interesting.
And to ensure his convenience in certain future actions, Trazyn, who didn't dare to mess with the C'tan shard known as 'The Deceiver,' had to temporarily avert his gaze from the human world and focus on collecting those 'unclaimed' C'tan shards. So, after getting his hands on the orrery that 'belonged to him' from Orikan, Trazyn had thrown it onto a planet with a creature of the highest toxicity in the physical universe, a creature whose self-destruction could destroy everything within a one-kilometer radius, a creature against which even the living metal of the Necrons had no defense.
That planet... he thought it was called Catachan? Trazyn's eyes behind the telescope held a hint of nostalgia. He still had an impression of that planet. He had lost a lot of clone-bodies trying to collect a big-head named Sly Marbo. In the end, he hadn't succeeded.
In any case, he wished his dear friend Orikan the best of luck.
Trazyn continued to observe the Primarchs through his telescope. Following the calculations of the orrery, he had found a total of three shards. One shard of the 'World-Maker' was in a World Engine. Too risky, he had passed on it immediately. One shard of the 'Burning One' was on Fenris, which he kept as a backup.
The last one was here. A C'tan shard that had awakened before most of the Necrons, a part of the 'World-Maker' that symbolized greed. A shard that, after tasting the sweetness of souls, could not give up the pleasure.
At first, Trazyn had wondered why this thing hadn't run away. He had come over out of curiosity and found that it had been re-imprisoned in an infinite labyrinth by a human artificial intelligence. This had made him laugh for a good while.
Originally, Trazyn had planned to just snatch the shard and leave. But after noticing the arrival of the Adeptus Mechanicus, he had given up the idea of direct intervention. He liked to be an observer, because things that he interfered with could not be considered true history. So he had disguised himself as the Fabricator-General's apprentice, and with this disguise, had convinced the Magos that he 'could help in deciphering the A.I.' Then he had begun to silently watch as this Magos pushed himself and one of humanity's last hopes into the abyss.
Counting from the last time he had observed an Imperial crusade, the Corinthian Crusade, Trazyn had been here for nearly half a century. That's how interested he was in the scene here. Didn't the Emperor only have twenty-one culture-vats? Where did he get another four? And what's with that Arthur's ability? The more I look at him, the more he looks like a C'tan...
Trazyn symbolically adjusted his antique telescope to focus. Countless pieces of information flooded his mind. Thanks to the fact that the technology of this human branch originated from the Necrons, Trazyn could easily hack into their observation systems.
This 'Primarch' in charge of the war was currently leading an elite joint force into the Ork lines. In this Warboss's domain, the enemies were not numerous, but every Ork was exceptionally elite.
Whoooosh— The Ravenwing's strike force, carrying the Primarch and the Dreadwing, was conducting a low-altitude assault. Anti-gravity bikes are, strictly speaking, near-ground-effect vehicles. Without the aid of an intelligent system, only an Astartes could react in time. The Ork Nobz who were patrolling with their boyz had just heard the roar of the engines when their vision was filled with a blinding white light. A concussion weapon had exploded in front of them. The intense light was like a second sun, and the high-frequency sound waves could instantly destroy the nervous systems of the Gretchin.
"Boyz, to me!" the Orks did not panic. The boyz grabbed the cables on each other's equipment and quickly formed defensive lines, beginning to pour fire in the direction the stun grenade had come from.
Well-trained, fast reaction. But their opponents were faster.
A continuous stream of black shadows descended, the riders' reaction speed incredibly fast. They had adjusted their attack route before the Orks could form up.
SQUELCH!
The black iron tide swept through the green tide like a flock of crows. The Ork Nob commanding the force was instantly decapitated. The Gretchin on the ground who were supplying the Orks with ammunition immediately became flame-gretchin. The formation of heavy-armoured units was torn open from the side.
CRACK!
A Mega-Nob was sent flying by the impact, his 'eavy armour absorbing the fatal blow.
SWOOSH—
The heavy whoosh of a power halberd followed. The armour shattered, and the Mega-Nob was sent flying. And the black shadow had already passed him by. Just as the Mega-Nob, with his incredible resilience, was about to continue pouring fire on these sneaky gitz, another power halberd plunged into his skull. Then a third, a fourth...
With each high-speed pass, a piece of the boyz's flesh was permanently taken away. The whirring blades on the edges of the vehicles were constantly tearing and cutting at their bodies.
"I'm a goner!"
"Boss! Boss!"
"WAAAGH! I'll show you—"
Screams and roars of rage filled the wasteland. A few seconds later, all that was left on the ground was a group of skeletons, picked clean of everything. And the flock of crows, the jetbikes, having sown their death, continued on towards the Warboss's location.
Hiss~
Gone.
Trazyn's gaze lifted from the antique telescope. He rubbed his eyes in a very human-like gesture, then leaned in again. He wasn't, of course, concerned about the Orks who had been annihilated by the Dark Angels.
Truly gone! His gaze was fixed on the headless skeleton, the Nob who had been killed by the 'Primarch's' sword. Its soul had not returned to the warp, had not joined Gork and Mork's endless WAAAGH!, to be one day spat out by Gork and Mork's great mouths and inhabit an Ork spore in the material universe to continue the eternal and joyous war.
It was gone. Devoured by something.
Hiss~ Trazyn took another sharp breath. He had only not been paying attention to humanity for a few decades. What was this new thing that had popped up?
Rustle~
He straightened his clothes, brushing a bit of dust from his red pontifical robes. The ancient censer, which could be traced back to the Common Era, spewed a mist that shielded him from the detection of all instruments. He then took a breath and leaned in close to the telescope.
"I'm going to have to sit up for this."
