"That Trazyn fellow, after I left, actually used a female wolf as the most precious exhibit in the human section?"
Fulgrim looked at Guilliman, whose expression was slightly complex, and said with a teasing tone:
"It seems his level as the Keeper of Galactic History and Culture isn't very good, preventing you from reuniting with your adoptive mother."
Though Fulgrim's tone was teasing, beneath it lay a hint of comfort, and combined with his already charming voice, it even made Guilliman smile with a slight sense of relief.
"Perhaps it's better this way. If she saw the galaxy as it is now, I would feel a bit pained," Guilliman said, shaking his head.
Seeing Guilliman show such an expression, Fulgrim immediately looked curious and couldn't help but ask: "What? Are you worried she'd condemn you for managing the Imperium into this state?"
"She wouldn't." Guilliman glanced at Fulgrim, his face returning to its rational demeanor: "But she would worry about me."
"That's how it is as a child; you always want to show your mother the good side of your work, bear the bad side yourself, only wanting your mother to be proud of your achievements, not to worry about you."
Fulgrim's expression twitched.
Guilliman's words reminded him of his "father."
Not the Emperor, but Fabius Bile, who cloned him.
Fabius Bile sold Fulgrim to Trazyn, and Fulgrim had always been puzzled: Had he done something wrong? Where had he disappointed Fabius?
Fulgrim still remembered Fabius Bile's disappointed gaze at that time, a gaze that truly stung Fulgrim.
"Am I not perfect enough? Not enough like the true Fulgrim?" Fulgrim couldn't help but say.
Guilliman suddenly recoiled a small step, looking at Fulgrim with a slightly horrified gaze.
"Like!" Guilliman said in a low voice.
"Then---" A hint of joy flashed across Fulgrim's face.
"Too much like. You are more like Fulgrim than Fulgrim himself." Guilliman interrupted Fulgrim: "But this is not a good thing. I almost feel like I'm seeing the next daemon Primarch."
"I won't. I won't let the Four Gods defile my body." Fulgrim shook his head resolutely.
Guilliman stared at Fulgrim for a moment: "Fulgrim, your willpower isn't as strong as you claim."
"I didn't ask you to resist the Four Gods' corruption forever. You are not Rogal Dorn."
"But what does it mean to be corrupted just by picking up the Laer Blade? What happened to your willpower?"
Guilliman said helplessly.
Fulgrim's fall, in his opinion, was too casual.
The Laer Blade wasn't a very powerful demonic weapon; Guilliman himself had even been stabbed by a more dangerous ritual dagger, but Fulgrim was corrupted just by holding the Laer Blade. It was truly too casual, almost like a woman who casually cheats!
"There's only one demon in that sword, right? If this continues, if you see two daemons, won't you immediately kneel before the Four Gods? If you see four daemons, you'll probably become a chosen of the Four Gods directly!"
"As the Regent of the Imperium, I really need to be wary of you being corrupted by the Four Gods, truly."
"You don't understand!" Fulgrim retorted sharply: "I always hear you talk about the Four Gods, but do the Four Gods truly exist?"
"Huh?" Guilliman was stunned for a moment.
"When you discuss the Four Gods, it's as if you're discussing something that truly exists yet cannot be understood, but how can something that truly exists be impossible to understand?"
"The Warp is not a real thing; it is a reflection of our emotions, a condensation of our desires... it is a powerful illusion!"
"The Four Gods are not noble beings who respond to our desires; they are our desires themselves. They do not truly exist, they cannot fulfill our wishes, they cannot make us more perfect, they can only bring us endless illusions and degradation."
"Only the weak, cowardly, and dirty pursue such illusions, and I, the true Fulgrim, I refuse!"
Fulgrim made a gesture of disgust and contempt, his face showing extreme disdain:
"Imagine, those damp, filthy powers, containing the hunger and emotions of the basest people, injecting into your body... Truly disgusting. Do the Four Gods even deserve to bless my perfect body?"
"Who taught you these things?" Guilliman asked, barely holding back.
"Fabius," Fulgrim answered honestly.
"The first time I've met someone more talented than Cawl, and more stubborn than Alexander," Guilliman couldn't help but sigh.
Fulgrim pouted, then heard Trazyn speak.
"The next exhibit we will be viewing are the very few survivors of the Phoenix Guard."
"As is well known, the Phoenix Guard was Primarch Fulgrim's Terminator Guard. I believe its power armor design is the pinnacle among all Primarch Guards, and even among Terminator designs."
Trazyn said in his usual cold tone.
Fulgrim's expression shifted slightly...
But at this moment, Alexander shook his head: "No time to visit the next one."
Before Fulgrim could wonder why, the corner of his eye caught a Necron glowing with blue light suddenly appearing not far away.
"The Silent King has agreed to speak with you," Anrakyr said, his voice a little stiff.
The Silent King consciously wished to marginalize Anrakyr in Necron politics.
Before the Silent King's return, it was Anrakyr who abandoned his Overlord status, roamed the stars, constantly saving tomb worlds from infringement, preventing Necron assets from being threatened, and in this process, Anrakyr would also commandeer one-tenth of the fleet of the tomb worlds he saved, to better protect other tomb worlds and revive the Necron Empire.
Although some Necron Phaerons and Phaerons believed Anrakyr was merely an ambitious individual expanding his military power under the guise of protecting Necron assets, more Overlords and Overlords recognized and respected him.
However, in the Silent King's eyes, this behavior was simply disloyal, unfilial, unkind, unjust, impolite, unwise, and untrustworthy.
Anrakyr protected Necron assets, Anrakyr revived the Necron Empire... then what was the Silent King for?
The Silent King then dispatched the Triarch Praetorians under the guise of protection to monitor and control Anrakyr, took away Anrakyr's troops, and marginalized Anrakyr in Necron politics.
After Anrakyr conspired with Trazyn and shook off the Triarch Praetorians around him, the Silent King even directly regarded Anrakyr as half a traitor.
This time, Anrakyr still used many of his old connections, expended some political capital, and colluded with some hidden agents to get the Silent King to receive his message.
And the Silent King's agreement to talk to a human was thanks to Alexander's hint. Alexander told Anrakyr to inform the Silent King: Sanguinius wished to speak with him.
Ultimately, it was this point that moved the Silent King, allowing this silent Necron ruler to agree to speak with a human.
Fulgrim sighed softly; he had originally hoped to find an opportunity to retrieve his offspring from Trazyn's hands.
"Trazyn." Just then, Alexander suddenly spoke, looking at Trazyn: "I want your collection."
His sudden words left Trazyn stunned, and it took a moment for him to react.
"Which one?" Trazyn asked in a lowered voice.
Although it pained him greatly, Trazyn was willing to give up a portion of his collection to gain the favor of this being.
Because this being held the authority over the mechanical aspect of the Empyrean, he was the source of Anrakyr's machine spirit.
Trazyn had initially been somewhat skeptical, but not long ago, this being gently touched Trazyn's steel skull with his finger.
Then, something different suddenly appeared in Trazyn's hollow metal body.
His existence was no longer as cold as before; though not much, there was indeed a little warmth.
He began to subtly perceive some emotions, possessing a hint of extremely simple feelings.
Though simple, they were genuine emotions, not false emotions simulated by calculations.
Trazyn cherished that wisp of the machine spirit within him immensely.
"Possibly every single one," Alexander replied with a smile.
"What?"
Trazyn recoiled a step, his tone rising slightly:
"You're going too far; this is robbery!"
Though precious, it was merely a wisp of the machine spirit, not a true soul, and there was a vast difference compared to even the most primitive animals or tiny bacteria.
Even with the machine spirit, Trazyn was essentially still a machine, a hollow existence.
If a true soul was fire, then the machine spirit wasn't even fire; at most, it was a bit of warmth radiated by Alexander's scorching flame.
"Trazyn," Anrakyr said, shaking his head at Trazyn.
In Anrakyr's view, even a false spark was better than complete coldness, false hope better than complete despair.
Even the machine spirit, for their civilization that had fallen to rock bottom, was already immense good fortune.
He hoped Trazyn would be forbearing, but Anrakyr also understood Trazyn's attachment to his collection.
"Trazyn, I can bestow souls upon you all."
Alexander was not flustered; instead, he spoke in a coaxing tone:
"And in this process, I will need many of your collections."
"Souls?" Trazyn keenly noticed that Alexander was not talking about the machine spirit, but souls.
"True souls."
Alexander nodded slightly:
"I can give you true souls, reverse biotransference, and allow your race to have a future again."
"Use your collections, exchange the past for the future."
Anrakyr felt emotions similar to "Nervousness" flowing within him.
He didn't know if what Alexander said was a lie, but he knew Trazyn's obsession with those collections.
Trazyn knew one thing better than any other Necron: their race had no future left; their race only had the past.
That's why this former chief archivist of the Necron was so dedicated to collecting these artifacts; in his eyes, these were the evidence of the Necron's existence.
Anrakyr believed that using these collections to exchange for the possibility of a future for the Necron was entirely worth it.
But in Trazyn's eyes, perhaps these "pasts" were more important than a vague and elusive future.
Trazyn stared at Alexander with his green-glowing eyes.
Trazyn stared at Alexander for a moment, then spoke curtly:
"Good."
"If you can truly grant souls to my race."
Anrakyr looked at Trazyn in surprise, not expecting him to agree so readily.
Alexander, however, was not surprised; instead, he smiled slightly and turned to Fulgrim:
"After the negotiation with the Silent King is over, you can release your Phoenix Guard."
"And Guilliman, Trazyn has a batch of your descendants from the Great Crusade, a section of Calth's underground catacombs that he stole, and one of your pillows."
"Sanguinius, your descendants also include Kasyer and the Terminator Rafelo, who were seconded to the Deathwatch; remember to retrieve them."
"Also, a squad of Raven Guard, a squad of the 14th Legion's Dusk Raiders from before Mortarion's return, several Custodians, several Battle Sisters, dozens of Astra Militarum regiments including the Vostroyan Firstborn, the lost Tanith regiment, Catachan, and Cadia—oh, and Kreed, Lord of the Fortress, is also in his collection."
"Furthermore, there's an Eldar Harlequin troupe, the 'Chalice of Entropy' artifact made from a Nurgle's Cauldron shard, a Tyranids hive Tyrant, a Void Dragon C'tan Shard, a The Deceiver C'tan Shard, a Burning One C'tan Shard, a Death Guard plague Champion..."
"..Oh, Trazyn also secretly hoarded a batch of pure, unblemished Emperor's Children gene-seed—the batch that went missing on the moon when the Blight spread. What he traded to Fabius Bile wasn't all of it."
"These are the ones that are currently useful and should be rescued; remember to release them later."
Trazyn's metallic body froze in place, silent.
Alexander's understanding of his collection completely exceeded his expectations; the only thing Trazyn was grateful for was that Alexander seemed uninterested in things related to Necron history.
Anrakyr made a gesture, signaling Alexander, Cawl, and the Primarchs to proceed to negotiate with the Silent King,
But Anrakyr deliberately lagged a step behind, staying at the rear of the group, quietly approaching a somewhat dejected Trazyn.
"Has your mind finally completely broken?" Anrakyr said to Trazyn.
Trazyn glanced at Anrakyr: "I made such sacrifices for the Necrons, and that's how you speak to me."
"Sacrifices? Those things he wants to take were stolen by you in the first place," Anrakyr snorted.
Then, Anrakyr continued, "So why did you agree? I thought you'd be more stingy."
Trazyn was silent for a moment, then, as if making up his mind, he looked up and said, "I supported biotransference back then."
"..What?" The blue light in Anrakyr's eyes flashed: "Didn't you previously insist that you strongly opposed biotransference and were forced into it?"
Anrakyr's tone instantly switched from sympathy to accusation.
"..I forgot before! My memory modules were corrupted!"
Trazyn's tone was still cold, but Anrakyr detected his agitation:
"But after being endowed with the machine spirit by him, my body's operational efficiency improved, and some old problems were fixed along with it."
"I've vaguely recalled what happened back then."
"The Silent King once sought advice from me, as Chief Archivist, and Orikan, as Royal Astrologer."
"According to him, Orikan and I represented the past and future of our race, respectively."
"He hoped to draw wisdom from both the past and future dimensions to decide whether to proceed with biotransference."
"Orikan predicted the future, determining that biotransference would bring only disaster and destruction to our race."
"But I judged based on Necron history that the root of all our race's tragedies was our short lifespan, and our civilization was then on the brink of ruin. If biotransference could grant us eternal life and immortal power, then we should choose it... because nothing could get worse."
"But everything did get worse," Anrakyr said, staring at Trazyn.
"Yes, but the Silent King ultimately chose me over Orikan, chose the past over the future, chose biotransference."
"I watched with my own eyes as Orikan, tied up, was dragged from behind the library shelves and thrown into the biotransference furnace. My mind was tormented by time, and I mistakenly believed that I was the one who opposed it, and I was the one forcibly thrown into the biotransference furnace... What a shameful evasion."
"..Perhaps even the me before falling into stasis, unable to bear the crimes I committed, personally damaged my own memory, causing the awakened me to have such a misunderstanding."
"Thinking about it, my obsession with artifacts and history is probably also due to this reason—because I personally pushed the Necrons one step closer to destruction."
Trazyn let out a cold, almost bitter laugh, finally shaking his head helplessly:
"He asked me if I was willing to trade the past for the future; what else could I do? Make the same mistake I made back then?"
"Anrakyr, this time I choose the future."
"So you don't need to pity me; you should despise me. If you want to judge me for the mistakes I've made, then come, but I beg you to find a way to atone for my mistakes."
Anrakyr didn't move; he just looked at Trazyn with his deep blue eyes:
"You're too far down the list of crimes for biotransference."
"Also, I really wish the Silent King's guilt was as heavy as yours."
With that, Anrakyr walked away without looking back, heading towards Alexander, Cawl, and the Primarchs.
Trazyn stood alone, frozen in the dim exhibition hall, as if he himself were an exhibit.
It wasn't until a moment later that Trazyn slowly spoke, addressing the empty darkness around him:
"Orikan, my Astromancer, I guess you can see this moment."
"I concede this round to you, you... I'm sorry... you actually told me, but at the time I thought you were joking or your memory was wrong, or it was a trick played by the Deceiver when shaping our bodies..."
"..In short, you bastard! Why so understated? Since your memory is true, why didn't you beat me up? Why didn't you take revenge on me? You should have killed me!"
"It was me! I watched with my own eyes as you were dragged from behind the library shelves! I even dragged you myself!"
"That was actually true... I'm sorry, Orikan."
"You are a more brilliant being than I, and your wisdom is indispensable to our race and even the entire galaxy."
"If what I see truly is the hope of our race, then I implore your help."
"If I make the wrong choice, I beg you to come out and stop me!"
There was no response in the void. Trazyn shook his head slightly and walked alone into the profound darkness, to catch up with Anrakyr and the others.
Soon after he left, a figure made of pure light flashed where Trazyn had just been.
"By the stars! I came to watch this clown's joke, not his confession."
The figure of light said.
Beside it, a pinkish-red wooden door appeared and opened, and a bespectacled youth stepped out.
"But I did indeed pay the price: to let Trazyn, that thief, experience the feeling of losing all his collections."
"This is what you asked for, Astromancer."
"Pah, how was I supposed to know you restored his memory?" The figure of light shook its head violently.
"Do you believe me if I say it was a coincidence?" The bespectacled youth scratched his buzz cut.
"Do you think I believe you?"
"I know what you are. We are both beings who have seen many futures; is there truly any real coincidence in this world for you and me?"
The figure of light was dismissive.
It looked in the direction Trazyn had left:
"Why cling to that memory? We are merely a copy of the past, not the past itself."
"You often say the past is everything for our race, but our race has never truly possessed the past; we can only seek the future."
With that, the figure of light sighed and looked at the buzz-cut youth beside it.
"The Silent King has summoned me, as we both expected."
"I agreed, and he truly had no suspicion, still so easily fooled."
"Will the Silent King truly not ally with you?" The figure of light asked.
"You're asking the obvious. We've both seen the future and know he won't," the youth said. "If he agrees later, then it can only be a trap we didn't predict."
"That's not entirely impossible; at least my prophetic abilities have limits, and sometimes I have to correct prophecies myself," the figure of light said somewhat helplessly.
"The value of this negotiation isn't in the Silent King to begin with," the buzz-cut youth said with a smile.
"I guarantee that all Necron Overlords will receive your offer, and they will also receive a recording of your negotiation with the Silent King."
"Don't worry, the Silent King is more unpopular than he thinks."
The buzz-cut youth nodded slightly and turned to walk into the pinkish-red wooden door behind him.
The figure of light also gradually disappeared, but it took one last look in the direction Trazyn had vanished:
"But the true Orikan never hated the true Trazyn either."
As the words fell, Orikan disappeared from the spot.
Trazyn walked beside Anrakyr.
Several green lights flickered in the Infinite's eyes.
"I guess Orikan was here," Trazyn suddenly chuckled to Anrakyr.
"It will definitely appear suddenly after I leave, then look in the direction I left, saying something about not blaming me."
"That's Orikan... and it didn't pop out to stop us, which means we're on the right path."
Anrakyr listened, annoyed, and said with a touch of anger, "Sixty million years! Can you two stop being so wishy-washy?!"