The Silent King Szarekh's flagship, the Song of Annihilation,
this colossal, city-sized vessel was slowly navigating the cold void.
Orikan the Astromancer finished his day of stargazing and left the observation chamber the Silent King had specially arranged for him. He walked through the cold corridors of the giant ship.
He reached up and rubbed the area near where a human's temples would be.
This was not because he was tired or had a headache; it was merely a habit from when he was still a living being.
The Necron were a short-lived race.
The star of their home planet was infested by the Nightbringer, a terrifying C'tan, which caused their star to become volatile, releasing highly toxic sunlight.
Under that sunlight, the Necron's bodies frequently suffered from various diseases, and their lifespans were extremely short. Even after they ventured into the stars and acquired countless technologies that now seemed like miracles, they could not eliminate the curse the C'tan had etched into their very existence.
Among the already short-lived Necron, Orikan was even more so. From birth, he had a large tumor in his brain.
This tumor, to some extent, stimulated Orikan's brain development, granting him extraordinary cognitive abilities, but it also constantly threatened his life.
According to the Necron physicians at the time, Orikan's lifespan was only about half that of a normal Necron, making him short-lived even among the short-lived.
When he was still a Necron, Orikan was obsessed with stargazing. His mind granted him an ability:
he could decipher the course of reality and the future from the movements of the stars, perceive the ripples of fundamental laws in the material universe, and find the direction of the world's development.
For this reason, he became the Silent King's Royal Astromancer.
After each stargazing session, Orikan would be extremely fatigued. The tumor would press on his nerves, causing him incessant, debilitating headaches.
At such times, he would reach up and rub his head, a small, insignificant gesture to alleviate some of the pain. Then, he would secretly slip into the Necron's Grand Archives.
Necron culture was heavily influenced by death, leading to a strange obsession with death, the past, and leaving a mark on the world.
The Necron Archives were a museum, a library, and the graveyard of their race, storing records of all living and dead beings.
It was like the Necron's past, perfectly corresponding to the future symbolized by Orikan's astromancy platform.
Orikan would secretly sneak in, browse through old records, and tease Trazyn, who was then still dull, serious, and taciturn.
Sixty million years later, he had become the more serious one, while Trazyn had become like his former self.
That fool whose mind was muddled by history.
Thinking of Trazyn, Orikan couldn't help but shake his head.
He dragged Orikan towards the biotransference furnace, gripping Orikan's hand and telling him that by entering the furnace, Orikan could be reborn, achieve immortality, and no longer worry about the tumor in his brain claiming the most important mind in the galaxy.
Then, Orikan and Trazyn stepped into the flames of the furnace together and died together.
Sometimes Orikan would wonder if this was why, after biotransference, their memories became somewhat muddled.
Orikan became a bit like Trazyn; in his memory, it was Trazyn who dragged him into the biotransference furnace.
Trazyn became a bit like Orikan; in his memory, it was Orikan who dragged him into the biotransference furnace.
Perhaps, it's also possible that Orikan became Trazyn, and Trazyn became Orikan.
Who could possibly know?
Even that very history and time itself had been repeatedly disturbed and corrected, corrected and disturbed, throughout endless wars.
Orikan didn't care about such things; it was merely one fool dying with another fool.
As Orikan reminisced about the past, he walked in the direction of the Silent King Szarekh, a method he now used to relieve the pressure on his logical brain.
Suddenly, Orikan saw two figures by the corridor, one tall and one short, one thin and one stout, one master and one servant.
Old General Zandrekh and his Obyron, Obyron.
These two were familiar acquaintances of Orikan. Not long ago, Orikan was still serving the Stormlord Imotekh, and Zandrekh was a Crowned General under the Stormlord.
He hadn't expected both of them to have transferred their allegiance to the Silent King Szarekh, becoming his subordinates.
Of course, Orikan was acting according to the will of that individual; he was a spy, an infiltrator.
Zandrekh, that old madman... probably still believed himself to be a Necron, and was blindly loyal to the Silent King Szarekh.
Orikan remembered that Zandrekh had become a Crowned General by suppressing Necron separatists back then.
"Master Orikan! Long time no see!" Zandrekh greeted Orikan with his booming voice.
Orikan stopped, looking at Zandrekh with a hint of wariness.
Although the old man was mad, that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.
Just recently, he had used an iron fist to forcibly suppress several Overlords who tried to resist the Silent King Szarekh and eliminated a group of Orks disturbing the fringes of the Pariah Nexus. Now he was returning triumphantly.
Among the many generals under the Silent King Szarekh, in terms of command ability, the most dangerous was Zandrekh.
And in terms of individual combat prowess, Zandrekh and his Obyron, Obyron... if they didn't transform into 'light,' Orikan and Trazyn combined would struggle to contend with them.
A mad, intelligent, and powerful commander and warrior, who was also very likely to harbor considerable loyalty to the Silent King Szarekh... If the Silent King Szarekh were to discover Orikan's true purpose, Zandrekh would become one of the most difficult enemies to deal with.
"I still remember our time serving under the Stormlord Imotekh!" Zandrekh said with a smile, "I never expected to be serving under the Silent King Szarekh and still be working with a reliable individual like you."
"Because we have no self in our hearts, only two words: Loy-al-ty!" Orikan said to Zandrekh with a solemn expression.
"Exactly, exactly." Zandrekh nodded repeatedly, then smiled and said, "I have something I'd like to entrust to you."
Orikan raised his eyes slightly, looked at Zandrekh, and asked, "What is it? If it is the will of the Silent King Szarekh, I will carry it out without hesitation."
"No, no, no!"
Zandrekh chuckled, waving his hands repeatedly:
"It's just a small personal matter."
"You know, I am not young anymore. Recently, I have felt increasingly powerless in war, often lamenting that time spares no one, feeling the scythe of death approaching my neck."
"So, I entrust you to divine for me: How much longer do I have to live?"
"..." Orikan's metallic body trembled slightly, and he silently looked Zandrekh's metallic body up and down.
How much longer to live?
Is that a question a Necrons would ask?
This old fellow is truly beyond mad! And he just had to come here to torment him.
"Your lifespan is as long as metal," Orikan could only force down the urge to scream in his subconscious, answering him with a smile.
"Metal rusts easily!" Zandrekh sighed.
Orikan was choked by Zandrekh's single sentence.
"You, old man, are stainless steel," Orikan replied, forcing a smile.
Zandrekh slightly opened his mouth.
Seeing that he still wanted to speak, Orikan quickly changed the subject:
"The Silent King Szarekh is still waiting for me to report the new divination results."
Zandrekh smiled, making way for Orikan.
"Is it him?" Zandrekh's Obyron, Obyron, asked while holding his great scythe, "According to some rumors, Orikan possesses a certain technology that allows him to transform into an aggregate of light, energy, and physical laws when the stars are in the correct position—just like a C'tan."
"Enlightener Xerath pursues this form, and Orikan has already achieved it. Is there a possibility... that he himself is a C'tan?"
"No, he is not the The Deceiver." Zandrekh's smile remained unchanged as he gently shook his head.
Zandrekh turned his head, watching Orikan's retreating figure, and said, "He should be another hidden piece of that individual. That C'tan-like form should merely be the product of that brilliant mind."
"We can rule out Orikan as the The Deceiver. Among the names on the list provided by that individual, other possibilities for the The Deceiver are..."
Zandrekh narrowed his eyes slightly.
The Twin Saints beside the Silent King Szarekh, Enlightener Xerath, Stormlord Imotekh, and the Silent King Szarekh himself...
According to that individual, any of these could be the The Deceiver; it could be one of them, some of them, or even all of them.
Fortunately, apart from the Stormlord Imotekh, almost all of these individuals considered Zandrekh a pure madman. While they were wary of Zandrekh, it was only a wariness of his command ability and combat prowess, and the Stormlord did not require Zandrekh to be responsible.
It's no wonder that individual chose Zandrekh as a hidden piece to infiltrate the Silent King Szarekh's side.
"Who says being a madman is bad? Being a madman is great!" Zandrekh smiled a few times and disappeared into the depths of the Song of Annihilation.
Inside the silent and profound throne room of the Song of Annihilation,
the Silent King Szarekh's Command Throne, the Dias, stood within.
This magnificent throne, entirely sculpted from blackstone, was the throne of every Silent King Szarekh and a powerful Necrons construct.
The The Burning One, restrained upon the throne, struggled. This powerful C'tan shard was constantly drained of energy, leaving only its upper body on the throne, emitting silent roars, like a verdant gem embedded in the throne.
Hapsatras the Radiant, Mesophet the Blade, and the Silent King Szarekh himself stood upon the throne.
Orikan's body stiffened slightly, but he still walked towards the Command Throne.
On the throne,
the Silent King Szarekh hung his head, remaining silent, but he seemed displeased. He was not holding his Eternal Glory Scepter; instead, he was quietly observing a long spear in his hand.
The spear was entirely forged from living metal, gleaming with a shimmering green luster. It bore a series of constantly flickering Necrons construct components, and its shaft was wreathed in an unextinguished orange-red flame, like the wailing and curse of a deity before breaking apart, filled with endless malice and a desire to incinerate worlds.
Just by looking at the weapon, Orikan felt a sense of dread.
That spear was... that spear was... it actually hadn't been destroyed...
"Astromancer, the great Silent King Szarekh asks: 'Why are there so many traitors?'"