The Silent King's Worth Keeps Rising

The entire Imperial Palace was silent.

Whether it was the Emperor, the Primarch, the 500 Adeptus Custodes who had been lying in ambush, or even the Space Super Dogs guarding the gate, they all watched the four Necron quietly, like old people using Iron Hands.

"Second Brother, I feel like they're treating us like idiots," Guilliman asked.

"Nonsense, if even you can see it, do you think we can't? Second Brother, why don't we just kill them!"

Russ's voice echoed throughout the dungeon, clearly expressing his attitude towards the Xenos. After his good friend spoke, Mordred turned his gaze to Perturabo, who was standing to the side.

"Why are you looking at me? None of the Xenos are good. This time, I support Russ. Those who are not of our kind are bound to have different intentions. We absolutely cannot let them leave alive."

"That's not entirely wrong either. This Necron Overlord is a treasure trove from head to toe. The Logic Core can be used to create Abo Sister, Living Metal can be recycled and reshaped, and Fel Energy can be refined back by throwing them into the furnace."

Even its head could be used to make a few candied apples as decoration, without dripping any juice—it's practically the perfect ornament.

Upon hearing this, the two-faced Zalasus immediately knelt down and grabbed the Emperor's leg.

This scene enraged all the Adeptus Custodes. How dare this despicable Xenos blaspheme against their sacred His Majesty! They drew their Power Halberd and leaped forward, intending to cleave the Xenos in two on the spot.

But the Adeptus Custodes had barely leaped up when they were pressed back down by an invisible force. It was the Yellow Skins had done this, and the reason for this was that Zalasus had said one sentence, "Your His Majesty, save me! I am willing to give up all my wealth and bring my whole family to serve you. Zalasus has wandered for half his life without finding a wise ruler. To see Your His Majesty now is the greatest fortune of my life. I am willing to take you as my godfather and only Kiya to serve the Empire!"

"Godfather, please accept my bow!"

Although it was Zalasus who led the way, three people knelt down, and the other two were none other than the ill-fated couple, Trazyn and Orikan.

"Are you two also willing to bring your whole families to join us?"

"Your His Majesty, please stop mocking us, our human skulls that are purer than pure. Serving the Empire is the glorious duty of every human citizen."

We are born to be subjects of the empire, and we will die as ghosts of the empire!

As expected of someone who runs Museum, Trazyn's speech was much more pleasant than Zalasus's. As for Orikan, he still had some self-respect, but he was also forced to kneel down by his best friend.

However, they overlooked a crucial fact: in this situation, the one who truly held the decision-making power was not the Emperor, but Mordred. Although he disliked formalities, he could forgo them, but Mordred couldn't refuse. He might not remember who gave him a gift, but he would remember clearly who did Mordred.

These three fools thought they could rest easy by siding with the Emperor, but they were wrong. The one who was truly clear-headed was that muddle-headed general.

This is where true seniority is revealed. Faced with the situation, General Zahndrekh, without any Abstract Maneuver, strictly adhered to aristocratic etiquette, holding his scepter as he walked up to Mordred.

"I smell the scent of the C'tan. Are you the C'tan?"

I Am Not a God!

"Then how can you give us souls again? How can you be sure you won't deceive us again like the C'tan did, and cause another cataclysmic end for the Necron?"

So you have a choice?

Their eyes met. Mordred looked at the Necrons general he was meeting formally for the first time, yet who was quite familiar to him in all three of his lives. Mordred lost his usual unreliable and lazy demeanor and instead showed considerable respect.

Firstly, Zahndrekh is the only one of the four Necron Overlord who possesses military power. According to his status as a crowned general, he is second only to the Emperor, but in wartime he is superior to the Emperor, similar to Warmaster in Imperium of Man.

Zahndrekh commands a complete Necrons fleet. Even though it has been ravaged by at least 65 million years and only a fraction of its original size remains, its quality is still considerable. It is capable of being a player in the game, rather than an NPC.

Secondly, although Zahndrekh was indeed insane, he was not completely insane. He was sometimes lucid and sometimes confused, but he was still a moderate among the Necron who could communicate. As for the likes of Trazyn and Zalasus, they belonged to the silly faction.

"Stop clinging to illusions. Even compared to the Aeldari, the last remaining race of the dead, the Necron are a race with absolutely no future."

"Through my previous observations, I've discovered a secret about you Necron that can hardly be called a secret."

Mordred grabbed the nearest Trazyn and squeezed its Living Metal arm. With increasing force, using a strength that could knead Adamantium like clay, the seemingly stick-like Necrons arm finally bent.

"Such a sturdy machine in Trazyn's hands is nothing more than a thief who can only act as a petty thief. In a one-on-one fight, I even suspect Guilliman could take on four of them. His combat experience is even inferior to some Astartes veterans."

"That wasn't stealing. How can you call it stealing when it's the Museum curator's business? What I did was—"

"Shut up!"

Circumstances forced Trazyn to abandon any further excuses, and Mordred's next words made him realize that this strange-looking Primarch truly understood the Necron: "The moment you enter the Biotransference Ritual, your life is frozen, your flesh is stripped away, and your soul is extracted, although you possess a more powerful Living Metal body and immortal lifespan."

But what will be the price?

"The answer lies in your memories. Although your personalities are stored within the Logic Core and can be resurrected indefinitely under the Reanimation Protocol,..."

So it seems the C'tan didn't lie to you; the other party perfectly fulfilled all the requirements of the deal. But this world isn't a purely material universe; this damn cesspool is alive.

From the moment of the Biotransference, the Necron was already extinct. You are just a group of Necrons with the memories of the Necron. The entire race was frozen at that moment, with no further progress, only endless decline.

Unlike humans, you cannot learn and accumulate experience, nor can you undergo physical evolution through genetic engineering. You will only be permanently worn down by time and with each rebirth.

Most importantly, even if you wanted to change, you wouldn't have the chance. Under the simulated false personalities at the Logic Core, all your actions...

They all follow the logic of those Necron.

Even after eating poisonous food, you skeletons will think you've been poisoned to death.

A warrior is always a warrior, and a technician is always a technician. Take Tara's Heart, the thief, for example. The body of the Necron Overlord is indeed no different from that of an ordinary person, and can even be compared to that of the Primarch.

However, if he wants to become a warrior, the system will be incompatible. Even if he can simulate his personality with powerful data processing capabilities, the underlying logic will make him more lazy and indolent.

He's basically just a Necron version of Guilliman!

Hearing this, Guilliman felt that Mordred was mocking him, making him seem like a bot, just a bookish nerd who only knew how to fight a dull battle.

But Mordred was right; the Necron, though seemingly immortal, had internal problems that were fundamentally unsolvable.

If Necron believes itself to be Necron, not some short-lived, Necron, and relentlessly pursues the path to ascension, it is very likely to evolve into Lesser C'tan.

If Necron firmly believes that it is Necron and iterates and updates itself in various ways, it will also join the path of Mechanical Ascension.

The problem is that the Biotransference is not Mechanical Ascension, but more like a sacrificial ritual. As for the Necron, it is simply a data replication, similar to the read-only mode of a computer hard drive. Even the motherboard expansion interface is damaged as the soul is separated.

Don't mistake Necron for normal beings. Just like Tzeentch the pony, Tzeentch plundered every normal entity he could find in the Warp to fool the pony, and then he still had to find a few defective ones to make up the numbers.

Therefore, if you want to be a scammer, lax quality control is absolutely a major taboo.

But then again, if there really were a flawless plan, it would be completely out of character for Tzeentch.

The Necron is also a typical example; the sample is always exceptionally good, but how many of these over-the-top products are there? The C'tan's goal is simply to enjoy the food.

I'm just passable. If someone truly had the spirit to lead the entire world step by step upwards, then the War in Heaven would never have happened.

Necron are like brand-new cell phones. They're amazing when you first buy them, but they inevitably wear out over the years, resulting in slow performance. And they can't be upgraded.

So here's the question: what do you do when your phone gets old?

Of course, you have to throw it away and get a new one. You can't exactly summon some mysterious woman in red glasses to offer a trade-in service, can you? These Necron don't offer trade-ins; their limits are already set, and even the Reanimation Protocol is useless.

This is similar to the short lifespan of those Necron; it's not something that genetic technology alone can solve. Even the Old Ones who spanned the Warp and the Physical World couldn't do anything about it, because this thing is similar to a kind of meme contamination.

That's the underlying logic; otherwise, why would a fully-formed C'tan be called a being of Physical Laws? It's the same logic as the Four Merchants —even if it breaks, it'll still disgust you to death.

Don't think of the C'tan as something good. If the C'tan had won the War in Heaven, the script should have been reversed, with the Warp Indigenous people, formed from the condensation of the tides of all spirits, rebelling against the tyranny of the Physical World.

The Chaos Eight-Pointed Star transformed into the Empyrean octagon, and the Four Merchants became rebels representing courage, hope, life, and love, bestowed with golden...

Driven by love and the power of justice, Lao Ai ultimately sat alone in the Well of Eternity for ten thousand years in order to resist the tyranny of the C'tan.

And at that time, let's not call it the Imperium of Man anymore, let's just call it the Yapool Empire. Anyway, the Warp can also be called the fourth dimension, and the Primarch can't be called the Primarch, let's just call it the Super Beast. When you beat someone's brains out, let's say that the Star God Fragment don't feel pain!

As for how many C'tan actually devoured the tender little souls of the Necron, it can only be said that there were so many people that night that it was impossible to tell whose child it was.

Faced with Mordred's direct exposure of the Necron, even the most eloquent Trazyn couldn't refute it, since what he said was true; otherwise, they wouldn't have come up with the outrageous scheme of stealing Chaos Energy Crystal to create souls.

"That's right, we have no other choice. Whether you are Warp Entity or Star God Fragment, we have no other options."

Since that's the case, there's only one answer!

Zahndrekh raised his scepter, snapped it against his knee, and swore an oath. "I will pledge my Fealty to you!"

"Hahaha." This amused Mordred so much that he had to lean against Russ and slap her repeatedly. "So the Necron are really interesting, no wonder those Four Useless Ones were having so much fun. I accept your allegiance."

Mordred casually pulled Ashen Herald from behind his back, pressed his Mordred down, lightly tapped Zahndrekh's shoulder, and handed him a trench coat he had treasured for a long time.

"Wear this, and you will be able to walk the world in the name of Atlas. I permit you to call me 'Boss.'"

"And what about us?"

The other three Necron also came forward, wanting to be officially recognized, and Mordred accepted them all. Not only did she enjoy herself, but she also didn't forget her good brothers and sisters. In short, everyone had Living Metal- specialized Abhumans underling.

However, before that, Mordred has a very important thing to do, which is to sign the contract!

"Contract? What contract?"

When Mordred pulled out a thick stack of contracts and had Guilliman act as the scribe, the Emperor as the witness, and even Perturabo and Russ come to advise, modifying the contracts between Atlas and the Ulthwé Craftworld, the four Necron were truly dumbfounded.

"No, why do we need to make a contract when worshipping gods?"

But Mordred was stunned when he asked that question, "First of all, I must remind you, I Am Not a God!"

Secondly, didn't you consult with the C'tan back then? You didn't just stupidly go all in without even asking, did you?

They exchanged glances, a sense of absurdity and absurdity, yet an indescribable feeling, permeating the four Necron Overlord. If they still possessed flesh and blood, their expressions would certainly be quite unpleasant. Finally, Orikan couldn't hold back any longer. "Ugh~ Szarekh, you deserve to die!"