"You needn't worry about me. This body only carried a fragment of my consciousness. Even if your Emperor discovered me, I could still escape," Trazyn said. Lox could hear the smugness in his tone.
Who was worried about you? You're just some xenos ringleader with nothing to do with me, Lox grumbled inwardly.
Strictly speaking, ever since Lox had encountered Trazyn on Sotha several years ago, they had had no further dealings. Humans found it difficult to fathom the true intentions of a near-eternal, undying species like the Necrons.
Even though Trazyn had displayed an oddly friendly attitude before, Lox could not simply conclude that his goodwill was genuine.
After all, humanity had entered the interstellar age only a little over thirty thousand years ago, while a single great hibernation of the Necrons might exceed that span.
Who knew whether these xenos who had turned themselves into metal lifeforms might suddenly undergo a complete change of heart?
Still, while Lox remained suspicious of Trazyn, he bore him little actual hostility. After all, the Blackstone technology they were now using had come from the xenos overlord before him.
If any other Necron overlord had appeared within the Solar System, Lox would have called in the fleet and assembled Astartes forces to wipe him out long ago.
Trazyn might have looked harmless enough, but this great collector was the oddity among the Necrons. The overwhelming majority of Necrons harbored intense malice toward all flesh-and-blood life.
That old fossil Trazyn had done a fine job covering for his species. When they had first met, he had never mentioned what his race had actually done. Instead, he had endlessly played up their suffering, packaging the Necrons as victims.
Lox had almost believed him back then.
The Necrontyr had launched war against the Old Ones.