Chapter 567 85 Dark Expedition (Fifteen, Defendant Trazyn)

Chapter 567 85. Dark Expedition (Fifteen, Accused Tarasim)

In the cell he had just entered for less than three minutes, Tarasim moved his fingers, making the metal joints beat continuously.

His neural pathways were warning that those precious and tough necromancy creations were telling him in their own unique way that danger was approaching.

But there was no need, after all, all his visual units were online and his hearing was not damaged. He could hear the footsteps coming from the darkness, and he could see the male human who was passing through the darkness and arriving in front of him.

At least that's what it looked like.

Tarasim stood up gracefully from the ground, the decorations on his travel robes collided with each other, making a crisp sound, and the reactor on his chest lit up green.

This was a polite greeting, he was not sure if the visitor could see it, but Tarasim would not neglect it.

"Excuse me-"

He bowed slightly, and the sound that was just right escaped from between the empty ribs.

"——Respected instructor of the Eighth Legion of the Human Empire, I, the Endless Trazim, the overlord of the Solmus Dynasty, an ordinary archaeologist, pay my respects to you"

"In addition, sir, I did not intend to appear in front of you at this time. I don't know if you are willing to believe me, but if you give me a chance, I will do my best to explain."

"What explanation?" asked the man outside the cage.

"Well" Trazim pondered for a few seconds, suddenly raised his right index finger, and answered the question loudly. "Can I not answer this question?"

"Yes, but don't you want to explain? Explain, Endless."

Tarazim looked at him in surprise, and his voice became a little hesitant.

"Oh! Ah, well, before we start, sir, do you know me?"

His guest, the man standing behind the shining iron bars, did not answer him, but just watched silently.

Trazyn couldn't help but sigh. At this moment, he wished that the communication link and rune message had the authority to communicate with God, so that he wouldn't have to rack his brains to sort out the words.

His body had been moving for a little too long, and coupled with the modifications he made for today, its neural pathways were obviously abnormally active.

If it were on normal days, Trazyn would welcome this kind of activity, which would make him feel alive, even though he had long accepted the fact of "death".

But now it's not possible. He doesn't want to be killed by this person before the work is done.

Moreover, there is another thing that is also a bit strange.

Trazyn began to look for a suitable opening remark. This suffocating silence lasted for more than ten seconds before it ended, and the opening remark he hastily finalized was not very satisfactory to him. There was no way. The whole set of words he spent seventy years preparing was not suitable for this occasion.

The appearance of those imposters was too inappropriate.

"I started planning our meeting today six hundred human-ah, no-Terra years ago, sir. I hope you understand that I had higher expectations for this conversation, but the galaxy we live in has always liked to treat everyone cruelly."

"It ruthlessly disrupted my plan with a group of idiots who came out of nowhere, and made our meeting a little strange. However, I believe that the Emperor's Scythes should have explained to you that I surrendered voluntarily."

The Necromancer said so, speaking High Gothic very fluently, not only that, but even speaking it with intonation, with a dramatic tone that came from nowhere.

After he finished speaking, he paused for a moment, raised his right hand and made a gesture to emphasize his next words.

"Of course, I understand that just surrendering voluntarily is not enough to preserve my innocence. I still look very suspicious in this matter. So, sir, if you don't mind, I would like to formally begin my personal testimony."

The person outside the cage seemed to smile: "Go ahead, this court allows you to defend yourself."

"Thank you very much." Taraxin bowed again and began to state.

"First of all, I want to talk about the purpose of my coming here. My purpose is very simple, sir, I came here just to see you."

"Oh?"

"My good friend, the famous astrologer Orikan in the galaxy, who is now staying in the territory of your empire and is called the Pacific Star Region, used his extraordinary skills to predict today six centuries ago, or to predict something about you."

"He was very excited about this. Knowing his stupid, arrogant and vain character, I think it was because he felt that his skills had improved."

"Of course, sir, I have to say that he is still a half-baked astrologer. He can accurately predict your return and your visit to this place, but he only missed-"

He paused again, this time for a very long time.

"The Endless?"

"Well, it's okay, sir." Trazyn said softly, and then took out a long pipe from behind the heavy cloak like a magic trick.

"Please accept this gift. It comes from an era older than ancient times. It is a precious treasure. It can burn about 85% of the discovered matter in this galaxy and convert it into A tobacco with different flavors and rich layers. I believe it will definitely bring you some entertainment in your spare time.”

"I dare not accept such a precious gift."

"It's okay, sir," Trazin said, walking to the edge of the glowing cage.

He stretched out his hand and forced the pipe into the judge's hand, even shaking it up and down twice. Those rays of light collided with his hand and crackled, but failed to cause any damage.

"This is my personal gift." Trazin said enthusiastically. "Instead of the defendant trying to clear his name by bribing the judge, believe me, I would never do such a thing, Your Excellency. I am a person who respects the law very much."

The judge stepped back indifferently, let go of his hand, and let the pipe float in the air.

"You can continue," he said. "I'd like to know what you know."

"Of course, of course, your honor. In short, I have no knowledge of the appearance of those strange fools, nor of anything related to them that has happened before, now, and in the future."

"I am here simply to meet you, chat with you, and if possible, take a photo as a souvenir and put it in one of my museum exhibition halls for collection. That's all."

"You have a museum?" the judge asked again.

Trazin laughed.

At this moment, he forgot about Orikan, his current situation, and the purpose of coming here, and instead began to roar in his neural pathways and those complex synaptic networks. An extremely weird emotion.

He couldn't understand it for the time being, but his thinking unit quickly solved this problem. They concluded: pride, and a strong desire to talk.

This false desire arises because the identity of the person you confide in is very special, special enough to make the Endless, who doesn't care much about any visitors, feel the urge to invite him to visit his museum.

He immediately began to introduce endlessly, from the precious exhibition hall of the Battle of Heaven, to the ancient relics from the Necrontyr Era, as well as the exhibition halls of the Orc Empire and the Eldar Empire, as well as some short-lived exhibition halls of other races.

Then he started talking about the human exhibition hall.

His story was so passionate and focused that he completely ignored some of the emotions hidden in the judge's questioning. And how forgetful he was now that he dared to tell such a thing in front of the judge.

If Trazin had been conscious, he would have sensed them and taken immediate action, but now he was carried away.

Long before he experienced physical transformation, he was a very stubborn person. After receiving this eternal torture, his stubbornness has turned into an indescribable and terrifying paranoia.

He collects the history of other races and builds museums, but does not welcome anyone - even his own race - to visit, simply because he does not think they can appreciate and respect these exhibits as much as he does .

And now, he felt like he had found the one.

He was wrong, but not entirely wrong.

A hand stretched out from outside the cage, grabbed one of his ribs, and then dragged him out of the cage forcefully, throwing him to the ground quite roughly.

Trazin didn't feel any pain, but this rudeness and the contempt contained in it made him very hurt and shouted: "Why is this, Your Excellency!"

"Who did you just say you arrested?"

asked his judge, the expression on that pale face gradually changing, like his identity. He is changing from judge to jury, lawyer and executioner - the last of which is probably the most prominent.

Trazin woke up with a start and immediately realized what he had just said, but he quickly calmed down and laughed again.

"La Endymion," he said with dignity and pride. "If you don't mind, Your Excellency, I would also like to tell you where I took him away from, okay?"

"Say what you say." The executioner said coldly in a judge's tone.

"Well, this goes back to the 32nd millennium of your chronology. I met this tribune near your Galaxy Fortress defense project that was not completed at that time. I wanted to say hello to him and then evacuate. "

"After all, I don't really want to have anything to do with these, uh, His spies. But, what a coincidence, a Chaos invasion happened to break out at that time."

"So, I stayed for the time being and planned to see if I could add some decent collections to my demon gallery. But I must say that the tribune La Endymion and his The military had my full attention."

"They fought with their bodies against an enemy that was several times, dozens or even hundreds of times their size. They suffered numerous casualties and ran out of ammunition and food, yet they did not even choose to retreat. Out of a humanitarian spirit, I found an opportunity to take them away. , of course, I think my actions actually saved their lives."

"How many people?" The judge stood up and asked in a slightly slower tone.

"Two hundred and twenty-two people." Trazyn said solemnly. "The last legacy of an entire fortress world, mortals, Astartes, and the Custodians - and the demon corpses around them, the blood-soaked soil."

He stood up, patted his cloak as if nothing had happened amid the scolding of the Emperor's Scythes who came, and threw aside the completely disguised self-esteem.

"So, sir, are you interested in coming and seeing it yourself? I assure you that it is definitely a tragic and tearful, heroic ending that is completely worthy of them."

"Give them back."

"Okay, when?" Trazyn said simply and neatly.

"We'll talk later." Khalil told him calmly.

He turned and left, and the Endless sighed, shrugged helplessly at the Emperor's Scythes around him, and followed him with big strides.

Of course, he would not take this as proof that he had passed the test, so he still did not stop his narration.

"I scanned those people, sir."

"What conclusion did you draw?"

"I think this has something to do with an ancient scientific theory."

Tarasim said thoughtfully, his cloak fluttering up and down as he walked. Two Emperor's Scythes approached him from the left and right and surrounded him. He still did not show any emotion about this, but seemed more peaceful.

"Unfortunately, I have no evidence to prove that there is a real connection between them. However, I don't think anyone can really complete this theory before us. The initiator must have used some kind of trick."

"This is really disgusting. Scientific progress can tolerate whimsy. Even lunatics can find a place in it. However, I am really sad about such opportunistic and shoddy things."

"So?" Khalil turned around and asked.

"So, I can help." Tarasim said, his tone suddenly became fanatical. "I will definitely help you find the mastermind behind this, and then skin him in the name of scientific progress and truth."

"So, what do you want?"

"A meeting."

"What kind?"

"I will arrange the meeting place, and I will decide the length of time, security measures, and transportation methods. How about it, sir?"

"Okay."

Under the indescribable gaze of the Emperor's Scythes, Khalil nodded calmly.

The white light of the space station was unusually cold, and the blood on the ground was being cleaned up by the servitors. The airdrop pod and the Thunderhawk had already undergone the last inspection before the flight, and the ground conditions of Sosa were also recorded one by one in the navigation program.

At the end of their road, a group of living Astartes who called themselves the Night Lords were waiting with wounds all over their bodies.

The leader called himself Jandor Sklywock, the Count of Tattoos.