This C'tan.
In the legends of intelligent beings, it is known as the Void Dragon, the Great Dragon, and is one of the most powerful individuals among the C'tan.
Legend has it that among the Great C'tan, the Nightbringer and the Void Dragon are on par, though it is still unknown which is stronger.
They represent different domains: the former is the embodiment of death and fear, while the latter symbolizes destruction, wanton devastation, and restlessness.
As the master of the material realm, the Legion under the Void Dragon is invincible.
But its true terror lies not in its martial power, but in its endless creativity—the ability to infinitely boost technological productivity and escalate the intensity of war without limit.
In the descriptions of the old ones, their attitude towards the Nightbringer was one of apprehension, but when discussing the Void Dragon, they would become even more terrified.
Towards the end of the War in Heaven, due to the Void Dragon's unrestrained generosity, the Necrons' technological level ascended to the pinnacle of the material universe.
To completely sever the connection between the old ones and the Warp, the Void Dragon created "Blackstone," a construct that utterly isolated the realms of reality and illusion.
Without the power of the Warp, the old ones found it difficult to contend with the god of physical laws; their defeat was foreseeable.
And with the old ones' defeat, the C'tan, having lost their external great enemy, began to fragment and engage in civil war, incited by schemers.
Towards the end of the civil war, the weary C'tan were betrayed, and the Necrons shattered their former masters.
Interestingly, in a conversation between Prima and Blazkowicz, an old one remnant mentioned a perspective.
It believed that the Necrons' war against the C'tan was a continuation of the war between the C'tan themselves.
The C'tan are absolute existences in the material realm; how could the Necrons, as their servants, defeat them in the physical universe?
What allowed the Necrons to triumph was the technology granted by the Void Dragon!
Perhaps even the gods did not anticipate that their humble servants would dare to betray them, and then use the very power they had bestowed to turn against them.
In the later stages of the God-Slaying War, the physical forms of the C'tan were shattered and cruelly sealed by the Necrons.
Some C'tan, seeing that defeat was inevitable, left the battlefield early.
The gods lost their dignity, hiding like rats from the pursuit of their former servants, concealed in the universe, awaiting the opportune moment to return.
The figure Blazkowicz saw, shrouded in green light and seated on the Forbidden Throne, was precisely a fragment of the Void Dragon, adrift in the universe and sealed by the Emperor.
His lead-gray body, forged by the Necrons, was meant to house the will of the god, allowing its great power to descend upon the mortal world.
However, on the god's broad chest, there were lattice-like wounds resembling data corruption, indicating that it was still incomplete, no longer a whole god.
"Hmm—."
A long sigh echoed in the void. The god on the throne stirred, turning its seated body to face everyone.
It straightened its slightly bowed head, as if its sleep had been disturbed, awakening from slumber to scrutinize the uninvited guests.
Blazkowicz felt himself pierced by a "gaze"—from high-dimension to low-dimension, from the macroscopic panorama of the human race to the microscopic world constructed by cells, there was nowhere to hide.
Everything, absolutely everything, was laid bare before the god's gaze.
"Humans, Old Ones."
The god's ethereal voice resonated, dull and rigid, so cold it seemed to freeze the air, so illusory it threatened to drift away.
"Saint George, you are now called the Emperor?" Radroth's stiff voice echoed within the cube: "How interesting, you have established an empire."
The Emperor remained unmoved, instead sheathing his sword and silently observing the C'tan on the throne.
"Blazkowicz Novick, your created son, the Warrior King, a destiny without fixed abode—"
Blazkowicz's brows furrowed; he had no idea how the Void Dragon had obtained his information.
"Constantin Valdor, you forged him to be indestructible, placing great hopes in him."
The Imperial Guard Commander remained silent, gripping his spear of helios tightly, his resolute gaze unwavering.
"Sintara—" he paused, seemingly a little surprised, "An Old One, a remnant of the old world, yet dares to appear before me."
Sintara flinched in fear, quickly shrinking behind the Emperor before daring to peek out with half her face to observe the C'tan.
The dragon, seemingly half-asleep, half-awake, turned its head, its gaze sweeping over each person, speaking their names and origins.
Blazkowicz was deeply surprised; he had not expected the Void Dragon to be devoid of anger and madness, but rather to be remarkably calm.
The god withdrew its gaze, its attention returning to Blazkowicz, and spoke two names: "Nyadrasatha, Aza'gorod."
"Fragments of the Mad One, the scythe of the embodiment of death."
"How interesting."
It sighed, its massive body stretching, causing the space to tremble. Even under the constraints of hyper-dimensional space, it could move freely; its seemingly ordinary movements possessed the power to shake the world.
The C'tan's ability to see through everything, its rationality and coldness, deeply surprised Blazkowicz. This confrontation with the god was beyond his imagination.
He felt that the C'tan should be furious, its dignity shattered, its imprisonment humiliating. Upon seeing its captor, the god should unleash its rage without hesitation.
A voice echoed in the void, filled with disdainful, icy contempt: "I am not like my other brothers, constantly venting emotions. My way of perceiving the world is different."
Blazkowicz's expression grew solemn, and he silently raised his shield-saw. He intensely disliked the feeling of being seen through, of having no secrets or privacy.
"No need to be tense," the Void Dragon, its hand bound to the throne, pointed at Blazkowicz, "I know your origins and intentions from the steel memories of your armor, not by seeing through your heart."
"Do not define us gods with human-like thinking. I have never felt anger or hatred, only a slight boredom."
"To me, you are but fleeting moments in the eternal universe. Why should I use eternal time to remember ephemeral hatred?"
The Void Dragon was high above, expounding on the world from a god's perspective, its slightly raised chin conveying its disdain for life and civilization.
In the cosmic sea, even the long-lived Old Ones would eventually meet their end; only the C'tan and the universe are eternal.
Humanity's mere tens of thousands of years of history, the Emperor's imprisonment, were, in the Void Dragon's view, merely a rest stop on a long journey, and an alternative experience of the universe for a god.
"Since you know our intentions," Blazkowicz stepped forward, confronting the Void Dragon's avatar directly, his gaze sharp, his tone even colder than the god's: "Then do you agree?"
He had never had a good impression of any god, so naturally, he wouldn't show a pleasant demeanor.
"Hmph."
The god's avatar snorted, shaking its head without answering, and waved its index finger, signaling them to wait a moment.
With a movement of its chain-wrapped gray finger, Blazkowicz's two shoulder plates peeled off, reflecting a sickly green light.
Blazkowicz tried to stop it but was restrained by the Emperor's raised arm.
He nodded slightly, signaling him to remain calm.
The shoulder plates hung in the void, trembling like living things, dissolving in the green light, their atoms reshaped, turning into a mercury-like liquid, and finally reforming into a naked humanoid figure.
The silver-gray humanoid had delicate features, an elegant appearance. Its form was like that of a normal human, and it looked at everyone with a stiff smile.
"Young man, don't be so impatient. I will first greet an old friend, then consider whether or not to help you."
A mechanical smile was frozen on the silver-gray humanoid's lips.
Its voice was no longer grand, but carried the grating sound of metal rubbing.
Under Blazkowicz's hostile gaze, its silver-gray eyes shifted, and it walked directly in front of the Emperor, its face showing scorn and mockery, its liquid metal roar hissing:
"I never would have thought that the man who was once cheerful, lively, optimistic, and positive is now utterly exhausted, looking like he carries a deep grudge."
"Humanity is suffering all kinds of hardships, and you have no choice but to step forward and bear the responsibility. You no longer play the hero or the guide, but choose to become a dictator."
The Emperor's face was rigid, his tall figure looking down at the C'tan avatar, squeezing four words through gritted teeth: "None of your business."
"Pfft~ Pfft~ Pfft~"
"Of course, it's none of my business." It clicked its tongue and shook its head, a mocking smile always on its face: "I am merely curious, how much longer can your sacrifice of everything prolong the human race's existence?"
"Perhaps when this cage collapses, and I am freed, I will only be able to stand on the ashes of humanity and recall your suffering."
"Humanity is immortal." The Emperor's knuckles were white, his power gauntlet hummed, and in his dark brown face, only his eyes burned with cold fire.
If he hadn't needed something from the Void Dragon, he would have long since swung his fist and struck at such cursed words.
"Nothing is immortal except for us." The silver-gray avatar's eyes contemptuously swept over the Commander of the Imperial Guard, then lowered its finger, pointing at the small Old One at the Emperor's feet: "Including them."
"What gibberish are you spouting?" Blazkowicz finally couldn't stand the C'tan's arrogance. With a low growl, before anyone could react, he kicked the god's avatar away.
Then he turned to face the throne, raised his left hand, pointed directly at the Void Dragon, and fiercely demanded: "Help or not? Give an answer already."