Zeke leaned closer to the dimensional rift for a careful inspection, confirming that this wasn't Cow.
Having spent so much time with Cow, Zeke recognized the specific color patterns on her hide.
The Necron hadn't lied; the creature before him was merely another biological entity of the same species as Cow.
However, the fact that he even knew about Cow raised the question: just how long had Trazyn been stalking him?
"I came here in search of a unique addition to my collection." His finger pointed at Zeke.
"A small, blocky device. I've noticed that the majority of your items are crafted upon it."
Zeke pulled out his Crafting Table. This?
"Precisely. That very device." Trazyn couldn't fathom where this human had picked up his tools.
According to his observations, every time the human finished using this object called a 'Crafting Table,' he would immediately break it down, leaving Trazyn no opportunity to snatch it.
"I am curious. If someone like myself were to use it, what would happen?"
Why are you acting so familiar? Zeke looked at Trazyn, who was chatting him up.
Trazyn's attitude seemed driven more by interest than hostility; he was even willing to engage in this near-equal dialogue.
"Nothing would happen," Zeke answered honestly. He had already let Dance try it—ordinary people couldn't use the Crafting Table.
So the issue lies with you, not the objects?
Trazyn began to ponder. He had seen Zeke extract a miraculous liquid from the creature named "Cow," so he traveled to that creature's home planet and acquired one for himself. The result, however, had not met his expectations.
Now, the revelation about the Crafting Table further verified Trazyn's hypothesis: the magic wasn't in the items, but in the human standing before him.
Perhaps the term 'human' deserves a question mark. Is he a Psyker?
No. Trazyn immediately rejected the idea.
He had dealt with the Warp extensively. He could say with certainty that this individual's power did not stem from the Warp.
Then is he a C'tan?
As the race that had once shattered and enslaved the Star Gods, the Necrons understood the C'tan better than anyone else in the Warhammer universe.
The C'tan were born from the Big Bang. As gods of the physical universe, they were powerful enough to tear reality apart at will.
However, they lacked one thing: a constraint known as morality.
Based on Trazyn's observations, this human clearly possessed morality and a sense of good and evil. It was unlikely he was a C'tan.
Not a Psyker, not a C'tan, yet possessing incredible abilities.
Trazyn had long wanted to place this human into one of his stasis displays.
But given the massive commotion this human had caused on Cadia, and the fact that the entities in the Warp hadn't made a move against him yet...
Trazyn decided to let him be for now. Better to observe than to try and bite off more than he could chew and break his teeth.
Without knowing that he had almost become a display item of the Necron Overlord, Zeke had actually been somewhat happy when he first met Trazyn.
Things that were useless to Zeke might be precious collectibles in Trazyn's eyes.
Zeke had thought about trading these items with the Necron for some high-tech goodies.
He hadn't expected Trazyn to go straight for the Crafting Table right off the bat. Seeing this, Zeke realized the score.
Aside from a few key items, this bastard had definitely stolen quite a lot of his stuff.
His ordinary items probably wouldn't attract Trazyn's interest anymore.
But don't worry. No matter how much you've eaten, you'll have to spit it all out sooner or later, Zeke thought.
"Trazyn, do you like treasure hunting?"
"Treasure hunting?" Trazyn raised his metal head, the green glow in his ocular sensors brightening slightly. "You mean?"
In his long existence, the journey of chasing rare treasures was one of the few ways he combated the eternal void of boredom.
He enjoyed the process immensely—sniffing out the scent of a unique artifact from clues in ancient records.
It allowed him to briefly recall the curiosity for the unknown he had felt when he was still a Necrontyr, a way to mourn the echoes of a soul long since lost to the dust of time.
"Then I think you will definitely like this." Zeke caught the other's reaction.
Trazyn was walking step by step into his trap.
Zeke took an Ender Pearl and Blaze Powder from his backpack, placed them in the crafting grid, and synthesized an Eye of Ender.
Finally, he pulled it out and held it under Trazyn's gaze.
It was a peculiar eye, its center a green core resembling a pupil.
The light of that pupil seemed to faintly point in a specific direction.
Whether in the Warhammer universe or the Warp, wherever it was, a Stronghold must exist.
Zeke had thrown an Eye of Ender before. It would fly a certain distance in a specific direction.
Most of the time, the direction was upward, indicating that the Stronghold was not on this planet.
That was a problem. The Warhammer universe was vast; God knows which corner of the galaxy the Stronghold was hidden in.
Zeke had no way of knowing and with the shadow of the Blackstone Fortress looming, his few means of travel were limited to Nether Portals, which couldn't support aimless exploration following an Eye of Ender.
But Trazyn was different, necron technology was the pinnacle of physical reality in the universe.
Their teleportation technology had reached inconceivable levels.
If they wished, with the aid of the Celestial Orrery, they could appear in almost any corner of the known universe.
Zeke had a brilliant idea: Why not let this treasure-obsessed Trazyn act as his pathfinder?
Let him take the Eye of Ender and track down those unknown coordinates.
Even if he actually found the entrance to the End Portal, without a sufficient number of Eyes of Ender, he wouldn't be able to enter the End dimension.
At that point, Trazyn, eager to complete his collection, would inevitably come back to find him.
And then, I can conveniently suggest tagging along.
The next step was to pique Trazyn's interest. Zeke felt this wouldn't be difficult.
"This object," Zeke raised the Eye of Ender in his hand, feigning depth, "leads to a place called 'The End'."
"The End..." Trazyn repeated the syllables. A place he had never heard of.
Zeke continued to embellish, "That dimension is inhabited by pitch-black demons. Never look them in the eye, or they will attack you."
"And their strength?" Trazyn tapped his staff lightly.
"Strength, well..." Zeke sized up the Necron Overlord before him.
Obviously, for an ancient monster of Trazyn's tier, an Enderman's attack power probably wouldn't pose much of a threat.
"To you, they might be nothing." He shifted his tone.
"But they are unique creatures in this universe, possessing miraculous characteristics. I believe they would be very worthy of collection."
Trazyn silently searched his memory banks. In his immensely long life, he had never seen such a creature. It was indeed a worthy target for collection.
"Also," Zeke continued, seeing that Trazyn was intrigued by The End and decided to up the ante.
"There is also an undead... how should I put it... do you know what a dragon is?"
"Yes. You refer to those massive creatures with wings on their backs?"
Trazyn's attention was captivated by the adjective 'undead.' An undead dragon?