Rhodes's departure escaped the Necrontyr Trazyn's notice—or rather, the one who would notice was lost in frenzied calculation.
At that moment, Necrontyr Trazyn was immersed in the joy of resurrection, feeling the miracle of life.
"I never thought I'd be revived, awake again!
I am the galaxy's greatest museum curator, the Necr—no, not anymore—I am Necrontyr Trazyn!" Trazyn spread his arms, breathing fresh air.
In the instant of revival, he felt indescribable beauty—something impossible as a Necron.
He was then filled with deep remorse for his past actions.
"How crude! How could I do such things? It's wrong—we're a noble, advanced civilization. I'll change everything," Trazyn resolved.
Now with about 50-60 years of life—an eyeblink for one so ancient—his priority was to extend it.
All species in the galaxy have sought life extension, inventing various technologies—humans, Old Ones, others.
But these didn't work for Necrontyr, cursed at the DNA level by their homeworld's toxic sun—a curse millions of years in the making.
Revived, only to die again soon? Unacceptable.
Trazyn grew furious. He hurried to his lab for DNA analysis, recalling Rhodes's promise of a precious gift.
He didn't notice that nearby Necron constructs were observing him, confused, having received two conflicting orders: one from the core to capture him, one from him to stand by.
Whom to obey?
All Necron constructs froze. Their rigid hierarchy meant all obeyed the Silent King unless the command protocol was lifted, then Necrontyr controlled Overlords, Overlords their subordinates.
Here stood the living Necrontyr Trazyn, but the core database still recognized the Necron Overlord Trazyn. Yet, Necrons were ascended Necrontyr. All high-level Necrons began calculating madly, even blowing fuses, unable to resolve this paradox.
Necrontyr Trazyn took a blood sample, analyzed it, and was overjoyed—Rhodes had gifted him the Phoenix's rebirth flame, cleansing the toxic sun's effect from his DNA.
"Hahahaha! Rhodes, my friend, thank you!
You've saved our race. You're our savior! The Necrons are saved!" Necrontyr Trazyn rejoiced.
Freed from the homeworld's curse, he could now use all the galaxy's life extension methods. His collection included not just items, but knowledge.
With this knowledge—including Old One tech—he could transform himself into an immortal.
This tomb world only held physical artifacts—he had other tomb worlds for knowledge.
After sixty million years, he had more than one lair.
Trazyn was ecstatic, eager to head to another tomb world and use its life extension tech.
"The great Necrontyr Trazyn is reborn!" he exulted.
Just then, a cold voice sounded from his communicator: "Sorry to interrupt, but if you're Trazyn, then who am I?"
Trazyn's laughter stopped. He turned stiffly.
A metal skeleton in Overlord regalia and staff appeared. At the sight, Necrontyr Trazyn's heart pounded, his mind stalling.
"Impossible! Who—who are you?
You're just a backup protocol—I'm the real master! I've revived, you're just data!" Trazyn snapped.
"You are revived, and have all my memories, but I am still Necron Overlord Trazyn!" the Overlord replied coldly.
Another self—a living, soulful self.
When this body revived, the data link was severed, memory sharing ending with Rhodes's resurrection.
Necrons lack souls; theirs were devoured. In theory, the one with a soul is the real Trazyn.
At first, the Overlord Trazyn thought so—perhaps he was just backup, and should obey the revived original.
Especially after learning the original was free of the curse and could use life extension—he felt both excitement and rage, jealousy, hatred.
Why? Why do you get what I dreamed of?
Why am I just data? Why do you have a soul?
This wasn't right. After much thought—
The Overlord Trazyn used his teleportation tech to bring his main body here, to confront his living self and confirm things.
Even if this body was destroyed, he could always build a new one elsewhere.
"Activate Necrontyr authorization, Necrontyr Trazyn, system verification, initiate highest control protocol."
Trazyn went to the tomb world's core, placing his palm on it.
This was a program dormant for sixty million years, only activated by a living Necron Overlord or Necrontyr, giving ultimate control.
Instantly, the entire tomb world's control passed to Trazyn.
Even the Overlord before him couldn't resist—Necrontyr had the highest authority.
"I order you—erase your data, delete all records of Overlord Trazyn," Trazyn commanded coldly.
He understood now: he truly was revived.
When the Necrons underwent mechanization, they kept data backups. As long as a tomb core survived, so did he. Before resurrection, all backups were him—like a supercomputer.
But now, with a true revival, the backups were a threat—they had to be deleted.
"I knew you'd do this—because I am you, aren't I?
But you only control this tomb world. While you were celebrating, I transferred most treasures away.
Other tomb world cores are sealed with alien tech—you'll never access them, even with highest authority.
You've only gained this one tomb world.
I am the true Necron Overlord Trazyn!
And I'll broadcast our conversation to all Necrontyr and Overlords—Silent King included," the Overlord said coldly.
"No! You can't! You're just data, you should obey me! I'm the living one, the preserver of galactic history! You can't do this, there's no reason!" Trazyn cried, unable to comprehend a backup's betrayal.
He knew this footage would shake all of Necron society.
"Maybe AsanethAyu was right. The moment you revived, you ceased to be a Necron.
Our coldness, evil, cruelty, hatred—you have lost them," said the Overlord Trazyn quietly.