How can a retired savior be considered retired if his price drops to 40,000?

Chapter 218 Wonderful Night at the Museum

He wanted to throw up.

He knew very well that he actually had nothing to make him vomit out.He didn't eat anything serious and barely maintained his own food.And since time started flowing through him again, he had no corresponding chance.

There are corresponding concepts in the memories in his mind that don't really belong to him, and there are impressions of different types of food - color, aroma, taste, and texture, all in great detail.He could even infer his likes and dislikes from this, but these overly detailed memories could not change the fact that there was indeed nothing in his digestive system that he could spit out.

The way he felt physically was not really due to some kind of physiological problem.His "innate" exquisite brain calmly analyzed the cause of this phenomenon for him.In the moment after he escaped from the stasis field, his brain itself received too much intelligence information unreasonably.He had no way of knowing where so much intelligence information came from or why it was forced into his brain, but too much data did affect his brain function and therefore sent errors to his other organs. signal.

Fortunately, this mistake was quickly corrected by himself.His body itself naturally has a strong ability to correct errors.Even if his brain is still too busy to process and analyze such an excessive amount of information, he is still a sharp and dangerous weapon - this is determined by the original design.

The amount of information from unknown sources that could drive a mortal crazy countless times, or simply blow up a psyker's brain, only made him retching twice.He didn't spit anything out. As a natural warrior, the function of his brain forced his brain to forcibly separate the thread for "paying attention to the situation at hand", telling him that this was natural.

Then, he realized that he was wearing a gorgeous set of purple and gold armor - gorgeous, but lacking the necessary functionality or even practicality.He didn't know its structure, but he naturally realized how to "use" it: it was inconvenient to wear, and even the design of the armor itself restricted and restricted his movements.If you want to move without damaging the outfit itself, it will definitely be very uncomfortable.

He had never worn anything like it, but he naturally understood how to move gracefully within such restrictions.His arms and legs were still a little weak, but they were enough for him to slowly get up from the cold ground.

He saw the blurry reflection of the golden eagle on his chest through the simple faint green lighting on the light-reflecting ground.This caused him to unconsciously reveal a wry smile, which was also vaguely reflected on the ground.He saw his silver hair hanging down as smoothly as silk, and his face in the mirror, even though it was blurry, looked as handsome as a god.Then, the unconscious bitter smile on his face widened.

Currently, he doesn't have much brainpower that can be used to think about the current situation, so he doesn't understand why he makes such an expression.This is a very insignificant question, and its importance ranks last among all the questions that must be analyzed at present - and the most important ones are obviously those that are inexplicably poured into his mind regardless of his own will. intelligence information.

In other words, there are other memories that do not belong to him.

The amount of information was simply too great—it had not been sorted out at all, and was filled with a large amount of redundant and useless data. It was just forced into his mind, forcing him to read it all in detail. content.He already knew some of the things. The knowledge, skills, and stories that had happened before he was born had been naturally implanted in his mind by the carefully compiled genes that made up "him".And now, other information that he didn't know poured into his consciousness, telling him that these stories that had happened had an ending.

In just ten seconds after he fell out of the stasis field, he read through "Fulgrim's" life of thousands of years.

Fulgrim landed on Chemos, like a phoenix rising from the ashes; Fulgrim was welcomed back to Terra by the Emperor, and led the Emperor's Children to join the Great Crusade; The sword gradually degenerated, leading the entire legion into the abyss; Fulgrim launched a rebellion with Warmaster Horus, killing his former best friend, and completely fell into the embrace of Chaos and Slaanesh; Fulgrim After Mu sacrificed his brother, he was promoted to a demon prince and indulged in pleasure in the Silver Palace of Slaanesh; Fulgrim allowed his legion scions to kill the empire he should have devoted his loyalty to and fought for; Fulgrim Mu...Fulgrim...

Fulgrim eventually became a terrifying monster, as in the legends of ancient Terra, aided by a divine warrior, his former best friend, with the sword he had been gifted in the past, with the sword his father used to fight against the enemy, Permanently decapitated.

Fulgrim's end was slowly reduced to ashes in golden flames.But this time, the "Phoenix of Chemos", which gave up the name of the noble phoenix, failed to rise from the ashes again.

Forced to read all of this, he didn't know the reason, but he vaguely realized that it was this "ending" that was projected onto him for some reason, forcibly promoting the "development" that had been stalled by external forces, causing They extended again, thus breaking the stasis field's blockade on his "cause and effect".

He didn't know why he was aware of this. The memory in his genes had no knowledge related to these "metaphysical" things.The small part of his perception that paid attention to the outside world told him that some "little bugs" with green light were moving in a way that was a little too fast for the life form of "bugs", but in his eyes it was still slow. Approaching him at a fast speed, but he still felt that it was not important.

In his consciousness, which was confused by the excess of intelligence, another voice that obviously did not belong to him, as if hanging from the sky, asked downwards: Who are you?Fulgrim.He thought so.I am Fulgrim.

You are not Fulgrim.the voice answered.The real Fulgrim had betrayed the Empire and surrendered to Slaanesh ten thousand years ago, and had been completely killed by Ferrus Manus, who was reborn in the fire.Who are you?

Among these questions, a kind of vicious anger inexplicably grew in his heart.

"I am Fulgrim!" He shouted out unconsciously, and the majestic and magnificent voice, which was the same as the original body, echoed in the empty and dark exhibition hall, "The one who willingly fell - He can't afford the name! He's not perfect, and he's fallen because of it!"

His anger was evident in his tone and words, but it didn't trigger anything else.Those green beetles have already come to his side, trying to push him back into the stasis field with a force that "bugs" should not have.At this time, his perception, which was still in chaos, finally made him realize that those things were not real bugs, but some kind of extremely delicate mechanical structure.He should have realized something, but anger and confusion blocked his thinking.He just angrily ripped the stupid machines off his body, instinctively smashed them to the ground with far more force than necessary, and finally crushed them one by one.

Another softer voice joined his consciousness uninvited: It's nice to see you still chasing perfection.I think we'll get along.

"Shut up! You evil creature!" He roared into the air, "Do you still think I don't know your tricks?"

Then, a sigh and a chuckle came from his consciousness.Those thoughts that were not his own disappeared in an instant, as if they had never existed.Immediately, his consciousness became clearer and his perception of the outside world became clearer.Some kind of intuitive attraction made him raise his head from where he was and look to his right - where the green mechanical beetles were coming from:
He saw a weird-looking...anti-gravity...vehicle? ——
Sixteen standard hours later, the director of the Solemnath Museum, "Endless One" Trazin, faced the empty booth and fell into deep thought.

He called the technician and went into battle himself, and together with his men, he repeatedly checked all the running records in this venue.Under the personal leadership of an overlord, and at the speed of the Necron's thinking, they checked tens of thousands of times in the part of the record that might have gone wrong in an instant. After finding nothing, they began to try to expand the search. Scope, looking for any clues that something was wrong - but except for a small number of underworld scarabs that were destroyed for unknown reasons, he still could not draw any reasonable conclusions.

Trazin couldn't figure out how his exhibits disappeared out of thin air.What would cause such a result would be that there is a mole among his subordinates who can tamper with the operation records——

——Joke, even if there is, it is impossible that he has not exposed himself in tens of thousands of previous inspections: before undergoing biological transformation, Trazin was the archivist among the Necrontyr.This part of his working life has allowed him to develop a serious personality and an extremely keen eye for being critical of a piece of data. Of course, he also has some quirks that are not in line with his overlord status... I'm going too far.All in all, if someone has successfully tampered with Solemnus's running records, and has the ability to hide it from Trazin himself, then this person is as high as a Pharaoh in terms of physical performance - no disrespect. Meaning, he just wanted to use some fantasy-like metaphors to illustrate the truth that "this thing is simply impossible to happen."

Either that or someone or something has developed some kind of transportation method that can bypass Solemnath's security system.For Trazin, this is a possibility that is relatively easy to accept.Even though he is the overlord of the Necrons and has sufficient confidence in the history and technology of his race, he has to admit that some things will happen in this world that are beyond his calculations and predictions: most of the similar annoying things will happen. The incident came from his own kind, and a small part of it came from the subspace (including the one on the Golden Throne). He had already experienced many similar losses, but after all, there was a precedent.

So the question is, who did it?Who has the ability to do this without leaving a trace?Even in the Solemnath Museum, which is heavily protected and has three sensors almost one step away, there is no evidence left to prove the existence of outsiders?

After three microseconds of lengthy contemplation, Trazin decided to give up:

There is too little evidence, so why not give Ourrican a beating first?

　Miwu (six o'clock)

　　
　
(End of this chapter)