This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 537 Tarachin and Aurikan

Beyond the borders of the human empire, in the extreme star field, lies an unknown world of tombs.
the weather is nice today.

When stars are active, sunlight lasts a long time.

The flares and electromagnetic pulses from the stellar eruption washed over the permanently locked front of the planet, and the surging high-energy matter swept over the ancient four-sided spires like a rising tide.

Attached to it are tiny devices, much like those filtering organisms on ocean islands and reefs, which intercept the necessary information and then send it one after another into the depths of the tomb to the palace that can calculate the direction of the Milky Way.

The necromancers of space, through their ancient astrological skills passed down to the fearful dead, were able to glimpse parts of the future from subtle changes in the celestial bodies.

And astrologer Auricane is clearly one of the best among them.

Astrologers used this method to predict, 60 million years ago, the fall of the Eldar, the rise of humanity, the Horus Rebellion, the Tyranid invasion, and the reopening of the Great Rift.

Through more careful observation and research, Auricanne was even able to more specifically predict the series of factors behind major events, including collective movements, individual decisions, and even interfering factors that had nothing to do with logic.

When the Necromancer was still known as the Fearful One, he was already quite famous. Aurican, the chief astrologer of the Silent King at the time, had already realized that the Star God Fraudster's so-called salvation plan was a scam.

Unfortunately, faced with the Silent King's methods and the desperate attempts of most of his people under the pressure of war, a necromancer who couldn't even be called a hegemon couldn't do much.

He could only watch helplessly as his best friend, Tarachin, who was never good at making decisions, refused his last insistence. The two of them were thrown into the transformation furnace together, witnessing the death of the death-fearing beings named Tarachin and Aurikan.

The greatest punishment for those who try to peek into fate is that they cannot decide their own destiny, or even change the fate they observe.

However, life as a space necromancer was not too bad.

Although an individual is at best an artificial intelligence, and its perception of emotions relies on sophisticated technology to simulate them, at least there's a lively character like Taraxin around, making life somewhat chaotic.

Every now and then, important equipment in my hands is stolen. When I team up to run the Star God dungeon, I find that the rewards are not what I expected. When I turn around, I find that the best items have already been taken by my friends.

Then, due to unequal distribution of spoils and ideological conflicts, they would occasionally visit the most sacred and supreme court of the Resurrection Council of the Space Necromancers to litigate, accusing each other and using everything they could to eliminate any challenge to the authority of the Resurrection Council.

This refers to a clever tactic that goes unnoticed by the executioner, followed by loud laughter as the other party wailes in court after losing the case, and makes an outstanding contribution to improving the security and impartiality of the future parliamentary courts.

Given the sturdiness of the space necromancer's metallic body, such days may continue forever.

However, about a hundred years ago, everything began to change subtly.

Aurican looked around at the library, heavily guarded by the Lich Guard, and at the precious collections whose value had skyrocketed in the last hundred years.

Stealing the unique equipment left behind by Tal Rashin in the world of Solemnath will no longer incur retaliation, and the loot from dungeons and raids will no longer be hoarded.

The library's theft records have decreased exponentially, and related revenues from the lack of vandalism are increasing daily.

No one is going to outwit him anymore; everything is as expected.

How you plan is how you will end.

This should have been a good thing.

Prophecy should be like this, and an astrologer who is a prophet needs these achievements to maintain his authority.

However, emptiness still occupies the little emotional space that Auricana has simulated.

Whenever Aurikan touches those precious paper documents, those valuable historical texts from the destruction of the Necromancer dynasty, while he is absorbing the wisdom within them, he also feels uneasy because of that awkward sense of peace.

Where is my good brother Tarachin? Why didn't he show up?

Shouldn't that thief have jumped out and stolen his collection long ago, and then shamelessly accused him of owning the collection long ago after he came knocking on his door?
Aurican looked at the fragments of the fraudster that belonged to him.

The culprit that brought the most devastating calamity to the fearful dead is now tormented and imprisoned in an infinite labyrinth, where every ounce of energy is squeezed from it as an energy core. Combined with the simulated external landscape inside the library, it looks like another sun hanging in the sky.

He even placed this collection in the most prominent position in the library!
Now, Auricán knows.

At the center of the tomb world, Aurican looked up at the scene above the dome, constructed from near-realistic projections.

A pile of firewood cobbled together from various sources, including subspace entities, star gods, and impoverished races.

How similar this is to the past.

Being completely deceived by the gods of the material universe, and then foolishly believing in the gods of the spiritual realm, is as if the lessons of the past never existed.

Aurican gripped the Staff of Prophecy tightly, and countless pieces of information that should have appeared in the future surfaced in his consciousness at this moment.

That thief, that fool who's always bad at making decisions, has made another decision.

Once again, he, as a friend, was excluded.

Once again, they arbitrarily threw other people into the woodpile.

The entire fleet has already arrived, and you only now remember to look for me?!

Aurican narrowed his eyes slightly, thinking of the Solemnas Tomb World History Museum, which he used to frequent but which was now almost empty.

The prophecy staff in hand can more accurately grasp the minute movements of stars, allowing more computing power to be placed where it is needed.

When the glow of the closed network reached the planet's surface after several minutes, the floating structure in the center of the scepter closed.

It's now.

"Get lost, thief."

Faced with Taracin's communication and the overwhelming fleet behind that face, the astrologer, who had long anticipated this moment and had been preparing for it, shouted.

"Go back to your yet another collapsing woodpile."

"."

On the bridge of the Dawn, the unspeakable insults from Auricane still echoed.

This makes one question Tarahim's claims.

Just as the harmonious exchange was about to unfold as expected, Servius, representing the great Lord Guilliman, took over the conversation. He awkwardly covered his mouth with his fist and swallowed back the words that were about to come out.

He tried to remain calm, exchanged a glance with Ifrena, who had an "I knew it" look on her face, and then looked at the silent Guilliman.

The Lord of Altera's face showed little emotion; this person in charge, faced with such an unexpected situation, seemed to have expected it and remained calm.

In the end, the two looked helplessly at Arthur, who was already showing a knowing smile, and Ramses, who was already laughing heartily.

"Good thing."

Arthur spoke first.

"indeed."

Guilliman laughed.

The clerks, who had initially thought there had been a diplomatic incident, were puzzled.

Ramses then spoke up to explain.

"They just told him to get lost, they didn't say they wouldn't help."

Very insightful.

Everyone understands.

With so many original concepts being introduced, we've forgotten that there are still some people who don't buy into superficiality.

To put it bluntly, if Aurican were truly the prophetic master described in the documents, he would have run away long ago if he didn't want to talk to you. You wouldn't even be able to find him. Why would he risk his life to curse you in front of the Imperial Navy fleet, which has already solved its mobility issues through the Internet?

So ultimately, the problem lies with Tarahim.

"."

Tarasin was drenched in sweat as everyone's gazes turned to him.

He certainly didn't want to leave, so he definitely needed to resolve the Orikan issue.

I was also a little apprehensive.

The main problem is that the insults were quite harsh and politically incorrect; anyone would be angry if they heard them.

But the Primarchs clearly showed no expression.

If they are indeed a pile of firewood that collapses at the slightest touch, then they will certainly be anxious.

Unfortunately, neither Guilliman, the local, nor Arthur and the other time travelers genuinely believed that they were not.

They will prove with their actions whether they are truly a crumbling shell.

However, the ways in which Dawnwing and Talassin proved themselves are obviously slightly different.

"I'll head over there right away."

To ensure a harmonious start to diplomatic activities between humans and the undead in space, Tarachin immediately volunteered.

"Go."

Guilliman waved his hand, then gestured to Cato Sicarius, who was in charge of military affairs with the army.

"Have the fleet stand by."

"Yes, Father!"

Under Hill's envious gaze, Sicarius accepted the order and left.

Unfortunately, it's common knowledge among all chapters that Old Deng shouldn't be sent to the battlefield unless absolutely necessary during the Great Crusade, except for the Dark Angels, which are a bit of an exception, or rather, the Executioners and Sharks, which are more focused on combat and pragmatism.

And clearly, the Ultra Warrior doesn't fit into either category.

Old Deng, relying on his experience and knowledge, stayed by the Primarch's side, assisting the Primarch in his work, leading operations and defections, and then receiving Primarch commendations after the war. Let us young people experience that kind of unfortunate life.

"Get it done right away."

Knowing that Dawnwing's efficiency was no joke, Talassin nodded quickly, feeling extremely annoyed by Aurican's lack of discretion.

He finally made up his mind to introduce external variables and try to fight back, but instead of helping him, his good brother stabbed him in the back. What's going on?
hum~
With a flash of teleportation light, the Necromancer Lord vanished from the bridge.
-
Click~
As the scraping sound of metal machinery against silk carpet reached the sensory system, the Lich Guards raised their spears, and the undead overlord, hated by this world, officially completed his visit.

"Ok?"

Aurikan tilted his head in confusion at Tarasin's lack of reaction and his decision to bypass the teleportation barrier and teleport directly.

This thief seems to be really serious this time.
"Tarasin".

Aurican looked at the newcomer and ordered the vigilant lich guards to disperse. The machine, which was much thinner than a hegemon, approached.

"You came."

"I am coming."

"You shouldn't have come."

Aurican leaned back slightly, adopting a contemptuous posture.

"But I'm still here."

Tarasin stepped forward, his feet resting on the noble gold-trimmed carpet of the Sotek dynasty.

He ignored the collections around him that had once filled him with envy, his serious gaze fixed directly on Aurican. "For the future of our race."

"Oh."

Aurican chuckled and spoke to the technician not far away.

"Listen to what joke I just heard. What future do we have?"

The tomb engineer hesitated for a moment, then wisely chose not to answer the sensitive question.

"Is the tumor in your brain still not healed?"

Tarasin cursed.

"You almost wasted the opportunity I worked so hard to get."

"Yes, let them recreate a soul version of me, and then destroy the current me."

Aurican replied without any politeness.

Taracin was about to retort that he was also against bio-transformation, but he was silenced by a barrage of questions.

"You think you're right?"

Tarasin paused for a moment, but then spoke.

"I think this is right."

He initially thought this was a problem too, and after giving Ramses a few words, he got stuck on the philosophical debate for a long time.

However, once it was discovered that Dawnwing thoughtfully provided a soul-transfer function, packaging it as a tool for space necromancers to re-perceive the world, this problem was resolved.

"Really? You haven't changed at all, you thief."

Orikan laughed sarcastically.

The fire that had just gone down from Tarachin suddenly surged up again.

Before the Necromancer could figure out how to change the stereotype of astrologers so that he could successfully achieve his goal, he was out of luck.

“Listen to me, Tarasin, you’re like that bowerbird in human history who only knows how to steal shiny things, only cares about their color and patina, and can never see the meaning and purpose of these collections.”

"Just like now."

Aurican opened his arms to show Tarasin the treasures from the world of Solemnas, which were shining brightly in his library.

"Judging from your inferior eye, I find it hard to believe that you can make that cobbled-together pile of firewood any more useful."

"."

Their forward momentum came to a halt.

The anger that had risen in Tarahim's heart was extinguished.

He looked up at Aurican, who was so arrogant that he wanted to beat up Zhihai right then and there.

He probably understood what Orikan meant.

He had been battling Orekan for tens of millions of years, and he knew the astrologer's temperament all too well.

If Auricanne truly disagreed with something or someone from the bottom of her heart, she would have been too lazy to waste words; she would have either used prophecy directly or appealed to people's emotions to clear away obstacles, and would never have wasted her breath on ridicule.

Moreover, Aurican's divination skills are unparalleled among space necromancers, and the Wings of Dawn have always focused on anti-warp, paying little or no attention to intelligence about the real universe. It's highly likely that they already foresaw my intentions and plans.

Brother knows you've made it big, and brother knows you did it all for my own good.

But what's the meaning of you not playing with your brothers?
Now that you've only just remembered, bro, I'm going to give you a hard time.
So it wasn't that Auricane clearly foresaw all of this and was deliberately making his mission more difficult; rather, it was that his old friend was reminding him in another way.

To put it bluntly, Ramses's earlier words made a lot of sense; though the words were crude, the principle was sound.

He just told you to get lost, he didn't say he wouldn't help you.

"."

So that’s it?
"Ha~"

Tarasin smiled.

He thought it was something serious.

He went to meet his old friend.

Aurican is still the same Aurican.

"Do you know that you are like a peacock showing off its feathers to others among the species on Earth?"

Taraxin retorted sarcastically, having sorted out the reasons behind it.

"is it?"

Aurican, whose intentions had been seen through, asked a question in return.

The astrologer showed no sign of being outmatched, instead looking around at the collections inside the library, which were playing their part through his exploration and deconstruction of these ancient artifacts.

"Then I have to thank a certain necromancer overlord for the feather."

Tarasin looked at the collection, the historical relics he had painstakingly collected from various places, which had lost their historical traces due to long-term use.

A deep, heart-wrenching pain spread from the depths of my soul.

Sure enough, I still can't let go.

Looking at these collections that he had abandoned for so long, Tarasin, who had lost the threat of friendship and the crisis of race, immediately pressed his chest, which was beginning to ache, and couldn't help but accuse them.

"You're stealing!"

Orikan responded.

“It’s not called stealing if the dead take things from the living, it’s called demanding tribute.”

Damn it, I really didn't know how to refute it for a moment.

"."

Faced with Aurikan's blatant sarcasm, Tarasin wisely chose to remain silent.

He took a few steps closer, looking down at the astrologer who was a head shorter than him.

Having resolved the disagreement between the two sides regarding their respective access to information, it's time to get down to business.

"I am Tarasin, curator of the Museum of Human History of the Wings of Dawn, and the Necromancer overlord of the Nihilak Dynasty. I am here as the representative of the Necromancers of the Space to humanity, and I humbly request your assistance in our state visit to the Necromancers of the Space."

"I am Aurican, the most outstanding astrologer of the Necromancers of Space."

Aurican bowed slightly.

"I agree to your request."

The chief time mage of the Sothek dynasty and the necromancer overlord of the Nihilak dynasty first bowed to each other in a ceremonial manner and greeted one another.

Then, under the watchful eyes of countless lich guards who were still faithfully carrying out their defensive duties.

bump!
The staff of prophecy caught the blow of the staff of annihilation of transference.

boom!
Seeing that his sneak attack had failed, Tarasin released his grip and punched Aurikan’s one eye before lunging at his collection.

jump!
Not to be outdone, Aurikan, before falling, stretched out his leg and tripped Tarasin to the ground, then gripped the neck guard tightly with his hand, attempting a rear-naked choke in an extremely foolish way.

The two beings, who were using the most advanced physical bodies of the Space Necromancers, rolled around in a tangled mess, throwing punches and kicks at each other in the huge arena.

Since neither of them can be considered warriors at any time, a major problem with the Necromancers is that they cannot act outside of their personality data, making them almost impossible to learn from. The battles between the two are extremely ugly.

Two living bodies gripped each other's necks, attempting to suffocate each other. Their living metal heads collided as they struggled, trying to cause each other's minds to become dizzy due to concussion. During the struggle, their broken arms tore at each other's luxurious decorations and exposed mechanical structures.

It looked like shrewish women fighting in the street.
-
Dawn, bridge
A group of high-ranking imperial officials are witnessing this scene through Tarasin's spirit perspective.

A silence even deeper than before.

After a long while, realizing that Aurican was indeed trying to strangle a space necromancer with a chokehold, and that Tarachin had even displayed the proper reaction of someone experiencing asphyxiation, he gained a clear understanding of the space necromancer's mental state and confirmed that it would be some time before a decisive battle was decided—

"Ah."

Guilliman nodded affirmatively.

"A friendship that deserves our respect."

He uttered a single sentence, then lowered his head to gaze at the documents from the hazy star field, no longer paying attention to the outside world.

Only a group of clerks were left trying to figure out what was going on, and a few people who were happily witnessing it all.

"Did you record it?"

Ramses questioned the employees of the Formless Heaven.

"I guarantee the mission will be completed perfectly, sir!"

The group of spirit race members who were searching for the best vantage point in the Formless Heaven replied.

With their authority in psychic powers, they could do this very easily.

This scene will be etched in history as the beginning of a new future for the relationship between humans and the undead, a breakthrough of historical significance.

The exhibition is managed and operated by Tarachin himself.

　P.S.: I'd like to recommend some books to my friends. Take a look if you're passing by!

　　Unlimited Dungeons: Starting with Hextech 3-in-1

　　Synopsis: In an endless world of dungeons, Chen Xi survives solely through Hextech Options.
　　The first time you choose "My lord, times have changed," you will receive an additional American-made M1911 ammunition every day.

　　Faced with the terrifying cannibalistic monster, Chen Xi simply pointed the gun at its bulletproof head.

　　"My lord, times have changed!"

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　　Unable to cultivate internal energy, Chen Xi said with a resentful expression.

　　The third option, "Big Brother is spinning!", will cause the bullets to automatically find the enemy's head whenever he fires.

　　"What do you mean I opened it? I didn't close it! So what if my account gets banned!"

　　Chen Xi said indifferently.

　　In the face of endless dungeons and boundless Hextech, choice is more important than effort, and effort and choice are more important than everything!
　　

(End of this chapter)