In Warhammer, My System is Minecraft

Chapter 230 230: Fulgrim, When Did You Return?

The author is still uploading one chapter daily. If he uploads two today, I will too, but if he only uploads one, I'll return to one chapter per day.

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With the negotiations concluded, Cegorach led the Harlequin Troupe away first. Yvraine followed shortly after, pausing before Zeke. She hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words, before finally lowering her voice to deliver a single warning:

"When using the spawn of Slaanesh, you must exercise the utmost caution."

Before her words even faded, she stepped into the shadows using the webway paths, vanishing from sight. Zeke silently committed her warning to heart.

For now, he cast his gaze toward Commorragh, where the roar of artillery still rumbled. Within the ruins leveled by the shield machine, some Dark Eldar were still attempting to retake the city. Some were terrified that if Commorragh fell, they would be driven out of the Webway to face Slaanesh directly; others simply sought the sheer thrill of battle. Regardless of their individual motives, the Dark Eldar continued to put up a stubborn resistance.

Zeke set up a Nether Portal and called upon Guilliman to lead reinforcements to his aid.

Commorragh is so massive. Flushing out the remnants hiding in every nook and cranny is a job better left to the Space Marines. He then looked over at Trazyn, who hadn't left yet.

"I will have someone deliver the Levitating Pylons," Trazyn said.

Zeke didn't look away. "Trazyn, since you're already here, you wouldn't mind letting me browse your galleries once more, would you?"

Trazyn froze. He had just contributed the Levitating Pylons—a powerful weapon for dealing with the chaos gods.

"Trazyn, for the sake of the friendly relationship between humanity and the Necrons..." Zeke whispered into Trazyn's ear, his voice like a demonic temptation.

Every single item in Trazyn's galleries was a treasure he had spent years of painstaking effort, traversing galaxies, and even risking his life to acquire. Each piece was his lifeblood. However, since things had reached this point and he had already extended a hand of cooperation to humanity, he might as well go all the way. To firmly grasp the thigh of the Imperium—no, to grasp Zeke's thigh—Trazyn compromised.

Zeke stepped through the ripples of the green portal once more. After a long absence, he set foot inside Trazyn's galleries again. The curator's assistant, Sannet, waited respectfully to the side while a dazzling array of exhibits was on display deep within the vault.

The two walked through the depths of the galleries until they arrived before an exquisitely crafted stasis pod. Inside slept an exceptionally handsome man.

A clone of Fulgrim.

Zeke stopped in his tracks. Trying to save the corrupted Fulgrim is probably unrealistic. But getting a cloned Fulgrim... that doesn't seem like a bad idea at all. Currently, the Imperium did not lack military might, but the need for Primarchs still existed. A Primarch represented not only martial prowess but also absolute leadership. Compared to aristocrats like the High Lords, Primarchs were beings that truly commanded submission. They rarely made mistakes, and the depth of their foresight far exceeded that of ordinary men. Moreover, the return of every Primarch meant the reunification of a Space Marine Legion—a force capable of rewriting the entire landscape of the battlefield.

"Name your price, Trazyn." Zeke thought about it and decided against freeloading this time.

Trazyn flatly refused. They were all on the same side now; talking about money would only hurt their feelings.

"This clone was gifted to me by a Space Marine named Fabius Bile," Trazyn explained. He briefly mentioned the danger of this individual, calling him a mad scientist, before dismantling the stasis pod containing the cloned Fulgrim and preparing to move it to Commorragh.

Along the way, Trazyn also awakened several ten-thousand-year-old Space Marine veterans treasured in his collection and presented them all to Zeke. Now that the Necrons and the Imperium had nominally forged an alliance, continuing to hoard these Space Marines in his galleries was ultimately unjustifiable.

This is too uncharacteristic. Is this really Trazyn? They say raising a child changes a person. It seems the Necrons are no exception, Zeke sighed inwardly.

The two continued deeper into Trazyn's galleries, and Zeke's gaze was soon drawn to a data-slate covered in writing.

"What's this?"

"This is..." Trazyn paused slightly, his expression somewhat sheepish as he instinctively reached out to block it.

Zeke was a step faster and snatched it away. The first half of the data-slate listed entirely unfamiliar items, but as his eyes scanned the middle section, a few names suddenly leaped out at him.

The Spear of Vulkan: Theft Failed.

"Impressive, Trazyn. So you've even been to Nocturne." Zeke looked thoughtful.

Seeing his wishlist exposed, Trazyn's face flushed red with embarrassment. He had once sneaked into the Salamanders' homeworld of Nocturne, attempting to steal Vulkan's sacred spear. Unexpectedly, his identity was exposed, and he was stabbed straight through on the spot, returning in complete disgrace. Such a humiliating defeat was something he could absolutely never speak of.

Zeke continued scanning down: The Eye of Vulkan, the Kesare's Mantle... Without a doubt, these were exactly the nine sacred artifacts Vulkan had left in the mortal realm.

According to legend, Vulkan had left behind nine artifacts in the galaxy. As long as all of them were gathered, the Lord of Drakes could be summoned back to the mortal realm. Since their Primarch's disappearance, the Salamanders Chapter had exhausted all their efforts over the millennia, yet they had only found four of them so far. The whereabouts of the other five remained completely unknown. And this guy, Trazyn, had actually quietly figured out the locations of the remaining five artifacts.

Truly worthy of being the most notorious thief in the galaxy. His intelligence-gathering capabilities alone were enough to leave one in awe.

"Trazyn, I'll be taking this as well." Zeke stuffed the data-slate into his inventory. He would hand this over to Guilliman later, letting him help the Salamanders recover the remaining five artifacts.

But can gathering all nine artifacts truly summon Vulkan back? Zeke couldn't help but feel a bit skeptical.

"Of course, of course," Trazyn said, his expression completely composed as if nothing had happened. "I have turned over a new leaf now."

Zeke didn't press the matter any further. Having secured these two items, he bid farewell to Trazyn and stepped through the green portal back to Commorragh.

Those ten-thousand-year-old veterans who emerged from the galleries—many of whom had been preserved by Trazyn from the battles of the Horus Heresy—were taken away by arriving Imperial personnel. They would very soon be thrown back into the fight. Zeke stayed behind, tinkering with the control panel of the stasis pod. After some fiddling, he finally managed to pry the pod door open.

Inside, the cloned Fulgrim's eyelashes fluttered slightly before his eyes opened. Bearing the bewilderment of the newly awakened, he looked serene and stunningly handsome. He sat up, his snow-white hair cascading over his shoulders like a tide.

At the same time, Imperial transport craft and Stormbirds began emerging from the Nether Portal one after another. Combat boots slammed onto the ground of Commorragh. Space Marines and mortal auxiliary forces surged forward like a tidal wave, primed and ready. Seizing Commorragh was an absolute necessity.

Commorragh held immense value. It wasn't just because the Dark Eldar had hidden vast amounts of precious wealth and resources within this city. More importantly, it was the central hub connecting the Webway. Controlling it was equivalent to controlling more than half of the Old Ones' Webway. The Imperium had the Nether Portals and didn't necessarily need the Webway, but they absolutely could not let Commorragh fall into the hands of others, even if they had to destroy it completely.

This was no small matter. Guilliman had also arrived with the fleet. He strode down the boarding ramp, a spirited gleam in his eyes. He headed toward Zeke's direction and coincidentally caught sight of the figure sitting up from the stasis pod.

Looking at that handsome face framed by long white hair, which constantly overlapped with his memories...

The scar on Guilliman's neck—where he had once been fatally struck by Fulgrim's poisoned blade—began to burn and itch. A surge of fury rose from the base of his spine.

"Fulgrim—" Guilliman was first struck by confusion. When did Fulgrim return? And how?

But then his jaw clenched tight, and he marched forward with rapid strides.