"No, this can't be! Feel it—this is life, this is rebirth," Tartarus declared.
If she was a master of time, he was her progenitor. Her knowledge was kindergarten stuff compared to his.
Restored to Necrontyr form, she looked different—humanoid, but still ugly by human standards: a thin, almost mummified face, like a Tau, dry and emaciated.
"Hahaha! I'm alive! I'm alive again! I've been resurrected—my own body, not a Necron, but Necrontyr!" AsanethAyu screamed in disbelief, bordering on madness.
She caressed her face, feeling real flesh, real life. She inhaled deeply, savoring the feeling of breath.
But suddenly, she felt her body dying, her consciousness fading.
"No, I'm dying! Why? Save me, human! Save me!" she pleaded, collapsing at Rhodes's feet.
"Tartarus, what's happening? The Necrontyr lifespan is short, but she shouldn't die so fast," Rhodes asked.
"Lord Rhodes, their lives are indeed brief. But her body's collapse isn't just due to biology—it's her soul. Her soul was devoured; this body is just a soulless corpse. Without a soul, death is inevitable," Tartarus explained.
"Save me, save me! You promised to restore my soul—I'll do anything, anything at all!" AsanethAyu begged, terror-stricken.
Rhodes snapped his fingers, and Baton appeared.
"Master, what are your orders?" Baton asked.
"Try to repair her soul with your energy—let her control this body. Can you do it?" Rhodes asked.
"Let me try, Master," Baton nodded, infusing her with cosmic energy.
A strange power took effect—the lost soul was slowly restored, and a new one formed within her.
After ten minutes, AsanethAyu stabilized, her eyes glowing with vitality, her body unharmed.
"Master, her soul is restored. Our energy really can revive them," Baton reported.
"Well done, Baton. Return," Rhodes said, absorbing Baton back into his body.
"Hahaha! I'm the first—the first Necrontyr to break the curse! I am destiny!" AsanethAyu cried with joy.
Sixty million years—even the greatest Phaerons, Overlords, and the Silent King himself never regained their soul or body. Yet she, a humble tomb mechanic, had by accident gained what all Necrons dreamed of.
"Sorry, you're not destiny—I am! Remember your oath. You swore allegiance to me. If you betray me, I can drain your life and destroy your soul anytime," Rhodes said, gripping her throat and lifting her.
You think you're Thanos? If anyone is destiny, it's me—I'm changing the Warhammer universe!
"Y-yes, Master. But our lifespan is very short—it's a genetic curse. Even the greatest technology can't extend it. My body might last a few years, then I'll die," AsanethAyu admitted.
The Necrontyr were strange—a top civilization with pitifully short lifespans, shorter than humans.
A Necrontyr pregnancy lasted only six Terra months; adulthood came at ten, old age at thirty, death at thirty-five, and rare survivors at forty.
This was absurd for a race that once ruled the galaxy.
Their curse stemmed from their home star—a toxic sun that radiated a peculiar energy. The mutation was encoded in their genes, haunting them no matter where they settled.
Some Necrons preferred not to regain their bodies or souls—they saw the Necron state as their true evolution.
"I know your curse. My phantom beast's energy can extend your life, even make you a super-lifeform—tens of thousands of years, maybe immortality, if you serve me," Rhodes said.
If AsanethAyu hesitated any longer, she'd be out of luck. Still, he didn't plan to kill her—a living Necrontyr was a powerful bargaining chip.
If she appeared in front of Trazyn the Infinite, he'd go mad—maybe even the Silent King would lose his composure.
"I don't know the formula for living metal, but a tomb world's core AI might have it. As a Necrontyr, I have the highest access and could try," AsanethAyu offered.
She was no longer arrogant. With her soul and body restored, she was once again a death-fearing Necrontyr, willing to do anything to survive—just as they all once did.
"Then you're not useless after all. I have something called regenerative metal—similar to living metal, but with even stronger regenerative powers. Study it for me, and share your basic time tech with the Imperium," Rhodes ordered.
Tartarus's time tech was too advanced for humans. The Necron level was already enough for now.
"Yes, Master. But please, don't let me be seen by any other Necrons—they'd dissect me to uncover the secret of soul restoration," AsanethAyu begged.
Before resurrection, she'd wanted to share this miracle with her people. Now, she just wanted to avoid them—lest she become a lab specimen.
So, Necron is Necron, and I am Necrontyr. To fear death is only natural—I'm no longer that soulless metal.