At the same time, the Cologne star.

The ribs are erecting a black stone obelisk there.

With the magical technology of space necromancy, the magical material of Blackstone is slowly being built in incredible ways.

The oil guys were like a group of colored men watching the pole dancers, staring at the necromancer's every move, and their minds were concentrated like never before.

Not only that, but at least twenty cameras are placed around each necromancer to ensure that they can record any subtle movements of them in all directions and without blind spots.

Such an exaggerated treatment was a little unbearable even for the space necrons who had been dead for countless years and only had a copy of their consciousness left.

"That alien technician deliberately moved the back of his head with his fingers just now, does that mean anything?" A mechanical sage asked curiously.

"I don't know, maybe it's some kind of ritual?" The colleague next to him put on a thoughtful expression.

"Some kind of subtle output tweak?"

"Some kind of switch to switch the state?"

The oil guys speculated one after another, and the discussion was very serious.

"I'm just embarrassed to be watched by your young race, not for any other reason!" The necromancer couldn't help but protest loudly, "Honestly, I understand the curiosity of your young race, but can you please stop making such an over-the-top show?" This only affects my productivity. ”

"I don't understand, we're just observing, and we haven't caused any substantial interference to your work." A mechanical priest said.

"Creatures with higher minds do use certain actions to divert their own or others' attention when they feel embarrassed." Another explained.

"Can space necrons also be embarrassed? You're all metal, and your mind is made up of a grid of photons rather than nerve fibers, and you shouldn't be affected by hormones. The oil guys said seriously.

"You, you. I hate you," the necromancer was tossed to the point that his mind almost exploded.

They painstakingly simulated various emotional signals, hoping to return to that primitive impulse, and as a result, they would be scarred by this group of ignorant humans.

The necromancer could only turn to his master for help: "Lord Tarasin, I don't understand why you are teaching these young races, such a technology transfer is not in accordance with our laws, this is a, a."

"Treason?" Tarasin asked rhetorically with a smile.

Although the meaning of the intention was very obvious, the necromancer did not dare to really say it.

"This is a deal about the future of our race, and I have submitted a report to the Recovery Committee, so you just have to do it seriously, and don't worry about anything else." Tarasin reassured.

Since his own overlord has said so, the necromancer can only obey the order, endure the greedy gaze of the oil guys and countless cameras, and honestly continue to work with his head down.

After a long experience over the past few days, the effects of the soul metabolites have gradually become apparent.

The Endless One felt alive and mesmerized, as if he had become the only living person of the entire race.

The investment spent on Weimu is well worth it.

If the other Necromantic Overlords could feel this way, they would inevitably make the same choice as him, and Tarasin didn't have to worry about that.

What worries Tarasin now is that because of the disgraceful reputation he has accumulated among his colleagues, it is possible, or rather probable, that other space necrons will not trust his report.

"What are you all doing, stop me!"

However, at this moment, at the construction site of the Blackstone Obelisk, a space necronomicon who appeared at an unknown time shouted loudly.

Seeing this, the other necromancers immediately and honestly stopped what they were doing.

The oil guys on the side didn't dare to stop it, because the necromancer with a staff in his hand usually had a high status.

They are counting on these ribs to teach them skills, but they don't dare to offend casually.

"Hail to you, Master Orikan."

A necromancer stepped forward and saluted.

"I know your master is passionate about dealing with humans, but transferring our technology to them is too much!"

The person who came was none other than Tarasin's old friend and old rival, the master prophecy of the space necromancers, and the astrologer Orekan.

"I know, Master Orikan, but this is my lord's order, if you have any suggestions, you can go to him and talk to him personally."

"Of course I'll talk to him, I'm here to stop his stupidity!"

Orican said, his tone unobtrusive.

"Look who's coming, Master Orikan."

The commotion caused by the astrologer had long attracted the attention of Tarasin, and when he saw his old rival again, he couldn't help but think of showing off.

"What's that called? Tarasin, don't suffix my name. Orikan's tone was full of displeasure.

"Oh, you don't remember, do you, it's the nickname I gave you when you were in college." Tarasin reminded.

"A nickname from college? This childish boredom does sound like something you'd do, but no kidding, how could you possibly remember details that far back in time. Orican said disdainfully.

"Maybe I'll have that ability, dear Master Orikan?" Tarasin said with a smile.

"Shut your mouth, Tarasin, I see a picture of the future, the maelstrom is completely engulfed in subspace, and what you do will mess everything up, so whatever you're planning here, you have to stop now." Orikan didn't have time to talk to him about what he didn't have, so he said seriously.

"Like you foresaw my fate of being swallowed up by the Hive Fleet?" "Oh, of course, you almost predicted correctly, if that fleet hadn't become part of my museum's collection. ”

Although the fleet was later awakened by the Knights, who caused a big havoc in the museum in Tarazin.

"You know what caused the deviation, your museum, it holds so much that it doesn't belong in the current plane, it's like a cataract for any prophet, and a lot of details are missing because of it, so fate can't be accurately observed." "But this time it's different, it's not a trivial personal fate, it's a major event that can change the pattern of the galaxy." ”

"It's a perfect quibble, but that alone won't convince me." Tarasin waved his hand, "Keep working, technicians, and leave this guy alone." ”

The boss of his own family gave the order, and the necromancers continued to work hard.

The oil guy on the side also entered the onlooker mode again, not paying attention to the two necromantic bosses.

"You are still so stubborn and arrogant, Tarasin, I will report what you have done to the Resuscitation Committee!"

The astrologer had intended to use this as a blackmail.

As a result, the Endless One was overjoyed when he heard it.

"Is it true? My dear Orikan, as you know, many of our colleagues did not take my advice because they did not understand my work, but you are different, and they will certainly be willing to listen to the reminders from the Great Prophet. ”

This time it suddenly made Orickon completely gone.

"Do you have a way to get the Three Sages? What the hell are you plotting with these humans? He wondered.

"I'm investing in our future." Tarasin replied.

He smiled and removed the soul stone from the mech and placed it in front of Orecan.

"This is, how is this possible?"

Orican scanned the thing, his voice shaking.

Fragments of dreams and emotions, after so much time, have been extracted from the sinister and distorted subspace.

"A miracle, Orikan, a miracle created by that young human." Tarasin replied.

"What kind of smart boy is that?" Urecan was surprised.

"That's right, otherwise why do you think I'm transferring these technologies? It's not all for our whole race. Tarasin said triumphantly.

Although the Necrons don't like Tarracin very much, Tarracin doesn't mind saving them.

"You almost messed everything up, Tarasin!"

Urecan suddenly screamed.

The fierce tone was enough to distract even the oil guys who were immersed in Blackstone's technology.

"What do you say, Orikan, that I have found a way out for our race, and the price paid is so insignificant, and you dare to accuse me of it?" Tarasin was furious.

"He is indeed hope, Tarasin, but I see the future, that young man who has finally taken refuge in Chaos, and that hope for our race is fading." The astrologer snapped a warning.

(End of chapter)