It seems that this ** who is on the verge of the end has not completely lost the last shred of his senses, at least he has not made a request that is completely inconsiderable. Although we have always claimed to be uncompromising and never back down, in this situation, the enemy is already dead, and there is nothing wrong with being flexible until then - giving up armor does not mean giving up weapons, although it seems that armor is far more important to me than the only pistols and grenades in my hands, and giving up weapons is an act of surrender, a stain that will never be erased in my life, and if I don't do it, I will be subject to battlefield discipline, Taking off the armor and going shirtless was seen as a courageous act in many armies, and was praised and encouraged.

"You think you're smart, but the Emperor's warriors don't just rely on armor for protection." I hooked my pistol and grenade back on my belt and began to unfasten the fastening straps of my armor.

Wast Tode impatiently unleashed the hammer and threatened further, and I wouldn't bet it was just a demonstrative move. Putting on armor is a tedious process, but untying it is much quicker. With a few muffled thuds, armor components made of terracotta steel fell to the ground, including the helmet with the monocular display and individual logic engine. Soon I was left with a thin military uniform, and there was no protection left, and I held my head high and turned the widest of my fronts towards my enemy—just as a beast would blow up its fur to make itself appear bigger when it came to the enemy, and trying to make myself as big as possible would put psychological pressure on the enemy, and even if I didn't have a weapon powerful enough to penetrate his shield, I was confident that I could destroy his will with my majesty as an emperor.

The Dark Apostle turned his hand on me, and a slight tingle in my forehead was a reminder from my gift of prophecy that I was being aimed - not just a simple aim, he even cast the Extraordinary Shot psychic power to lock onto my target and ensure that I wouldn't escape even if I dodged. It seems that I was right, if a person is still confident in his marksmanship, he will definitely choose to aim for the head at this distance, not to mention that this pistol will not necessarily kill even if it hits the body.

The revolver looked like it was no more than half an inch in caliber, small solid ammunition, unrifled, and leaky, and I could not believe that he could have armor-piercing bullets of fine gold, an expensive and scarce material used only to forge the armor of the most important war machines and to provide ammunition for the most important weapons, and could never be wasted on an ancient weapon that was more suitable for a museum or a garbage dump.

"I was blessed by the ancestors and born in the glacial permafrost, draped in the sharp and long between the battlefields, this body is made of steel, the emperor blesses it, the blood and fire quench it, after a hundred battles without falling, over ten thousand blades and no traces, you are humble and lowly like ants, and you can hurt it in the slightest?!" At this moment, I used the loudest volume, the greatest faith, and the highest level of High Gothic, and the sound reverberated back and forth in the small steel cabin, echoing three or five times. As the official language of the Empire, Gothic had its own supreme majesty and boldness, and every syllable carried a heart-chilling intimidation like the Empire itself, and I could see that the hearts of my opponents were visibly shaken.

Soon, if you push harder, you can completely knock him down. I can't break through his shield, but the power of words can shake the heart directly. I strode forward, my eyes like lightning, my roar like thunder, even if my throat was torn by a sharp pain, "This soul is the holy flame of purification, burning the unclean of the world!" As far as my eyes can see, they will be turned into ashes! Whatever my palm touches, it's powder! We ......"

"Bang!" The gun in Wassh Tode's hand went off. This was a bit unexpected to me, maybe I put too much pressure on him, and his fingers trembled. That's when I realized that even a small and inconspicuous weapon could burst out louder than my voice at that moment.

The half-inch pistol bullet was nowhere near as powerful as an explosive bullet, but it was enough to knock me to the ground, and the force of the impact nearly broke my neck bone and made me feel dizzy in a whirlwind. Still, as I had envisioned, the bullet was not penetrating enough to penetrate my skull.

Thank you, the Titan's skull was the first precious gift the Empire had given me. It is light and strong, harder than any quality of steel, perhaps only pure gold. I stroked my forehead, and from the injured spot I felt blood and bullets on my hand. The warhead appeared to be copper, and had been visibly deformed.

I tried my best not to shake, slowly stood up, smiled contemptuously and threw the bullet at his feet, and then pulled out a short knife and slashed through the military uniform on his chest to expose his chest, "You still have five bullets, you can choose another position to try." ”

His gaze moved up and down his body, leaving a cold tingle on me, but I could feel the fear in that gaze - had this body also been replaced by a steel machine? Is this rib a flat plate like the Space Marine, so that the entire ribcage can be seamless?

After a moment of silence, Vash Toud suddenly laughed as he removed his plasma shield, threw his pistol to the ground, and beckoned to me, "I serve the ancient gods of resourcefulness and knowledge, and your clumsy words are so ridiculous in my eyes. But your people are coming, and I really don't have much time to waste. Come on, the winner takes possession of a qiē. I believe that whether you sacrifice to my Lord or devour souls by me, you are always worth more than I can imagine. ”

Now it was my turn to be silent. I had put on an image that I was not afraid of his psionic powers or bullets, which was more or less a matter of controlling the situation, and I was wasting my time trying to consume his plasma shield. With that layer of shield, I can't come up with anything that can hurt him. However, unlike the force field of the structural dìng, plasma is a violent and uncontrollable energy, and maintaining such a shield is a very energy-consuming and difficult act, and he cannot obtain energy from the subspace like a normal psyker, and the shield can not last long without sacrifice. His unexpected action seemed to have snatched the initiative back.

Supposedly, this kind of situation where you can go straight into hand-to-hand combat is definitely beneficial to me. I am young and strong, agile, before I enlisted in the army, I hunted mammoths with a short knife, and I can strangle the saber-toothed tiger with my bare hands, how sure can this gray-haired old man dare to give up his advantage in spells and fight with me to the death simply with the power of **?

He rolled up a wide sleeve of his robe, revealing an old, withered hand—which, on closer inspection, was no longer a human limb, but like the claws of a bird of prey. Flesh mutations?

"Your so-called blessed transhuman warriors are nothing more than random insects in my hands, come on, let me see what you have to rely on!"

It seems to be a repetition of the tactics I just used, but how could I be as stupid as you? I pulled out my pistol and fired it in a rapid fire, the dense laser leaving bullet marks on his body, from head to toe.

!