The words of the dreadnought mecha's parting words seemed to give me a huge spiritual impact, I felt a trace of trance, both thinking and vision appeared a vague feeling, and countless fantasies suddenly appeared in front of me, some of which were similar to the precursors of spiritual energy backlash, and like years of dusty memories recalled again. I was hesitant to take a few more sips to cheer up, but the precepts I've kept over the years have given me enough perseverance to keep myself away from these drugs.

However, if you want to break some of the precepts or something, you probably have to take the initiative to break them tonight...... Oh, it's a bit of a mistake to say "tonight", there is no day or night in space, and the reason why I habitually think it's night is entirely because of my physical fatigue that makes me desperate for rest.

In my thoughts, I didn't even see how the Thunder Eagle flew away. By the time he came to his senses, Thunderhawk was far away, and even the tail flame was hidden against the background of the stars. On the empty flight deck, only the figure of Erdien stood alone.

Hey, didn't the Iron Priest go?

Erdeon turned around and waved at me, looking like he didn't want to say anything more, and walked away.

It seems that the wild wolf is not completely at ease to hand over such a precious trophy of the battleship to a young woman so simply, after all, it is better to leave someone to take care of it, so as not to be seized by other forces on the ship, and leave a casting master to come down, and it can also prevent this dilapidated ship from being broken by a vote of unprofessional people.

I'll figure out what he's going to do when he stays, and for now, it's not important, at least not at all.

The most important thing for me right now, huh...... I'll have to find a room first - it's not something I've thought about, it's all intuitive.

The inner workings of the ship were no stranger to me, thanks to my dreams and perhaps thanks to my gift for prophecy—but not entirely familiar, for I was familiar with the Long Night Star, which had been thoroughly purified, repaired, and remodeled, not the ruined Glory of the Ship. If I wander around this ship at this time, there is still a good chance that I will get lost.

But now I don't have to venture into those remote corners - although finding a place where no one is there seems to be a good idea at first glance. No matter how much the interior of the ship is modified, its overall structure will not change, and what I am looking for is the captain's quarters, which is located near the bridge, and can be found by walking all the way to the stern of the ship through the widest main passage.

Sylvia was so drunk that she couldn't stand even though I tried to hold her up, so I had to hold her sideways. At this time, I really felt how important my trophy was, she was nearly one meter eight tall, weighed about eighty kilograms, a full third more than me, her muscles were plump and strong, and she was full of strength, perhaps because she had been away from Fenris for too long, and she did not have a thick subcutaneous fat like ordinary women from cold regions, which made her look still well-proportioned and slender without being overly stout, and her waist was also within the range of my arms.

Eighty kilograms, plus more than ten kilograms of the cylinder on my shoulder, the weight of nearly 100 kilograms, although not yet reached my weight limit, was still enough to make it difficult for me, who was physically and mentally exhausted after a long fight, and it was all thanks to the stimulant effect in the honey wine that I was able to have enough body.

From the flight deck in the bow to the bridge on the upper stern, I had to walk the entire length of the ship. At first, I thought that a kilometre would be over for a veteran like me, who was accustomed to long journeys, but as I controlled my speed and calculated the time, I realized that after two kilometres, I was only halfway there. For a moment, I thought I was in a situation like going around in circles that I tend to only encounter in the desert.

Then I realized that my long-standing understanding of the number of warships was completely wrong, and that the habit of measuring things in space by visual inspection and estimation on the ground could lead to conclusions that could deviate so far as to be so outrageous. This is also because I have seen too little, the transport ships I have taken before are only small ships of about a kilometer, and the escorts for us are often only frigates, which makes me form the illusion that the Imperial ships are all one kilometer in size, and when I use the Picker class as a reference to estimate other ships, the number is also four times off.

The hallway was dark and silent, with no one else present, except for the occasional spark of broken wires from the broken walls, reflecting the marks of battle on the ground. Either they were busy repairing the more important mechanical devices and broken shells, or they were well fed and drunk, and they did not have time to clean up for the time being, but after collecting their own corpses, they let the enemy abandon them.

From the traces of the battlefield, it can be seen that the heretics once worked hard to arrange fortifications here, and put up desperate resistance under the leadership and supervision of a few Chaos Space Marines, but these resistances were completely futile, whether it was the fallen Star Marines or mortals, and even the bunkers they hastily piled up, all of them were shattered under the heavy fire, and were trampled by more than a hundred steel boots and hard leather boots, turning into filth that could no longer distinguish the prototype. It stands to reason that the soldiers who landed on the landing, whether they were wild wolves, battle nuns or naval soldiers, they could not carry large-caliber artillery and the ammunition that matched them, but the lightly armed Katachans habitually carried a lot of ** bags, these rough and bulky explosives could only be used for sneak attacks and ambushes and other operations, but when they fought with wild wolves, they exerted the power of heavy artillery clusters. The space wolf threw ** all the way, and a bloody path exploded in this corridor densely covered with fortifications.

I couldn't find a clean place to stay in such a messy battlefield, so I had to carefully avoid the steel obstacles that threatened to trip me over, and every step was in the flesh that barely reached the instep. If I hit a gravity-free area with all sorts of weird things floating in the air, and if I wasn't careful, I would get a slimy body, and all I could do was try not to get those dirty things on Sylvia. In the face of this embarrassment, I can't help but feel a little bit like the Battle Nuns, because they use a lot of fire weapons, and the enemies are turned to ashes everywhere they go, which is much cleaner than this.

After a difficult trek, I finally reached my destination. The door to the captain's cabin was locked, and it seemed that the former captain here cared deeply about his personal space and didn't like to be disturbed. But for me, whether it's sealing the hatch or the wall, these problems can be solved by brute force.

Adjacent to the bridge, the battle in the corridor became more and more fierce, but the battle did not affect the captain's room, making it seem relatively clean - it was only compared to the slaughterhouse-like battlefield outside, anyway, this place was once the place where the Fallen and had a high status among the Chaos Space Marines once lived, and the chaotic contaminated Cheng Dù here is still not tolerated by ordinary people, and if he does not deal with it and rushes to stay here, there may be a danger of being burned by the nun.

The Captain's Room is cleaner than I imagined the dwelling of a Chaos Space Marine, not as bloody and filthy as the usual Chaos Turf, just an ordinary steel chamber. The furnishings are relatively simple, with nothing unusual except for the steel furniture, which looks huge and sturdy. Spread out on the table were large parchment books full of handwritten words, which looked like logbooks. Next to the bed is an armor stand, two, one of which still has power armor hanging on it, and at first glance it feels like it is at least a product of Seiko or above. There was also a well-made power axe and a plasma pistol on the weapon rack - could it be that the captain hung up in the wolf raid before he could put on it?

Of course, that's impossible, and judging by the much taller armor rack and the large empty chunk on the weapon rack, it's clear that the captain of this ship still has a full set of Terminator armor and matching weaponry, so it's likely that he was one of the first three Terminators to land on the Redemption of Heresy and be killed by me and the two Inquisitors. The thought that I had probably killed a Chaos captain who commanded a cruiser made me feel a little excited.

But I've won so many victories in my life, and a mere Chaos Captain is nothing compared to the important turning point in my life that I'm about to face next.