It's been almost half an hour......

"Let's go." I finally said it on the communicator.

Igniting the remaining thruster again, Sylvia approached me.

I just cleaned up the battlefield, in addition to my own weapons, in addition to the chainsaw axe that I snatched from the raptor and used to malariate corpses by the way, there was also a cannon with a total weight of nearly ten tons - the one that was removed from the Thunder Eagle, and it was not significantly deformed after being used as a hammer, so I spent nearly half an hour dragging it to my side, along with a few cannonballs that flew out of the Thunder Eagle when it exploded, and then I was very happy to find that my psionic space could actually load it in!

Until then, all I had in my space was individual firepower, and while many of the heavy weapons were lethal enough against heavy vehicles and fortifications, what could I say...... As a gentleman, who doesn't want the weapons in their hands to be bigger and more powerful?! Come to think of it, I could only sneak up on the enemy and destroy the enemy's hard shell with a bunch of explosives and incendiary materials, and then I could have summoned a thick and long cannon directly in front of them - "Boom! ”

I've always wanted to collect a real piece of artillery, but it's one thing to pick up a few fallen guns from the battlefield, it's another thing to steal heavy weapons, and it's not something I can afford to get my hands on with a precious heavy gun. What's more, now that my space has become larger, it should be because of the increased ability after the bloody battles.

Actually, I would like to put this plasma torpedo in it as well, but I can't do it with my current strength. Sitting in a small plane and flying with such a big guy, it feels very bulky. Although the power provided for the torpedo comes from subspace rather than the thrusters of the aircraft, after all, there is a limit to my strength, and I cannot provide acceleration of more than 3 g to the torpedo, which greatly limits the aircraft's ability to maneuver - of course, the current lightning has long been damaged, and even without the burden of torpedoes, it is impossible to fly very nimble.

Float into the cockpit of Thunderbolt, close the hatch, and squat down in the corner next to the seat. Sylvia pointed to my face, motioned for me to remove my breathing mask, and handed me a flat metal flask, "The greatest hunt, but unfortunately there is no mead for heroes." ”

Looking at her hesitant look, as if she was not very optimistic about the next battle? Where is that fearless spirit in the beginning?

I shook the flask, and found that it was still a small half-pot, and when I unscrewed the lid, I sneezed with a choking pungent smell - Nima, is this wine? It can't be the military alcohol of the Wehrmacht, right? It is not a wine made from food at all, it is completely synthesized from inorganic materials, and its purity must be mixed with water when used as medical alcohol. If it weren't for the non-human beings like Space Marines or Oglian apes, drinking this thing would kill you, you know?

Looking at the moist appearance of the spout, it is clear that it has just been drunk. Through Sylvia's flying helmet mask, I could vaguely see that her pale face, which had been without light for a long time, was flushed at this time - well, since she dared to drink, why should I not dare? Even if I do drink something wrong, although my vitality spiritual energy is not very passable, it is still easy to at least wash my stomach. So I craned my neck......

At this time, the lightning is still in a taxiing state, and the thrusters are not turned on, so there is naturally no acceleration inside the aircraft, which belongs to a zero-gravity environment. In the zero-gravity environment, it is best to eat slimy ointment when eating, and it is best to drink with soft packaging or straws, otherwise, even if it does not choke people, food residues and droplets flying around are also in danger of damaging the instrument machine. Sylvia was of course well-trained to live on a spaceship all year round, and I had a good experience of a handful of flames that almost spewed out of my nose - fortunately it didn't, otherwise it would be a small loss of face, and Yan Zòng's words would have really broken the plane. …,

The cool liquor, once it touches the mucous membranes, immediately becomes fiery and blazing, causing great pain and greatly lifting my spirits.

Then, Sylvia took off her flying helmet and scratched her short pale blonde hair, her expression a little twisted, but she finally mustered up the courage to say, "Dear Storm Child, please bless me." I've lost a wing, and I'm not sure I'll be able to complete my final hunt. ”

I was shocked. Children of the Storm? Although this is the first time I have heard this title, my intuition tells me that this is a very respectable title, and that it is similar to my status as a shaman as a teenager - in the wild world, people do not directly call a person with supernatural abilities as a shaman, but give it various other honorific titles, such as prophet, priest, sage, etc., and if the shaman himself is prominent in a certain field, there are prefixes that indicate this specialty - earth, rivers, mountains, storms, and so on. Even the lowest-level psionic who can only feel a hint of psionic phenomena can often get mixed up with the name of a psychic or an ancestral listener, and a very talented person like me often has a long name, I used to be called "the chosen one who moves mountains and splits the ocean", although at that time my output was less than a ton.

The name Stormchild is full of the concept of the barbarian people's worship of nature. It's clear, then, that Sylvia, like me, is from some savage world. It's weird, the Imperial Defense Forces often recruit from the wild worlds, and the Space Marines recruit new recruits for the Barbarians, but I've never heard of the Navy doing the same - the Navy is a technical force in the heart!

Now is certainly not the time to worry about that. If you don't hurry up and re-incite the girl who has lost her faith to become a true warrior, then the big mammoth will escape. Hunting a mammoth is enough for me to eat for a winter, and the feats of a large cruiser are enough for me to eat for a lifetime, and I guess my grandchildren will have no worries about food and clothing.

Okay, of course, I don't have children yet. I'm going home this time to find a girl to marry. Running back and forth in the vast galaxy for twenty years, I have seen fierce battle nuns, brave female generals and female political commissars, of course, I have seen more ordinary female soldiers in the defense army, limited by identity issues, I haven't seen many civilian women in the empire, think about it carefully, or the girl in my hometown is the most pleasant.

Well, think far again. Now the problem is to get this female pilot.

I failed my spiritual expertise, but if the goal is to boost the morale of just one person, I can lightly make her forget her fears and return to the most courageous state, which is actually the true image of the so-called blessing. But this is not a very good approach, after all, fear is a life instinct, and erasing this instinct can have very tragic consequences. For example, fear will make soldiers instinctively hide behind cover when they are under fire, and this is the right thing to do, unless I need someone to help me attract firepower to create an opportunity, I will not rush to drive a soldier out to die. And now? Sylvia and I stayed in a plane, and if I did do a courageous blessing to her, it would probably end up with her flying headlong into the enemy ship's close-in artillery fire.

One of the unwritten military rules of the Defense Forces: Don't squat in a pit with someone braver than you.