They're at large.

The beautiful star fields of the past are disturbed by the war of the alien race, the flames of war ignite the sky, the guns pierce the night, the two giants are wrestling with all their might, and the behemoths called the Empire and Ran Dan are screaming and biting, and they are nothing more than pawns for the burial.

Existence itself is a sin, they live on the retreat route of Randan, the demonic monsters are showing their teeth and claws, in front of the Randan alien race with strong mental control ability, there is no chance of victory for the Randan alien race, who has no psionic talent, they will become Randan's slaves.

The decision to determine the survival of the entire race is decided, the council issues a supreme order, and the factories are overloaded to grab resources from the entire star field at all costs, and they want to escape.

A huge fleet built from the resources of an entire star field slowly rose into the air, carrying the elite of the entire race, and the remaining Memanic stood silently on the ground, watching their last hope slowly leave.

The hourglass of the galaxy is still slowly dripping, the screams of the Randan demon clan are getting sharper and sharper, and the ammunition of human tyranny is also following Randan to come, and the home of Memanik is about to melt into the flames of war.

But none of the remaining Memanik chose to commit suicide, they needed to stay alive, use their lives to thwart the retreating Randan fleet, and buy as little and precious time as possible for their fleet.

[Attack! Stop them! Stop them!! 】

The mechanical sage screamed hoarsely, and she drove the cathars, rushing forward, rushing forward! Stop those aliens outside the main city!

The Lust Forge World, along with an entire galaxy in which he is located, has been unexpectedly attacked by alien races, and a monster named Memanic is violently attacking the core of this galaxy - Rust Forge World, and those abominable xenomorphs use their large fleets to directly tear apart the galaxy's defenses, frantically plundering the system's fat resources.

Only the main planet has not yet fallen, and the planets on the outer side of the galaxy have all been lost, and in front of hundreds of aliens with more than their own troops, the Mechanics are stubbornly holding their last fortress, crumbling under the attack of Memanic.

They haven't given up yet, the foundry and furnace on the main planet of Just can't fall into the hands of the enemy, the mechanical miracle that has gathered human beings for centuries can't just be handed over, every main city of the casting world is a miracle that is difficult to reproduce, and they can't be taken away.

But the numbers on the logic engine were deflected, and the numbers accurate to six decimal places were decreasing, like the enemy's cannon fire, and as time went on, the sages calculated the odds of victory getting lower and lower, and that number was infinitely close to zero.

The sages, known for their sanity and logic, certainly knew what it meant, defeat, death, stumps and oil flowing everywhere, cables being ripped roughly, wet pieces trembling and exposed to the radiant wasteland.

Logically, they should abandon this senseless resistance, withdraw to the main city, destroy the data, smash the furnace, and let the wisdom accumulated by mankind for many generations come to an end.

But that number wasn't completely zero, and a team of explorers on the outer planet escaped before the entire star was blocked by Memanic—

They are the last indefinite number, and this indefinite number is rigidly clinging to the logic engine of each sage, hanging the number that represents victory and defeat, so that it still exists in the realm of "being" at the last moment.

If they say if, they can bring back reinforcements in time.

The Death Guard, who was recuperating in Galaspa, received an urgent order from the Empire, and the entire fleet began to slowly sail away from Galaspa.

The edict directly from Terra was vague, the language was plausible, and the crucial information was erased by the swirling vocabulary, in short, nothing but where the Death Guard was going.

The Lord of Death was unhappy about this, and his commander seemed to have no complaints, and in Motarien's eyes, Hades was frantically packing up the gold and silver, eager to load every bullet that had just come off the assembly line.

Forget it, leave him alone.

What Motarian didn't know was that after seeing the edict, Hades was alarmed, and he was familiar with all kinds of sloppy operations of the empire, and he realized that this battle to conceal information was most likely not a flat battle, and Hades hurriedly worked overtime overnight to be responsible for production and transportation.

While the Death Guards were navigating the subspace, they received a communication request directly from the main battlefield, and the commander of the First Legion, Leon Johnson, requested a call with the Commander of the Fourteenth Legion, Motarian.

Another brother, Motarian has stopped reacting, he just wants the Death Guard to fight normally and win.

In the dimly lit conference room of the Death Guard, Motarian was dressed in full armor, and the poisonous mist flowed down the arc of his armor, casting a veil of mystery over the Lord of Death.

In other corners where the communication channels could not be illuminated, Hades, Garro, and Vaux stood silently.

Hades, the lion of the Caliban, knew this was not a conversation he could get into, and the lion was arrogant enough now, arrogant enough to be arrogant and stubborn.

However, Hades feels that compared to Perturabo, Motarian and Leon Johnson should still be able to have a good conversation.

[Three, two, one.] 】

A faint electric current lit up, and the light outlined the majesty of the Children of the Forest, the emerald green armor was the dense forest of Caliban all year round, and the Lion Sword leaned meekly beside its master, whose master stared silently at the other side with blond hair and green eyes.

In the shadow of the hood, Motarian raised an eyebrow slightly.

Farmer from Barbaros, he. This feeling is no stranger.

This brother, Leon Johnson, the temperament he exuded, the temperament that was always vigilant, the temperament that was always vigilant, was not human, but more like a beast.

Beasts without civilization, without mercy, without human feelings.

In the moors of Barbarus, Motarian had hunted the solitary beasts, the beasts that lived alone, the life of the wilderness tired them, made them arrogant, made them constantly on the alert, and made them aggressive.

Now, a beast was scrutinizing Motarian, and Motarian could feel the undercurrent beneath the obscure sight, and his brother, Leon Johnson, was assessing Motarian as much as he assessed him.

Or maybe he was trying to attack Motarion, the beast's gaze before it was about to attack.

Leon Johnson, is he trying to make Motarian back down? Is he judging this brother who is about to join the war in his own malevolent and wild rudeness? Those eyes stared at Motarian viciously, trying to get him to flee.

Of course, Motarian knows what to do, and when you encounter a beast, the best response is not to turn and run away, nor to attack rashly, and on the wasteland, the farmer's breath in the face of the lion has not changed in the slightest, and the farmer slowly raises his life-harvesting scythe and calmly confronts the giant beast.

The two primordials confronted each other in silence.

Finally, the lion withdrew his aggressive gaze, and the male nodded haughtily, as if to make a brief greeting of welcome.

But Motarian knew that the lion was affirming Motarian's behavior just now, and Motarian couldn't help but sneer in his heart, he was an arrogant guy again, what qualification did he have to judge the strength of Motarian and the Death Guard?

When none of this mattered, among his brothers, Horus was a miracle, and Motarian did not expect anything else.

[First Legion Dark Angel, Leon Johnson.] 】

Leon spoke, his voice steady and thick, with unmistakable certainty, and even though the lion himself looked a little emaciated and tired from the battle, his words were still Caliban's sharpest sword.

[Death guard of the Fourteenth Legion, Motarian.] 】

The Pale King responded with his hoarse voice like a grave breeze, and even the sharpest blade turned pale in the face of death and tombstones.

[The Empire is now going through a war, a war like no other, and Mortarian, you and your legions are not planned to be at the heart of this campaign. 】

But this does not mean the absence of the Death Guard. 】

[The alien race named "Ran Dan" is escaping the encirclement of the Empire, and we need the Death Guards to deploy to Ran Dan's retreat route in advance to choke the branch of Ran Dan fleeing to the northeast side of the Empire. 】

[But the good news is that in the layout of the Empire, you will not immediately encounter the fleet of Randan, and the fleet of the First Legion, the fleet of the Dark Angels, is likely to tear apart this fleeing branch before you and Randan. 】

[The enemy's data will be transmitted to the Death Guard, do you have any questions now?] 】

Motarian's voice sounded with a slight irritation,

[You're saying that the Death Guard was urgently summoned here just to watch a war?] To be an inconsequential understudy? We may not even fight at all? 】

The lion looked at Motarian dissatisfied,

[Yes.] 】

Motarian let out a loud hiss under his breathing mask.

Leon fell on deaf ears, and he said haughtily, in an educational tone.

[Mortarian, this is a hunt, the Empire is as bloody as his enemies, and you should be glad that the Death Guard doesn't have to face this battle head-on, rather than acting like a warmonger.] 】

Listening to Motarian's breathing, Hades felt that Motarian was about to die, but Motarian still struggled to spit out his words from under the respirator,

[Okay, I see.] 】

The Lord of Death hung up the communication in the next moment, and the original body angrily slammed the ground with a scythe.

Hades was sure he heard Motarian whispering.

"I really think Horus is a miracle right now."

Motarian said to Hades, "I even regret the alienation of him now. ”

Even if they could all fall, Horus was at least better than these things.

I can't check it, I'm going to start making it up. Pinched a casting world, and by the way, that Meimanik pinched Basmemanik, who was intercepted by the Death Guard in the Second Battle of Randan.

The current timeline is the third time of Randan, but the bad news is that someone told me that the timeline I was referring to earlier was fucking wrong, and the timing of Motarion's return was fucking wrong, which is fucking embarrassing, (that timeline is still weirdly formal and rigorous) No wonder I was still wondering why the timeline of the Second Battle of Randan, and the Battle of Drune predates the return of the original body, but the term "death guard" still appears.

Grandma's legs.

Anyway, if you don't plan for me to pinch the two original bodies that disappeared, I plan to let them take the dog directly, but if you want to see it, I can use my imagination to make up why they took the dog.

(End of chapter)