Luther's office is pure white.

The seasoned warrior had clearly furnished his office space, a small room with all its furnishings sourced from the forests of Caliban, exuding a soothing scent of nature and logs.

Standing at his desk was the Lion King's former adoptive father, now his best friend, who looked a little shorter than Ahriman and Zaharel, with an old air that didn't belong to the Astarte warriors, and a smile that could be trusted on his face.

"Welcome, my friends, thank you for your help in this time of crisis, and on behalf of the First Legion, I welcome your presence and assistance."

Luthor took the initiative to take a few steps forward, warmly shook his hand with Ahriman, and said hello, and then, he looked at Zahariel, and the two dark angels nodded, apparently having a certain tacit understanding.

And when his gaze turned to Morgan, Luthor smiled more warmly and comfortably, as if a lonely bird had seen a long-lost kind.

"You are mentioned in your letter, Ms. Morgan, in your letter, and he praises your ability and strength, and mentions that you will be the liaison officer of the Thousand Sons Force, which is not an easy business."

[Yes, it takes me to redouble my effort and blood to make up for some innate deficiencies, whether it is before or after shouldering it. 】

Morgan's answer made Luthor laugh, it was the laughter of true understanding, and it was clear that he understood Morgan's words and understood what it meant.

That's it.

A half-Astarte from the Dark Angel Legion, a mortal advisor from the Thousand Sons Legion, these two [mortals] who were among the two Astarte legions stretched out their hands and shook hands.

"Luther."

Morgan. 】

——————

Morgan has always prided herself on her powers of observation, and she understands the rarity of this power and knows how to use it.

She never mentioned this to others: she could see the hearts of others, see the thoughts of others, see the desires and goals of others, this is an incomparably powerful force, even the genetic prototype Peturabo, she has briefly peeked into the mysteries of her heart.

She never spoke of this power to the outside world, because she knew how dangerous it was enough for her to be hunted and murdered by different powerful people.

But even without this almost divine power, Morgan still has excellent observation, which is the result of her continuous growth and learning, so while Ahriman and Luthor discuss some matters of the two legions, Morgan only focuses half of her energy on listening to their conversation and occasionally answering their questions, while the remaining half is carried by her consciousness, observing every plant and tree in this small room.

She soon discovered something interesting:

Luthor was not a man of gentleness.

He may be very talkative, friendly, and has strong interpersonal and friendly skills, and can do diplomatic and negotiation work well, but this does not mean that he has a Caliban who loves paperwork and bargaining in his heart.

Take a look at his room.

The walls of steel, covered with trees from the deep forests of Caliban, and decorated with pure white paintwork, were not empty, but were filled with wooden hanging stands decorated with the heads of one beast after another, some scaly monsters like mutated lizards or crocodiles, others stripped of their hair, leaving only pale skulls, but still recognizable as apex predators like giant cats or canines.

And these can only be placed in small characters, those real behemoths cannot be placed in such a small room, so they are imprisoned in paintings, one work after another, with color and stroke to tell the great hunting stories: monsters like mountains, nightmares that can cross rivers, or the air of death with wings and scales and claws.

They were all killed.

The paintings depicting the Great Hunt were placed on either side of the room along with the heads, and behind Luthor was another group of works, one of joy and celebration: the Knights returned triumphantly, their armor stained with the blood of monsters, and they held one lavish feast after another

In that first painting, young Luthor stands in the center of the knights, cloaked in a resolute savior.

The next few paintings are much the same, except that Luthor's beard grows longer, some new faces among the knights, and some never appear again, until in one of the paintings, Luthor is no longer alone: beside him stands a half-large blonde child, like a wild man in the deep forest, but with an icy edge.

The boy grew up quickly, and in the next painting he put on armor and became one of the knights.

He grew taller and stronger, easily surpassing his adoptive father, and his feats and sword grew larger and more exaggerated with each passing day.

Until in one of the paintings, the former blonde boy was taller than all the knights, standing in the center of the knights, beside him was a gradually wrinkled Luther, and many of the knights in the first painting were completely invisible.

This is the end of the sequence of paintings, but it does not really end, for an incomparably gigantic painting is placed in the highest position behind Luthor, just above all the paintings, and it is clearly the end of this silent epic.

It was the greatest feast of all, and even the paintings that stretched across the front wall could barely afford its luxury and the large number of guests, and the flags of the Knights floated one after another at the edge of the castle, countless new faces appeared in the paintings, and the corpses of countless behemoths were piled up into mountains to boast of their martial prowess, which was obviously a rare spectacle for eternity, the end of the sorrows of the past, and the first cry of a new dynasty.

The great blonde knight stands in the center of the painting, and beside him are the leaders of countless knights, all of whom stand on the lower steps of the Lion King, speaking of their worship and submission, and on their periphery are more knights, hundreds of knights, who surround the lion as if they were their own gods.

Morgan watched it again and again.

In the midst of this greatest celebration, she could not find Luther's place for a moment.

She looked and looked, and finally, in a corner that was not far away, nor inconspicuous, she found Luther's somewhat lonely smiling face, and she looked again, but found that Luther's position was actually so important: he stood among the knights, even so close to the lion king, but under the radiance, the wrinkled old man was so small.

Morgan's gaze was gone, and she looked at Luther's desk, which was filled with papers and books, countless medals and stamps that illustrated the dignity of their owners.

And right next to them, in a position within Luthor's reach, lay a fine table, on which there was only one thing: a long sword, a rather sharp one, and I don't know how many monsters and enemies had been thirsty for blood.

But now, it's sitting here, carefully wiped, and abandoned.

Morgan withdrew his gaze.

She looked at Luther.

——————

He's just laughing.

In a gentle, friendly, unblemished smile.

——————

"It's going to be an uphill battle."

Ahriman may have been arrogant, rude, and inflated, but when he heard what Luthor had said, his brow furrowed into the most instinctive heaviness and thought.

"According to Ling, Luther, we basically have no advantage in this battle, except that we are backed by the huge size of the empire, but such a volume is not exclusive to us, the Shadow Moon Blue Wolf is expanding its territory in the west of the galaxy, they can't want anything."

"Actually, we have another advantage."

To the side, Zaharel crossed his hands, and his tone was one of unmistakable confidence.

"We have the Lion, one of the greatest and wisest war commanders, who single-handedly commanded the knights of the Caliban to exterminate the Behemoth, and whose bravery, wisdom, and determination were the main factors in that victory."

"Without him, there would be no victory for the Caliban knights, who led the knights to victory in an impossible war with the strength of one man, and now, everything is just a repetition of the old Caliban."

Ahriman listened carefully to Zaharel's words, while Morgan looked to the other side, and she observed Luther, observing the old man's face.

When Zaharel spoke of the Lion, Luthor laughed, an undisguised, instinctive smile, and he smiled happily, like a father who is boasting about his offspring, thus exuding the most simple pride and happiness.

But as Zaharel's words continued, the smile slowly froze and cooled, and as the young dark angel became more and more enthusiastic about the greatness and exploits of the Lion King, Luthor still smiled, but his smile had returned to the original standard etiquette.

Morgan's eyes narrowed, and she began to think.

Zaharel's ebullient preaching continued for a while, and by the time he finally finished, Morgan's energy had returned to his head.

[The King of Lions is indeed great, and even in Prospero you can hear of his prestige. 】

Morgan looked at Ahriman, who smiled knowingly, and nodded to the two dark angels, confirming the truth of the words.

But everyone, war is never a one-man affair, it depends on everyone. 】

[Not only the lion, but also you, me, us, and all the soldiers and officers on this star fortress and countless fronts, and the blood. 】

[Everything depends on the dedication of everyone. 】

Zaharel blinked, and Ahriman was still touching his chin in contemplation, and by this time, Luthor was already clapping.

"Yes, everything depends on the dedication of everyone, which requires us to unite and work together to fight the enemy."

Such a statement is naturally true.

Soon, the room was filled with laughter again.