"Look at those guys, those giant-like guys."

"Do you think they're really human?"

"I don't know."

Sergeant Latobis raised his head high, and under the iron curtain-like gray sky of Sabis 4, he could still clearly see how the steel creations fell in droves, as if he were witnessing a miniature meteorite rain.

And next to him, Second Lieutenant Tigray was in a breath of amazement, two lonely mortals still guarding the almost ruined trench, with no new orders for them to carry out, no subordinate soldiers at their disposal, and the two guys who could barely be called non-commissioned officers were ruthlessly forgotten in a dusty corner, just like their legion.

The two men huddled together, wrapping everything they could find in wool and cloth, leaning against the relatively gentle stretch of the trench wall, with a continuous stream of icy pavement beneath their feet, covered with a layer of snow that had just fallen the previous night, enough to make it difficult for even the most cautious of the most cautious to walk.

There were no orders, no friendly troops, no winter clothes, no entertainment, not even a full meal, and the only thing to be thankful for was that the misers in the Legion Logistics Department distributed the limited food in the warehouse to the extreme after rounds of exploitation and calculation, so that every soldier could get the minimum nutrients and calories needed to barely maintain his body, and finally no one starved to death.

As for the unfortunate ones who drained the temperature and humidity in the cold wind of the night, I hope that in their distant homeland, someone will miss them.

The Emperor's cause and dreams burn across the galaxy, and the fire of this relentless expedition scorches not only countless aliens and enemy nations, but also those loyal to the Empire.

But no one cares about them.

A husband may be the whole of a wife, a son may be the only one of a mother, but when they are taken away by the emperor, their existence is but insignificant dust in the boundless splendor, and their lives are as worthless as their deaths.

Tigray's fingers dug into his arms, and he dug through the layers of his clothes, rummaging through them until he was sure that the letter, which had been so badly damaged by oil and dust, was still lying intact in his arms, that he pulled out his flask from the other side and shook it, only to hear the sound of the little liquor rubbing against the bottom of the jug.

Tigray sighed.

"Those (beep-), even (beep-) wine can't give Lao Tzu more wine, I'm really (beep-)!"

But even so, after a few greedy sips, he still left a little for Latobis, but the sergeant had been obsessively watching the steel meteors that kept streaking across the sky, and he watched the big guys fall to the ground, and out of them came a group of the most powerful warriors he had ever seen, even the high-spirited knights in his memory were not even a little comparable to these majestic figures in front of him.

They were dressed in black armor, a terrible weapon he had never seen before, and he even doubted that anyone could actually move the steel objects that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds alone, but in fact, they were as fast as they could fly.

"That's it...... Angel of Death? ”

Latobis whispered the name, the name he had heard from the mouths of the officers.

"yes, Angel of Death, that's fucking majestic."

Tigray's gaze moved to the warriors, and the dark-faced ensign paused for a moment, then smiled.

"Hey ......"

"When Lao Tzu develops one day, I will also have such an awesome name."

Latobis didn't answer, he just watched almost obsessively as the warriors lined up in formation and slowly disappeared into the edge of the desert.

"Ensign."

"What's wrong?"

"You told me before, what slogans do those Angels of Death shout when they fight?"

"That's called a war cry, boy."

“For the emperor。”

”For…… the……”

"For, the, emperor, for the emperor."

Tigray tore at his hoarse voice and repeated the simple words, and the air he exhaled condensed into pure white vapor in midair, floating in the gray Iron Curtain sky like a clean cloud drifting into the stormy cumulonimbus clouds.

And under this combination of gray and white, Tigray's hoarse voice raised questions.

"What are you doing here, boy?"

"I just think ...... It may be used. ”

The ensign's slap did not hesitate to slap him on the head.

"Don't be a crow's mouth!"

——————

"Something may not be right."

Zaharel looked at his datapad, and he looked at it with an unusually sad expression.

"The 224th Cruise Fleet didn't contact us in time, they should have been on standby in this world's low-Earth orbit when we arrived in this system, obviously, although Rear Admiral Jervis has always been a reassuring and steady captain, but this time, he is overdue."

[Is the situation serious?] 】

Morgan sat across from him, and they were in a makeshift military tent with all the information about Sabis 4.

"It's not serious enough to call in a gendarmerie or court-martial, after all, they've been delayed for less than twenty-four Terra standard hours."

Zaharel shook his head.

"However, it is a pity that Major General Jervis may have to say goodbye to his perfect military resume, he has always been a steady and cautious man."

Morgan's eyes flashed with color.

[Could it be some accident, such as an ambush in the void, or a special information jamming technique?] 】

The question made the Dark Angel think for a moment, but he shook his head eventually, half negative, half unsure.

"Although it's only a cruising fleet, it also has the firepower of three cruisers, and the average Ran Dan fleet can't overturn them in an instant, and we don't really know much about Ran Dan's void operations, and most of our battles with Ran Dan so far have been land battles."

Such a justification clearly reassured Zahariel, but the Dark Angel's words did not satisfy the mortals across from him.

[Maybe, I need some fresh air.] 】

With that, she walked out.

Outside the Legion's tent was a bustling scene: the Asta had used a few mortal soldiers to build rudimentary fortifications on their makeshift station, and in return, the extra supplies from the ships would be transported later.

Morgan's gaze did not linger on these things, she avoided the busy army, and began to walk casually around the outskirts of the camp, her left hand hanging low, and from it emitted an extremely faint psionic flame, and without anyone noticing, she laid down her mark in a few remote corners of the desert.

These markers weren't lethal, they just allowed Morgan to teleport wherever she marked with the flow of her mind, and she wasn't sure if they would come in handy, but it was always right to be prepared.

In this way, the silver-haired female officer walked on the desert, and from time to time a huge shadow would cover her: it was a warship in low earth orbit in action.

Approximately a thousand soldiers of the First Legion have arrived in the system, belonging to different companies and groups, ranging from Terra veterans to Calibans, and this loose fleet has no actual commander, after all, they have only been improvised to complete this sudden investigation mission.

Zaharel and his warriors with Caliban blood arrived on the surface of the planet as a temporary defensive force, while another company of Terra remained in the fleet, some of them surveying the massive Mandeville Point, while others were responsible for the defense of the air.

Ahriman also chose to stay on the ship with the Terra, but he simply wanted to rest a little more to recuperate.

In addition, there are more fragmentary squads carrying out their missions in all corners of the galaxy, and they are not accountable to any of the thousand dark angels, and no one has the right to question them all.

Morgan looked up, and she saw a very strange battleship slowly moving in low Earth orbit, casting a shadow on the ground that she had never seen before, and Morgan was convinced that it did not belong to any of the ships in the Imperial fleet she remembered.

But just as she thought more, the shadow had disappeared with the movement of the battleship.

Morgan casually left the thirtieth marker, this time choosing the place where Astarte had landed en masse, and then, she turned around, and with the faint glow of psionic energy, her figure quickly disappeared into the howling wind of the desert.

And not long after she left, a new landing module arrived, and three silver-armored warriors walked down from it.

——————

Hector was a little melancholy, but he didn't show it.

Although he was a little dissatisfied with Salieri's sudden madness, he didn't intend to let it go, no matter how unlikely it was to find the genetic prototype, so when the dark angels were landing or arranging defenses in an orderly manner, Hector was following Salieri around.

Although they carefully avoided all probing, Astarte's most basic view of honor and disgrace told him that he was doing something very humiliating.

And after a long time of wandering around like a headless fly, Hector only got one answer: the breath was no longer on the ship.

It took him three seconds to resist the urge to take out the bastard Salieri.

"Listen, Salieri."

Hector sighed.

"Mr. Chiron refuses even to do this stupid action, and there is only one rallying point in this world, and if you can't find it, then we'll have to try our luck at the Mandeville point, those Terrans are not as good as the Calibans in front of us."

Salieri just nodded, and then he couldn't wait to go to the front.

Hector didn't rush to keep up with him, he turned his head and whispered a few words to Ajax.

Then he looked at the camp, a black trail in the gray-white desert and the wind.

For some reason, Hector suddenly remembered a teaching from Lord Chellon.

——————

"Throw away the impossible, and the absurd will be a reality."