When reinforcements from the Dark Angels arrived, or rather, when the news of the Manipulator's death was made known to every Rankan warrior through the sudden collapse of psionic connections, the battle was over once and for all.

The last Randan army did not choose to surrender, everyone knew that there was no such option as surrender in a war like this, and the only remaining Randan battleship was forced back to the edge of the galaxy by the Imperial army, and gradually died out in the continuous explosions and confrontations.

The elite of the Dark Angels are still jumping to the last alien ships one after another, but the purpose of the battle has changed from bloody fighting to capturing these valuable alien creations as much as possible, and the remnants of Ran Dan's warships, arsenals, and even wounded warriors have been completely disarmed and dragged away, and what awaits them will not be too bright: just like they have done to the defeated armies of humanity before.

It wasn't an easy win.

It is true that more than a hundred capital ships of the Randan Empire and more small warships are now burning between the light and darkness of the Sabis system, and the battle moon that continues to disintegrate and collapse symbolizes the destruction of a special alien main army containing hundreds of thousands of Randan elites, even for a super power like the Randan Empire that is capable of dominating the galaxy, this can be called a bone-wracking defeat.

From a human perspective, it's like an entire Astarte legion being wiped out in the same galaxy, from the genetic prototype to the lowest-ranking legion minions, and such a battle is enough to upset the balance between the stars.

There is no doubt that this is a great victory.

But it's also stained with blood.

More than thirty battleships and twice as many cruisers belonging to the Human Empire had been reduced to the wreckage of the Sabis system, and in the light of the stars and flames, the corpses of countless dark angels with severed arms, perhaps three thousand, perhaps more, had either fallen in brutal hand-to-hand combat, or had been shattered into dust in the void by the flying cannonfire along with their own jumping vehicles.

And the most tragic losses were the hundreds of Terra veterans who served as decoys and resistance on Sabis IV, and then as the vanguard of the battle moon, when Johnson and his 500 people reversed through the last of the Randan defenders and reconciled with these scarred warriors, the Genogen counted the number of people slightly: there were only about a hundred left.

However, several of Hecht's fighting brothers are still alive: the ancient warrior Chiron lived up to his identity, he seemed to be the most calm one, Ajax had a shocking scar on his chest, and Salieri was the most miserable, his left hand had apparently been blown off during a confrontation, and after a simple bandage, it was still dripping with blood.

Hecht whispered a greeting to his genetic mother and returned to his companion, not forgetting to remind his mother before that.

"Lord Luthor is the head of the fortress of Gujemara, and his work is not too close to the Sabis system, normally, even if he gathers his army as soon as he gets the news, his fleet should not be able to catch up with this battle."

[Perhaps this is the instability of subspace.] 】

Morgan replied in the same low voice, knowing of course why, as the laughter in her head grew louder again—though they never went away.

But with the simplest volume of voice, she also knew that she was about to witness a good show.

Morgan wasn't worried that he wouldn't get the best spot to watch the show: the Dark Angel might let Hector and the others walk around at will, so please go over and take the necessary little steps when the time comes.

But she can't, after all, she is a [Alaph] who has proven her strength, no one dares to let her wander around casually, in the Thousand Sons Legion, her psionic ability may be mediocre, but this is the First Legion, and every corridor here is crowded with eight hundred heart eyes.

Morgan watched as Hector joined her teammates, and then she turned her head, feeling only a few gazes with psychic powers.

They had been eyeing her for some time, some of them the five hundred people who were following Johnson's side, while others were newcomers with orders and whispers.

Yes......

A bunch of cute little guys.

——————

Sweat trickled down her somewhat messy hair and dripped down Luther's cheeks.

"You'd better be aware of what you're doing, Chief Luthor, for I have few words to describe the ridiculousness and absurdity of this behavior."

Before leaving, Astlis's undisguised voice still echoed in his ears.

And his gaze, like that of an old man looking at a naughty child.

"Chief Luther, the Indomitable Truth has just sent us a message informing us that the protogens are about to arrive...... At the end of the letter, there is an additional encrypted message that you need to open in person. ”

The voices of the mortal crew echoed in his ears, and Luthor reached out his sweaty hand, almost indifferently taking the message.

There are only three words on the communication board.

【Go to the deck.】 】

Luthor watched it again, and again.

Eventually, he took a deep breath and explained the rest of his work.

Then, like a martyr rushing to the execution ground, he adjusted his armor and helmet, slowly walked out of the command room, and disappeared into the corridor.

Some of the mortal crew watched him go, and several of the Dark Angel veterans who were also stationed here just glanced at the titular commander casually, and no longer cared about anything about the mortal.

Luthor walked down the hallway, the lights constantly projecting on his helmet, his pupils and sweat changing colors in the intermingling of light and darkness.

He walked in the light, but it was dim.

Drops of sweat, more and more of it were gathering on his forehead and the back of his neck, and he knew that it was not a failure of the thermostat system, but some other mistake, some mistake he had made with his own hands.

"What do you think you're doing, Luther?"

"You are disobeying orders, the orders of the [Lion], and this is what he hates the most, because this is the characteristic of every dark angel, and this is the connection between us, and you will not understand."

"Do you really think you know him? Know a bit - the genotype? ”

Astlis's voice echoed in his ears again, and he remembered that moment, when he heard about Johnson's plans and fierce battles in the Sabis system, he almost did not hesitate to order the battleship to set sail for reinforcements.

He still remembered the look in the way the dark angels looked at him as he gave the order......

He even doubted himself.

When he used his identity as the commander of the fortress to forcibly order those dark angels to act, was he thinking about anxiety about Johnson's situation, or ......

Is he hungry for the battlefield too much?

He wanted to return to the battlefield, even if it was just to watch from afar, to smell the smell of gunsmoke mixed with blood.

Luthor didn't dare to think any further, he instinctively knew the answer.

And at this time, he also walked out of the passage and came to the deck of the battleship, and the dark light emanating from the void hit him, and it was a little dazzling for a while.

Hundreds of Dark Angels have assembled on deck, all of them forcibly brought in by Luthor through the privilege at hand, and the privilege given by the Genogen himself.

The Dark Angels were divided into two teams, staring ahead, indifferent to Luther's presence, leaving a gap of about ten meters between them, enough for Luthor to stand in the middle, far away from each other.

It's like the auditorium of the courtroom.

As Luthor stood there, he thought bitterly.

——————

The Lion himself rushed down from the first Storm Bird, and after that, several Storm Birds staggered down, and some of the Dark Angel's wounded veterans lined up from above, mixed with a silver figure.

Morgan was like a shattered shadow, hiding in the jungle of the Dark Angel veteran, and she even chose a good spot right next to the Dark Angel think tank who was watching over her.

The top deck of the Imperial battleship was naturally an extremely wide place, not too crowded even with a few hundred Dark Angels standing, and Luthor himself was revered by everyone, so when the [Lion] strode all the way to him, it was very eye-catching.

"Leon ......"

Looking at the overly tall genetic prototype, looking at the appearance and blonde hair that he was all too familiar with, Luthor couldn't help but speak, calling the name of his former adopted son.

Leon Johnson, the name that Luthor himself chose after he had dissuaded his comrades from the sword and decided to adopt this strange wild child.

Leon, Lion.

Johnson, Son of the Forest.

He muttered the name, and watched the child grow stronger, grow, and blink of an eye so quickly that he was far behind: decades had passed in it, but Luthor had always felt that it was too fast, and that the person in front of him was still the child, the child who had just put on his armor and helmet, and fought alongside him.

When he reacted, he looked at his former adopted son again, only to find that in addition to his appearance and this illusory name, the person in front of him was far from the one he imagined.

He couldn't even fight with this man anymore: it became a dereliction of duty, a sin.

Luthor didn't say anything more.

And Johnson didn't care.

The Genogen lowered his head, his shadow like a black curtain of night, obscuring Luthor's body.

【What are you doing here!】 】

"I ......"

[I have assigned you a position, assigned tasks and goals, none of them require you to disobey my will, abuse my authorization at will, and then appear here with an army! 】

The voice of the progenitor echoed across the deck, clearly in the ears of each of the dark angels.

Johnson's face remained like a frosty bloodthirsty sword, his brow furrowed, his eyes fixed on the figure in front of him: Luthor, his best friend, his left hand.

The genogen was silent for a while, he just continued his horrible, tormenting gaze, letting them apply to Luthor as if they were torture, he didn't say anything more, but everyone felt that the air on deck was getting cold and creepy.

The lion covered himself from head to toe in a black armor carved with very simple patterns of red gold and silver, and nothing else.

He was so tall that his emerald green pupils shone like a vicious full moon hidden in the clouds of the mountains as he gazed at Luthor with all his might.

Luthor lowered his head, lower, lowered......

His hands were unconsciously crossed together, dripping with crackling sweat.

Finally, as Luthor began to wonder if he could really resist the silent coercion, the Lion spoke again.

[My mission has always been clear, Luther, even the dumbest soldier can understand it, and I don't think you can't do it.] 】

[I see you as my left hand, Luther, a trusted part of me, and I have entrusted you with a portion of my duties and powers, and I do not want you to disobey them or abuse them, and I do not want to see every order you give without my knowledge, which is utter foolishness. 】

Morgan blinked, and she could hear some contempt for mortals coming from the dark angel beside her.

Johnson, on the other hand, straightened up, like a goddess of justice with a sword raised in her hand.

[Go back to your logistics post immediately, that's the responsibility I assigned to you, it's your task, don't abuse my authorization at will, don't come here again, they don't belong to you, I don't allow it.] 】

Luther bent down, his voice sounding unusually calm. He struggled to squeeze the words out of his trembling lips.

"Your will, my lord."

The original nodded.

[Now, your ships and soldiers will be under my direct command, because of the unnecessary confusion caused by all this, I will withdraw my authority, and I will appoint another person for the fleet and fortress of Gejemara, and you will need to focus all your energy on my orders and your mission, Luther, this is what I need you to do, not to mess with me here. 】

“…… Obey ......"

The submissive answer made [the lion's] face a little better, but when he looked around at all the dark angels present, the corners of his mouth curled in anger again.

[Now, disbanded!] 】

"Go back to your posts. 】

[There's nothing to celebrate here.] 】

The array of the First Legion collapsed in silence, and hundreds of warriors passed by Luther's side and entered the cloister of the battleship, some of them, or most of them, casting a unified gaze on Luther after the [Lion] had left.

Luthor couldn't tell what it was.

He didn't want to tell the difference.

He just lowered his head and didn't say a word, his heavy body trembling, making the sword at his waist collide with the sword in the sword box.

——————

By the time Luthor came to his senses again, he was leaning back in a chair and watching the small warships of the Dark Angels in the distance clean up the battlefield.

Johnson's few words had stripped him of all connection to the war, and now, he had nowhere to go except the hall on the battleship where the mortal crew rested.

Luthor lowered his head, and it was a long time before he sighed slowly.

There's a kind of emptiness in the hall, and rightfully so.

Because now, even the lowest mortal crew members are busy, they all have their own positions and missions, they are part of this war, and they can rightfully absorb the glory that comes with victory.

Luthor thought a little lonely.

And just then, the door opened, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught a silver figure, and he quickly recognized who it was.

"Ms. Morgan."

Luther forced himself to his feet, smiled, nodded in acknowledgement, shook hands, and Morgan sat down across from Luther.

She wore the same restraint dress again, holding a book and a bottle of drink in her hand, and the staff was controlled by psionic energy, floating casually to the side.

Luthor looked at the dress and smiled.

"Rest?"

[Human nature, isn't it. 】

"You can see better starry skies in the corridors, so there's no need to come to such a remote corner."

[It doesn't belong to me, it belongs to those warriors. 】

She sat down, crossed her legs, and spread the book on her lap, her staff resting on one side, and with a few fingers, two wine glasses floated in, slowly filling.

"You are also a warrior and a hero of this battle."

Luther's voice was serious and hoarse.

This sentence seemed to make Morgan stunned for a moment, she raised her head as she was about to read, and was silent for a while, revealing a somewhat helpless smile.

[It used to be, but not anymore.] 】

[When I fought alongside them, everything was nothing, but when the battle was over, I looked around and saw that there was no place for me. 】

Luther's expression froze.

He shook his head.

"If you're here to comfort me, Ms. Morgan, then I'll accept your kindness, but you don't have to."

Morgan laughed.

[I didn't expect you to be here, Lord Luther, but now that I think about it, it's to be expected. 】

[And the reason why I'm here is very simple, Ahriman hasn't come back yet, and I have nowhere to go on this ship.] 】

Luthor's mind flashed the figure of the Thousand Sons Warrior, and he nodded, accepting the statement.

Morgan just casually played with his glass, and brought the other one to Luther.

She muttered to herself, as if to answer, as if to complain, as if it was just a pointless random vent.

[Yes, I used to fight, and I was a comrade-in-arms with them. 】

[But they are warriors, I am not.] 】

[They're Astarte, and neither am I.] 】

[They are the children of the original gene, a natural part of the war, the true master and indispensable part of this battleship. 】

[And I, too, am not.] 】

[So, I'm still alone.] 】

[There is really nowhere to go except here. 】

Luthor was silent for a moment, then he laughed.

It was a hoarse, bitter, sad laugh.

Then, he took the drink Morgan handed him and gulped it down.

(End of chapter)