Johnson stroked the armor of his left arm, his face as gloomy and terrifying as the deep forest after a rainstorm.

The emblem that symbolized the sword and wings of the First Legion had been completely torn apart by an overly obvious scar, like a goshawk using its sharp claws to roughly cut the metal wound, triumphantly showing off its victory.

This was the only crack in the black armor of the original genogen, and the rest of the place was nothing more than some dull scratches, only the sporadic paint spots were lost, but it was this whitish mark that appeared extremely glaring on the pure black armor, making it easy for anyone to observe it at first glance.

The white of the black is even more eye-catching and eye-catching than the black of the white.

The First Legion's genetic protogens continued to observe the rough crack, and his gaze became more and more gloomy, even when he saw the mortal: her appearance now looked unusually miserable, and blood from the corners of her mouth and earlobes was constantly dripping from the corners of her mouth and earlobes due to psionic overload, and the gloomy gaze did not become any sense of victory.

Johnson was sure that in that moment, he didn't let his guard down.

When he had warned the somewhat offended mortal and started another round of training, he did not let his guard down for even the slightest moment, nor did he abandon any means sufficient to achieve victory: except to put his sword directly at the mortal's neck.

But despite this, despite his best efforts to dodge and perceive, Morgan used the net woven by psionic energy to gradually shrink and squeeze his activity space, until the psionic edge condensed by a cluster of firelight finally fixed the location of the genetic prototype, leaving this wound that almost shattered the entire Seiko Power Armor shoulder armor.

Johnson carefully recalled that moment, taking the trouble to take it apart, kneading it little by little, analyzing it inch by inch, but in the end, he still came to that conclusion.

Under those conditions, he really didn't have the means to leave himself unscathed.

Either rush into the impenetrable psionic net, or you can only resist the blow with the most defensive shoulder armor under the threat of that psionic impact, leaving the possibility to the equipment rather than your own strength.

The speed and reaction that the original gene was proud of revealed a different kind of paleness and powerlessness in the face of the thorny web woven with psionic energy.

At that moment, it seemed to be a dead end.

After coming to this conclusion, the face of the genogen became more and more gloomy.

Although he had spent the last two Terra standard hours in a net that could destroy thousands of Astarte warriors, and though he had countless opportunities every minute to wipe out Morgan's beautiful snow-white neck and claim to be the absolute victor, this one inescapable moment alone was enough to wipe out all of Johnson's sense of arrogance and victory.

He even thinks he's lost, on some level.

This made his aura even a little dangerous and terrifying.

But Johnson wasn't obsessed with that, he wasn't Peturabo, he wasn't going to get angry when he stepped on a puddle of water after the rain and splashed into the mud, and the genogen swallowed his own small failures quite rationally and began to think about the things that really mattered.

The Gene Prototype raised its head and glanced around, the arena at this time had been completely in ruins, the aftershocks of psionic energy, the waves of sword energy, and even the violent aura of the Gene Prototype himself ravaged this poor space back and forth in the past two Terra Standard Hours, those anti-psionic energy settings used for fixation and maintenance had already been shattered, and the sound waves and qi waves echoed in countless corridors and rooms, attracting the attention of countless dark angels.

But even so, Johnson found an area that was still intact, and that was a seat for spectators at the edge of the arena that could still be seated.

He walked over, stretched out his hand, smoothed out the ash and rubble on it, and then pointed, motioning for Morgan to come over.

The silver-haired mortal female officer had apparently expended too much energy in the training just now, and she walked with difficulty, her steps dragging on the ground, and the freshly dried blood could be seen from her eyes, the corners of her mouth, and the pinna of her ears, the result of over-squeezing psionic energy.

Compared with the glamorous time, the current Morgan can be said to be a little disheveled.

She was originally wearing a light silver-gray knee-length trench coat with tight straps and calm folds, paired with white trousers and pure black riding boots as always, and some pale necks were slightly unintentionally wrapped in a navy blue scarf, and only a faint hint of snow could be seen.

Morgan even pinned a pair of sunglasses to the pocket of his trench coat in case he needed it.

And all of this was already before the two Terra Standard Time.

The folds that were once deliberately arranged on the cuffs and waist of the trench coat have been completely disrupted, the collar is now dotted with drops of dark red blood, completely dirty, and the corner of the scarf has been cut alive by an unknown wave of air, without a trace, and now it is lying on its stomach on its chest, like a poisonous snake that has been decapitated.

It's true that Johnson won't win this training by pointing his sword at Morgan, but that doesn't mean that there won't be one or two of his countless swords: how to interfere with the casting of psionic beings has always been an important research project in the discipline of [Killing Psykers], and the genogen obviously knows this well, just a seemingly random swing is enough to turn Morgan's strangulation array into a ridiculous object full of flaws in an instant.

At first, Johnson was just quiet, but after a few minutes, after realizing that Morgan's figure still looked a little far away from his seat, the Genogen simply walked straight over, grabbed one of Morgan's arms, carried her in the air, strode a few times, and pressed her to the seat.

Morgan felt a slight tearing pain in her shoulder, and she tilted her head slightly, only to see Johnson's other hand clutching his greatsword.

The genogen stood in front of her, like a majestic mountain casting endless shadows.

He pointed to the scar on his shoulder nails, and there was nothing he didn't want to face.

"Is this attack an accident, or the result of a lot of calculations."

Johnson's inquiry came, and Morgan just pursed his lips and smiled.

She didn't answer immediately, just lowered her head slightly, breathing slowly, adjusting her breath until Zhuang Sen's already frowning brow deepened a little.

[Both, Your Excellency.] 】

This answer didn't make the progenitor's frown slacken a little.

"Don't play dumb riddles, be clear."

[I said it very clearly, Your Excellency, both. 】

[You can say that it was accidental, because this kind of strangulation net, which is used step by step, is also the first time I have used it, and it is impossible to predict what effect will appear. 】

[But ......]

She breathed heavily, the genotype's gaze moving slightly with her breathing and tone.

[This is also inevitable, because when you choose such a training venue, it is destined that I will only choose this unfamiliar method, because this is the only way I can fight against you here.] 】

Johnson looked up.

He heard the overtones.

"You didn't use all your strength."

Morgan slowly lifted his finger and tapped the blood from the corner of his eye, and Johnson looked at the scarlet trickle on those pale cheeks and the smile that evoked.

His face tense.

[These bloodstains, Your Excellency, appear because I am suppressing my own psionic energy, not because I am overloading my own power. 】

As soon as the words fell, an icy cyclone exploded around the genetic primordial, turning into one fierce storm after another that was enough to chill the soul.

"I ordered you...... With all your might. ”

Yes, Your Excellency, you have commanded. 】

"But you're violating that order."

[No, Your Excellency, I have not violated it. 】

She was still laughing, even though Johnson's blade looked like it was going to kiss her neck in the next second.

"This time, you can explain."

[If you really want my full strength, then things will go badly.] 】

Morgan tilted his head and leaned back, exuding a mixture of exhaustion and laziness.

[Of course, I can use all my strength to burst out in battle, but the consequences of this are unimaginable, at the very least, the Invincible Reason will not survive such an explosion, its reactor will explode in my psionic scream, and the entire battleship will be swept into the chasm of the void along with thousands of dark angels. 】

[Please don't underestimate the desperate struggles of an Alaph, and don't overestimate those anti-psionic devices, if they are really tried, psionics will not be a nightmare.] 】

[I did carry out your commands, Your Excellency. 】

[I did do my best as far as the situation allowed. 】

Johnson lowered his head, his turquoise pupils obscured by his long golden hair, and the blade of his sword dragged a screeching spark against the metal ruins floor.

"Next time, tell me before you start, don't play your tricks."

"I only tolerate it once."

Of course, Your Excellency. 】

Morgan straightened her back and nodded meekly, this time, she was serious.

Just like Johnson is equally serious.

The genoplasm was silent for a moment, as if waiting for Morgan's rest.

"...... Now"

"Tell me, your [full strength]."

[Yes, Your Excellency. 】

——————

[Have you ever wondered how strong psykers are compared to sword-wielding Astarte warriors in real battles? 】

[Strength? In fact, this is not so important, in a duel, enough power to cut the enemy's neck is more than enough, although more power is not a bad thing, but it will not have any essential effect on a duel. 】

[Focused? On the one hand, it may even be that the psionics suffer more, the whispers in the subspace have been tormenting every person involved in psionic powers, in fact, a psionic person who can fully focus is almost a false proposition, unless he has decided to die. 】

[Defense? It's not easy to judge, if it's an Astarte and a psyker in a duel, then in the face of the power of explosive bombs and lightning, both are actually like defenseless and weak babies, the so-called defense is not so useful, of course, the psyker can maintain a protective shield at any time, but in front of your big sword is just a vain bubble. 】

[Unless, add another factor.] 】

[Yes, speed. 】

[As long as they are fast enough, psykers can kill an Astarte in a hundred ways, whether it is to smash everything in the armor with lightning, or to put the flames to end the suspense of a duel, or to erect a thick barrier to keep themselves in absolute protection.] 】

[And again, as long as you are fast enough, even a rusty dagger can finish off an alaph.] 】

[In terms of speed, the top psionics have a natural advantage over Astarte, a truly powerful psionic does not need spells, one of his thoughts is enough to accomplish everything he wants, and no matter how fast and fast a warrior's reaction is, he has to complete at least two steps from thinking to drawing a knife, and the time gap between one thought is fatal. 】

[In addition, it is said that the reaction speed of Astarte fighters is as fast as milliseconds...... I didn't see it anyway. 】

[But speed is not omnipotent, if you are close enough, a quick dash is enough to end everything before the game starts, so, in addition to those psionics in the biochemical system, real psionics will also care about the second factor in addition to speed.] 】

[Distance.] 】

[This, there is no doubt, the psyker also has an advantage, even an absolute advantage, no one said that the duel must be a few meters away to solve everything, the psyker can hide at a safe distance and end everything before the warrior rushes over. 】

So, what would a truly powerful psyker look like with all his might? 】

[It is a psyker who has opened up enough distance to have plenty of room to move, like this, fighting a psyker in an arena hundreds of meters wide is like climbing to the eagle's lair, this is not a challenge, but a gain. 】

If you really want to see my full strength, then you should arrange the training location in a world, Your Excellency, and you will know by then. 】

[There are many ways I can try to kill you completely. 】

——————

Slay.

The word swirled around Morgan's lips, turning into a wisp of green smoke that slowly dissipated into the dead air.

Johnson raised his head slightly, he keenly caught the syllable, and seemed to enjoy it.

"Kill me?"

[Yes, kill you.] 】

[Like a real, life-and-death battle.] 】

[I can tear through a rift and drop you into it.] 】

Or let the wind and metal converge into a real cage, and throw you high in the sky and turn into a fiery red meteor. 】

Or, the easiest way, I can directly tear open a crack in the subspace, and let you be involved in the turbulence of time and space, and when you come out of the irregular subspace, the so-called human race may not appear. 】

[In short, for psykers, death does not mean a simple head falling to the ground and blood flowing, which is really too unartistic. 】

As he spoke, Morgan looked up.

Then, she noticed that Johnson was smiling, a smile that the corners of his mouth were slightly uplifted, and there were no teeth.

Johnson's laughter was even more intimidating than Johnson's anger.

"Can you do it all?"

[Time, means, luck, and some necessary delaying methods, such as traps and dead soldiers, these are all indispensable, after all, psionics are not real gods, and occasionally they still have to be stained with some fireworks. 】

Johnson's voice seemed to have a smile on it.

"And?"

"What else can you do to [kill] me?"

Morgan tilted his head.

[For the time being...... Didn't think about it. 】

"You have time to keep thinking."

He turned, put away his greatsword, and slowly walked towards the arena gate.

"The war is urgent, and the conditions for the real [training] you speak of are not yet being carried out, but you have time to continue thinking about them."

"Come up with more ways to kill me."

“……”

"It's an order."

Morgan stuck out his tongue and licked his chapped lips.

[Yes, Your Excellency. 】

——————

Really.

Compared to Magnus and Perturabo.

This dangerous, arrogant, unspeakable lion.

It's the one that makes her feel more intimate and happy.

(End of chapter)