By the time Morgan emerged from the ocean of consciousness made up of the fragments of her memories and the fragments of her senses, the subspace timer on the battleship had shown almost forty-six Terra standard hours.

In other words, they had been up and down in the waves of subspace for about two days, and at first, this kind of flying misfortune did cause tension on the ship, but fortunately, with the help of a hundred dark angels led by Zaharel, everyone quickly calmed down.

While Morgan was almost involuntarily in meditation, the situation on the battleship had reached a point of reassurance to her: the sailors and slaves were working, Zaharel's warriors were guarding every corner, the mechanical priest was keeping the subspace engines running smoothly with the metal-grinding generator, and the inexperienced navigator was the most tired: he was groping his way through the frenzied storm over and over again, looking for an opportunity to make a forced jump.

It was in this reassuring situation that she began to meditate, to try to calm and control the turbulent ocean in her mind due to the sudden subspace storm, and before falling asleep, she carefully told Zaharel not to disturb herself.

But apparently, some people have broken their promises.

Morgan didn't wake up in a peaceful environment, as Zaharel was banging on her door, and although she didn't break in directly, the noise still managed to affect her rhythm, and she had to hurriedly end her work in the Psionic Sea and return to reality.

As the price of this half-, the aura of psionic energy was surging around her body, spreading disorder and discord, and even those with weak psionic energy could clearly feel the invisible aura emanating from Morgan's body.

She opened her eyes, frowned in displeasure, straightened her clothes, stepped out of bed, and slowly opened the door.

Before Zaharel could say anything, the Spider Queen's words came to him.

[For your own sake, Zahariel, it is better to really be an important event. 】

[Otherwise, I'll cut you into thin pieces, make porridge, and feed them to the Barbarus rice bucket next door one bite at a time.] 】

Morgan's rebuke struck Zaharel with an inexplicable familiarity, and there was neither porridge nor Barbaros on the ship.

He raised his head, stunned for a moment, then put these words of reprimand behind him, and spoke of the current situation in the most anxious tone.

"Sorry to bother you, Ms. Morgan."

"But now the situation is really critical, and we need your strength."

[What's wrong?] 】

"Our navigator is dead."

【…… Are we still in subspace? 】

"Yes."

[And then the navigator died?] 】

"Yes."

【…… Hopefully the next step isn't where we need to clean up. 】

——————

The Lost is a Hunter-class destroyer that is in the smallest category of the Human Empire's vast fleet, but unlike its fellow siblings, the Cobra-class, the current Hunter-class destroyer is almost exclusively the Dark Angel Legion.

Because of its distrust of institutions such as the Mechonke, or indeed all of the Empire's institutions, the Dark Angel Legion rarely introduced combat ships from the outside world, and as a result, in the First Legion, the Hunter-class destroyers took the place of the regular Cobra-class destroyers, which were thicker armored, more survivable, and faster, and the conventional armament was not weakened at all.

Despite being the smallest destroyer in the Imperial fleet, the Lost is still a one-kilometer-long ship with a crew of 10,000, ranging from captains to slaves, from the mechanic's engine maintenance room to the Navigator's Sanctuary.

"Navigator Horsmere-Huth, who had been navigating without any problems for two days without any problems, about a Terra standard time ago, claimed that he had found a crack in the subspace in the storm that he could forcibly jump from, and had expelled everyone in the Sanctuary without allowing them to disturb him."

"Forty-five minutes later, the guards heard his wailing outside the door and forced their way in, but by this time he had completely lost all vital signs."

Morgan glanced at the deceased: the navigator looked to be in his fifties, with a face peculiar to thinness and slight deformity from a long marriage of consanguineous marriage, a severe protrusion of the chin and forehead, a stern and pale complexion, his eyes closed, and no wounds on his body, as if he had simply slept: except for one place, the third eye, which was the most important to the navigator, on his forehead, had completely festered and disintegrated.

Obviously, it cost him his life.

Morgan reached out and carefully examined the remnants of the souls of the deceased, analyzing the last hour of his life.

She quickly found what she was looking for.

The Navigator wasn't lying, he did find a crack in the subspace where he could force the jump, and while it was completely impossible to predict where they would go, it was better than staying in the subspace.

But as he continued to explore and confirm the feasibility of this rift, he encountered a dilemma: some of the remaining storms happened to be blocked in front of the rift, which made it very dangerous to pass through it, and after a long waiting time to no avail, seeing that the subspace storm was already showing signs of resuming momentum, the navigator finally stopped waiting, and activated the [Heavenly Disturbance] that each navigator was born with, trying to forcibly distort the reality at the rift, so that the battleship could force its way through.

But just as the Navigator's will came into contact with the fragments of the storm, it dawned on him that the storm was no ordinary subspace storm, and that it contained some terrifying elements that had never existed before, and the moment he realized it, these elements came back to him with hunger.

Unknown opponents, the stormy environment of the subspace, and the exhaustion caused by two consecutive days of mental altitude hits had a catastrophic chain reaction in this instant, and the already not very outstanding navigator was completely torn apart before he could make any resistance, and the only remaining fragments were exposed to the storm, swept away in the blink of an eye, without a trace, leaving only a short wail and a cold body.

Morgan withdrew his hand.

Her psionic energy stretched out her will and came to the stormy subspace: the rift still existed, and the remnants of the wind breath that covered it still occupied that place, but this time, in the face of opponents who were not at all of a level, they didn't hold on even for a moment, Morgan only frowned, and the terrifying elements that killed the navigator were pinched in her invisible hands.

The Spider Queen looked at them, her brow furrowing even more.

She probably knew what was going on.

[Inform me, Zaharel, to make the jump, I will temporarily take over the duties of the navigator and lead the forced jump.] 】

“…… With all due respect, ma'am, will you lead the way? ”

[No, it won't. 】

[But forcibly dragging a destroyer out of the rift, there is still no big problem, after all, my spiritual strength is so much stronger. 】

She turned around, obviously just a relatively petite body, but the dark angel involuntarily lowered his head.

[This storm is unlike anything we've encountered before, Zahariel. 】

[If I'm not mistaken, the First Legion is in trouble right now, and if they hadn't been in trouble - then the situation would have been even worse.] 】

[But in any case, we must return to the real universe as soon as possible, and return to the fleet of the First Legion.] 】

Do you understand my will, Zahariel? 】

Zaharel, the company commander of a Dark Angel, the theoretically highest-ranking person on this battleship, looked at the [mortal] in front of him, who actually had no position, and after thinking for less than a second, he lowered his head.

"I see."

Then, go ahead and execute it. 】

[Execute my will.] 】

This sentence seemed to have a strange magical power, and the moment the dark angel who had been a little hesitant heard it, whether it was Zaharel or the other warriors present, the slight resentment in their hearts turned into pure execution in the blink of an eye.

"Yes, my lady."

——————

The forced jump went well.

About ten slaves and servants were sucked into the walls and steel as they walked around at will in the moment of the jump, but other than that, the entire ship suffered no losses.

A brief period of dizziness and physical nausea lasted for about a few moments on the Dark Angel's body, and then, Johnson's heirs quickly woke up, although Zahariel's subordinates were a group of Calibans who could hardly be called [Dark Angel Veterans], but they still quickly recovered after experiencing the battle of Randan, skipped the mortal crew who were still a little uncomfortable, and began to operate the various equipment of the battleship, and grasped the situation of the galaxy they were in for the first time.

You know, these Calibans are just in the Dark Angel Legion, and they can't be called veterans.

And the first feedback came quickly.

"There is a signal from a ship, it is a warship of the Empire!"

There was a sharp sense of joy in the voice in charge of the briefing, which was understandable, because the moment the news came, a breath of relaxation appeared in everyone's hearts.

Only one person didn't laugh.

Morgan hadn't smiled since she had been swept into the subspace by this eerie storm, even the most perfunctory and false smile had disappeared from her face, and she stood at the heart of the command room, Zaharel and the captain standing respectfully on either side: invisibly, it seemed that all Astartes had acquiesced to the plausibility of this scene.

She gave the order, her voice cold and swift.

[Continue to probe and try to make contact.] 】

[Order the bow of the ship to be ready for torpedo firing at the necessary moment, and maintain a state of being able to immediately enter and exit the battle until the opponent can prove his identity.] 】

With Morgan's words, the Dark Angels carried out her orders: they quietly aimed their torpedoes at their allies, and carried them out without any burden.

When everything was ready, the team in charge of the investigation also reported again.

"We're seeing signals from more Imperial ships, it's a fleet, even battleships and battlecruisers, they're besieging a world, and we're seeing burning void fortresses and orbital defense arrays, and the bow wants to know if to keep torpedo fired."

[Of course, why not?] 】

In Morgan's soft rhetorical questioning, the destroyers of the First Legion gradually left the darkness at the edge of the galaxy and cautiously headed towards the center of the galaxy under heavy fire, their whereabouts were soon spotted by the outermost drone, and a cruiser immediately turned around, along with several destroyers and frigates doing the same.

At the same time, a deep voice echoed through the public channel, constantly echoing in the battleship of the Dark Angel.

——————

"Unknown ship, please stop."

"This is the Death Guard Legion, I'm the Commander of the Seventh Company of the Legion, Nathaniel Garo, please report your identity, repeat, please report your identity."

——————

Communication was going well, but both ships fell into a momentary moment of astonishment or confusion.

Garo was stunned that the Dark Angel's ship would suddenly appear here, while Morgan and Zaharel were at a loss for their position.

The entire Empire knows that the Death Guard is now fighting alongside Horus's Shadowmoon Wolves, which means that they have been swept away by a storm from the northeastern part of the galaxy where the Dark Angels are located to the western part of the galaxy where the Shadowmoon Wolves are located, spanning half the galaxy in just two Terra standard days.

But Morgan's blank time was not long, for Zahariel's inquiring gaze had already come to him.

Morgan closed his eyes.

She cleared her mind and reaffirmed her purpose.

She needs to get back to the First Legion as quickly as possible, wherever she is now, she must return to her brother Johnson as soon as possible, and she must catch the feast of the death of the Legion: only then will she be able to get a piece of the death of a primordial.

This is her purpose, her goal, and she must act for it.

Whatever it is......

Morgan opened his eyes.

[Ask the Death Guard Legion's fighting brothers if they need help.] 】

[In addition, maintain the speed of the ship and prepare for landing operations.] 】

——————

The Dark Angel's inquiry was not answered immediately, and the company commander of the Death Guard seemed to hesitate, and he seemed to be caught in a slight entanglement and loss because of some matter of honor.

This happened until Morgan ordered Zaharel to ask for the Death Guard Company Commander's one-man contact channel, and she turned it on, her pale lips pressed close to the communicator, and the cold voice fell into the Death Guard's ears bit by bit.

Luckily, she had heard and learned a little about the Terra veteran before.

[Company Commander Garo, I'm Morgan, the psionic advisor of the First Legion's genetic protogen, and they will also call me [Soul Drinker], I think you should have heard of it if you have fought alongside the First Legion on the Randan front. 】

“…… Hello, Ms. Morgan. ”

"Indeed, I have heard of your fame and power, and the name of the Soul Eater was indeed in the Fourteenth Legion...... Spread. ”

[Very well, then I'll cut a long story short, my psionic detection lets me know the state of the world before me: you are fighting against a sea of mentally manipulated opponents, your forces are not strong enough to tear through the waves and defenses of hundreds of millions of fearless walking dead, and your warriors are bleeding in this war of attrition, and the shedding is worthless. 】

[The only way is to find the psionic manipulator and decapitate it, you know, Commander Garo, how much of a role my power and the hundred elite dark angels I lead will play in this kind of operation.] 】

[Whether for us or for you, choosing to join forces against the enemy in the face of this situation is not a complicated or dark matter, it is just the simplest and most simple brothers working together, fighting side by side, isn't it? 】

[How can a little honor be more important than the hot blood of the fighting brothers? 】

[Am I right, Company Commander Garo? 】

——————

This time, Garo's silence didn't last long, and the phrase [Blood of the Battle Brothers] clearly moved the company commander of the Death Guard, and his answer was not long in coming.

"You're right, Ms. Morgan, it's really just a side by side."

"Now, then, I formally invite you to join this war, ma'am."

[Don't see it that way, Garo. 】

Morgan exhaled softly, her lips almost pressed against the communicator, and the corners of her mouth finally raised into the faintest smile.

Since we are fighting side by side. 】

[Then from this moment on, we are comrades-in-arms.] 】

(End of chapter)