"Phew—"

The King from the Fenris Ice Field, Riemann of House Ruth, the genetic prototype of Astarte's Sixth Legion, has just chopped off the head of his last opponent.

Looking at this alien who dared to swing his blade at himself with the blessing of courage and madness, Riemanrus spat on the ground, showing his respect.

Riemanlus stood atop the ruins of a fortress whose original shape was completely invisible, and beneath his feet were too numerous to count the corpses of the Xenomorph Overlord, up to his knees, and even the closest Primordial Guards could only trude through the stinking pile of bones.

This is a victory, this is a massacre, this is an impossible result, this is another miracle that can only be created by the genetic protogens leading his blood offspring.

In the ethereal galaxy, there will always be fools who question the power of these mortal demigods created by the emperor's own hands, and the reason for their doubts seems to be so reasonable: these powerful gods who have fallen into the world are nothing more than flesh and blood in the final analysis, their arms cannot withstand the crushing of the god's weapons, and their flesh cannot withstand the fire of the Void Engine.

What's more, even a few of the most common armored vehicles and warplanes, as long as they can seize the right moment and gather enough strength, can make these proudest kings of the stars scramble, even in the dying.

As long as there is an opportunity, a surprise attack, a well-prepared trap, and a team of souls who are not afraid of death, these so-called [demigods] can be embarrassed and precarious.

But even so, even if such a situation is really possible, it still cannot change the fact that these divine fires stolen by the emperor, man-made miracles that come out of legends and fantasies, are the most mysterious and dreamy beings in the universe.

These are not invincible, not perfect, and even in a sense, even the genetic prototypes with abnormal personalities can always create all kinds of miracles, no matter how exaggerated and bizarre the story, as long as it happens to them, there is the most basic logic and possibility.

For example, at this moment, when Riemanlus pulled his battle axe from the remains of the last alien overlord and couldn't help but raise his head to the sky and roar, a most incredible victory had befallen him: above the vast blood-colored ruins, only the sons of Fenris stood proudly as victors, and at their feet were the corpses of hundreds of thousands of Randan's elites.

The thousands of space wolves who followed their genetic father and launched this surprise attack had already suffered more than half of the casualties at this time, and even the wolf lord and countless Terra veterans fell in this crazy meat grinder, but this did not prevent the Astartes from becoming the winners in this short but bloody melee fight, in a few Terra standard hours, they cut off dozens of times the heads of the alien elites, and in every inch of land that every space wolf could see, there was blood flowing wantonly or gradually coagulating, Dead heads were everywhere, kicked and piled up indiscriminately, continuously.

No one knows how the Space Wolves managed to do all this, or how the sons of Riemanrus resisted the alien frenzy that overwhelmed them, and even turned defeat into victory after a terrible battle.

Perhaps this is the power of the Genoplasm and Astarte, fate is always on their side when they unbridled their rage.

Even in the cold wind, which was thoroughly soaked in the smell of blood, there seemed to be some kind of distant and irritable laughter, as if the hidden god of war was casting an approving glance at this glorious slaughterhouse.

"Come here, you kid."

While Riemanlus had rested for a while, and his personal black blood had already brought Hector to the side of the genetic prototype, the wolf king of Fenris turned his head and looked at the overly tall Astarte carefully for the first time.

Hecht, his most trusted wolf lord, Jorin, had just mentioned the name, and was unabashedly praising his strength and bravery: a rare compliment given Jorin's arrogant nature.

The wolf king looked at the warrior and let out a soft sigh.

That's a good.

Look at these arms, look at this exaggerated size, if you talk about the purest physical talent, the most burly warrior in the Sixth Legion is only worthy of his shoulders, I am afraid that among all the Astarte warriors, there are only a few people who can compare with him.

Although, when he was just talking to his blood relatives, Riemanlus casually glanced at Hecht a few times, but it was only at this time that he really observed this new star of the Second Legion, and in the mind of the genetic prototype of the Sixth Legion, the most powerful warriors were constantly flashing, and their figures constantly overlapped with the somewhat immature Morgan heir in front of him.

Riemanlus thought like this for a few seconds, but suddenly realized that among the great warriors he imagined, there were no heirs from the space wolf who had inherited his bloodline.

The Wolf King thought hard again, but he really didn't think of anyone in his legion who could compete with the most powerful Astarte warriors.

Acudona, Radolón, Abaddon, Sayjames, Astrand, and Arachos...... It is said that in the Imperial Fists Legion, a formidable warrior named Sigismund has recently appeared, and he is constantly gaining unimaginable victories and achievements, and he has a good chance of joining the ranks of greatness.

Even the little cub named Hector in front of him, with his talent, strength, and the calmness and fury he had just shown on the battlefield, would at least be one of them in the future, even if he might not be the best of these powerful warriors.

However, even if Riemanlus racked his brains, he just couldn't think of any of his children who had the strength and talent to achieve the same status.

The wolf king slammed his mouth, and felt a sourness between his teeth and his tongue.

He beckoned the little cub, who was almost eye level with himself, to come over, and asked softly, the hot air spitting out of his blood-stained fangs, and a large and spectacular mist rolled down in the cold air.

"How long has it been since your original body disappeared?"

This blunt question made Hector uncontrollably quiet, and Riemannus, witnessing this embarrassment and concealment, laughed out loud without reservation.

"Don't hide it, you little cub, any warrior who is watched by his original body will have some kind of mysterious connection with his genetic prototype, and can have the most basic mutual perception and connection."

"Now, tell me, how long?"

“…… About a Terra standard time later, I couldn't feel the scent of my genetic mother. ”

Riemanrus smiled even more happily at the unreserved worry on Hect's face, and let out a low growl like a wolf of the wilderness with his mouth open.

"Alright, don't worry about it,"

"She is a protogen, a genetic protogen, in this galaxy, except for the emperor and us who also belong to the genetic protogen, no one can really hurt her."

"Only the protozosome can respond to the antigenosome."

"Hmm...... But maybe ......."

At the end of the words, Riemanrus fell into a kind of whispered self-denial, apparently remembering another missing brother.

His relationship with the missing man was not close, but it was not very bad, the genetic prototype of the Eleventh Legion, in most cases, was not a very disgusting figure, not to mention, his fanaticism and loyalty to the Lord of Mankind were simply visible to the naked eye, and could even be called worship.

In this regard, Luo Jianeng can compare with him.

But......

The wolf king of Fenris remembered what he had seen on Menger's home planet, and his face became gloomy.

Menger crossed the line.

Although the Emperor never clearly mentioned what his bottom line was, in the Genetic Primordial, everyone had a basic understanding of what the Lord of Humanity could not tolerate.

And Menger's mistakes, while not more related to those aliens and abomination intelligences, are really trampling on the bottom line of the Lord of Humanity.

Even if he doesn't die, even if he can return from the confused stars, what awaits him can only have the coldest ending.

In his heart, Riemannus muttered to himself, he had a hunch that perhaps soon, he would have to use the Bacchus spear.

Although on the day he got it, he was already mentally prepared, and even felt sad joy and pride for it, believing that he was the emperor's favorite and trusted figure.

But when he really had a premonition that he was going to do something, all that surrounded him was endless sadness and hatred.

Thinking of this, Riemannus couldn't help but take another sip, and he raised his head, forcing his energy to shift his energy away from those irrelevant matters to the war in front of him.

"A Terra Standard Time ......"

Looking at the gathering troops, the genoplasm muttered to himself, although Morgan didn't have any more communication with him, but with the situation in front of him and superhuman intelligence, Riemanrus certainly knew what his blood relatives were doing.

"If all goes well, then it's time for now."

The wolf king of Fenris whispered.

At the edge of his vision, a thin black line, mixed with endless roars and blood-colored dust, gradually revealed on the horizon: it was more aliens, more armies that were not afraid of death.

And it was at this time that the wolf king of Fenris raised his head and showed a most hearty and pure laugh.

He felt it.

He heard it.

The voice in the sea of souls, the whispers of his blood relatives.

——————

[That's it.] 】

——————

The sea of fate is roaring, boiling, like a dying dragon, frantically dragging everything in its sight into the same hell as itself.

In the darkest tide of subspace, the radiant radiance was more brilliant than the explosion of a thousand stars, engulfing the nearest army of hundreds of thousands of aliens in one moment, and burning their souls and their wails in the next.

Riemanrus looked at all this, and he even frowned, because it was only until all this that he really felt what a powerful and blasphemous power that the twisted creation called the [Engine of Destiny] was imprisoned.

Souls, countless souls, billions, wailing souls, all the wolf priests fell to their knees, and for the first time in their lives they trembled, hiding from such a terrible ...... Stuff.

"What's that?"

The genogen asked softly.

The moment his inquiry landed, spatial distortions and concussions echoed across the burning ruins, and the next moment, Morgan appeared behind him: she didn't look particularly good.

At this time, the Spider Empress had even shrunk back into that more petite mortal body, and it obviously took her a lot of energy and will to destroy that twisted creation, and at this moment, Morgan's brain was full of the backlash and destruction brought to her by the [Destiny Engine], so that she had to do everything to control the balance in her mind, and even her own limbs had no more energy to manage.

Morgan casually landed on Hecht's shoulder, allowing her heir to straighten her back for a moment, and she smiled, with a smile of weakness.

[That's death, Riemanrus.] 】

[The death of a race, the death of hope.] 】

“…… To put it bluntly. ”

[I can't be blunt, this involves some dangerous psionic knowledge, if you want, you can write down everything you see and feel, and then find a time to ask Magnus, and he will be happy to answer.] 】

“……”

"Well, I don't really want to know about this kind of thing."

The wolf king of Fenris touched his rough neck, and he stared at the army on the horizon that was already beginning to take shape.

"Now, let's withdraw?"

Morgan didn't answer immediately, she took a few heavy breaths, adjusting her chaotic breath.

[I'm afraid not, although I destroyed the engine system internally, but I didn't completely destroy it, and my remaining strength is not enough to smash the container that holds it. 】

"Let's keep it simple."

[If we evacuate now, then Ran Dan has the possibility of rebuilding it, although this is unlikely. 】

"Alright, I got it."

Riemanrus laughed, grabbing the Bacchus spear standing on the ground, swinging it twice before looking at the shattered twisted creature in the distance.

"Leave the rest to me."

Then you have to be careful. 】

Morgan's breath finally stabilized in general, and she glanced at the void with her third eye before speaking a little hurriedly.

You have to be careful, fast, and have some ...... Mental preparation. 】

The scarlet sun, it was coming here at all costs, and all the Imperial warships were trying in vain to stop it, but with little success.

"How?"

[In simple terms. 】

[Be prepared to lose all the offspring in front of you, who may have to embrace a battle that is doomed to death. 】

Morgan's words stunned Riemanrus for a moment, and then he burst out laughing.

Laugh.

The wolf king raised his battle axe, and the shouts of his father and Ruth shook the earth with his movements, and all the space wolves roared, and once again began to charge, rushing towards an opponent dozens of times his own.

And before joining the charge, the wolf king of Fenris looked back at his blood relatives, his voice was low, as if pouring out whispers in the snow.

"Death as home?"

"Isn't that the most common kind of enlightenment?"

(End of chapter)