confusion, shaking, coma, nausea......

This is definitely the worst-paced teleportation Morgan has ever used since he was born: of course, it is undoubtedly the most difficult one.

Throwing two genetic protogens, including himself, and thousands of Astarte warriors from the steel world thousands of miles away to the dusty surface of Tuckers 5 in one go, no one knows how terrible the difficulty and precision of these fluttering words are.

Even Morgan herself was extremely convinced: if she hadn't been the creator of the human lord who stole the boundless fire, if she hadn't been the outstanding individual who had been absolutely strengthened and gifted in psionic energy, if it weren't for the fact that she had squandered her soul reserves before, thus preserving a large part of her original strength, if it weren't for the great risk she took to swallow a large wave of souls almost desperately on the shattered [Destiny Engine], she would never have been able to do this.

At the very least, it can't be done perfectly.

The huge psionic rift was like an invisible god wielding his sword, cutting an incurable wound in the iron-gray sky.

Morgan's portal was open on a barren, wide, soft enough sand on Tuckers V, and it was a safe enough place: even at the most unfavorable stage of the landing operation, Randan's army did not really attack here, only their continuous artillery fire caused damage to some buildings.

Hordes of mortal armies and minions weaved through the damaged buildings, shuttling back and forth between logistical warehouses and makeshift medical centers, as their toiling mortals watched their eyes widen as the vast playground where they had been used to assemble their armies was swallowed up by a vast stream of blue light, and a savage sound like a hurricane scraping a tsunami.

Before they could feel enough shock and vigilance, countless space wolves wrapped in scars and blood appeared in the light, and in the exclamation of mortals, in just a few breaths, hundreds of Astarte warriors were transported to the square.

They were panting and scarred, almost all of them had horrific wounds, and even worse, the wounds on their faces and limbs were so large that one wondered how they had survived.

But despite this, the sons of Riemanlus did not lose their discipline, composure, and order, and the warriors who recovered the fastest quickly struggled to their feet, refusing any support from mortals, and walked over to their companions, who were not yet able to move quickly, and moved them somewhere else: for in the light, more space wolves were being teleported over.

Soon, this solidarity reached its peak with the appearance of an incomparably huge figure: the teleportation of Riemanrus caused the entire portal to set off more waves and power, and when the blood-scarred, but still stable Fenris wolf king, stood up steadily for the first time, the cheers of the wolves completely overwhelmed him, and all the space wolves hugged their genetic father as much as possible with the greatest enthusiasm to make sure that he was really okay.

Almost in the blink of an eye, the incomparably tall genetic protoplasm was completely overwhelmed by all kinds of stinking black, white, gray, brown, and miscellaneous hairs.

The smell of sweat and blood made the genogen a little bored and masturbated his cubs, he stood on the ground, endured unimaginable pain and depression, and steadily walked to the very edge of the portal, Riemanlus gave one order after another loudly, but in the blink of an eye, all the Astartes and mortals in front of him began to be orderly and busy.

Except for a few figures: as if they had received some kind of unknown favor, Hecht's team of six people still survived this time, although everyone looked miserable, but Astarte's powerful physique is recovering their bodies and strength with speed and efficiency that mortals can't imagine, and the same thing naturally happened to the space wolf.

Everything was in order, in just a few tens of seconds, all the space wolves had emerged from the portal and were well placed, and Riemannlus even had a force that could be put into battle in front of him again, and it was only at this time that the wolf king of Fenris gritted his teeth and slowly sat on the boulder next to him seemingly easily, breathing deeply.

Riemanlus looked at his tomahawk, his favorite weapon and companion, and he even fell into a slight sadness.

And on his side, the wolf king's original body, the black blood, looked at his genetic father with great concern, and he could feel that every breath of Riemanlus was full of difficulty, like an unusually old bellows, under the most savage pull, extremely reluctant to let out bursts of hoarse sounds.

Not far from the Black Blood, another Primordial Guard was in the same mood as him: Hector was completely ignoring his injuries, he was staring at the portal with all his attention, for fear of missing any details, and every member of his team, even the seasoned and mature ancient warrior Chron, was like a most frizzy recruit at this time, staring at the aspect of the portal while breathing restlessly.

They didn't have to wait long, and almost the next moment when all the space wolves were sent over, a thin figure appeared in the square with the light disappearing.

Joy, excitement, joy......

Emotions that should not have been born after defeat surged with the appearance of the Genetic Prototype, and the soldiers of the Second Legion immediately wanted to flock to their own Prototype, but they immediately saw Morgan's movements: the Spider Queen stood on the ground with her staff, made a quiet gesture towards her children, and then waved her hand to signal them to rest.

Hector sat down a little reluctantly, but his eyes never took his eyes off his genetic mother: for some reason, he always had a strange feeling, he felt that his original body seemed to be in a rather chaotic state, no longer calm and sober as before.

Judging from the appearance alone, Morgan seems to be much better than everyone else, her clothes are still neat, and even her hair is not more disheveled, but only by carefully observing her blue pupils and patiently experiencing her aura at this moment, you will find that this spider queen of the Second Legion is in an unimaginable chaos and irritability.

withered, ruined, slaughtered, cold......

At this time, Morgan is like a giant worm lurking in the forest in late autumn, maintaining an extremely strange state in the midst of decay, violence and confusion.

No one could see this, in the eyes of Astarte and mortals, Morgan was just maintaining a petite size, she dragged her staff in one hand and the Dionysian spear of Riemanrus in the other, and without any pause or hesitation, she immediately stepped towards the genetic prototype of the Sixth Legion in the distance.

She walked silently like this, and along the way, all the space wolves were giving in and saluting her, showing respect with the same silent gaze and serious countenance.

No one could see that something was wrong with her: except Hecht, there were Ezio and Chiron, who had a vague sense that something was wrong, but all they could do was silence and quiet repair.

After all, this is an order from the primordial.

——————

Morgan walked towards Riemanruz, which was not a long distance.

As she walked, she let the waves set off in her heart.

Failure, she thought.

She had just experienced a defeat and was stabbed in the midst of this defeat by some kind of confusion that even interfered with her calm thinking.

Morgan was disgusted with defeat, with any actual defeat: she was able to accept that she had temporarily disguised a defeat for the greater good, and she knew full well that they had no chance of victory in the face of the Xenomorph Emperor's power.

But that didn't stop her heart from falling into gloomy weather because of this de facto defeat, and it also caused a cruel mental storm because of the amount of money she had put into the battle.

In this kind of storm, there is not only anger, but also a kind of confusion and confusion that can be born because of the inability to understand.

Morgan looked at Riemanruth, as she drew nearer, at her own blood relatives: for some time she had become accustomed to having this title in her heart, and had taken it for granted that her blood relatives were more important than anything else.

It's not like her.

Morgan could feel something strange in her heart, something she could know but couldn't understand, as if she was arrogantly revealing her buds, jokingly mocking the barren ruins of the Spider Queen's heart.

A young shoot......

Nothing seems like it.

It also seems to represent something unstoppable, and is on the road to revival.

Something that even a genetic protoplasm can't stop......

Morgan's gaze was gloomy.

She remembered her own anger, the anger that had erupted from the battle she had just fought: when she truly felt that her blood relatives were in danger, when she found Riemanrus at the feet of the alien emperor, she did feel ...... Wrath.

Anger in the truest sense of the word.

It was not a wisp of flame, nor was it a flame crest on a masquerade, but a monstrous rage that was enough to engulf the kingdom and the world, and suddenly ignited in her heart.

She made a move, she even lost her sanity and composure, she rashly used those souls that died in vain, and even risked her own backlash, reducing her power reserves to a bottom line that she swore would never reach.

At the time, she did just that, even taking it for granted: when she saw her blood relatives fall, she did it all subconsciously: there was no voice affecting her in her heart, it was her own decision.

But the more this happened, and now that I think about it, the more Morgan feels a sense of disgust and confusion.

Is...... Odd......

When she was about to walk to the world in front of Riemanruth, Morgan was still thinking about this unprecedented problem, the genetic's innate superior thinking ability allowed her mind to constantly conceive and analyze her own problems faster than milliseconds, and on this not long road, Morgan had already thought about and denied hundreds of conclusions one by one.

And when the short journey came to an end, Morgan thought he had the answer.

His anger must have been brought about by a dangerous situation: just as a wild beast would become irritable in the face of an unsolvable crisis, when he saw Riemanrus fall, he realized that there was no hope of victory, and let his anger drown out timidity and calmness for a moment, and took the upper hand.

…… Yes, it must be.

——————

In her heart, Morgan used the strongest tone to convince herself.

Her anger is for herself, definitely not for these so-called blood relatives.

They don't matter that much.

——————

Riemannus watched as his blood relative took the Dionysian spear and walked in front of him, and he held his body strongly, refusing to show even the slightest weakness.

Looking at the Bacchus spear that was standing on the ground by Morgan, the wolf king did not speak immediately, he just stared at the weapon, and after a long time, he asked Morgan in a low tone.

"You can save them, you can save more people, not ...... A weapon. ”

"You made a cold-blooded choice, Morgan."

[But it's also the right choice, isn't it?] 】

Morgan asked indifferently.

Riemannus did not answer, he just bowed his head and acknowledged the words of his blood relatives in an attitude of silence.

He muttered to himself as he stared at the weapon, the most powerful blade of God in his hand, and the one he hated the most.

"I hate it, Morgan, I hated it from the beginning."

"I've tried to throw it away, I've tried many times, but it always comes back to me, whatever it takes, it's a collection of things I can't escape."

"How can I do it, I even want to exchange it for my warriors, even if I can only exchange it for one......"

"But I can't do that."

"I know ......"

“……”

He was silent for a long time.

"You're right, Morgan."

"You're right."

——————

The two exchanged a few more words about the attack and the alien emperor.

Soon, the conversation ended, and Riemannus stood up, shaking off the black blood that was trying to support him: when the Fenris Wolf King got up, all eyes were already on him.

Loneliness and loss had vanished from his countenance, and Riemanlus walked before Astarte and the mortals, his god-like face now filled with convincing majesty and confidence.

He stood, straightening his majestic body as if the hundreds of broken bones and internal injuries were absent, and in a voice of the most hearty voice, he loudly affirmed and encouraged everyone before him, every Astarte and mortal, until a mood called hope and pride reappeared on their faces, until the cheers and shouts completely expelled the low fog that lingered in the square.

Until the wolves reappear.

Only then did he turn away, and he showed his pain and gloom in the shadows that only Morgan and the Black Blood could see.

He walked over to Morgan's side and smiled as best he could.

"You've done a great job, my blood relative, and you're a trusted warrior."

"From now on, I think we are comrades-in-arms, I have a seat of your own in the fortress of Fenris, and I welcome you wherever you go, enjoy the snow and wine of Fenris: ordinary people can't enjoy them."

Morgan pushed himself, giving a smile that matched it.

[Where does each of our blood relatives have a place? 】

The Wolf King shook his head.

"Some people don't want this seat, they have too many treasures of their own to look down on me."

"You are the sixteenth, Morgan, of our twenty blood relatives, except for you, only four are still floating among the stars, only the eighth, twelfth, nineteenth, and twentieth legions, and there is no news of their original body yet."

Speaking of this, Riemannruth smiled and licked his fangs like a real wolf.

"You are the sixteenth...... This is an interesting number, and for a long time it belonged only to the wolf god, our great Horus. ”

"He doesn't like his things being taken, but you should be very nice, and in general, Horus is very good."

“…… Alright, Morgan, my blood relative, I think I've taken up enough of your time, and now you should go and see your heirs, the lucky ones who were the first to encounter their primordials, and your entire legion will be jealous of them. ”

Morgan blinked, and she glanced at her children: they were staring at her.

Perhaps she should have passed, but the confusion and irritability in her mind told her that now was not the time, that she was tired of making more mistakes, and that she did not want to go wrong with her personal belongings again: no matter how small the odds were.

[They are warriors, Riemanrus, not little ones who need my care. 】

"Hahahaha......"

The Wolf King laughed.

"No, no, no."

"Sometimes, there is no difference between a warrior and a child, they need words, they need goals, and they need a character that they can follow unconditionally, so that they can simply release their nature without thinking about any complicated or painful topics, and in the process, quietly learn more things."

"That's your responsibility, Morgan."

【…… Liability? 】

Morgan frowned, and Ruth's gaze became a little deep at this moment, and he looked back at his blood relatives with an inquiring attitude.

"Of course, responsibility."

"They're fighting for you, so you need to reciprocate."

"So, Morgan, what is your heir in your heart?"

Morgan hesitated.

She wanted to think, but her mind hadn't completely moved out of the battle after too much thinking and confusion, and her gaze became a little wandering, and finally, she overheard Ruth's hand clutching the shattered battle axe.

In that moment, she felt as if she had found the answer: a most precious weapon that she would reluctantly discard, and that would seem to be the right answer.

[Like your tomahawk, Ruth.] 】

The wolf king blinked, he lowered his head and looked at his battle axe.

The weapon, the weapon he had forged himself when he was a happy prince on Fenris, the weapon that had been by his side loyally through countless wars and crises, the weapon he had used for the longest and most handy, his companion, his comrade-in-arms, his second soul in a sense.

He was saddened by its brokenness.

Now, is the same with his blood relatives?

Regard your Legion as your most important partner and comrade-in-arms, and feel sad for its [brokenness]?

The wolf king looked at his blood relatives again.

His gaze softened.

In Morgan's heart, how important are her heirs? Or even like him, sad for the [broken] in front of him?

Riemanrus laughed.

——————

"I've seen a full fifteen of our blood relatives, Morgan."

"But I can believe, and I can even assure you, of all people, you are the kindest of your own children, even if you are not much worse in the future than Dvocan and St. Giles."

"You'll be a good primordial, and your legion will have the luck to have a genetic mother like you."

【…… Of course. 】

(End of chapter)