"Gladstone has surrendered, and its once pride, its fertile land, and its tens of billions of subjects are now the first gravel at the foot of our genetic queen's throne, but it will never be the last."

"That's right, it's a hearty victory, isn't it, it's been a long time."

"How long did it take us in total?"

"Fifty Terra Standard Hours."

"That'...... How long did it take to annihilate that Alien Alliance fleet before? ”

"This doesn't bother me either: thirteen Terra standard hours at most."

"Thirteen, ah......"

"Didn't you notice that we are very close to the number thirteen?"

"You're saying this like we're a bunch of Makulags, not the sons of Morgan."

In the shadows at the very edge of the command hall, two cutting-edge company commanders were engaged in a conversation in a whisper, and although their actions were already very secretive, they were unfortunately spotted by two pairs of eyes in the unintentional gaze and intentional following.

After seeing the whispers in the place where light and shadow intersected, Lana frowned and wanted to step forward to scold, but the genetic prototype that had discovered this state earlier reached out and stopped his personal guard, and the genetic prototype casually glanced at the two company eldest sons who still smelled of gunsmoke on their bodies, and showed a silent smile.

[Bear with me, they are heroes in battle after all.] 】

[My plan and requirements were executed perfectly, weren't they?] 】

Lana opened his mouth, as if to say something, but when his gaze shifted to the walls around the command hall, he found himself seemingly speechless, and the valiant Old Guard leader bowed his head and returned to his place.

The original didn't continue to speak, she sat upright in her place, waiting for all the attendees to arrive, letting her eyes pick and choose from the projections on the walls around her, secretly combing through everything that had happened in the past fifteen Terra Standard days.

As one of the most important locations of the entire Queen of Glory battleship, the command hall responsible for the command and dispatch of various units is undoubtedly one of the most secure buildings, and it is properly placed in the core area of the entire battleship, which is a place that no artillery fire and gang jumping battle can threaten in the first place.

On the other hand, in order to have a real-time understanding of the battle situation, under the auspices of Morgan, dozens of huge projection screens occupy every wall of the command hall, broadcasting and recording all the battles experienced by the entire battleship from the most realistic perspective.

Standing in the hall, watching these projections several meters high continue to interpret the stories in different times and different spaces, as if standing on the bank of the long river of time, scooping up a handful of turbid water with your hands, you can peek into all kinds of fantasy and mysteries, even if it is a mortal who has nothing to do with these war deeds, after constantly watching and watching this lifelike past, you will also doubt from the heart in countless moments, the story in the projection is a part of your past and experience.

And this is just the small willfulness that the Lord of the Second Legion exudes to his descendants and mortal officials.

With the superhuman intelligence and senses of the genetic prototype, Morgan can of course easily witness every story and every detail depicted in each projection at the same time, and she pays attention to all the stories being told, and accurately identifies the valuable fragments of them, finds out the mistakes and problems that her legion has made in these stories, and carefully treasures them in her brain and memory as the most valuable treasures that can be obtained in the war.

And now, she was doing just that, more than a dozen giant projections simultaneously telling the details of each of the past days, from the Second Legion's fleet pulling anchor and leaving Avalon's low-Earth orbit, to the entire world of Gladstone succumbing to the Human Empire in despair and sighing.

Yes, despair and sighs, but no more blood and no unplanned changes, and that's how Morgan got this victory: she even had some smug brightness when she thought about it.

Yes, despair.

Despair......

Morgan bit at the word gently, she had always liked words like that, which brought pain to others, because she was able to get more bad pleasure out of them, and it was the less remarkable of the countless habits she had always developed.

But for some reason, when she began to whisper an ode to [Despair] again, the original clear mind of the genoplasm was met with some kind of slow and stagnant heavy attack in an instant, although the force of the attack was not enormous, and the speed was not very fast, like a dying lion scraping in vain on the hard hides with its black and abominable claws, without the slightest real damage.

The blow was slow, heavy, and seemed to have no trace, but it was definitely premeditated, and at the moment when the genogen fell into a brief moment of joy, at the moment when Morgan gently spat out the word "despair", as if the window had been opened, and the biting north wind was released for the first time, the knock on the door from the other side of the void cleverly seized this fleeting opportunity, patted the closed inner door of the genotype, and then quietly left.

But in the face of the Spider Queen's wary net, which had been tense since the moment of her birth, and which had almost never been relaxed, this too slow temptation was caught at the first time, and when Morgan blinked her eyes, shot the edge of psionic energy, and touched the harmless letter, her mind fell into a moment of indulgence.

Vaguely, Morgan even heard two angry screams from the Endless Ocean, exploding in the depths of her soul, echoing for a long time, but before she could recognize the owners of these two roars, a trail of nausea juice dragged gently and slowly across her face.

On the farthest shores of the galaxy, in the infinite void where all the lives of the navigators in the concentration cannot be glimpsed, in the source of the wasteland ravaged by ancient wills and kingdoms, in the blasphemous heavens that belong to the gods of chaos, twists, and sin: this silent invitation comes from this.

The swaying purulent thorns dripped down the swollen mucus, and in the next moment they attracted the fat worms in the mud of disease, and after these fat writhing beings scrambled to eat, in the midst of the screams of satisfaction and the rotting juice, their bursting bodies turned into a white paper that smelled of decay, and the buzzing swarms of flies poured out of the bone-eating springs, and they dragged up the bleak scroll of paper, and flew all the way, swaggering through the frantically blooming flowers, the festering and rusting roots, and the rickety blessed ones, leaving a juicy mark beside the sullen Great Scientist, dripping all the way to the cage where the Goddess of Pathos is imprisoned.

There, the Lord of Abundance and Filth of Mercy, who had been waiting for a long time, smiled, slowly wiped away the soup that the Goddess vomited, and then, in the midst of the scramble of the most blessed ones who were as fat as a mountain, took up a long pen specially crafted to condense the hymn of thick smoke, viscous spores, and the common wail of seventy-seven decaying worlds, and wrote the letter and sang the invitation.

This master of abundance and filth, who smiles, who rejoices, sighs, who constantly switches roles in unspeakable silence and benevolent pampering, whistling obscure phlegm, wanders uneasily through his dark house surrounded by stinking bushes, and asks the most favored children around him whether the words he writes are of conversation and grace, and walks on the mire with his feet stained with dirt, germs, and stench spore clouds, There was a constant crackling and wet sound.

Eventually, in a series of songs and flatteries, the self-proclaimed merciful god finally wrote this letter with all kinds of encouragement, and in his never-ending sigh of decay and despair, his kindness and bone-like smile crossed the barriers of time and space, and finally left an unforgettable mark of decay in front of Morgan.

It was a kind whisper, it was a benevolent invitation, it was the foul smell of a cauldron of boiling pus as it was stirred, it was the greatest gardener of the void and years sitting in his lovely pile of mud and maggots, beckoning to the ignorant child beyond the distant stars.

He invited, and this invitation was so solemn and merciful, that He invited the Emperor's daughter to come into His garden, to be His child and his darling: although the Emperor's silver-haired daughter seemed to outsiders to have nothing to do with the merciful Father of Plenty, the great heart of the Father was never shaken by the peculiarities and differences of the individual, and He welcomed every darling who could throw himself into His bosom, especially these unique creations created by the Lord of Men, in the presence of those worthy of all kinds of boasting, Every twisted god is unusually greedy.

Especially when he saw that the other two brothers, who were enemies of Him, had poured out so much attention to this creation of the Emperor, especially when he saw that the pointed beak of the Lord of All Variations always swept over the silver hair from time to time, and that the most immature Lady of Darkness was holding her beloved daughter in a corner where no one could notice.

Even in order to gain the most momentary upper hand in the eternal struggle with his blasphemous brother, the Father of Abundance and Filth was glad to invite the silver-haired lady into his garden to become his favorite daughter: He never cared if it would succeed or not, all He wanted to express was that He was going to start another new battlefield of three-way play, and with this weak but obvious gesture, he was telling the other two destructive powers that whatever they wanted to do, the Lord of the Plague would intervene.

This sincere invitation turned into a most heavy meteor, piercing thousands of stars and worlds, and before it all began, it surrounded the Emperor's daughter far away, until she whispered about the power of the god of decay in her brief pleasure and joy, and whispered about one of all things that her father loved and loved, that this invisible invitation turned into a sharp blade, and only then became a reward, staining the vision of the original genome, leaving in her heart a memory that was harmless but indelible.

And when the roars of the other two devastating powers shook the entire subspace, unleashing storms and wars in places beyond the reach of mortals, blinding the pupils of countless unfortunate people, burning the brains of thousands of navigators, and gathering thousands of legions of demons and the unborn to march towards the rotting garden, the loving father who beat the plague cauldron had already left behind a series of slippery laughter, and disappeared behind the brownish-green, fly-ridden sticky cumulus cloud in the distance, His invisible whispers turned into wisps of breeze that swept through the torn soil of the Spider Queen's heart, nourishing a continuous carpet of wriggling fungus across the blue and purple frenzy, until the two bleak hurricanes uprooted them and threw them into the air, tearing them apart with madness and rage, and then tangled in endless resentment, causing a storm to collide in the minds of the genetic protogens.

Pain.

Morgan frowned, she couldn't help but lean back on the throne, tilted her head, covered her forehead, and tried her best to resist the demon god who had not been powerful for a long time, and resist the wild storm from the subspace that gnawed at her reason and emotions.

Fortunately, the torment didn't seem to last long, as the golden sword was swept away by the storm, and a relentless blazing light poured out from the protection and deterrence left by the Lord of Humanity, causing the gift of the power of destruction to let out an unwilling cry and retreat into its own territory.

For a moment, even in the dry emotional wasteland of the Spider Queen, a few drops of rain and dew called gratitude were shed.

But before the smile on the corner of Morgan's mouth really rose, and after forcing the two destructive powers back into their respective territories, the cold light that wanted to go further collapsed the moment it touched the dividing line: even the most dazzling and scorching light, even the brilliance left by the Lord of Mankind, in the final analysis, was only an invisible deterrent, it may allow the evil gods to temporarily retreat, but it will never be able to hurt the tentacles rooted in the hearts of the two destructive powers.

Unless......

Morgan's eyes narrowed, and as the pain that was already somewhat unfamiliar dissipated again, the rationality of the genetic prototype also worked, and she looked into her heart, at the invisible light that slowly dissipated at the edge of the realm of the evil god: for a moment, the Lord of the Second Legion could be sure that those rays were [looking] at herself, silently expressing some kind of harsh rebuke and narration, mercilessly contemplating the curtain she had carefully concealed, revealing the reality that Morgan had been vaguely aware of, but had never been willing to face.

Yes, she had thought about it a long time ago, and she had vaguely speculated that she finally needed a powerful force to fight against the deep-rooted evil god territory in her heart, to repair the spiritual world that had been torn apart for too long.

That was her purpose, wasn't it, though it was so remote and difficult that Morgan was reluctant to face it for a long time, until her casual whispers drew another unintentional gaze, until the successive reactions of the third destructive power helped the Emperor tear off Morgan's veil of cowardice.

Cowardice......

When did she own such a thing?

Was it an accessory to the useless emotions that burst forth with her blood relatives and offspring, one of the many shortcomings she knew but disdained to face, the troublesome thing that her constant emotions were destined to bring?

Similar troubles raged in Morgan's thoughts for a moment, and then he was mercilessly slapped to death, and the Lord of the Second Legion frowned, her eyes and will came to her inner world, trying to meet the golden light that was slowly dissipating.

He was watching her, He was silently mocking and reminding her.

He, the Emperor, was talking to her.

——————

Yes, Morgan had to admit it.

If there is anyone who can help her, if there is anyone who has the strength and means to fight against the wasteland in her heart, then that person can only be the master of the human race, the father she is unwilling to face, but has to admit.

Although, he himself is the creator of Morgan's inner wasteland.

But now, Morgan also has to face and admit that she must rely on the power given by the Lord of Mankind to have any hope of reclaiming all of herself.

And that strength, that hope.

The emperor has already given it to her, hasn't he?

Just wait for her to have enough guts, enough ambition, enough despair, enough madness.

Go to Nirvana and be born.

——————

"My lord? Are you okay? ”

In his ears, Lana's worried words were captured by Morgan's senses, and the Lord of the Second Legion immediately opened his eyes, hiding everything he had just seen in the depths of his memory, and forced himself to face the problems and events of reality again.

[I'm fine, I'm just thinking about something.] 】

"Yes, sir."

"Everybody's here."

【…… Very good. 】

Morgan opened his eyes.

A special bench had been placed in the center of the command hall in advance, and Morgan's throne was at the end of the table, allowing her to get an unobstructed view of every face on either side of the table, which was now surrounded by more than fifty Daybreakers, who were the true core management of the Second Group.

Among them, there were thirty-six company commanders, and more than a dozen other heads of various departments, some of whom wore many hats, but all of them were people whom Morgan had personally examined his resume, abilities, and even his inner soul.

In the initial division of the Dawnbreaker Legion, Morgan had 500 people as a company, the exact number may fluctuate, and the main force of the Second Legion was divided into thirty-six companies, plus a number of secret orders directly under her and various non-combat units, together forming the general structure of the Second Legion, which was still changing.

In the just-concluded Battle of Gladstone, all thirty-six companies participated, and their roles may be different, and the tasks they are responsible for are also different directions and difficulties, but each company and each [faction] have won their mission and honor in this clean war, and they are all undoubtedly part of this war: this is the result of the special planning of the genetic protoplasm.

The Lord of the Second Legion glanced at everyone present: from Bayard to Cortés, from Diarmuid to Hecht, each of them had a cruel smile on their faces, the aftermath of war and victory, not yet swallowed up by the time of peace.

She smiled.

[You have done a good job, children, my warriors, you have done a very good job, Gladstone has fallen at the feet of the Empire, and its most valuable assets, the tens of billions of people and the heavy industrial base, have also been preserved in this war, and can serve the Empire of mankind as quickly as possible. 】

With a wave of his hand, a huge projection of a planet appeared in front of everyone in the blink of an eye, it was the main star of Gladstone that had just been captured: smoky, gloomy clouds, a dozen scrap metal space stations were powerlessly piled up in low-earth orbit, and in those distant desert areas, you could see the ruins of large areas ravaged by war.

On the other hand, in those vital industrial areas and nest capitals, there is not much smoke of war, only a few buildings are burning, indicating that the Second Army has successfully come.

[We've done a great job, haven't we? 】

Accompanied by the laughter of the original body, pride and lightness appeared on everyone's faces.

[But ......]

Morgan shifted gears.

[Nevertheless, my children, I hope that you will not be proud, that you will not lie on this book of departed merits, and I hope that each of you will know that this war has been within our calculations and planning from the very beginning, and that although it has been hard, there is no more suspense. 】

[In this war, I threw all the power that the Legion has. It has even reached a point where it can be called luxury and waste. 】

[But even so, I dare not call this war a perfect victory, we still made some mistakes, although these mistakes seem insignificant, but they can still bring us some precious vigilance, so I have gathered you here to review the victory we have achieved together. 】

This is your victory and my victory, although our purposes may be slightly different, but we have achieved them. 】

[What you desire is victory and honor, a hearty first battle under the command of the genetic protogen, and there is no doubt that you have done it, with your courage and glory. 】

[And what I longed for......]

[I always said that from the beginning I had no more desire for victory and glory, and when I wrote the first pen of this plan, I was thinking about how to reduce the casualties of my heirs in this battle, and how to make more Dawnbreakers alive on the bridge. 】

[Obviously, I also succeeded.] 】

[Gladstone has fallen, and I have lost less than a hundred.] 】

For me, this is success, and this is the success that makes me feel more joy and glory than conquering any world. 】

[So now, let me, the mother of successful genes, show off to you how I got this success.] 】

Joyful laughter rang out from both sides of the long table, and Morgan looked at the huge projection in the center of the table.

Where to start? 】

[Just from ...... Let's start with the xenomorph slaughter. 】

(End of chapter)