"Our brothers...... It's weird, isn't it? ”

"I felt in him a strange aura, an indifferent tragedy, that brought tears to my eyes, but it was neither Hamlet nor Macbeth, but a much more ...... Rude feeling. ”

Standing condescendingly on the crumbling tower, Fogham hesitated for a few seconds, carefully avoiding the railings that had not been scrubbed for an unknown amount of time, before turning his head and looking at his blood relatives with serious and confused eyes.

Beneath the fingertips of the Chemos Phoenix lies the city of Quintus, the heart of the reign of the Midnight Wraith, filled with a torrent of dead silence as tens of thousands of Nostramos cast their heads down in the quietest procession leading to the adamantite factories that devoured them, continuing their eternal daily work.

"Something isn't quite right in the world, guys."

Chemos Phoenix's brow furrowed at the weak sun above his head and the oppressive stench of smoke, writing the dissatisfaction and disgust in the heart of the genetic protogen, he quickly left his place and returned to his blood relatives, and behind them, the vast confession ceremony had just ended, and the Astarte warriors and Nostramo bureaucrats left in silence, leaving the noblest to have the glory of listening to the Emperor's words.

"I think it's okay, except that the problems caused by industrial development don't seem to be paid enough attention, the world is pretty good, quiet and busy, well-organized, and it's a qualified industrial world."

As always, it was his Gorgon, the first to answer Vogrim, the two brilliant brothers at the heart of the five genetic primitives, flanked by the silent rock, the smiling apostle, and the recently returned, rather jerky Lord of the Far Eastern Frontier.

The faces of each of the genotypes were not too good, for what they saw was far less chaotic than they could have imagined, but it also revealed an indescribably oppressive sense, and the lord of the Whisperers had quietly lowered his head and begun to pray for the ruined kingdom for the gospel of the Emperor, while Dorne turned his gaze to the oldest and tallest buildings, his already solemn complexion darkened with each sight of a rusty wall.

As for the Genetic Mother of the Second Legion, her gaze was focused on something else interesting: Morgan's will drifted with the slight movement of her pupils, curiously gazing at the Nostramo magnates scattered in the dreary stream of people, and soon smacking her tongue at the darkness of the soul she saw.

"Come less, Ferus."

Fogen walked back to his brother's side, arrogantly raising his jaw, defending his point and authority.

"Having ruled a truly industrial world and brought it from the brink of death to a thriving world, I know very well what an industrial world should look like, especially on a marginal planet like Nostramo, which has a clear innate advantage."

"Let me tell you, I thought I would see a chaotic, rich, and crazy world, where a very small ruling class dominates the majority of voices with their extravagance, and what is happening before our eyes, though it will anger any righteous man, will be undeniably deformed prosperity."

"But the reality is contrary to my imagination and experience, look in front of us, although the world has its own prosperity, has its own career, and even has enough comfort to make people feel stable, but it is silent, but it is terrible silent, those wide roads do not have a single roaring engine, thousands of neon lights and billboards are all over every corner of the city, enough to show that they were once prosperous, but now, they are just a piece of obscure screen."

"They're quiet, everything is very quiet, but it's definitely not a long tradition or a valuable consensus, because I don't see that on the faces of those people."

"This quietness...... It's more like a kind of breath-holding gaze under the fangs. ”

"I'm not sure what's going on with the world, my brothers, but I'm pretty sure that the changes it has undergone won't be entirely good."

The Phoenician's face was serious, and his words had succeeded in attracting the attention of all his blood relatives, but there was no real response to answer his concerns, and the few genetic protogens present either had no idea what to do with such a dead silence, or did not care at all about such a remote world.

Eventually, Ferus took a step forward, walked over to Fogham's side, and gently patted him on the shoulder, revealing a grinning smile.

"Don't worry so much, Phoenix."

"This is our brother's world, he is the king here, and the inhabitants of this place are also submitting to his rule, all this is obvious, since Conrad would choose to create his home planet in this way, it shows that there must be a reason and a point of view in it."

"Just as I left Medusa to keep the tribal strife, the situation is different in every world, and the problems we see may not be able to shake the foundation of Conrad's rule here."

“…… I hope so. ”

The Phoenician snorted, his eyes drifting to the midnight ghost standing beside the emperor and not speaking again, his pupils radiating genuine concern and care.

"But our brother doesn't seem to be a real king, he's more like a statue of a god who awes all directions, and I'm worried about whether he has been really educated to understand the meaning of rule and development."

"You seem to care about that?"

Gorgon's soft whisper brought Vogrim back to his senses, and he raised his head, gave a meaningful smile, gently clasped the hard armor from the bottom of Ferrus's neck, and whispered in Gorgon's ear.

"Does that make you jealous?"

"I'm not that stingy."

"Come on, look at the fire burning in your chest, hotter than your forge."

"I've always been like this, Phoenix, I've always been like this."

"Yes, I know, this is also my favorite thing about you, after all, the phoenix is always attracted to the flames, even if the presence in the flames is the terrible Gorgon."

"Do you regret it?"

"If I answer [sometimes], will your flame be even more intense?"

Whispers and laughter echoed in the lips and ears of the two Genotypes, leaking small fragments that flowed into the ears of the other Protoxes with a foul-smelling breeze, and the Whisperer and the owner of the Imperial Fist seemed to be accustomed to this, while the other poor Mother of the Dawnbreaker couldn't help but dilate her pupils.

⊙ω⊙

Morgan blinked: her soul had just been shocked by the high [average literacy] of the Nostramo people, and she turned her head to see this scene created by two blood relatives, which shocked her even more.

And just as the Lord of the Second Legion was a little stunned to witness the two blood relatives who were clinging to each other, one of her shoulders was patted: it was Luo Jia.

The Lord of the Whisperers had a gentle smile that had remained unchanged for almost ten thousand years, and he had just finished praying for Nostramo, and he had obviously seen it, but he had long since been unfazed, and he could even shake his head slowly at his new blood relative, telling her that there was no need to be so surprised.

"Our brothers, Vogrim and Ferrus, have always been like this, and this is just a way of expressing their friendship, a blessing from the Emperor."

【……】

Does the emperor bless this too?

On the other side, Dorne's gaze, though not moving or disingenuous, clearly conveys the same meaning: no need to be surprised by such a trivial matter.

【……】

I don't know why, compared to the amazing performances of Fogham and Ferrus, the posture of Roga, Dorne, and even the Lord of Mankind not far away, which has long been commonplace, has plunged Morgan's heart into a deeper shock.

Thankfully, the shock didn't last long, as the Lord of Humanity moved his own pace, and Phoenix and Gorgon soon separated, and Fogrem joined his brothers while casting a glittering gaze at the Lord of the Second Legion.

"Will your legion come and take over Nostramo? Morgan? ”

【…… Take over? 】

"Yes, for the time being."

[But this is Coz's home planet.] 】

"For a short time, it doesn't look like our brothers are going to go it alone."

Fogrem winked at his new sister, composing some of the default rules between the Emperor and the Protogen.

"Didn't you notice that the Eighth Legion was not with us, and none of us received any news of their assembly, which means that the Emperor does not want to hand over the Eighth Legion to Koz for a short time."

[Why?] 】

"Because our brothers need time to adapt and learn."

Ferus picked up the conversation, and in his deep voice, several of the genetic protogens began to walk together towards the Storm Bird, and the Lord of Humanity was the first to take the Midnight Wraith with him, who needed a full physical examination of his new offspring.

"Almost every genogen will go through a period of learning after their return to adapt to life in the Void, whether that learning is on the Emperor, or by the side of a brother, and of course, the best is in the ......"

"Holy Terra." ”

Fogham and Ferus spoke the answer with a heart, winking at each other and chuckling as they recalled their chance encounter at the foot of the Urals.

This time, Morgan found that she had put on an expression that was no different from Luo Jia, and the Lord of the Second Legion couldn't help but secretly rejoice in his efficient learning ability.

[Does every genoplasm go through such a period of time?] 】

"Mostly, after all, even we can't adapt to the Void and the Great Expedition in an instant, there will always be a buffer period: for example, you, Morgan, haven't you been studying by Johnson's side for more than ten years?"

【…… Oh, yes. 】

So that's learning?

How could she not think so.

[So, by whose side will Conrad study?] 】

"Either the emperor or one of us, I hope it's me."

Fogrem smiled and patted Ferus on his shoulder armor for comfort, and then, as the progenitors finally walked up to Stormbird, Phoenix turned his head and asked Morgan the first question.

"So, you haven't answered that question of mine yet, Morgan: will your legion come and take over Nostramo?"

Morgan thought for a moment, only for a moment, and then shook his head.

As you can see, Conrad seems to be very proud of his governance and does not need any of us to intervene. 】

"But this doesn't seem to be far from your Avalon Federation, it's very close."

[This is not a proper reason, Fogream, I have no authority to send my own troops and officials to the home planet of another blood brother, unless there is an order from the Emperor. 】

Besides, I'm not that interested.

Morgan mentally added.

As a grandmaster who has traveled far in terms of souls, although several of the genetic protogens present are vaguely aware of Nostramo's strange situation, no one can know as well as Morgan how bad the world really is.

There are countless malevolent souls in this land of pure gold, and the fangs of the Midnight Spirits have not extinguished them at all, but only to silence them for a while, waiting for a suitable opportunity.

But now, here's the opportunity: the Midnight Ghost has left the world he sees as redeemed with confidence, without his fangs and brutality, and Nostramo will return to depravity at a speed unimaginable to anyone, not a fertile ground of high value, but a pot of boiling soup that is about to explode.

How could the rational and shrewd Spider Empress be interested in such a world, let her brother who has been impolite return here one day in the future and swallow the bitter fruit.

As for the rest, she didn't care, the only value of Nostramo was its pure gold, and the Far Eastern frontier was not short of this precious metal.

On the surface, of course, Morgan still had a serious gesture of loyalty, which made several of her brothers nod in satisfaction, treating them as their own kind.

"The expected answer, Morgan, is also the correct answer."

Phoenix patted her sister on the shoulder, smiled, and spat out a whisper that bordered on her own.

"Unlike some of the Otramar ......"

——————

How do you feel your blood brothers, Conrad? You will have to fight side by side for a long time, each of you to play your own value. 】

The Lord of Humanity led his Nostramo Descendants into a blink of desolation in the midst of golden splendor, and with a wave of his hand, the Emperor summoned a large number of scientific instruments that the Midnight Wraith did not know at all, and while maintaining spiritual communication with his heirs, he frowned at Conrad's long list of body reports.

The Midnight Wraith curled up, out of place as the most stubborn piece of filth in the clean, sterile room, the Night Lord obeyed the Emperor's words and performed all kinds of physical examinations, but always kept his words in a gesture of gold.

It wasn't until a few moments later that a weak answer from Coetz was captured by the will of the Lord of Humanity.

"I see the future for most of them, father, and that's not rosy."

[The future is not important, my Conrad, don't be bothered by it.] 】

The Emperor replied to his son with a smile, and since his light was enough to suppress the wanton prophecies, the Midnight Ghost, who was temporarily lacking evidence, did not rush to refute it, but kept his quiet, constantly searching for shadowy corners of the room, thinking of ways to burrow into them as quickly as possible.

Of course, at the same time, he was really thinking seriously about the question that came from the Lord of Mankind: his blood relatives, his genetic kindred.

Midnight Ghost's first thought was the silver-haired figure, and he glanced at the human lord who was busy with various reagents, trying to express his meaning, but quickly reined in his thoughts.

Of all the blood relatives he had seen, the creature named Morgan was undoubtedly the most impressive, and although the Midnight Ghost saw a truly warm glow in Fogham's pupils and the darkest madness in Roga's background, all the light and madness were eclipsed by the moment Morgan walked into his field of vision.

Morgan, his blood relative, she was definitely not a living person.

Although such words had been pointed out as offensive by the Emperor, deep down in the heart of the Midnight Wraith, he believed in his judgment and prophecy, especially when his heart and pupils saw the same thing.

Morgan was dead, and he was so sure of that, because he saw the moment of her death clearly, and could even depict every detail and experience in detail, and could clearly dictate the most terrible of catastrophes.

——————

At the end of the so-called Second Randan War, just as the legions of the Human Empire were united and were about to deliver the final blow to the strongest enemy of the Great Expedition, a silent threat began to emerge on the front of the Human Empire, destroying the results of countless generations and blood in just a few months.

Countless worlds that have been purified have begun to burn again, countless fleets that rushed to the front line have disappeared inexplicably, and the final blow to the powerful enemy of Randan has turned into a blank self-care in just a few months, and the aliens have been able to escape back into their extraterritorial darkness, because a more powerful opponent, an unprecedented betrayer, has replaced the former majestic Randan Empire, and has become the most terrible enemy of the empire and even mankind.

The most angry and harsh orders came from the mouth of the Lord of Mankind, the most terrible weapons on Mars were taken, and the sons of the lions and the wild wolves gathered under the command of the Emperor to rush to the starry sky that had suddenly fallen into chaos, and together to destroy the traitors and legions who had been condemned to be doomed.

Morgan, the Emperor's daughter, the third returning Genotype, the Lord and Queen of the Second Legion, has been the hero of the Great Expedition for decades: she has proven to be a traitor, one of the most feared adversaries of the Human Empire, she has devoured the Far East and most of the northern galaxy, and has a blasphemous power worthy of Holy Terra, and tens of millions of worlds and expeditionary fleets are eager to swear allegiance to her, no matter how loyal they were to the Emperor.

The armies of the Lord of Humanity did not hesitate to run over the traitors' territory, and the Eleventh Legion was the undisputed vanguard, and while their genetic protogens had not yet returned, they were powerful enough to plow bloody passages in Morgan's desecrated soil.

The Eleventh Legion triumphed and attacked ferociously: until they plunged headlong into the Far Eastern frontier and lost all news in an instant, the hundreds of thousands of Astarte warriors evaporated so silently that even the Emperor could not be sure of their fate.

Panic began to spread, and expansion to the east and north of the galaxy was urgently halted, as the imperial world there was falling into the arms of the traitors at an unimaginable rate, and Divine Terra hastily declared victory in the Second Randan War, and over the next decade gathered an unimaginable force to launch the Third Randan War.

Of course, only those who are truly involved in the war will know that in the face of the great power of the Lord of Mankind, Ran Dan has long been crushed like crumbs, and the real enemy has become the Second Primordial and her legion that have been completely wiped out by the Emperor's order: for more and more terrible deeds have proved that the worlds that were once reclaimed by the Second Legion in the Great Expedition, or the expeditionary fleets that are familiar with Morgan's deeds, are desperately flocking to the land of the betrayers, becoming Morgan's most crazy minions.

The fear caused by this phenomenon reached its peak at the moment when the Second Legion appeared, especially since this group of traitors carried not only a large number of renegade auxiliaries, but also an even more formidable ally: the Eleventh Legion of Astarte, which had also turned their backs on the Lord of Humanity and swore allegiance to Morgan.

The Dark Angels suffered huge losses from the two rebel legions, and the 10,000 best Inner Ring veterans died to cover the Legion's withdrawal, but their noble sacrifice was exchanged for the most terrible tragedy: when the Space Wolves arrived as reinforcements, they found 10,000 Dark Angels who looked like the walking dead as their opponents.

And while all this fear and blasphemy is happening, the Lord of Humanity and his Palm Seals are searching the wreckage of an ancient world for the source of the traitor's power, and they soon discover a great relic millions of years old, owned by the last of the Old Sages, and all the heritage of this great Creator race has been ransacked by a silver-haired thief, leaving behind a strange shell that resembles a mixture of jellyfish and spiders.

The Lord of Humanity recognizes these empty shells, they belong to a terrible subspace creature [Enslaver], the subspace catastrophe that legend has given the Old Saint the final blow, and he soon discovers another thing: all the enslavers in this world have died miserably, and all their psionic powers and means of enslaving other species have been greedily devoured, and the number of deaths is ...... It was enough to make the emperor frightened.

Obviously, when the war in Randan was in full swing, someone came to the last refuge of this ancient saint, took the last bit of the creator's inheritance, and used it as a trap to attract countless subspace creatures that would eventually be devoured by her.

And the Enslaver, the subspace creature that has given the final blow to the Old Saint and swept through the galaxy, has apparently become the only entrée of a mad feast in this world: as for how far the gluttonous guest will be twisted, strengthened, and crazy after feasting on tens of thousands of Slavers and other subspace creatures, it is far beyond the Emperor's expectations.

The more terrifying details discovered by the Lord of Humanity even broke Conrad's cognition, and all he saw in his prophecy was the so-called Third Randan War, and where he could not see clearly, he could barely hear the exclamation and horror of the power of destruction in the storm.

Under the onslaught of the human empire at all costs, the kingdom of the betrayer gradually withered to the north of the galaxy, but the price of this victory is unimaginable: the battle with Morgan's minions is the most terrible chronic suicide, if you can't achieve victory before your own spirit is dragged down, and quickly implement the corresponding amnestic surgery, then even the most powerful Astarte warriors will become puppets of the betrayer without resistance, at least 20,000 dark angels have become such tragedies, and in those [ Unbeknownst to them, they were completely flattened by the extinction order issued by the Father of Genes.

Countless fallen worlds have been exterminated under such a mortal threat, countless mortal auxiliaries, expeditionary fleets and even the Titan Legion have fallen victim to dragging the battle line without knowing it, and finally collectively annihilated, and those who did not participate in the war, even those genetic prototypes on the other side of the galaxy, have been completely erased from all memories of the betrayers, and they don't even know what the dark angels are doing in the north of the galaxy.

Thus, in the decades that followed, apocalyptic wars spanned the northwestern part of the galaxy, the northern part of the empire was on the brink of destruction, the Eleventh Legion was crushed alive by the Iron Horsemen of the Dark Angels in its desperate allegiance to Morgan, and the remaining genetic seeds were used to create a new Eleventh Legion.

It wasn't until the tenth year of the war that the Dark Angel and the Space Wolf captured the whereabouts of their betrayer's blood relatives in an unintentional operation, and the two genetic primitives did not even have time to call upon the Emperor's power before they did anything to prepare to die with this terrible traitor.

This terrible war of annihilation completely destroyed a galaxy, and the First Legion used all their hole cards, as well as a full 50,000 soldiers who looked at death as home, and the same sacrifice from the space wolves, to send two genetic prototypes to Morgan to kill each other.

Eventually, when the Lord of Humanity arrived as fast as he could, he saw Johnson and Riemanruth on the verge of collapse, each holding a heart from Morgan, and the galaxy itself, which was the battlefield, had been erased from time and space in front of the secret weapon of the Dark Angel.

At the time, everyone thought the war was over.

It wasn't until a dozen years later that the Eleventh Primordial returned to the Empire and was reunited with his legion, and his somewhat strange behavior soon aroused the Palm Sealer's doctrine, and under the constant probing of the Emperor's loyal servants, he discovered a most terrible secret.

The secret involved Morgan, who was theoretically long dead, and the terrible ambition to shake the human empire: in the end, the Eleventh Legion and their primordial bodies were exterminated for no reason by the forcible orders of the Lord of Humanity, and when their last warrior fell, everyone heard the whisper of Morgan.

Morgan died.

Morgan won't die.

She will return, and when more people whisper about her presence, she will return to the galaxy.

At that time, even the emperor will not be able to stop her.

Because she already has her own seat, she and them are already equal people.

——————

Coetzes blinked.

That's what he's seeing, that's what he's witnessed, what had happened when Morgan's figure flickered in his pupils.

But now, all of this was ridiculously crushed, and his blood relatives, long hidden in the void, stood before him, smiling insincerely, and all around him were indifferent to the abominable creature, even treating it as a true kind.

A bunch of idiots, they can't see what kind of thing is standing in front of them.

But Coetzes saw it.

He saw it really.

He saw what the Emperor's daughter, the blood relatives of the Genetic Prototype, and the Mother of Genes in the mouth of the silver-armored Astarte warriors really looked like, and he saw the corpses in the tomb crawl out, covered in a cold human skin, and just stand in front of him, smiling at him.

They say she's human.

No, she's not.

She's definitely not.

[You seem to be uneasy about some of your blood relatives, Conrad. 】

In the dead silence, the Lord of Humanity slowly turned his head, he caught some of the fluctuations in the child's heart, and felt a little emotion for it.

The Midnight Ghost didn't answer, for he was reminiscing, recalling the moment Morgan walked into his eyes, recalling what the living dead named Morgan looked like in his eyes.

——————

She's not human.

It's literal.

Morgan, not people.

She was a statue, a snow-white creature that had been shattered, a statue of the Virgin Mary who had been smashed with her lower body and limbs smashed, mottled blood all over her body, and where it was originally a pupil, there was only a series of hideous compound eyes like spiders, no eyeballs, leaving dozens of flesh and blood hollows, and the place that was originally lips and teeth was empty, only panicked whiteness.

Her arms were broken, both gentle and steely, and her forearms were gone, replaced by the corrupt olive vine that connected her elbow to her wrist, and her hands clutched two rusty objects, a balance that was eternally biased, light on one side and blood on the other, and on the other hand a blade made of human skin and bone, releasing a lingering musty smell.

She was dressed in a tattered snow-white robe, how delicate her face was, how terrifying her body was, and where those robes could not hide, there were white bones full of howling souls, all the way to the raging fire under her feet, to a piece of flesh that was not worn out and grew, but could only be tortured permanently.

Morgan had no legs, she stood above all the pain out of thin air, navigating a nightmare that would never wake up, and where her pale robe dragged on, there were foundations made of tears, and an inexhaustible supply of sharp daggers that could only be used for the atrocities of the Assassins, and one of which happened to rest next to Morgan's neck.

This is Morgan.

It's the Midnight Ghost's eyes, the appearance of his blood relatives.

He only remembered for a second, and then he quickly opened his eyes, unwilling to recall the disgusting appearance, and at the same time as he heard the ever-busy Father of Genes speak to him in a relaxed, but unquestionable voice.

[Conrad-Coetze, my child.] 】

"I'm going to tell you something. 】

[Actually, long before I came to pick you up, I arranged the most suitable mentor for you among your blood relatives......]

(End of chapter)