The meeting continues.

The atmosphere was a bit sullen.

Someone forced a smile.

Someone was distracted in a daze.

——————

Conrad was naturally the one in charge of the daze, and he was doing his best to perform this great work, making his breath faint enough to be the perfect backdrop for the two Legion Lords to discuss with each other.

It was not as simple a job as it seemed: among other things, in Conrad's eyes, it would be unimaginably terrible torture to keep his boredom and impulses to hold back his boredom and impulses and remain in this dull and serious conference room.

The thought that he could endure this kind of almost eternal and endless suffering that had been piled up with time and documents for the sake of his dear blood brothers, Conrad was even moved to tears.

For that alone, Midnight Ghost felt like a great man.

……

That's exactly what he thought.

……

However, from another point of view, this is actually not a difficult job, because at this moment, not even one of the other four pairs of pupils in the room is paying attention to him: although the two cronies of the genetic protogens are standing not far behind the Midnight Spirit, their energy and attention are almost entirely focused on the two Legion Lords.

More specifically, it focuses on the genetic protogens of the Dark Angel Legion.

However, the two equally anxious glances at Johnson had some obvious differences: Coswayne's gaze was a tense and tense gaze, which seemed ready to take a step forward at any moment, and then unreasonably interrupt the primitives' conversation, so as not to spit out any more words from the lion's mouth.

Compared to the simplicity of the gaze in the pupils of the Lion King's chief steward, the gaze emanating from the chief old guard on the side was a kind of soldier that even interested the Midnight Ghost, and if combined with the slight grinding of steel in his palm, the creaking sound was enough to make the Nostramo people feel a certain musical enjoyment.

However, the performance of these two original acolytes was only a side dish to accompany the meal, and what really allowed Midnight Ghost to survive this difficult time was his two blood brothers and the slightest change in expression on their faces.

These almost imperceptible strange movements, more brilliant than Wagner's operas, more fascinating than the tragedies of Aeschylus, make the midnight ghost deeply enchanted and enchanted.

He even wanted to be a part of it.

He can certainly join in on this.

After all, while his Caliban brothers had perfectly regarded the Midnight Wraith as a filthy air and didn't want to deal with it at all, on the other side of the table, the Lord of the Second Legion understood the value of unity: even if he didn't expect Conrad to speak in any way, at the end of every issue, Midnight Wraith would be questioned by the Spider Queen.

[Do you think there's anything else you need to add to this issue, Conrad?] 】

Another inquiry rang out, and Midnight Wraith's attention was focused on the face of his Caliban blood relative, but he didn't forget to grin and spat out a normal-sounding reply from his throat.

"Ah...... Not really. ”

Morgan nodded, and then began to look at the next topic: in front of outsiders, or in any public place, the Lord of the Second Legion is trying to maintain the power and status of the Midnight Ghost as a genetic protogen, although Conrad himself no longer cares about this, and the Spider Queen never expected to get any constructive response, but this process must exist and cannot be erased.

Even the Midnight Ghost knew what Morgan was doing it for: although he still thought it was a worthless move, the dross part of Procedural Justice, he had long since learned to remain silent.

And in Conrad's eyes now, his Caliban blood relatives are much more interesting than these boring superficial pomp: especially when the Midnight Wraith discovers from the lion's seemingly unintentional glance that the Lord of the Dark Angels actually doesn't hate him as much as he seems, a burning fire of knowledge completely consumes the Nostramos.

In the ensuing meeting of Terra-Standard Time, the Midnight Wraith's gaze was almost glued to the Caliban, and he devoted all his energy to the sacred cause, digging with interest from between the lion's slightly quibbling eyebrows and lips for the little secrets that opened his eyes.

Some secrets are easy to discover: for example, when Morgan, who unknowingly took over the right to speak in this meeting, began to shift the focus of the discussion to the [logistics supply] aspect, the lion, who originally had a serious face, suddenly became a little restless.

Although Johnson's face still looked so sad and joyless, in the fierce gaze of the Midnight Ghost, it was easy to find the clue: if before this, the face of the Lord of Caliban was an immortal ice lake that had existed for 10,000 years, and would only dissolve slightly for the sake of lucky people like Morgan and Coswayne, then when the topic gradually shifted to [Legion's Internal Affairs], this ice lake also entered the scorching summer.

Beneath the semblance of seriousness, there were already dazed murmurs: Conrad could even swear that if he had put his ear to Johnson's head now, he might have heard the sound of the spring flowing.

The Lord of the Second Legion on the side didn't seem to notice, or she was used to the situation, and continued to talk eloquently: although Conrad could understand every word of these words about logistics, but he couldn't understand every word, but when he saw that Johnson on the other side was in exactly the same state as him, Midnight Ghost felt a subtle sense of pride.

At the same time, in his heart, he became more and more convinced of the reality that Johnson was his kind: but the cannibalism between his kind, often more bloody and crazy, was also a reality.

But before Conrad could linger for a second in his heart, he was squeezed out by a new question: when the Midnight Ghost came to his senses and jumped his gaze back and forth between Johnson and Morgan, he suddenly felt as if he had thought of something.

At this moment, he began to think.

He thought about it: not long ago, when the Lord of the Dark Angels had uttered that shocking remark that was enough to make the two Brotherhood Legions turn their faces in an instant, when Lana's longsword was almost unsheathed, when he Conrad was in a real stunned state, his gaze caught another scene.

On the other side of the table, opposite the Lord of the Dark Angels, Queen Avalon, who had been [humiliated] by Johnson's seriousness, instinctively frowned at the first moment of hearing these words: then, her frowning brows were quickly smoothed out, and even those blue pupils did not have time to ignite even an inch of anger, and then they returned to indifference and indifference.

The Spider Empress actually calmed down at that moment, or rather, she didn't feel angry at all: on the contrary, the Midnight Ghost could clearly see that in Morgan's pupils, there were actually a few traces of chaotic colors, and a few of them could be understood as memories and nostalgia, and even some kind of "sure enough] emotion.

Then, in Coswayne's relieved eyes that almost shed tears, in Lana's gritted teeth and stunned patience, and in the fact that the Lord of Caliban looked at the pause in front of him, feeling a little dazed, and his face was full of doubts about "what are you doing", the Spider Queen had already picked up a document and continued the conversation between the primordials without changing her face.

She didn't [report] to Johnson about the situation of her legion, but chose a topic at random: under a sense of crisis that was almost beastly instinctive, the lion's words shrank back between his lips and teeth, and he didn't choose to get to the bottom of it, and the two sides were so at peace.

Thinking of this, Midnight Ghost couldn't help but smack his lips, a little unwilling: obviously when he made those smaller mistakes, such as painting the silver-white statues of competitive victors in the Dawnbreaker Legion Arena into a beautiful dark blue, his carrion blood relative would never be so patient, even if his debate was successful, she would have directly started it.

Look at the present: what a standard of unfair treatment.

Conrad sighed in hindsight that he had not been able to complain about this obvious double standard in the first place, because Johnson's words shocked not only the two Primordial Acolytes, but also the Midnight Ghost who had never seen the world.

For a moment, the Nostramo man even had a sense of crisis: wasn't he the craziest of the genotypes?

Why can't he say this kind of rightful but rich golden and jade words, why didn't his father give him such a great talent?

It's frustrating.

Conrad's long tongue licked his teeth slowly, and although his mouth was now completely closed, it still puffed up a moving hill around his lips: the Lord of the Dark Angels, who had inadvertently glanced at him, frowned for a moment to fit a lock.

Midnight Ghost returned the favor with a huge smile written on his face: it successfully repelled the Caliban's lord's gaze, allowing Conrad to continue his quiet thoughts about his two blood relatives.

And it turns out that as the bloodline of the Lord of Humanity, as long as he is willing to use his brain, Midnight Ghost can still think at a considerable speed: when his gaze once again goes back and forth between Johnson and Morgan, Conrad feels that he has been able to grasp the keyword.

Between Morgan and Johnson, his two blood relatives, there seems to be something that is invisible, intangible, but real...... Tacit understanding?

Tacit understanding is not the kind of heart that is born with linkage, but a more thick and vulgar, more calm and realistic, and even mixed with a little bit of blood: tacit understanding.

Conrad clearly recognized the existence of this tacit understanding: because they were so conspicuous that the Spider Empress silently endured the arrogance of the Lord of Caliban, or the quick response that the lion would not even check when she picked up the vital data and talked briskly, seemed to indicate that this tacit understanding really existed.

At first, the discussion between the two Legion Lords seemed a little stiff, the estrangement created by the forces of time and space: but after they had discussed it for a while, and regained that feeling, even the brief pause between each two issues was coldly compressed to the point of near nothing, and the two efficient processing machines once again pieced together their gears, quickly destroying all the detriments that dragged on the war.

The Spider Empress had just confirmed the ownership of one document, and before she even had time to pick up the second one, the Lord of Caliban seemed to know which one she would choose: Midnight Ghost even saw with his own eyes, Morgan just picked one of the documents, and simply spit out a few seemingly unrelated keywords and data, and Johnson quickly nodded in agreement.

So, another item passed: it was so fast that even the midnight ghosts on the side had not had time to react, and the Wenshan Wenhai, who in his eyes was enough to spend seven or eight Terra standard hours to deal with, seemed to be unable to last more than two hours in the increasingly rapid and concise questions and answers of the two genetic protogens.

“……”

Conrad watched.

Conrad was silent.

Conrad pondered.

Eventually, when the Spider Empress picked up the papers, and the afterimage was almost visible in his eyes, Midnight Ghost finally let out a long sigh in his heart: this emotion was just a string of meaningless noises, but he could also hear that the owner of the voice was in a bad mood.

The feeling that the Nostramo was excluded from some invisible circle, but who had no way to get in, couldn't help but feel a little angry: Conrad was able to accept that he was not included in the system, but only when he actively tried to escape from the rules of the system, and once he found himself passively banished.

His mood wouldn't be too good.

“……”

No way.

He had to do something.

Midnight Ghost blinked, confirming that.

There was no doubt that there was something tacit between his two blood relatives that he didn't know before, and now he wanted to squeeze in: frankly, it didn't do him any good, but he just wanted to.

He willingly.

After all, whether he wants to stay in these circles or not is his own freedom, but whether there is a place for him in these circles is another serious matter worth fighting for.

Rights can be voluntarily waived, but they must not be passively denied.

Over the years of non-stop cramming, Conrad had learned this phrase: there were countless other words that he did not like, but had to remember and even understand.

And now, he knew, he needed to fight for his rights: it was destined to be an inexplicable war, a war that made his image of madness more solid, a war that would not cost more than it would lose.

But he was willing.

Thinking of this, a long-lost excitement and pride began to appear in the dead heart of the Midnight Ghost, and he subconsciously began to look for those targets who declared war: the deep pupils from Nostramo, as a matter of course, were the first to look at the Spider Empress at his side, and his enthusiastic gaze even made the cold report temporarily extinguished.

[What's the matter, Conrad?] 】

“……”

"No, no, you go on."

Instinctively, the Midnight Ghost coughed dryly, and the indifferent blue-blue pupils moved back: it was only at this moment that the throbbing in the heart quietly dissipated.

“……”

Conrad lowered his head and thought about it seriously: first of all, he knew that he was definitely not afraid to challenge Morgan, he just didn't want to continue the uninspired mission goal of the Spider Queen.

The explanation was justified and plausible: he was convinced in an instant.

So......

Quietly, like the eyes of a wolf looking at its prey in the low bushes, it came from Nostramo's gaze, and was quietly placed on the countenance of Caliban across the discussion table.

It's up to you.

Midnight Ghost laughed, and deep down in his heart, he realized that he was eager to fight his fellow beast brother for a confrontation that wouldn't let things get completely out of hand.

It would be a beast-to-beast bite.

It's going to be a battle between a madman and a brute.

Conrad knew he was going to be crazy: he had to go crazy.

——————

After all: a madman.

But the business card he has carefully created for himself.

——————

【……】

There seemed to be an unsettling, low, laugh in her ears.

Taking advantage of the time to slow down and pick up the next document, the Spider Empress, who had already entered the working state, glanced at Conrad's position with her indifferent pupils: when she saw that her Nostramo blood relatives were still sitting honestly in their chairs, looking at Johnson deeply, Morgan just blinked and returned to his work.

She knew very well that Conrad would never be honest: but since there was something more important now, it would be enough for him to keep this pre-demon state of momentum enough to satisfy the Lord of Avalon.

In the future, it will be left to her in the future to have a headache: by the way, after returning to the [Dawning Goddess], she still has to remember that she has to teach Conrad a special lesson, and his performance this visit can be described as a shame for her.

Thinking of this, the Spider Empress frowned imperceptibly, she looked up at the Lord of Caliban on the other side of the table, and the part of her dissatisfaction with Conrad in her heart slowly piled up on Johnson's body.

Others may not see it, but Morgan has a clear mind: before about thirteen topics, the Lord of Caliban slowly fell into a state of slackness, and he no longer struggled to keep up with Morgan's thoughts, but fell into a state of laziness that simply responded and nodded at everything Morgan said.

Especially when the focus of the discussion gradually shifted to the supplies brought by the Dawnbreaker Legion and the subsequent preparation of supplies, although Johnson's face was still serious, the Spider Empress, who had worked with him for more than ten years, could see at a glance: this guy's mind had probably run to Shangri-La.

Instead, Coswayne behind her was pricking up his ears at this time, trying to record the data in Morgan's mouth in his heart, whether he still had to look at his father of genes, whose energy was obviously beginning to become unfocused, with concern.

Seeing the Lion King's gaze shuttling back and forth between these two directions, he didn't dare to stop even the slightest, and even the sullen chief old guard on the side couldn't help but dissipate a few wisps of anger in his heart, and sighed in vain for the hard work of this fighting brother.

Thankfully, that wasn't his genetic father.

Lana smiled in his heart: You know, when Morgan had not yet returned, and Johnson was still the commander of the Second Randan War, Lana, who was just an ordinary veteran at that time, actually secretly envied the warriors of the Dark Angel Legion in his heart: they had an extraordinary genetic father, so extraordinary that even the Lord of Mankind could entrust the fate of the entire empire.

At that time, although the entire Second Army was still in a state of fragmentation, a common topic was always in vogue in each of the independent fleets.

In the brief interval between battle and expedition, the most that the warriors of any fleet did in the short interval between battle and expedition and lament the decay of the legion was to find their friends, gather in groups of threes and twos, and discuss their genotype, whom they had not yet met, in a tone of pitiful expectation.

At that time, nearly seventy years of continuous decay had almost exhausted the blood of most warriors, and they did not even dare to hope to have a great and gentle genetic father like Horus, St. Giles, or Fogham, because except for the most determined Terra veterans, who had not witnessed the glorious new blood, and did not believe that a decay like theirs could be worthy of a radiant genetic father.

The most pessimistic even thought that their primordial would give them the same gift as the infamous Fei Peturabo, and that they would never forget: while other warriors would have a heartfelt fear that the father of their genes would be a brute, a figure who would be a brother to the likes of Riemanrus and Chagatai Khan.

At that time, expecting their genetic prototype to be a figure similar to Roga, Motarian, or even the ill-intentioned Killiman was already considered an optimist in discussion: and the idea of a Johnson-style primordial like Lana was even an optimist among optimists.

Whenever he confided such a bold word to his fighting brothers, all he got was a chuckle: the Chief Old Guard remembers it very well to this day, and that chuckle was not a mockery, but a helplessness, a cowardice of disbelief.

……

Lana snorted softly, his mind wandering for a moment, remembering the past, and then seeing the reality in front of him: the two contrasted, he couldn't help but slowly hook the corners of his mouth.

That was a long time ago.

Very, very long: though only ten years have passed, but in the senses of the Chief Old Guard, it seems that he has been serving under the Mother of Genes for a century, and has the pride and loyalty to match.

Between this pride and loyalty, recalling his extravagant vision of Johnson can even give rise to a sense of comical: the Chief Old Guard looked at the original form of the Dark Angel, and although there was no more anger in his eyes, there was also a vague arrogance in it.

After all, he could confidently claim to anyone that they possessed some better genetic prototypes than the Dark Angels, the Iron Warriors, and most of the Legions: motherhood was only the icing on the cake for this reality, but it was not hidden in the hearts of the Dawnbreakers, and perhaps only Horus and St. Giles could rival their genetic mothers in every way.

In the midst of this pride and contrast, which bordered on hubris, the last trace of hostility in Morgan's eyes vanished when he looked at the busy Coswayne again, and instead turned into something of volume and pity that would offend the Lion King.

But fortunately, Coswayne can't see this now: Morgan's speed of cleaning up files, even if it is placed in the genetic prototype, is only slightly inferior to Killiman, and barely keeping up with the rhythm of the Spider Queen, has already grabbed all the attention of the Lion King.

And on the eve of the tried-and-true Coswayne coming to a near-total collapse, the last document finally broke away from the Spider Queen's finger and set aside, marking the general completion of the meeting: now, as long as the contents of these documents are communicated, the expedition can officially begin.

Morgan glanced at the time, and was satisfied to find that it had taken less than two Terra standards in total to accomplish all this, but it was a pity that it was difficult for her two blood relatives to share this pride with her: Midnight Ghost and the Lord of Caliban were in unison at this time, but unlike the nostramo who collapsed directly on the table and made no secret of it, the lion at least maintained a serious listening shelf, and when Morgan put down the last document, he also raised his head in time to react.

"It's over?"

[It's just preparations, after the war really begins, there will only be more and more emergencies and documents to deal with, and it will not be as idle as it is now.] 】

The Spider Empress ruthlessly extinguished the momentary joy in the heart of the Lord of Caliban, and then unhurriedly flung the Midnight Wraith a cold eye knife, causing the already grinning Nostramo to swallow the words between his lips and shrink back again.

Morgan had to admit that listening to Conrad's laughter and scolding of Johnson did make her feel a kind of darkness in her heart: but since the current enemy, her Nostramo blood relatives can still shut up and shut up, and the Lord of Avalon is not a person who will delay the overall situation for short-term pleasure, not to mention that the three opponents she will face this time are not weak.

Heydrich in the dark: who knows where his madness and career have gone.

The dying Randan Empire: A civilization that once competed for hegemony in the galaxy, even if it is now extremely weak, it cannot be easily underestimated, you know, even the lonely city of Carthage has held on for a long time under the onslaught of countless Roman legions.

And the third enemy......

Morgan glanced at Johnson and then at Coz.

These two guys are in the same room......

It's really hard to deal with, and it's the third enemy of this trip.

The Spider Empress shook her head secretly, and just opposite her, the Dark Angel Legion's genetic prototype had finally gathered his thoughts, and Johnson already had a clear plan in his mind for everything that followed.

"So, from now on, Morgan."

"Anything in the military, we can discuss."

[You lead, I assist. 】

"No problem."

The lion nodded as a matter of course, and the haughty attitude made Lana frown again, but then he saw that Johnson seemed to hesitate, and he rubbed his hands together, looking rather concerned about what he was saying.

"So, for the problem of internal affairs, we still choose the old way?"

【……】

Morgan narrowed his eyes.

[You must know, Johnson, is now an alliance of two legions. 】

"I know."

The Lord of Caliban waved his hand, seemingly unconcerned about the issue.

"It's still the same, Morgan, whether it's the Dark Angel or the Daybreaker, I'll leave all those internal affairs to you, except for military issues: don't use it to inform me, you can just take care of it directly."

【……】

[The Dark Angel's Internal ......]

"You dominate...... Ahem, I'm assisting. ”

The second half of the sentence is a little weak-hearted.

Morgan thought for a moment and nodded.

[Okay, that's it for now.] 】

"That couldn't be better, Morgan."

After receiving an affirmative reply, the smile returned to Johnson's face once again: just as the astonishment returned to the countenance of the Chief Old Guard.

Unlike Conrad, who was completely indifferent to these things, when Morgan's Praetorian Guard finally understood the meaning of the conversation between the two Legion Lords, he instinctively fell into a certain consternation: especially when he found that the Lion King Governor on the side was not only not dissatisfied, but also visibly relieved.

“……”

There must be something he didn't know.

Rana coughed heavily, glancing at Coswayne smiling beside him.

"The ......"

"Huh?!"

The Lion King was quick to react, he saw through the hesitation on Lana's face at a glance, and after thinking about it, he showed an apologetic smile.

"Ah, the matter of internal affairs, for the time being, we need to trouble Lord Morgan first: but please rest assured: we will help His Excellency Morgan as much as possible, and will not delay the Dawnbreaker Legion's own internal affairs."

“…… Housekeeping, what do you mean? ”

"It's like what Lord Primordial said: except for military issues, everything else is internal affairs."

“……”

"I know that this situation might be frustrating for Lord Morgan: I'm sorry."

……

No, that's not the point at all, is it?

Looking at Coswayne, who exuded a sincere apology, Lana opened his mouth, only to feel that he seemed to have nothing to say: inexplicably, he felt some kind of estrangement, and his genetic mother must have a certain tacit understanding with Johnson, and even the entire Dark Angel Legion.

The problem was that he, and indeed all the Daybreakers, didn't seem to know of this tacit understanding, or secret, that they didn't know much about their mother's past in the Dark Angels.

“……”

No way.

He had to do something.

(End of chapter)