On the tenth or twentieth day of the war, the Caliban discovers, with some horror, that he seems to have lost a part of his sense of time.

He could only be convinced, incomparably convinced: the thirtieth day of the war had not yet come, because the fleet of Russ and Luthor had not yet appeared in near-earth orbit, and if they had arrived, then it would be impossible for Morgan not to tell him.

This is the only way to make the exhausted mind of the original genogen feel a minimum of comfort, and this comfort will bring great power, sustaining him to cross the burning ruins, wade through the foul-smelling pools of blood, and carry out monotonous and horrific slaughter on one heavily armed resistance platform after another in the alien empire, and every swing of the sword symbolizes the fall of a fortress.

Johnson looked up, and he glanced at the ruins he was walking through: the charred walls were covered with stains, mostly the blood of alien soldiers, but also human munitions, piles of corpses were casually thrown into corners, some of them only left the ashes of plasma incineration, while others were wantonly rotting and stinking, attracting swarms of insects like flies to buzz, and in the deeper corpse piles, you could even see the mold and corpse spots that were thriving, and what lingered in them, Rotten laughter that shouldn't have appeared.

Half an hour ago, it was a busy fortress, with at least 200,000 Randan warriors building a crumbling line around it, and countless civilians and slaves were either driven away or stranded in the bombarded area of the Dark Angel.

It took Johnson twenty-five minutes to destroy his own resistance, and he was the first to break into the inner walls of the fortress, killing all the alien commanders who could threaten the battle, and leaving his knights to their own free will.

In the beginning, the genetic prototype still had some tactical details, but in the indiscriminate attack battles repeated hundreds of times, even the beasts in the deep forests of the Caliban had long since worn out their last patience.

The steel boots belonging to the Caliban stepped on these exuberant death jungles without hesitation or pity, and in the past few days, Johnson had become accustomed to these miserable scenes: like every Imperial soldier under his command, they had become cold, fearless, numb, and even a little bored.

Every hour, they have to kill at least a few million aliens: a small number of warriors who stubbornly resist, and many more alien civilians who are fleeing in a panic, anyway, the emperor's army doesn't bother to distinguish the difference, these Astartes and mortal auxiliaries are just faithfully carrying out the orders of the genetic prototype, maintaining a deserted and stable passage between the landing site and the front line, and are not even willing to occupy more alien lands.

The days went on for ten days, or even fifteen days, until the vanguard of the Dark Angels, after destroying another fortress, saw the towering walls of the Alien Palace, and the outrageously numerous and eerie altars that surrounded it.

"Those altars are almost as high as the walls of the palace."

Arachos, who had returned from the front, reported to his genetic father that there was a slight uneasiness on his face that was accustomed to fortitude, as if he had seen the alien Titan Legion before.

But Johnson didn't care about this, because in the past ten years, the dark angels had not seen altars in Randan's world, but they had no effect in the slightest: even if they really had any effect, then these involved the power of subspace, which was not what he was good at.

Having said that, if it was the Titan Legion of the Randan Empire that appeared, it would be an easier matter: the Lord of Caliban had already led his army to raze countless alien war beasts, and although more than two thousand dark angels, hundreds of divine machines and knights, and countless mortal auxiliaries had sacrificed their lives for this, these opponents from the Alien Empire still did not stop him after all.

Like all other xenomorphs, they use every means to stop the First Legion's advance: defensive lines, fortresses, overwhelming clusters of fighter jets and armor, incessant suicidal assaults, deadly gases that can corrode buildings, or erosion circles from the depths of subspace......

Over the past few hundred hours, thousands of mad sacrifices have been thrown into the war against the Human Empire, some of which have amazed and even killed even the well-informed Terra veterans, but like the nearly depleted Randan reinforcements on the outside of the battle line, nothing can stop the will of the Caliban.

Leading the same tired and frantic dark angels as he was, Johnson finally reached the foot of the Randan Palace, where he coldly cleaned up the last of his resistance and raised his lion sword to officially begin the final siege.

With his roar, countless human warriors who had just regained their energy after taking turns and resupplying rushed to the final battlefield, the red-gold double-headed eagle banner was overwhelming, like a whirlpool of flames, burning in a rage, and with them advanced a barrage of steel barrage that obscured the sun, these deadly cannonballs constantly tested the alien palace, and in that ancient defensive network, it set off a continuous splash, like violent raindrops hitting an ugly pond.

The Gene Protogens stood on the last of the defeated Xenomorph War Behemoths, watching the first wave of attacks by the armies of the Human Empire against Randan's heart, like an arrogant king watching his invincible legions.

At some point, Coswayne had already walked to his side: the Lion King's chief had just returned from the rear of the battle line, and he had brought the good news that the supply lines and landing sites were still firmly in the hands of the mortal auxiliaries.

"The mortal auxiliaries from Avalon are even better than we expected, they have withstood the armoured clusters of the Randans, and even destroyed hundreds of war behemoths: but their own casualties are also very high, with more than thirty percent killed in battle alone."

There was a hint of concern in the Lion King's words, but this concern was not captured by the somewhat tired genetic protogen, and Johnson just nodded, skipping the topic: he had other things to worry about.

"Riemanrus, are they here?"

"The Vanguard fleet has arrived and is landing under the command of His Excellency Morgan."

Johnson was silent for a moment.

"Tell Morgan to dispatch them directly to the nearest landing site to the Randan Palace, so that those space wolves and fresh forces can join this siege as quickly as possible."

Coswayne was stunned for a moment, he glanced at his genetic father, and opened his mouth, as if hesitating to say something.

The Lion King didn't look back.

"If you have something to say, Akau."

"Yes, sir."

"I want to say...... Shouldn't the Space Wolf Legion, and the rest of the reinforcements, be thrown into a resilient defensive front in the rear? ”

“…… Look there, Akau. ”

The genomorph snorted as he pointed to the towering walls of the Alien Palace.

"With our current strength, we can't even complete the siege of this alien lair, and most of the warriors under my command have only experienced one rotation in the past ten days, and their spirit and combat state are not as good as before: even the Daybreakers, who are not too heavy on duty, are already showing obvious fatigue."

"It would be extremely inefficient to fight the toughest battle with such a force: although I am not stingy with sacrifice, if I let the Space Wolf and other new forces join this attack on the Alien Palace, it will undoubtedly end this war more quickly."

"That's true, but ......"

Coswayne licked his already chapped lips, and he glanced at the silent Lion King's guards around him, pupils flickering with a few flickering colors.

"But it doesn't hurt to say that, Akau."

The Lion King took a deep breath.

"My lord, I think I need to remind you of something beyond the battle: in the past ten days of fierce battles, the warriors under your command, or the Dark Angels, have paid a very heavy price, they have been responsible for splitting Ran Dan's sharpest spearhead, compared to the Dawnbreakers who flank and harass, and the mortal auxiliaries who are mainly responsible for guarding the rear, your warriors have suffered the highest casualties."

"Especially the knights who are now serving as the main attack on the front line, most of them have lost more than half of their warriors, and even the knight chief has already died here: intervene in their offensive at this time, and let the space wolf or other legions join the general attack on the Randan Palace......"

"Somewhat inappropriate......

Coswayne tried his best to consider his tone, and at this moment, he even missed the soldiers of the Dawnbreaker Legion: on the eve of the battle line advancing to the Randan Palace, the sons of Morgan, who had also paid a lot of casualties in the war, tacitly shifted the battle line and avoided the general attack on the Randan Palace, although there were still some Daybreakers who joined the final siege, but their numbers were really insignificant, and no one cared.

But if you put in a large group of space wolves and other warriors who have just arrived......

Coswayne sighed quietly.

This question is actually not complicated, it is nothing more than the word [honor], but it is precisely this seemingly ethereal thing that is already the most cherished expectation of many dark angels, but their genetic prototype does not seem to understand this very well.

……

The Lion King was not wrong.

The Lord of Caliban stood his sword on the ground, and instead of immediately answering his most trusted heir, he quietly observed the battle not far away, observing how the vanguard detachment of the Dark Angels attacked the walls.

After a while, he pointed to the fortress that was burning with gunsmoke and spoke.

"Do you know, Akau: one of my brothers has stormed the palace of Randan: even here I can smell the savage and bloody smell of him."

Hearing this, the Lion King Governor raised his head in shock, and when he saw the indifferent smile on the face of the Lord of Caliban, his astonishment instantly climbed several levels.

The lion's tone was so flat that it sounded like he was describing a bullet.

"What do you think I'm going to do, Akau: Anger? Mad? Or is it angry that the honor of the first to be taken away from him? Cursing my brother for being a despicable thief? ”

"Even though he is."

"But ......"

Johnson smiled, baring his teeth.

"Actually, at the beginning, I was quite expecting my own reaction, but in fact, when I found out that Conrad was really inside, my first thought was actually worried about the safety of that bastard, and the second thought was to look forward to what role he could play."

"As for the so-called honors...... Maybe a little, maybe in my thinking and longing, but they're so thin that even I can't be sure of their existence. ”

The genogen turned around, and he patted the shoulder of the still stunned Lion King, and snorted contemptuously, expressing his indifference to the topic they were discussing.

"Cothwayne, my warrior."

"You've made a big mistake: from the beginning, you, or anyone, shouldn't have been hungry for honor or anything else from this war."

"Just like the war we experienced more than ten years ago, now no one cares, what we are fighting now is destined to be a war that will be forgotten, even these soldiers who are fighting on this land today, most of them, will forget their hard work and sacrifice in this world."

"This is something that has been decided from the beginning: no one will remember our sacrifices, lament our efforts, and all our bravery and achievements will be doomed to be hidden in the dark, and even our successors can only glimpse or even forget them completely in secret documents."

"And rightfully so."

"On the other hand, if I really wanted to get credit for this war, I would never have taken the baton from it: because it was a false proposition, a Tower of Babel that could never be built."

"We are not fighting in this alien land for the sake of honor or anything else, what supports every dark angel to fight to the death should be something more noble and has long been owned by us."

“…… What's that, my lord? ”

Coswayne breathed deeply, staring at the genotype's body, feeling as if he didn't know his father at all: it was a great dereliction of duty.

Johnson didn't seem to be more enthusiastic about this answer, and he waved his hand, once again witnessing the battle ahead, as if thinking about the right time to intervene.

It was only after a while that a muffled Caliban tone sent the answer to Coswayne's ear.

——————

"Loyalty."

"My warrior."

"Loyalty is the only reward."

——————

“……”

“……”

"I'm actually curious."

"What is it that sustains you in such a ridiculous feat?"

"Is it loyalty? Crazy? Bigotry? Or downright, hatred? ”

Midnight Wraith's voice arrived before his figure, after all, he needed to deal with the few guards in the hallway before he could officially push open the door to the top floor.

The Nostramo man gracefully plucked the head of his last opponent, and he came to the intricately carved door, greeted by a bloody smell that swept through the corridors: an aura that even gave Conrad a sense of home.

He pushed the door open, the dim lights and eerie furnishings that flooded into his field of vision haphazardly ignored, and the pupils from Nostramo glowed in the darkness, searching the room wide enough to hold a knight's mech, and quickly locked on to his target.

The high priest of Randan, it was standing at the top of the altar, looking like a withered tree, but its posture was upright, revealing an indescribable strangeness, when its vision focused on the genetic prototype that broke into it rashly, the titular supreme ruler of Randan, did not have the slightest surprise.

It speaks and is fluent in Gothic.

"I foresaw your arrival long before this war began, human."

“……”

Midnight Wraith grinned, turned away, closed the door in an orderly manner, and rubbed his blood-stained steel boots on the floor of the doorway before placing the alien head in his hand on the display case next to him, and walked to the bottom of the steps in a hurry.

"Will you prophesy?"

The tone of the genogen is more like a joke.

"If so, then please accept my sympathy for you, but given that you are about to escape this terrible fate, then there will not be much sympathy from me."

“……”

"I don't have the ability to prophesy: if I had, the war wouldn't have evolved to this point, but as a spellcaster who is well versed in subspace energy, I can clearly feel that there is a powerful spellcaster of you humans in low-earth orbit, and she must be able to feel the movement here."

"And you, the thug she sent."

“……”

"Please address the Champion Swordsman, thank you."

Conrad held up a finger and expressed his displeasure rather seriously.

The High Priest of Randan let out a heavy snort, and it silently watched as the Primordial Gene ascended the steps, and there was not much panic: just like the pace of the Midnight Ghost, it wasn't really fast, even slow.

Both of them seemed more interested in the never-ending conversation.

The Nostramo man had reached about a hundred steps or so and stopped, the smile on his face still not gone.

"Frankly, I was surprised to hear that you could speak Gothic so fluently, but I had to express my surprise: I had never seen an alien like you before."

The face of the high priest is like deep water.

"I'm committed to the revitalization of my race, and to learn everything I need to know about it, even about mortal enemies, and I'll be able to read every human book I can find long before this war begins."

"Awesome."

Midnight Wraith clapped his hands and smiled sarcastically.

"You're even more of a civilized person than one of my beast brothers."

"However, I still want to say that knowledge and wisdom are two different things, a well-educated teacher may not be able to make mistakes, and a smart person who can walk through his own life path does not need to be well-read."

"Your knowledge doesn't seem to have brought you wisdom, Alien Bastard."

The Nostramo man's gaze swept over the strangely shaped altars beside him, and when he saw the four carefully carved thrones on them, the sarcasm on his face was even brighter than the midday sun.

"How ironic, isn't it?"

The genoplasm giggled.

"That brother of mine, the brother who is nothing but war, is leading all his legions, twenty kilometers away, killing at all costs, for more than ten days, and laying butcher knives on your people again and again."

"But despite this, compared to the Ran Dan alien you will kill later, his record is so pale, he has waved the butcher knife and issued orders, and reimbursed thousands of shells, but he has only killed a maximum of billions of aliens, and you, and you, the dying guy, only need to recite a spell that no one can understand, and you can harvest too many Ran Dan people to count."

"The Ministry of Military Affairs should award you a Randan Friend Medal in recognition of your contributions."

"But if you think about it carefully, such a joke seems to have a very realistic basis: any intelligent creature can only break out with real lethality when it is infighting, after all, for foreign wars, it is mostly because of profit and survival."

"And for the killing of compatriots, it is because of jealousy, hatred, madness......"

"And stupidity."

Smiling, Midnight Ghost slowly stepped up the two hundredth steps, and he looked at the ruler of Randan, a hundred meters away, with a sarcastic smile on his face: just like how the High Priest of Randan looked at him.

At the speed of the protogen, it didn't take even a second to travel like this, but Conrad walked cautiously, and every time he made a hundred steps to a middle ground of countless small altars, he would stop solemnly, almost brewing in his mind about the strength of resistance.

Such a move did not escape the eyes of the High Priest of Randan, who laughed and spat out mad flames from its shriveled throat.

"You know, human."

"You can't stop me."

"The ritual began ten years ago as you knew it, and the final step was officially launched in at least a day: you can't stop this power, you can't stop my rituals and callings, you can't stop me from placing a curse on the heads of your races."

"From the very beginning, you, the vanguard sent to stop me, are unlikely to succeed."

"When this war began, when your first troops stepped onto our sacred planet, you were defeated, because all the firefights, all the sacrifices, and even the war itself, were made to make the ceremony go smoothly."

"That's what war is all about."

“……”

“……”

"Ah, indeed."

Conrad nodded sincerely.

He didn't look surprised, and even smiled sincerely.

"I want to warn you, though, Your Excellency the Alien Bastard."

"I'm not a pioneer."

"I'm just a ...... Spectators only. ”

(End of chapter)