“……”

"That's not right."

“……”

"Still not right."

“……”

"Tsk!"

"What the hell is going on?"

"My father is above, what's the problem?"

Entrenched on a savage throne made of the skins of fifty beasts, the Genoplasm of the Space Wolf Legion was impatiently grinding and sucking its fangs, its braids scattered across his earlobes and shoulders, unable to suppress the storm deep in his pupils.

How many times did he fail? How many times is this [just a little bit close]?

Riemanlus couldn't remember anymore, he just raised his palm angrily and slapped the table under his palm, listening to the sound of metal and stone shattering, or the chaos of objects rolling on the ground: just as unwilling as he was in his heart.

"Father, this is a terrible torture......

Muttering in a low voice, Fenris's wolf king collapsed half-angrily, half-helplessly on his eternally cold desk, but was choked by the crack on the new desk, and could only swallow the surging anger again.

Riemanruth was a little helpless, he had to get a new desk again, which meant he was going back to Fenris again: after getting all the done here.

No, even if you look at the entire human empire, I am afraid that only the son of the emperor, who was once a beast, would use a large roughly carved Fenris glacier boulder as his office: even Dorne would not be so rude.

It's not that the Wolf King hasn't tried to use the cold stone of other worlds, but it turns out that he is uncomfortable lying on it: obviously, only Fenris can give him some kind of spiritual comfort, can give him peace and soothing, can give him enough motivation to paralyze himself, to face the most rubbish in the whole galaxy.

“……”

At most, a month ago, Riemann Ruth had thought so.

But now, he has a few different ideas: and the countless failed attempts and anger that come with it.

“……”

But he still wanted to keep trying.

So......

"Bring another batch of wine, Black Blood."

Scratching his blonde hair in annoyance, he glanced at the guards standing not far away, and whispered that under his feet, the once indestructible rocks had turned into corpses scattered all over the ground, and even the various objects on the stone platform had rolled to the ground, making a random collision noise.

These tumbling objects, or rather, the flasks that rolled down all over the ground, quickly converged at the feet of the original body's guards, and Black Blood looked at the three different colored flasks under his feet, picked them up one by one, and looked at them carefully.

He looked to his genetic father.

"My lord, whether it is the Crimson Queen brought from the Dawnbreaker Legion or the Cid Wine brought from the Dark Angel Legion, there are still some reserves, but there are not many Ice Demons brewed by you personally: after removing the batch you have on hand, there are only two bottles."

"Then take them all!"

With a wave of his hand, he didn't look up, but focused his gaze on the small untouched half of the table, where a batch of wine was still on it, and it seemed like it could support him for his next experiment.

Black Blood just nodded, didn't say anything more, he walked to the door, and gave a few orders to the wolf guards who stayed outside the door, and as one of the wolf guards quickly left, Black Blood also returned to the side of the genetic prototype.

By this time, Riemannus had begun his concoction once again: he set aside three bottles of different colors, held the glass made of special materials tightly with one large palm, and carefully poured every drop of wine into it, with incredible precision, even in microseconds, whether in sequence, rhythm or shaking.

The original gene stared at the rippling liquid in the cup, not even daring to breathe, while his guards stood aside, equally engrossed in the work of the Father of Genes, and suppressed the confusion in his heart.

Black Blood has always wondered what kind of liquor makes Riemanrus so interested: since the Space Wolf Legion left Randan's home planet and began a sweeping search towards the northern frontier of the galaxy, this extremely rigorous concoction has become a hobby of Riemanrus, and he has devoted a lot of time and energy to it, and has experienced countless failures, but he still enjoys it.

Black Blood had never seen his original body so serious and focused, and he even doubted that the wine born in this kind of one-by-one debugging could really make people drink to the fullest?

Scales and calculations can't make a wine that can make a Fenris man drunk.

Thinking of this, the wolf guard opened his mouth, not knowing whether to persuade his genetic father, he instinctively turned his head, wanting to find an ally, but in the next moment, he realized: in this originally noisy boulder hall, there were now only two people, him and the genetic prototype.

As for the others......

“……”

"Damn it!"

"Still not right!!

Before the space wolf could make up his mind, an angry roar dragged the wolf guard's scattered thoughts back to the real universe: the black blood that left cold sweat on his back looked at the sound, but he saw that the only remaining half of the table was also shattered, and behind the corpse, there was a red-faced genetic prototype.

Riemanlus hung his head, his golden hair now seemed to have lost its wild light, hanging down to his ears like decaying weeds: the protogens were grinding at the roots of their teeth, expelling a tone of resentment from the harsh squeezing, and the wolf guard who witnessed it all worried from the bottom of his heart.

At this moment, Black Blood finally put the thoughts in his heart behind.

"What the hell is wrong with you, my lord?"

The wolf guard stepped forward.

"Ever since we left Randan's home system, you've been repeating this concoction and ...... Failure, is there any esoteric secret in this? Or is it related to our next battle? ”

“…… No, black blood. ”

"It's not that complicated."

The Wolf King smiled briefly in a sign of bitterness, and then, without revealing himself, glanced at the Bacchus spear hanging on the wall, and then focused his gaze on the glass in his hand: there was half a glass of freshly brewed wine, or rather, a freshly brewed failure.

The genogen looked at the somewhat cloudy smell of wine, and his eyes flickered.

"I just want to get drunk one more time before the war starts."

Drunk?

The wolf guard frowned.

"My lord, isn't this a very simple matter, you just need to hold a banquet in your own name, invite every wolf lord and their guards to come with you, and let every good boy in the legion drink heartily, and don't get drunk or go home, isn't it okay, we have always done this before."

Riemannus grinned and let out a short laugh.

"Do you think that kind of banquet can really make me drunk? Black blood, that little child-like trick, not even a single hair on my neck would get drunk at that kind of banquet. ”

"......"

Wolf Wei instinctively wanted to refute something, but his voice quickly stopped, because whether it was the long company with the original body, or everything he had seen and heard in the past, it was clear and innocent that the original gene was not lying at all.

In Wolf Guard's memory, he really didn't seem to have seen the scene of his genetic father getting drunk: in any banquet, Riemanrus seemed to have only two kinds of differences: [drunk to the fullest] and [not to drink enough], and even those top-notch spirits that could make the space wolves pile up on the ground like dead corpses could only make the heavy face of the original body a little more flushed.

The wine that allowed the wolf king of Fenris to get drunk completely: the black blood could not imagine.

"Can make you drunk: Does that really exist, sir?"

“……”

Riemannus smiled, his smile still bitter, as if the brilliance of the Bacchus spear was thrown on his face.

"Before, I had the same idea as you: it wasn't until that day, until that damn night, until I sat around the campfire with my brothers, that I realized that I could really get drunk, I could get drunk."

The Genomorph leaned against his boulder throne and sighed.

"You know that feeling, black blood: it's not a drunken belly, it's not a mess of the whole brain, it's a real lightness, a real ...... Joy: Don't think about anything, all the distress and anxiety are forgotten at that moment, only a moment of joy is left in front of you, but it is so blurred that people can't remember more details. ”

"It's like a dream, a dream that shouldn't exist in reality, but it does exist, I can remember its existence, but when I want to remember more, it quickly drifts away: in the end, I only remember that I once held a brewed wine and drank it with my brothers."

"We didn't think about anything, we just sat together and drank heartily."

"And then, I got drunk."

Fenris's wolf king slumped on the stone chair, shaking the only liquid left in the cup, saluting the steel firmament above him.

"I'm pretty sure I was drunk: because I forgot even the recipe for that wine, and I only remembered that I made it out of our respective wines, and as for the rest, I don't remember anything."

"It's ridiculous, isn't it: a genetic agent who is supposed to remember it can forget his most cherished memories, one of the happiest moments of his life."

"No one will believe it."

Leaning back on his throne, Riemanrus looked at the metallic glow on the outside of his glass, and deep words squeezed out of his bitter smile, like emotion, like a complaint, or a long sigh hidden within.

In front of him, the wolf guard just remained silent and listened quietly: the black blood wanted to comfort his original body, but after a short thought, he found that he had nothing to say, and it was estimated that the father of his genes did not need any consolation.

Riemannus was never a fragile man.

"So, I can only try here now: I have failed again and again, and I want to be able to brew the taste of that memory with my own hands again, even if it can be brewed into a glass, even if it is only one glass, I can get drunk."

"I can also forget for a moment where we're going to go next, what kind of we're going to do: my father is above, I need to get drunk now."

"Even one glass is fine......

The genogen whispered, he looked at the wine in the glass, took another tentative sip, and changed his face in an instant, leaving only a sigh.

"But I just can't brew it, I can't brew the taste of that night, I blur the most important part of my memory, I lose the most important feeling: no matter how good these wines taste, they are not what I remember."

“…… Damn ......"

Riemanus's voice grew muffled, his dull blonde hair obscuring his face, plunging his entire body into some kind of non-existent darkness, except for the Bacchus spear hanging on the wall, still splashing with a relentless golden glow, the only shining color on the original genome.

Unsettling, shiny colors.

“……”

The wolf guard saw all this in his eyes, and he couldn't help but worry about the state of his genetic father, and tried his best to help the genetic protogen.

"Your Excellency."

He called softly.

"Perhaps, you can contact Master Johnson of the Dark Angels: wasn't he there that night? Maybe he knows the recipe for that wine, or does he remember how you made them?

"Do you think I haven't looked for it?"

Riemanruth licked his lips, and his bitter smile changed: there was a hint of indifferent sarcasm on the corners of the Fenris's grinning mouth.

"He...... Worse than me. ”

——————

"I don't remember these meaningless little things, Riemann."

The knight king of Caliban drew a stingy glance from his battle map and military deployment, which he used to answer questions from his blood relatives: in those emerald pupils of the same color as the deep forests of Caliban, dissatisfaction and contempt could not be concealed.

"Rather than delay your time on such a boring question, Riemann, you should think carefully about what role you and your legion will play in the next battle, knowing that on the side of the vanguard fleet, there is already information that they have found many suspicious traces in some northern galaxies."

"Even in some of the reconnaissance fleets that are too far ahead, casualties have already appeared: in the face of this really important bloodshed, those wine worms in your throat are just a trivial matter, don't throw your energy on it, even you should know what is important."

The Genoplasma of the First Legion responded to his brother with such an unceremonious attitude that he didn't even bother to raise his head again, as if the holographic projection of Riemanrus that appeared in front of him was just a meaningless wall of air: in fact, it was possible that Johnson really thought so.

And in the face of such bad words, the wolf king of Fenris in the holographic projection did not have the slightest annoyance: compared to the irritability and impulsiveness on Duran, the current Riemanlus revealed a surprising calmness.

He nodded at first.

"I understand what you mean, Johnson, and in fact, I completely agree with you."

"But you see, I have to get some relaxation before I can focus on the rest of the war, just like you need to give the shell enough power to get it fired."

"It's impossible for you not to understand this truth, right? Great military strategist? ”

"I've never heard of any of our brothers who still need to apply for a vacation on an expedition."

The Knight King of Caliban let out a short, shrill laugh.

"And, even if you ask me, Riemann, I can only answer you: I don't know."

"It was just an ordinary night, it was just an ordinary drinking party, and we didn't even discuss a single issue around that campfire that was important enough for me to remember."

"What's more, my personal energy is limited, and I need to prioritize military and war, and I don't have time to help you remember how you fiddled with those bottles of wine at the time, or any other unimportant topics in your mouth."

"Really?"

Riemanrus asked with a smile.

And in response to him was the cold face of the Caliban.

"Do you think I'm playing a joke on you, Riemann?"

"Of course I don't think so."

The Fenris laughed.

"Actually, I understand your seriousness now, Johnson, the burden on your shoulders is heavier than I thought, and I still respect you at this point: it's just that in my heart there is still a little doubt."

“…… Let's say. ”

Johnson lowered his head and continued to review those battle ideas.

"You really forgot all about that night?"

"Of course"

Johnson did not hesitate in the slightest.

"As I said before, there wasn't anything important in that reception, and if you can do that, I'd suggest you forget about that night, Riemann, it doesn't matter."

"Yes......"

The corners of Riemanrus's mouth cracked at a dangerous angle, and he bared his sharp canine teeth, slowly exhaling the exaggerated tones that followed.

"Well, Johnson, my most serious brother, I will remember your advice, and I will abide by it: I will forget the events of that night, the bonfire, the wine, our happy times, the words, the discussions, and certain ...... Promises that don't matter. ”

“……”

“！！！”

There was a brief pause in the tip of the pen that did not stop for a moment: and all this did not escape the eyes of Riemannus.

"As you said, Johnson, we didn't discuss anything important that night: just let it pass, and I'll forget everything I said to you."

“……”

"Ahem."

The Lord of Caliban suddenly coughed.

"Wait a minute, Riemann."

Johnson interrupted the wolf king's words almost instinctively, and then he fell into an awkward pause, as if he was thinking painfully about how to say the next words, and the originally resolute face also turned into a mask of pain and hesitation in writing, and in the emerald pupils was a storm of thinking raging.

Johnson's mind may never have been so turbulent.

"It occurred to me, brother, that we did discuss something important."

"Oh, what is it?"

"It's ......"

The Lion King paused again.

"Do you remember: we talked about changes to the military system after the Empire, and ...... Scheduling of certain personnel systems and command seats? ”

"You and I have reached certain agreements, do you remember?"

"Ah......h

Riemanrus let out an unusually long and slow series of exclamations, his pupils flickering, carefully admiring Johnson's complexion that froze with his emotion.

"Then I'm going to think about it......"

"Maybe, I remember?"

When the wolf king of Fenris ended the conversation with this ambiguous rhetorical question. Before Johnson could utter a single response, his holographic projection vanished in place.

Only the Lord of the First Legion remained, raised his head, sat down in his seat, and fell into a long silence.

For a moment, Johnson's face looked like the deep forest of Caliban.

——————

"Hehehehehehe......"

"That guy......"

"It's still so annoying......"

Riemanruth raised his glass, memories of the recent past echoing through his mind, causing the genogen to smile heartily.

The cloudy liquor encased in metal had a pungent taste, and the genogen raised his glass and took another sip, shaking his head after a long silence.

This is the closest tasting cup he's ever brewed.

But it wasn't good enough, but it couldn't make him drunk, but it couldn't make him forget what he was going to do next, and it couldn't make him blind to the Dionysian spear that hung on the wall.

The Emperor's weapon hung there, in the far corner of the room, in the center of his pupils, like a bleeding scar, reminding him of some sin in the heart of the genoplasm.

He had to face it.

Thinking of this, a bitter smile returned to the corners of Riemanrus's mouth again, and he drank all the wine in the cup: Originally, these failed products would not be the wolf guards he gave him, but after the more than thirty wolf guards in the room were put down one after another, the only remaining black blood was killed and refused to drink a single drop of wine.

What a pity.

With the wine in his glass, Riemanrus threw away the priceless drinkware, and he stood up, his mind clear, but his steps were a little shaky: just like that, the protogeno stumbled towards the wall, towards the Bacchus spear, which he had so long avoided.

It's hanging right there.

Silent, cold, deadly.

Damn deadly.

Riemannus caressed the weapon, he looked at it, at the cold light that would never dissipate from the spear, at the light that was more terrible than the stars, more than war, more than death, more than betrayal.

He looked at it until the same light flashed in his pupils, until he was assimilated by this light, assimilated into the monster, the executioner, that emperor longed for.

It wasn't until this moment that he could say that softly.

That's what he should have said.

The one he couldn't avoid.

"Heydrich."

Riemanruth chuckled, his voice mixed with silent teardrops.

"Waiting for me ......"

“……”

——————

"I'm here to kill you."

———— end of this volume————

(End of chapter)