After the actual battle, Morgan realized that the master of the brass throne, the nightmare of countless civilizations, the invincible god of war, slaughter and blood, was far more than she had expected......

Weaker?

【……？ 】

From the deepest part of the subspace, the rolling thunder of war was heard, only countless blades were heard colliding with each other, only countless heads were heard to have rolled to the ground, and only nameless anger was heard like droplets of water piercing through the stubborn stone, echoing in the heart of the blood god drop after drop, from the slightest to the huge wave that devoured the sky.

The Blood God was furious, its fury spreading from the deepest depths of the subspace, darkening the rusty brown silhouettes of the entire Nukeria desert, walls and mountains, causing the brief lull of the Sea of Souls to reverberate with dangerous ripples, and the air distorted by the heat to rise wisps of scarlet mist.

Although by the standards of the Blood God, its anger at the moment was not actually violent, it was only the first explosion that rolled out of the gloomy thunderstorm clouds, but despite this, when the heavy muffled snort like the breath of a bull finally smashed out of the brass giant mouth, it still crushed thousands of unborn who dared to stand in the way, and rushed straight down from the top of the brass fortress, clinging to the curtain of the real universe and the supreme heaven, hitting the corner of the sky of Nukeria.

This blow is enough to plunge a weak civilization into an endless sea of fire, this blow is enough to crush the sanity defenses of the vast majority of psykers, and this blow is enough to cling to the curtain of the supreme heaven and affect the myriad of people in the real universe.

But the same blow, in the face of the invisible shield composed of twenty-two blackstone devices, with a powerful swing, after all, only cut a few undetectable cracks: even the alien owners of these blackstone devices were able to stand in the center of the shield, look up at the endless void, and let out their own taunts at the still fragile supreme sky.

The Lord of Solenamus and the ancient civilization in which it lives may be afraid of these false gods, but there has never been a reason to fear them: tens of millions of years have passed, and everything in the subspace still cannot bring more surprises and challenges to Tarazin.

And behind it, on the peak of Nukeria, Morgan stood in the best vantage point she could find, while remotely controlling the warriors of the three legions, while drawing out his energy, spreading his five fingers, and silently reciting the incantation: and then, the rift in the shield began to disappear at a speed visible to the naked eye, and soon, even the remnants of the blood god's own anger had to leave the pinnacle of the real universe with resentment.

In the face of such a result, even Morgan couldn't suppress the curiosity in his heart, and asked his image director about the confusion in his heart through the messenger device on the side of his ear.

【Tarasin, why is your Blackstone device so ......】

"Efficient?"

Although the background sound in the communicator was cluttered due to the raging war on the surface and the raging storm in the subspace, there was still a clear hint of pride in the metallic tone of Tarasin, and it was unmistakable that poured into the ears of the genetic proto.

[Yes: efficient. 】

Morgan nodded.

Tarasin's triumph made her frown for a moment, but only for a moment.

After all, after so many years of thinking and practicing, the queen of Avalon has already come to a conclusion: when aliens or other things are objectively beneficial to her, then it is not impossible to pinch her nose and tolerate them.

Extreme hatred in the heart is necessary and cannot be lost, but just the right amount of compromise and ignorance is never a bad thing: as long as you don't corrupt the bottom line in your heart, then seeking truth is the greatest truth in the world, and instead of worrying about Tarasin's pride, it is better to take the opportunity to figure out where you are lagging behind.

[So, why don't the blackstone devices I collected have this effect: it's clear that the techniques we use are similar.] 】

"Because they're not fundamentally one of a kind."

Tarasin didn't hide anything.

"For example, you humans dug up the same copper ore from the ground, and you can make them into wires to light the night. They can also be made into heat-resistant aerospace wires to climb into the void, but they can also be forged into bullets to kill each other: although the raw materials are the same, the different technologies, means, and ultimate ends will still produce diametrically different results. ”

With that, Tarasin patted the black device beside him: compared to the blackstone obelisk that Morgan could find, these blackstone devices were not large in size, but they were extremely exquisite, and they could even allow the small instruments on the fingertips of the space necromancer to repair them in real time, which was obviously a more advanced product.

"Now, here's the thing: the blackstone obelisks you find are either the ones that ordinary dynasties have, or they are defective items that have not been kept for too long, and what I have brought with me is a symbol of the true mastery of the blackstones of the dead: they are still not the pinnacle of the world, but they are precious enough, even for me."

The Lord of Solenamus shook his head.

"Even I can only have one such Blackstone device."

【……？ 】

[The rest of the ......]

“……”

In hindsight, the overlord of the space necromancy chose to remain silent.

"Well, you must know that the original body of the human empire, the Neshirak dynasty where I belong is undoubtedly a powerful and wealthy country, and blackstone devices like this can be found in the treasury of every Nishirak overlord."

"As the head of the Conservation Project for the Dead, and a member of the Nehilak dynasty, my countrymen naturally recognize my competence and credibility: they don't mind my temporary use of these devices while they are asleep."

【…… Touching camaraderie. 】

The Lord of Avalon laughed and said no more: she didn't care where Tarasin got the other twenty-one Blackstone devices, and the important thing was that they were now contributing to the Gene Prototype project, so they deserved some of Morgan's trust.

At the very least, they did block the wrath of the blood god.

However, as a top-notch psionic, Morgan could vaguely smell a few hints of treachery: beyond the blackstone shield erected by the Lord of Solenamus, there were two layers of false miasma, and although Tarasin didn't seem to be aware of their presence, the Spider Queen could smell a faint, twisted scent similar to dark blue or vine purple.

The distorted smell was all too familiar to her: for so many years, they had been parasitic in the Spider Queen's mind, lingering like maggots on tarsal bones, and perhaps even ten thousand years later, Morgan would be able to recognize the iconic corruption at once.

Still, for perhaps the first time in fifty years, Morgan doesn't feel less disgusted with the smells.

Because, these two miasma were like soft golden silk armor, which pulled the anger of the blood god, so that before it slashed at the blackstone shield, it had lost most of its speed and strength, and became a soft, worthy of being despised for a blow.

So, with the help of these Morgan unexpected, things went a little more smoothly than she had imagined: before the next blow of the Blood God, the powerful Blackstone shield had been restored to its original state: it looked like it could resist for a long time.

But this scene made Morgan frown: although the blackstone devices brought by the Lord of Solenamus were new models that the genetic prototype had never seen before, she still knew the substance of [Blackstone] very well, and at the same time, she also knew how much energy and spiritual energy she had taken out to assist the Blackstone shield.

Tarasin may be conceited by the power of the space necromancers, but Morgan is always more conservative and cautious: the psychological shadow of these subspace gods is too great, and she likes to overestimate their power.

In Morgan's estimate, although the combination of the two will not collapse in the first wave of the blood god's attack, it seems very unrealistic to say that it can completely resist the wrath of a god like now, and there is still strength left.

Even if you add the rest of the help from the subspace realm......

It's inevitably too easy.

The gods of the subspace, since the moment she became conscious, have created countless pains and storms in her mind, and even her incomparably powerful genetic father has to carefully pray for a lucky and tough opponent in the process of playing: can they be so powerless for things in the real universe?

Wouldn't there be no sacrifices, believers, or pre-prepared rituals of the magic circle, and the gods as powerful as these gods entrenched in the apex of the supreme heaven would not be able to unleash their wrath in the real universe at will: although the emperor had already stated a similar point to her a long time ago, when this reality really happened in front of her, Morgan dared to carefully repeat this sentence in the depths of his heart.

There is no other reason: the idea itself is too shocking.

【……】

So: it can't be some trap, right?

In the first moment, the always cautious Lord of Avalon had this suspicion: after all, it was also a god who was also in charge of war, and deception and disguise were not difficult for the blood god, and it was always right to be careful at this moment.

Thinking like this, more psionic energy gathered at Morgan's fingertips, and the squeezing of the excess made the brain of the Lord of Avalon feel a faint pain, but she was still able to endure it, and while giving Tarasin more help, she paid attention to the war that was taking place in her field of vision, and manipulated every detail that would make her care.

Ten companies of Dawnbreakers, five thousand Astarte warriors, the original body is like an arm, the Midnight Lord of ten companies, in Conrad's absence, is willing to obey the orders of this Lord of Avalon, as for the war dogs, although they have no reason to obey Morgan's orders, but the genetic prototype only needs to turn a finger slightly, and can play with the boundaries of suggestion and thought at will, so that the entire Twelfth Legion can do what she wants to do according to [its own will].

She had to take care of every bit herself, even if the beads of sweat had already spread all over her forehead and cheeks.

She didn't dare to leave the burden of defense to Tarasin and those miasma, nor did she dare to leave the War Dog Legion to its own, she had to make sure that she could monitor every aspect: after all, the Spider Empress still had a deep understanding of the pervasiveness of subspace.

Therefore, whether it is the defense of the blood god's wrath in the subspace, or the smoke on Nukeria in the real universe, it is something that the genetic prototype needs to pay attention to and control carefully: if the former fails, it goes without saying; And if the latter gets out of control and turns the purging and beheading operations into a bloody massacre, then the army of the Blood God will naturally appear in the sea of dead corpses.

This is not what Morgan wants: although the Spider Queen has been reckless enough to lead her army to Nukeria and fight the Blood God head-on on this pre-selected battlefield, the strategy she uses in this war is unusually cunning.

Morgan is a head-on enemy of the Blood God, but she doesn't intend to give the Blood God a chance, she knows that if the war is kept within a certain limit, then even if there will be blood flowing on the ground, it will not be enough to supply an army from the Brass Fortress, and as long as the Blood God's servants cannot appear in the real universe, they will not be able to fight and draw more allies from the subspace: as for the few demons that have been forced out of the blood, the wizards of the Dawnbreaker Legion are enough to snipe them with precision.

This knowledge was not within Morgan's comprehension, but before arriving in Nukeria, when Morgan had the idea of confronting the Brass Throne head-on, he naturally encountered an oncoming breeze in the sea of souls, and in the storm of words, gems, and moving arcane elements, nine voices burst out at the same time, telling her about the weakness of the Brass Throne.

The first voice told Morgan that even if he was a god of blood, he could not freely exert his power on the land of the real universe, and that even the wrath of the god of blood would have to be stopped in many cases without believers, magic weapons, or sacrifices large enough for the legion to appear.

The second voice told Morgan that the Blood God would be able to manifest its power in the real universe even if it didn't have enough head and blood: it would only violate the rules and majesty of the gods, and even the Blood God would rarely do such a thing until it was furious enough.

The third voice was seductive, revealing the Blood God's greatest weakness at this time: it was eager to show the side of war and strategy, and did not drag all of Nukeria into its own realm, although the dark influence of the Blood God was ubiquitous on the Red Sand Star, but it lacked the decisive factor.

In other words, the Blood God is so arrogant and confident that it has relied on its long-term plan, and it never thought that humans would take the initiative to set foot on the land of Nukeria and continue the game that has already been lost: on Nukeria, the Brass Throne does not have many cards that can be played immediately.

When the fourth voice sounded, it was more agitation than admonition: it beat the war drum in Morgan's ear, whispering of help from the deepest parts of the High Heaven, promising the illusory aid.

It told the Lord of Avalon that the Brass Throne was far from representing all the power in the subspace: on the contrary, because the Blood God had won so soon, and so arrogantly flaunted the results, it had led to too many pairs of eyes willing to see fate slip through its fingertips, and willing to see the anger that filled the sky when it missed.

It promises that the deliverers of Anglon will never be alone.

No one cares about the fate of the Children of the Mountain: but there will always be someone who will crave the defeat of the Blood God.

……

The voices only came to Morgan's mind once, and they disappeared before she reached Nukeria, but Morgan remembered every word of them deeply.

Morgan's instinct told her that the god of lies was not lying this time, and that was one of the main reasons why she dared to move forward with the plan: Morgan never imagined that what the Lord of Change had told her would be so accurate.

The god of blood, as it says, was restrained: the wrath of the god of blood paled as the courage of man burned in the land of the Brass Throne.

When the wildness of war is bound by the reins of reason, when the bloody messenger is shattered by the staff of the think tank, when the crazy whispers in the depths of subspace are blocked by the top technological power in the real universe: even though the wrath of the god of blood is higher than a moment, wave after wave, from the brass bell that only echoes in the depths of the supreme heaven at the beginning, to the earth-shattering that almost clings to Morgan's ears, it still cannot break the final wall that Morgan has used all means to pull up with his allies.

In this way, time in the real universe is passing bit by bit. The aura of blue and vine purple also began to appear around Nukeria, preventing the blood god from unleashing more anger here, and together with the Spider Empress on the top of the mountain, they overlooked the closing battle, depicting the final steps of the plan.

Morgan would only give the Blood God one Nukeria time, equivalent to an hour and twenty minutes on Terra: that was the total amount of time the three legions would completely destroy the largest city in Nukeria, and the long journey that Morgan and the Blackstone Shield needed to sustain in front of the Brass Throne.

And suddenly, almost two-thirds of the time had passed, as the gunshots and wails behind the walls had gradually subsided, and as the Daybreakers had stuffed their loot with a dozen drop boats.

At this moment, Morgan only felt the stench of blue and vine-purple psionic energy in her every breath, but the threat from the blood god had indeed been mitigated, and in fact, in the last few minutes, the Brass Throne had fallen into an eerie silence.

This made Morgan's hairs stand on end.

She didn't think that the previous failed riposte was all the blood god's methods, but rather that this casual act of spreading anger was not seriously reflected in the brass throne: as for the current silence......

Who knows what's brewing inside?

Morgan frowned at the thought, patted her head, and called out to Conrad, who hadn't been in touch with her for a while, to ask how he was doing.

"It's going well."

Compared to his sister, Midnight Wraith's voice was much more relaxed.

"As we expected, the brotherhood had a clear effect on him, although the Butcher's Nail was also unleashing a reaction force that caused him to delay reaching our destination, and as I was pulling him away from the battlefield: once he was away from the battlefield, the effect of the Butcher's Nail was not so obvious."

"It's you, Morgan: you need to be careful, the Blood God can still involve Angron, but when it can't even do that, maybe it will do some kind of stress reaction regardless of face."

[I know. 】

Morgan closed his eyes and adjusted the pain in his skull slightly.

[I have a solution. 】

The Primordial's voice was hoarse, and both she and Conrad across the communicator fell into an eerie silence for a moment: both men knew what Morgan was talking about, but neither of them was willing to mention the name.

After all, the Spider Empress was now able to leave a myriad of vine-purple reflections in the air with just a slight lift of her finger: the lord of the palace of pleasure, though uncharacteristically silent, neither its more obvious interference with Nukeria nor the viscous aura behind Morgan told that its gaze never left.

What's more, when Morgan shifted her attention from Nukeria and looked deeper into the subspace, she could naturally see the phantom of the Silver Palace: the base camp of the Prince of Darkness was unconcealed in front of its most beloved primordial form, and Morgan could see at a glance that the demonic army, the boundless, even if it was too large by the standards of the great game, was waiting in the Silver Palace, restless, waiting for the moment when it was thrown into battle.

The Spider Empress knew very well that she would only need to clap her hands for the six hundred and sixty-six doors of the Silver Palace to open in unison, and an army of demons would flock to the realm of the Brass Throne: even the furious God of Blood would not be able to take care of anything in the real universe in the face of such an attack.

But......

Needless to say, the price.

“……”

Conrad hesitated.

"Listen, Morgan: if you're not completely sure, don't push it."

"I know it in my heart. 】

The original just licked his lips.

[But on your side, Conrad, how much longer will it take?] 】

"Hmmm......"

Conrad thought for a moment.

"Ten minutes."

He was quick to add.

"Ten minutes at most."

[Okay.] 】

Morgan nodded, then she glanced up at the shadows in the sky.

Hurry up, bro. 】

"I will."

“……”

【……】

"Morgan, do you feel ......?"

"The Blood God seems to be watching you?"

[Of course I felt it: from the moment I led you down, the guy was staring at me.] 】

"It's hating you for ruining its good deeds?"

【…… No, a little worse. 】

Morgan shook her head, her eyebrows furrowed, wondering if it was the pain in her skull caused by over-squeezing psionic energy, or if it was something else.

But when she ignored the events on Nukeria for a moment and looked into the distance, her gaze could still easily pierce the veil of the Supreme Heaven, to see the scenes that existed in the deepest part of the subspace, to see the brass fortress burning in the wrath of the blood god, and to see the warlord who was gradually draining the last of his patience.

It's going to be angry.

Real anger.

It was staring at her.

It was staring at Morgan.

The brass-colored pupils were too dazzling to ignore, and the emotions in them were so fierce that Morgan quickly understood that there was both the anger and bloodlust that she had felt before with the blood god, the hatred and resentment of the psionic mage.

Now, there seemed to be a slight difference: at the very least, when Morgan felt the skull god's gaze again, she could perceive a distinctly more emotion.

It seems, it seems, it seems, it might, it is......

……

Admire?

Although there is only a hint of it: it is really simple and pure appreciation.

Blood God ...... Admiring her.

【……】

Morgan took a deep breath.

Oh...... It's just terrible.

(End of chapter)