In this way, the Lord of Avalon, in a very abrupt and unreliable gesture, tried to win over a blood brother who had just met her, and threw herself into the great struggle against the emperor.

And then, unsurprisingly.

And so she succeeded: the speed of victory was faster than even the Khan's motorcycle.

【……】

It can only be said that the straightforward, thick and unique fatherly love of the Lord of Mankind has indeed played an irreplaceable role in cultivating the independent will of the genetic protogens: it only took him five seconds to do what the God of Blood has not done in more than ten years, and he is truly worthy of Morgan's most revered father of genes.

Morgan was not surprised by the ease of the verbal pact with Anglon, after losing everything on Nucaria and regaining his sobriety, Angelon could easily tell that Morgan was the best man for him at the moment: he remembered everything the Lord of Avalon had done to save him, and he remembered the efforts of his other brother, Conrad.

As for the emperor, Angron didn't remember the importance of the emperor in the whole plan, but the Lord of Mankind tore this kindness to pieces with his own hands, and in the follow-up measures, not only did not make up for it, but fully embodied his ruthless tool concept for Angron: this is enough to make this unconcerned genetic prototype who has fallen into nothingness, and regards the golden face of the emperor with an axe as one of his only remaining life goals.

It is true that, just as the Astarte warriors have an almost unreasonable sense of innate loyalty to the genetic protoplasms, all protogens are subject to some kind of infinite loyalty in front of the emperor, but this constraint is much weaker than that of the warriors under their command: it does not fundamentally limit the firm choice of each protogen.

The Lord of Humanity was not a king adept at taking advantage of such constraints, and Angron was by no means a special case under his command: such examples were everywhere in the Primordial.

On second thought: even Motarian, who is the emperor's [flattering in every possible way], will have endless resentment towards the human lord, and the emperor's choice of [rational treatment] Chagatai is still recognized as one of the least loyal primordials: with these two perfect examples, Jewel in front, then for Angron, who was completely ignored by the emperor, there was only one choice left for him.

So, of course, out of contempt for a worthless life, a closeness to the Lord of Avalon who would help him, and a simple hatred for the Lord of Humanity: the Genetic Protogens of the Twelfth Legion had become a potential rebel in this great kingdom within five minutes of his official entry into the Empire.

As for Anglon's loyalty to the emperor?

Yes...... Maybe for five seconds.

And Morgan's [Insurance Plan] also adds a heavy weight: no matter how Angron's own confusion will affect the War Dog Legion, the Twelfth Legion is a force that can affect the entire galaxy after all, and in terms of reliability alone, if it is only against the emperor, Angron may be Morgan's staunchest ally.

After all, Johnson's loyalty is unshakable, and even Morgan can't imagine what kind of conditions will make the lord of Caliban not rush to the aid of Terra at a critical moment.

Seeded players like Killiman, Magnus or Perturab are always in flux, and Morgan doesn't have the confidence to make them his nemesis: it's nice that they're neutral.

As for Conrad......

Hehe.

So, compared to these people. Angrand's statement also became important: the genogen smiled and clenched her fists, touching her blood brother slightly, and deserving to stamp the ethereal verbal covenant.

At this moment, the Lord of Avalon even allowed herself to imagine a bright future, fantasizing about throwing both the Emperor and Machado out of the Terra Palace, and then turning the entire human empire into her own private property: of course, after her great father had cleared all the thunders of the empire and the Great Expedition.

At that point, she didn't mind pooling all the resources of the empire to help Angelon find a solution, nor did she mind fulfilling the small wishes of her other brothers: for example, to maintain the independence of the Five Hundred Worlds, or to let Perturabo do whatever he wanted to do, instead of clinging to war.

As for the emperor......

The original narrowed his eyes.

Morgan would not have killed the Emperor if she could, and her hatred for the Emperor was no longer so great, but slightly lowered: probably, from the death penalty to exile.

Perhaps, after cutting off the Emperor's wings, she will secretly exile the Lord of Humanity to some wild world that is not in any interstellar shipping lane, in a lush valley, or next to a beach, to build a mud house for the Emperor, so that her Father of Genes can experience the simple life of slash-and-burn, gathering, hunting, and basking in the sun every day: maybe he can communicate with the primitive tribes of the wild world.

It's a big deal, when the time comes, she will throw a piece of Makado, the palm print, over, so that Machado and the emperor can experience the life of the farmhouse together, one is responsible for farming, and the other is responsible for weaving: she doesn't believe that these two people are together and can still rub the spaceship used to escape from prison?

Of course, if Machado is not satisfied with this arrangement, out of the most basic respect for the Palm Print, Morgan can also choose a feudal world that is also not on any shipping route, and then throw the Palm Seal there and make him an elementary school teacher who has nothing to do all day but to spend his days with books or children: as a political figure who was once at the top of the empire, killing the political life of the Palm Seal is much more interesting than killing his biological life.

The Lord of Avalon could barely suppress the smile on his face when such a vicious thought crossed Morgan's mind, but with good upbringing and strong reason, the Gene Prototype was still able to stand up as usual, pull her brother up, and pat the dust on her forearm comfortingly: after all, she couldn't reach Angelon's shoulder.

[I'm glad we reached an agreement.] 】

Morgan took the cup from Anglon's palm, snapped his fingers, and the invisible wave of water washed it away, and then put it back in its original position with precision, this skillful action aroused Anglon's instinctive curiosity, and made him realize what a fantasy world he was in before him.

"I'm not going to disobey it."

The Son of the Mountain nodded, as he had said before, he was happy to be an enemy of the Emperor for the sake of the conflict and humiliation of Nukeria in the past: he had no intention of killing the Emperor, but beating the old bastard to the ground and making him appreciate the insult of a loser was enough to make Angelon resolutely gamble his life.

At the end of the day, Anglon now doesn't blame the Emperor for creating him, nor does he resent why the Emperor threw him into a desperate world like Nukeria: all the Primordial's hatred for the Lord of Humanity stems only from that moment engraved in the depths of his mind.

As he roared his brother in front of the Emperor, roaring at the most precious treasure of his life, Angelon could see in the eyes of the Lord of Mankind the undisguised contempt and indifference: it was not for him, but for his fighting brothers.

In the eyes of the emperor, there was no room for dozens of lowly slaves, and Anglon's little brothers were nothing in the eyes of his genetic father: just for the dignity of these dead people, Angron was willing to wait for the moment when he could take revenge.

Not for the Empire, not for Nukeria, not for the ethereal gods of Chaos.

Just for his brothers.

Just for ...... Angelon himself.

As for whether Morgan's covenant was intended to use his power, Angron didn't care too much about that: Morgan's olive branch was just a smooth sail for him, and even in return for the efforts of the Lord of Avalon to work for him on Nucheria, Angron didn't mind joining Morgan's secret camp.

Anyway, the current Nukerians are just a wisp of living ghosts, and in order to no longer become the blood god or the emperor's permanent servant, Angelon will not easily seek death and life, but if the situation allows, he will not take his rotten life seriously.

Nothingness fills the primordial body.

He has become the king of nothingness.

Although, this is already the best result.

Standing opposite Anglon, Morgan naturally saw all this, and she had no idea of continuing to pull with the Son of the Mountain: if she could do this, it would already be the limit of the Lord of Avalon, unless she could let Angelon stay by Morgan's side for at least ten more years like Conrad did, and slowly cultivate.

Morgan doesn't mind that.

Unfortunately, the Lord of Avalon's proposal was rejected by her genetic father: the Emperor's disregard for Angron was genuine, and he bluntly told Morgan that the Spider Empress was more important to the Emperor than to educate the Primordial Body.

Remembering this, Morgan's pupils flashed with a cold edge, and she simply said a few words to Angelon, but in front of the expressionless son of the mountain, she never got any effective response: Angelon's indifference is different from Dorne, Morgan can feel a fiery heart from Dorne, which is the true soul of the Lord of the Emperor's Fist.

But Angelon?

Even his heart was cold.

In the end, even the Lord of Avalon could only leave the scene in a bit of embarrassment, she ended the conversation with a few words, giving Angelon a way to contact him at any time as necessary insurance, and in another difficult thank you from the son of the mountain, Morgan pointed to the large pile of [gifts] she had left behind, and then walked towards the main entrance of the hall.

But the moment she touched the doorknob, the Lord of Avalon seemed to sense something, and she turned her head, only to see that Angelon had sat down on the floor again, his head bowed, and his breath heavy: his nothingness was obviously not a simple problem that Morgan could solve in a few words.

At this time, Angelon also noticed Morgan's gaze turning back, and he did not hide his low state, but sat there, with his hands on his knees, looking at the void outside the porthole with a dull expression, and his lips were chapped.

He almost muttered to himself.

"Say, how am I going to live, Morgan?"

“……”

"I don't have anything left."

The original bit his lip until it turned white, the muscles on his cheeks intertwined with pain and remorse, and he seemed to want to spit out more complaints, but in the end, all he let out was an endless sigh and a groan of pain that resembled a sob.

"I deserve to die, it's good for all of us."

"What can I do while I'm alive? Like now, do you want to live in a state of confusion until you meet death again? Once again a slave to the big names? If he made me to make me a slave, then why should he allow me to breathe, to have the same joys, sorrows, and sorrows as human beings? ”

“……”

"He might as well have killed me at the very beginning, cutting off my head and erasing my soul on his golden flagship, the only mercy he can give me, but he refuses to give it to me."

“…… He threw me back into the cage. ”

“…… Morgan...... I ......"

"Thank you for your kindness, thank you, and Conrad for your efforts, but this ......"

"This ...... for me"

"It's the cage: the slave's cage."

"I am like a slave: like a slave with nothing."

“……”

After a long time, the original body pulled the smile on his cheek with all his might, and showed an apologetic smile to his blood relative, begging her to forgive her for unilaterally venting her anger.

"I'm sorry, Morgan, I ...... I didn't mean to disturb you. ”

"I just...... I just find it hard for you to understand my current ......"

[Nope.] 】

[I understand it very well. 】

Before Angelon's words could be finished, his blood relatives interrupted him directly in an almost arrogant manner: Morgan had turned back to her head, and saw that the heavy steel gate she was standing on was extremely close, and the shadow cast on her face completely obscured the expression on her face.

But the firm voice of the Lord of Avalon, like a sharp sword, easily pierced Angron's confused heart and pierced into the deepest eternity of the Children of the Mountain.

[Listen, Angelon.] 】

[I can understand all your feelings now: because, I have had the same experience as you, and my experience is even worse than yours, and I at least had them before I lost them, but I am not even qualified to have and lose. 】

The original body laughed, and the bitterness in her laughter silenced the son of the mountain: he realized that it was not Morgan's lie.

[You and I are the same, brother: we are all nothing, stepping into this great empire, we are all different from our ridiculous blood relatives, when they are still immersed in expeditions and family affection, we have seen through the truth of this galaxy, but we have known our pathetic status, and our nature. 】

[That guy treats me as ruthlessly as he treats you: he doesn't bother to disguise it in front of me, he tears off his father's mask straight away, and his every note is full of calculations. 】

[In front of him, I will become the guy who has nothing at any time. 】

【……】

[I used to think so: just like you are now. 】

[But ......]

The original grinned.

She leisurely snuffed out her tone, turned her gaze sideways, and noticed that Angelon had been drawn to her words: in the gaze of the son of the mountain, Morgan showed the smile on the corner of his lips very clearly, and it was very convincing.

[But now, the situation is different, Angelon.] 】

[I no longer have nothing, I have found the most precious thing in this galaxy, I have found a treasure worthy of my protection, worthy of my long-term planning: this treasure is not mine, brother, if you want, you can also have them. 】

"Have your share. 】

So, don't despair so quickly. 】

[Just wait a little bit.] 】

“……”

"What are you talking about?"

Angron frowned, he could hardly imagine any treasure that could compare to his fighting brothers on Nukeria: the mere thought made him feel blasphemous.

Morgan didn't answer him, the Lord of Avalon just withdrew his gaze, smiled and pushed open the heavy door in front of him, and with a great vibration, only the frowning Angron was left in the huge room.

Then, nothingness, once again, struck.

After a brief moment of thought to no avail, Angron did not continue, he buried his head in two arms, like a lifeless stone statue, and sat there in silence for a long time.

It was the only thing he could do.

……

Treasure?

Perhaps, it was just his blood relatives who comforted him again.

——————

Outside the door, the Lord of Avalon could do much more.

The moment she closed the door, a dozen or so eyed heads swarmed in front of the Spider Queen, and Morgan could make out Kir at the front, as well as Karn and Dregg who were squeezed to the end, and as for the dozen or so rough faces in the middle, the Lord of Avalon couldn't fully recognize them.

These war dogs are too rough: far less elaborate than her offspring.

The original body waved his hand, signaling the little guys in front of him to be quiet, and then turned his gaze to Kiel in the forefront, Morgan's face was a little serious, so the face of each war dog became not very good.

[Angelon has woken up. 】

Just the first sentence caused a low cheer.

[But he is in a very bad state, as we expected, he should be more resistant to communicating with people now, and he will be more resistant to meeting with you: specifically, he has not yet found a reason to serve the Emperor and the entire human empire, and as for the reason, I guess I don't need to say. 】

Morgan smiled forcefully, and in a somewhat oppressive atmosphere, she looked for something that could turn the tide: eventually, she saw in Karn, who was at the very end of the line, some kind of residual possibility.

"I see, sir."

The Acting Legion Commander nodded, and he bowed to Morgan rather seriously, as did every war dog behind him: it was unimaginably serious etiquette for the soldiers of the Twelfth Legion.

"Once again, thank you for all you have done for our Primordial and our Legion."

Kiel's countenance was serious, and Morgan's words did not dampen his fighting spirit.

"As for our Father of Genes, we will try to persuade him that we have waited a hundred years for his return, and that we have more patience and time to prove to him that we are worthy of his warriors, and that we will not fear any defeat or setback."

【…… Good luck. 】

Morgan didn't say anything more, she gave everyone a simple goodbye smile and left without looking back: the Lord of Avalon had no reason to stay here, everything she could do for Anglon, everything she could get from Anglon, was over, there was nothing left to be nostalgic about.

Although the result is not too good, it is definitely not too bad, there is only a kind of unwilling regret: and this slightly unwilling regret is the norm in this universe.

As for what's next......

It's up to the dogs themselves.

——————

The empire of mankind is more ruthless and tiresome than Angron imagined.

Because, even the only tranquility he had now, the Son of the Mountain did not enjoy it for long, and before the sound of Morgan's riding boots on the ground disappeared around the corner of the corridor, a deep impact made the Genoplasm have to raise its head: a lone figure walked in, far less strong than Angron, but much stronger than the average mortal.

Even compared to Morgan, this figure was not much shorter: or, rather, the Lord of Avalon, who could only touch Angron's chest, was perhaps the exception.

The sturdy figure was obviously in awe of Angelon, and he quickly closed the iron door behind him, not daring to disturb the peace of the room, but the moment before he closed the iron door, the vision of the genetic prototype still captured the dozen or so identical figures at the crack in the door, huddled together, and looked nervously into the room.

Angelon didn't speak, he watched quietly as the figure descended the steps, slowly and solemnly approaching him, the dead expression of the son of the mountain made the breathing of the comer not too obvious, and when he walked about ten paces, he stood up straight like a warrior, and in his low tone, there was a slight tremor that could not be controlled at all.

"My lord."

He said.

"We have finally waited for you: Lord Angron, my Primordial, we have been waiting for this day for a long time, and your legion is ready for the moment when you will lead us."

"For the sake of your will, we are willing to go to the end of the world."

"I am your heir, your most loyal war dog and blade, my name ......"

"Enough!"

At first, Angron was still a little curious about his words, but as soon as he heard the obedience and loyalty that came from this mouth, the son of the mountain quickly became bored: what is the difference between these so-called heirs of him and the servants of Nukeria who are loyal to the high riders? They are just some higher-level servants, and because of a little transformation or brainwashing, they can casually swear their loyalty and devotion to an unknown person.

This made Angelon feel sick.

He didn't get up, he wasn't furious enough to try to tear the sound apart, he wasn't tormented by the Butcher's Nail, Angron wasn't really murderous in nature, and he had lost the urge to slaughter.

The genogen just turned around, his back to the person, his voice was as heavy as thunder, and just opened his mouth, shaking the war dog ten paces away.

"Leave."

Angelon said.

"Get out of here: I'm not interested in listening to your oaths or loyalty, I just want to be alone right now, get out of this room, I don't want to see you here."

"Adult ......"

The figure's breathing changed, he obviously didn't expect such a situation, even with his back to him, the original body could keenly sense how embarrassed this guy was standing in place: even such a reproach did not stir up anger in his heart, which only made Angelon more and more contemptuous.

The Wardog seemed to want to say something, but Angelon had lost patience: using the Primordial's innate supernatural mind, the Son of the Mountain easily found a huge hole in his impassioned oath.

"Didn't you say you were willing to obey any of my orders?"

His voice was loud and sarcastic.

"Why, my first order, do you want to disobey to your face?"

“……”

"Get out, if you're really as loyal as you say, then don't bother me: don't bother me with you or anyone outside the room, I don't want to see anyone."

“……”

Silence enveloped the war dogs, and Angron still did not look back, he was still as dead as a fallen stone statue, but he felt the power of his words: after a silence full of unwillingness and shame, the footsteps of the war dogs slowly approached the gate, and the sluggish and intermittent pauses in them even set off a touch of pity in the heart of the original body.

He heard the sound of the war dog reluctantly pushing open the door and disappearing outside the door, and he also heard the cacophony of the moment the door closed again: but at last he was able to be quiet for a while.

Angelon closed his eyes.

"Click-"

And in the next second, Angelon's thoughts were ruthlessly shattered: he saw another warrior push the door open without hesitation, the defeat of the forerunner obviously did not hit him, his steps were more impulsive than steady, as if a fighter was walking towards the battlefield.

Angelon still didn't look back.

For him, no matter how many more guys like this come, the result will be the same.

No tomahawks, no fists, just simple words and sarcasm, the son of the mountain can repel these guys one after another.

The first, the second, the third.

It's sad and ridiculous in one vein.

Fourth, fifth, sixth.

It's inevitably a little boring.

The seventh, the eighth, the ninth.

“……”

Is...... That's enough.

Finally, as the eleventh warhound stood behind him, repeating the clichés that had not changed in essence, a long-lost anger struck Angelon's heart, and he quickly turned, and before the surprise in the wardog's pupils had passed, he grabbed something from his hand in a rage: it seemed to be a small stone statue, but it was still enough to smash the guy apart......

……

No!

He couldn't do that.

In the final moments of his rage, reason returned to his mind a little, and instead of smashing the statue in his hand at the guy with the remnants of surprise and consternation in his pupils, Angelon let the stone statue crumble against the warrior's head and shatter in the wall.

"I said, that's enough!"

He roared, and the roar made everyone shiver.

"Get out, I don't want to see you! I don't want to hear any more of these so-called honors, loyalty, and oaths from your mouths: I just want to stay here in peace, and you may find someone else to lead your legion and accept your allegiance, and I don't care, I don't care about you slaves who lack essence! ”

He roared, his wits still holding back the passing impulses, and finally, the primordial pointed his big finger to the door, and he stared at it and stood up, grinning wide.

"Get out."

Under this disobedient order, the war dog could only bow his head in despair, and walked out slowly: before opening the door, the last luck in his heart made him turn his head, and he glanced at Angron again, only to find that his genetic father had returned to his original appearance, with his back to the direction of the gate, and he did not care about everything outside the gate.

He didn't hurt him.

He didn't want to deal with him.

Angelon closed his eyes again.

So be it, scare them off with a single intimidation, just as on Nukeriya, his war cry can repel the soft eggs of the high riders: he doesn't care what they think, he just wants to be quiet, wash nothing, fight nothingness with ignorance.

Just like it is now.

Yes, it's like ......

"Click!!

“……”

“！！！”

Angelon opened his eyes: there were finally a few streaks of blood in his pupils.

The sound of opening the door was no stranger to him, but this time, the voice was extraordinarily reckless, and it was braver than all the previous ones combined: it was impossible for the person who opened the door outside the door not to hear the roar of the original body just now, but after seeing the senior retreat in defeat, he did not hesitate for a second, and slammed the door open in an unprecedented reckless, or brave way.

This time, the rationality of the original body was a little unable to suppress his anger.

Perhaps, it was time for him to let the bastards see the blood: not to kill, to break one of his arms or to make him bleed all over his face, and to throw him out, just as the gladiators in the gladiatorial arena humiliated their opponents and made them understand the weight of his words.

Angelon gasped heavily, and instead of getting up at once, he intended to teach him a lesson when the bastard, like all his predecessors, advanced ten paces away from him.

He waited, waited.

Waiting......

……

Ten seconds later, Angron did not wait for the sound of heavy footsteps, but waited for another somewhat abrupt sound: the crash of someone taking off his armor and throwing them to the ground, and then, with a steady pace, the man slowly came to a distance of fifteen paces away from Angron.

A loud metallic chirp told him that he was kneeling, but the gesture made Anglon's gaze a little serious: the Primordial's keen senses could discern what the other person was doing just by sound.

And this kneeling posture, he is too familiar.

It was a kneeling position in Nucheria, in the gladiatorial arena, before the two gladiators competed: it contained love for brotherhood and respect for the sport itself, things that were almost engraved in Angelon's mind, but at the moment, they were clearly visible beyond his mind.

Finally, Angelon stood up.

He didn't growl, he didn't choose to be sarcastic, his serious expression returned to the face of the son of the mountain, and he looked carefully at the guy who was kneeling fifteen paces away from him: if you only look at your face and body, this is indeed a warrior to be proud of, and his movements, his resolute countenance. Every detail of his weapons and armor forced Angelon to briefly overlap him with his fighting brothers in the dueling arena.

So, the original body spoke.

"Who are you?"

He asked.

"Karn."

The voice of the comer is resolute.

"Your nobody."

Angelon smiled.

"I have never confessed that any of you are my men, and I will not admit that you are warriors like you: you do not fight for the wrath and glory of your hearts, but for what is imposed on you, and which you yourself do not know how to resist."

"I understand, sir."

Karn only nodded, seemingly unresponsive to the Primordial's contempt.

"From what you said before, I can understand what you mean."

Karn then stood up, his movements very slowly, and when he took up his weapon, he performed a pose in place at the same slow pace that no one else could understand: but Angron's eyes widened, and he realized that this was a ritual on Nukeria, the posture that the fledgling duelists would take when they challenged their predecessors.

Karn's voice followed.

"We are your followers, my lord, we are your war dogs, we are your weapons for the conquest of the galaxy, and we are willing to change ourselves for your will: if you desire glory in the arena, then we are willing to be the gladiators in the arena."

"All for you, my lord."

“……”

Angelon scoffed.

"This kind of thinking of yours just can't become a real gladiator."

With that, the original took a step forward, so fast that Karn couldn't catch it, and Angelon's five fingers were put together into palms, but he didn't think about killing the little guy in front of him, but just swung it close to Karn's face, and the fierce hurricane naturally swept the war dog out of the way, and fell heavily to the ground, and the sound even reverberated in the empty hall.

Angelon turned away, not looking at the offended fellow again: he knew that his blow was enough to make Karn feel pain, and that it would be a great lesson.

But before the Primordial could take a step, he heard a discordant voice: there was no moaning or wheezing of injuries behind him, only the madness of gritting his teeth, only getting up from the ground without hesitation, and continuing to imitate the ancient etiquette of Nukeria, the tenacity of a duelist.

Karn's voice rang out behind Angelon again.

Steadfast as always.

"I'll fight you, my lord: if that's what you want."

"I will not attack you, because I am a warrior under your command, and I have sworn to respect and obey you forever, and I will always keep this promise no matter what you think."

"I will not give up the fight, for you desire the glory of Nukeria, and I will follow what I have found, the glory of Nukeria. Don't give up on any fight: You can choose to kill me, but the fight won't end until I finally fall. ”

“……”

Angelon was silent.

He didn't look back, just let the room fall into a deathly silence, let Karn's blood drip and drop after drop to the floor, and let the dogs behind him cling to the gladiator's complex posture, gritting their teeth desperately to prop up his crumbling body.

It was a long time before the primordial body's somewhat hoarse voice rang out.

"Why?"

Angelon saw the creamy white and azure flags, with scarlet war dogs in the middle.

"Just because, you are war dogs: loyal hounds?"

"No, sir."

Karn's voice had weakened, but it hadn't changed its firmness.

"We are war dogs, but this is the title given to us by the emperor, it symbolizes our past achievements and glory, but it does not symbolize your place in our hearts: for you, we can be anything, we can no longer be war dogs, we can be any weapon in the galaxy that you want."

"And."

Karn retorted solemnly.

"War dogs are our honor, and this honor does not come from blind obedience, but from our ancient exploits: I am the first warrior of the Twelfth Legion, and I can tell you clearly all our performance on the battlefield, all our glory, faith, and victory."

"Believe me, Father: we're trying to be a weapon worthy of you."

"We never gave up."

"We're never going to give up."

“……”

Angron didn't speak, he just turned slowly, and looked silently at Karn's blood-soaked countenance: something about the bleeding countenance had clearly touched a heartstring in the son of the mountain.

Karn, on the other hand, only stared at his father in silence.

Then, he began to tell.

His story.

The story of the war.

Also, the story of the Legion.

——————

In shock, Angelon pushed open the door of his room, followed by Karn, whose face was dripping with pride and glory.

Grim glanced blankly at the dozen or so people in the hallway, ignoring the ecstasy on their faces, and only quickly focused his gaze on the acting Legionnaire: he realized that this was the leader among them.

"You."

Angelon pointed to Kiel.

"Your position?"

He asked.

Kiel was stunned for a moment, but he quickly reacted, standing up straight, saluting, and fluently reporting his position, name, and ......

"That's enough."

The Primordial waved his hand, and his next words were addressed to everyone, and through their mouths to the entire Legion.

"Now, I am not interested in knowing your name, and you are not yet honored enough to be worthy of my remembrance of your name: I will remember your position, and will call you by it in the future."

The war dogs were a little disappointed, but this loss did not last long: compared to the panic in their hearts just now, the current situation was enough to make people feel dreamy, but in front of everyone, Angelon's ruthless proclamation was not over, and his words smashed into the hearts of the war dogs like a cannon.

"Listen."

The original said.

"I will command you, I will command you to fight in the galaxy, to accomplish those so-called missions and missions, but that's all: I don't consider me the father of your genes, I have no interest in seeing you as heirs, and you are not even qualified to be my fighting brothers."

"I will tell you what a glorious and brave group my fighting brothers are: if you are really as persistent and brave as you say, then try to become so great."

“……”

"If you do: I'll probably be impressed with you."

The original snorted, ignoring the renewed flames in the dogs' pupils and their impatient oaths. He just pointed to the Acting Legion Commander again, and asked him to send all the books and documents needed to manage the Legion at once, and send them to the room behind him: Angelon knew that he still had a lot to learn, and despite the study materials that Morgan had left behind, he still had to make up for some lessons.

The Primordial shook his head slightly, he decided to take care of the legion for the time being, all to deal with the long boredom and to see where the group could go: he didn't think these people could outperform his fighting brothers in Nukeria, but they weren't without merit either.

It's just: not much.

But it is enough to relieve boredom and keep life from being meaningless.

Nothingness, nothingness became an enemy that Angron needed to confront against.

Compared to him, this group of unsightly guys is just like that.

Angelon was silent, out of step with the jubilation around him, but acquiescing to what he saw as an offense: he wasn't going to get too involved in these people, he would only be a manager, not a father.

He doesn't praise them, he doesn't encourage them, he doesn't kill or punish them easily: in fact, he doesn't intend to put anyone in the War Dog Legion to death for any crime, just leave it to the Legion's own laws.

They weren't worth his hands on yet.

Angelon's eyes narrowed, and he waited quietly for the war dogs' celebration to finish before asking one last question.

"I have only one request."

"The name, I don't like the name."

The Son of the Mountain pointed disdainfully at the Scarlet Hound on the banner.

"The War Dog Legion, this is servitude, it's submission, it's flattery: if you bear this name, you will never be able to make me look up to it, you will always be just a pack of hunting dogs."

The warriors fell silent, and Angron's voice sounded like a roar.

"Listen, the true legions I have had right now are the City Eaters: they are willing to devour an entire city for the sake of our common wrath, and in what you see as thirty-one hours, destroy the most terrible enemies with the worst weapons, and they are the proud legions in my eyes."

"The City Eaters are the true legions, not the dogs of war."

"Thirty-one hours, this is the eternal glory in my eyes."

"They can devour a city of enslavement with their fire and anger."

The roar of the original was spreading, and in response to him was a rightful passion: first the oath of a war dog, then the war cry of a dozen war dogs scrambling to get ahead.

"Your Excellency."

In the midst of the battle cry, Angelon could hear the voice coming from Karn.

Now, the voice seems a little fanatical.

"For your sake, my lord, we can also become city eaters, and we can even become city eaters like never before: our fire and wrath will not only consume a city of enslavement, we will devour every enslaved world you see, and for you, we will devour all the old worlds!"

"We'll be your world eater!"

“……”

The World Eater.

For the first time in a long time, a real smile appeared on Angelon's face.

"The World Eater."

“……”

"Okay."

"From today onwards, prove your oath to me."

——————

"The World Eater."

(End of chapter)