"Iron Warriors......"

"It's so nostalgic."

As the massive and ferocious figure of the Iron Blood gradually swallowed the transport boat that Dantiok was on, the war blacksmith of the 14th Battalion was standing in front of the porthole, quietly looking at the great battleship that carried the first half of his life.

Whether it was the extraordinarily heavy outer armor compared to the other Glory Queen-class ships, or the strange surface without any portholes from beginning to end, Danteok felt so familiar and unfamiliar.

He was like a wanderer returning home, vaguely looking at the vague outline of his hometown on the hill, although he was very excited, he did not dare to take another step forward, and could only sigh in vain in this inexplicable entanglement.

"Feeling, I've been away from the Fourth Legion for a long time, when was the last time I boarded the [Iron Blood]? When was the last time I sang its name? ”

"Thirty years ago? Or forty years? Or longer? So long that I've forgotten? ”

Dantioc smiled bitterly, he was immersed in this alternative nostalgia, feeling the long-lost poetic feelings in his chest, and constantly brewing elegant sentences.

Merely......

"Just yesterday! Sir: When you were taking a nap in the cabin yesterday, you were still chanting the names of the Iron Blood and the Father of Genes, and you wept bitterly as you chattered, and you smashed the big iron bed. ”

“…… Tsk......"

However, some of the others in the cabin did not seem to understand Dantioc's poetic feelings at this time: when the war blacksmith, who had ruined his good mood, turned his head with some resentment, he saw only a few excited and cheerful young faces.

They were all Iron Warriors, and they were all young, and they looked like they had only been in the military for less than twenty years at most, and there was a sense of pride on each face that had never been defeated: these men were clearly not warriors from Olympia, they were all Dantiok's handpicked men from the so-called [Salamas New Blood].

The masters of these faces were grouped together under the calm gaze of Dantiok, and instinctively shrunk their necks, and even their voices were noticeably mute, but the leader was still of extraordinary courage: in the admiring gaze of the fighting brothers around him, he was seen to raise a finger firmly, and stubbornly fill the second half of the sentence in his voice.

"It's still a few of us who will help you advance money."

“……”

#丹提欧克式沉默#

"I see, I'll make up the account later: I'm sorry for you."

After a moment of silence, Dantiok found that he had nothing to say, his originally hard heart softened the moment he saw these young faces, and when he spoke again, the war blacksmith instinctively comforted these young juniors who had only been in the military for more than ten years in a gentle manner.

"Prepare yourself, we're going to be on board soon."

Then, turning, shaking his head, and sighing helplessly, the war blacksmith listened silently to the sound behind him: only to hear the new blood recruited from the Far Eastern frontier, only to be silent for a moment, and then to the small muttering of each other, back to the cheerful atmosphere of a few seconds ago, this time, mixed with the ping-pong sound of them putting medals of honor on each other.

This bunch of unobtrusive boys......

Dantiok shook his head and sighed, but he could feel the corners of his mouth raised.

It's just that this happiness is only short-lived after all, when the first half of the hull of the [Iron Blood] called [Twelve Gods] broke into the pupils of the war blacksmith, and with the tarmac in front of him slowly opening the door, Dantiok took one last look at the inexplicable boys behind him who were excited to return to the legion, and the uneasiness in his heart almost erupted.

Frankly speaking, it was definitely not Dantiok's intention to take this group of Salamas's new blood to the [Iron Blood], it was just a last resort after careful consideration: after all, the news that the Dawnbreaker Legion and the Iron Warriors would hold a joint expedition was well known, and no matter how hard the Iron Warrior veterans in the Far East Frontier tried, they could not hide it.

After about ten days of futile struggle among the Olympian veterans, the new bloods of Salamas learned the news and spread like a whirlwind.

So, when Dantiok saw that the recruits from the Far Eastern Frontier had chosen their [popular representatives] through internal voting, imitating the habits of the Legion of the Dawnbreakers, and stood respectfully at the door of his office, hoping to be part of the expedition.

At this moment, the war blacksmith felt a great mental pressure in his life: the last time he had this feeling was when he stood in front of the Lord of Avalon, looked her in the eye, and once again swore that the total number of Iron Warriors in the Salamas Star Region would never exceed six thousand.

Seriously, the War Blacksmith felt that his nonsense hadn't escaped the Genetic Prime's eyes at all, but the Lord of Avalon didn't care about it: Morgan seemed to be more interested in Danteok's assurance, "If I'm lying, I'll let me shout Long Live the Imperial Fist in front of Perturabo."

As for the truth of this guarantee......

Let's put it this way: the petition submitted to Dantiok by the representatives of these new Salamas alone has more than 6,000 genuine petition signatures: Dantioc has checked, and there are no Olympians.

Originally, the war blacksmith had planned to send a few old fellows who could speak well to help solve the problem, but he soon discovered that the treacherous battle brothers had noticed something wrong early on: they had either gone out on routine patrols, recruited new recruits in other worlds, or had run off to serve as temporary instructors for Avalon's mortal auxiliaries.

In short, when Dantiok searched among his old fellows who had not run away, unearthing the unlucky ones to shirk his responsibilities, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he was the most brilliant of all the old Olympian fellows left behind.

……

What a strong comradeship!

So, outside the door was a group of young-eyed juniors, and inside the door was a group of old men with anticipation: the war blacksmith only felt that no matter how colorful his life was, he would never encounter this kind of high blood pressure situation again.

He even forgot how long it took him to convince the recruits' representatives to accept his plan: Dantiok finally selected a group of [calm and restrained] warriors from among the new blood, and personally ensured that each of them had a strong nerve.

Then, he personally took this lucky squad and joined the Dawnbreaker's expeditionary force, intending to take them back to the Fourth Legion and [see the market] for these little cubs.

The war blacksmith only hopes that these relatively mature new bloods can accept the truth of the Fourth Legion little by little under his guidance, and after returning to the Far Eastern frontier, the other new bloods can be prepared psychologically.

It would be nice if the impracticality of the new blood could be dispelled, just as the Far Eastern Frontier subtly dispels their old things: so, with such a naïve dream, the war blacksmith took one last look at the cheering squad behind him, shook his head, and stepped out of the airport.

Although the excited brisk pace of the new blood behind him did not sound like a qualified Iron Warrior, it was also something that could not be helped: the recruits recruited from the Far Eastern Frontier inevitably spent a long time with the Dawnbreaker Legion, and naturally became tainted with the strange comfort and optimism of the Morgan Sons, and became like the Dawnbreaker recruits, always looking at the cruel galaxy with an extra recklessness and cheerfulness.

The babbling-looking boys behind him are indeed the most [pessimistic] of Salamas's new blood, who only think that Perturabo is the father of genes alongside Morgan, and those who are optimistic believe that Perturabo is a better father of genes than Morgan: after all, the Lord of Avalon has never boasted about how good he is at raising children.

She would always tell everyone that she was a bad mother.

And the new blood of the Iron Warriors, believe in the words of the Lord of Avalon.

As for Dantiok?

“……”

Dantiok had nothing to say.

The war blacksmith at the front of the line narrowed his eyes slightly, and after getting used to the bright and cheerful atmosphere of the [Dawning Goddess], as well as the friendly greetings and children's laughter, he had just stepped on the [Iron Blood], and the cold silence made him shiver.

He's a little out of here.

The war blacksmith's gaze first quickly swept across the tarmac, only to see two battle brothers stationed here, and a dozen mortal servants with dead faces, he didn't see any familiar faces, just nodded silently, leading the muttering new blood behind him, striding towards the core area of the battleship.

Beside him, the two Iron Warriors stationed here looked at this group of guys who were too [Iron Warriors] with their strange eyes, and behind Dantiok, in the voices of his juniors, there was also a hint of confusion and worry.

Although these Salamas newbloods are still very young, they are great Astarte warriors after all, and they are extremely sensitive to changes in their surroundings: as soon as they stepped on the [Iron Blood], many people's faces stiffened slightly, and when their eyes swept over those mortal servants with dead faces, almost every Iron Warrior newblood's brow instinctively furrowed.

Something seems wrong?

The style of the battleship was inevitably a little too dark, and the faces of these mortal servants were inevitably too pale, and even looked like the walking dead: the new bloods were keenly aware of the slight differences between the two legions, but they were disturbed that they did not think that these scenes on the [Iron Blood] would be the better side.

The faces of the leading Recruit Captains grew more serious, as if they wanted to ask the venerable Dantiok seniors, but the War Blacksmith didn't have time to answer their questions, he just silently and firmly led the increasingly restless squad through the cold corridors.

Along the way, he felt more and more eyes from his battle brothers, both he knew and didn't know, all of them feeling strange and even disgusted by the squad behind Dantiok, and the low, hoarse voices of discussion did not avoid the ears of the war blacksmith.

What's more, Dantiok found that a lot of eyes and discussion centers were actually focused on him, and the more he walked in, the more strange eyes he looked at the war blacksmith, as if Dantiok, who had returned from the Dawnbreaker Legion, had become a weirdo, a guy who was out of step with the Fourth Legion.

The war blacksmith frowned, he didn't know what was wrong, but he didn't care about the things: at best, he had at least shared some of the firepower for the recruits behind him.

The Olympians took pleasure in their suffering.

And when they advanced all the way to the conference room of the genetic prototype, although the recruit's uneasiness was difficult to suppress, there was no bad situation such as blocking the road and interrogating the war blacksmith had expected, which made Dantiok breathe a sigh of relief, and then he pointed to the waiting room next to him.

"You stay inside for a while."

The voice of the war blacksmith was calm and unquestionable, and the Avalon recruits he had brought up, although full of doubts, still obeyed the order honestly, and entered the waiting room in an orderly manner: through the gap, Dantiok could see the Dawnbreakers who had followed Morgan to the ship, and they were also repairing in the room at the moment, which was why he dared to place these recruits here.

As for the confusion of the recruits......

The war blacksmith sighed.

Let's take it one step at a time: he has a tougher problem now.

Thinking of this, Dantioc's eyes turned in the direction of the conference room, and he saw a person standing at the end of the corridor, who seemed to be ordered to lead him to the conference room: the war blacksmith took a step forward, recognized the person who was waiting for him, and then, Dantioc's face was put on a relaxed smile.

"It's you, Kyle."

The War Blacksmith greeted him, recognizing that the man who was waiting for him was none other than Kyle Valen, the commander of the second company of the newly formed Seventy-seventh Battalion, and a friend of Dantiok: at least in the oppressive atmosphere of the Fourth Legion, he and Kyle could have a few words.

"You look like you've changed a lot, my dear brother war blacksmith."

After a brief hug, Kyle, with a fierce face, looked Dantioc up and down, and was amazed: the war blacksmith was keenly aware that the gaze in Kyle's pupils was the strange gaze he had felt from the eyes of his fighting brothers along the way.

It seems that every Iron Warrior has reached an agreement in silence, and they all agree that certain elements of Dantiok do not belong to the Fourth Legion or the Iron Blood.

But...... What is it?

The blacksmith of war was puzzled, believing that he had never departed from the teachings he had heard from Pertulabo, and had never turned his back on the philosophy of war of the Fourth Legion: so Dantioc did not choose to go around in circles, and after a few brief pleasantries, he asked his friend the question bluntly.

"Huh?"

Kyle chuckled, his gaze focused on the War Blacksmith's breastplate.

"You ask me, how are you different from us Iron Warriors?"

Kyle raised an eyebrow, and only after discovering that Dantiok's pupils were literally reflecting a confused glow before the son of Perturabo who greeted him laughed dumbly, only to see him clench his fist and slam it on the war blacksmith's breastplate, and then there was the sound of his fist rubbing against a pile of twisted delicate metal, not the loud sound of hitting the broad breastplate.

"Take a look, Dantiok."

"Look carefully, listen carefully."

Kyle stretched out his hand, and Dantiok followed the directions, only to see the rows of golden insignia on his breastplate: a third of them had been granted to him by the Lord of Avalon himself, and most of the rest were from the gratitude of the imperial worlds he had protected during his various military operations in the Far Eastern Frontier.

Kyle's voice was a little agitated.

"Dantiok, brother."

"Which of the fucking Iron Warriors you've ever seen is covered in medals?"

“……”

Dantiok was silent for a moment.

After a moment, he instinctively asked rhetorically.

"But ......"

"But these are the real merits which I have achieved in the various military operations in the Far East: look at these, brother, they bear the autograph of Lord Morgan, or the triumphal symbols of those honors."

"Look at this, it's for building a fortress on Salamas, this is the military merit medal awarded by the original body himself, and this is the honorary citizen insignia of the Aegis Star Zone: I welded them together, and they can also be used as body armor in peacetime."

"They're all honors that I've earned little by little, and that's just an acknowledgement."

“……”

Kyle didn't respond to him, but looked at Dantioc in silence, and in the eyes of his former friend, the war blacksmith only sensed some dangerous light: it made him touch his cold neck a little unconsciously.

It was a long time before Kyle's hoarse voice rang in Dantiok's ears.

"Alright...... I'll take you to see the primordial. ”

"But let me say first, you'd better take off your medal armor: our Father of Genes doesn't want to see any of his offspring glitter in front of him."

“…… Ah, sorry, bro. ”

Dantiok scratched his head.

"I'm used to wearing it at Avalon: I'll fix it."

“…… You bastard......"

Kyle muttered quietly, then turned his head away and strode away, regardless of whether Dantioc could keep up or not, leaving the war blacksmith with his head bowed as he followed briskly, silently sighing.

Looks......

He's really not used to life in the Fourth Legion.

……

So......

What the hell did they hate about him?

(End of chapter)