Carlil waved his arm expressionlessly.

The sheer force and speed of his fist turned into some kind of horrific harbinger of murder, and the tearing sound of his arm slashing through the air even outweighed the gunfire for a moment.

Immediately afterward, a skull was smashed into a misty mist of blood.

Carlile's expression finally took on some disgust.

But he had to.

The headless corpse spurted blood from the horrific wound incessantly, and the huge wound brought a huge amount of bleeding. Even when it fell to the ground, the blood didn't stop bursting.

Carlil walked past him and hooked up the falling automatic gun next to the corpse with his toes. This weapon did not help him in combat, not in the past, and even less now, but he needed them.

To be precise, he needs them to do one thing.

He strode past the corpse, and he threw the automatic gun into a burlap bag that he carried over his shoulder. It was huge, even enough to obscure part of Carlil's current body.

One last trip. Carlil thought.

Standing next to the bullet-damaged door, he took one last look back at the mess inside the room. He was carrying a bag and covered in blood, and if anyone who didn't know saw it, they would probably think he was here to rob.

But he's not.

And to do it...... It also violated a rule he had set for himself in the past.

He entered the darkness with an indifferent expression and a quick movement. There was nothing waiting in the darkness, only acid rain and neon lights cutting through the sky, and the chaotic sound of merging together came from a block eight hundred meters away.

Carlil was indifferent to it, his work for the night was done, and this was the last trip. He jumped lightly to the top of the low building and began to run.

Five minutes later, he returned to the shelter.

At the top of the building were five of these huge burlap bags, all of which were full of firearms.

Homemade earthen guns, high-end goods made of all-metal poured in one piece, automatic guns, shotguns, even a third of which were deadly laser guns - Carlil knew how many of them, one thousand seven hundred and forty-three.

This number of guns could mean a war of no small scale, but in Nostramo it's nothing more than a stock of six gangs combined.

With a wave of his arm, Carlil unloaded the bag from his back, and it landed at his feet. The murder weapons inside collided and made a terrible sound, but they didn't go off.

It's a kind of luck - a single shot or ricochet would be enough to bring everything in the shelter down except the gate. Carlil thought to himself.

He smiled, and then, his eyes lit up with a cold blue glow in the next second.

Firearms...... Weapons. They collided and flew out of sacks of linen twisted with building materials, creating a spectacle that obscured the sky from the top of the untouched building.

They remained silently in the air, and the acid rain fell vertically, but not a drop fell on their surface. The beasts stood quietly, some well-maintained, some rusty, but all waiting.

Carlil closed his eyes and began to explore every corner. His mind sank into a deep tunnel, in which he knew the exact number of killings.

"It's scary." Carlil said in a deep voice. "But what is the sin of the weapon itself?"

So he raised his right hand and slowly closed it.

The tooth-aching sound of metal twisting came from abruptly, and the beasts wailed as their bones and muscles twisted.

The spring popped out, and the bullets that remained in the chamber of the gun caused a small explosion, and the special ammunition of the laser gun turned into scattered dust.

The cold temperature began to stagnate and sour rain, and the raindrops that fell from the sky turned into countless tiny ice edges at this moment, falling vertically to the ground, shattering, and still continuing.

Carlil clenched his right hand and sighed.

I had sworn to use it sparingly, but now I had to, again and again—first, I used it to kill, and now, I used it to make a gift.

Carlil Lohals...... Sooner or later, you're going to die on this.

He smiled mockingly, opened his eyes, and slammed his right hand out.

The temperature changed again at this moment, and the inferior and high-quality metals all turned into boiling molten iron, and the bright temperature brought by the high temperature made the darkness fade. As Carlil looked at the spectacle he had created, he felt a real coldness once again.

There is no doubt that he distorts an established fact, and without much effort.

But - on what basis?

With a sigh, Carlil snuffed off his thoughts.

When he's not busy teaching Midnight Ghost or Conrad Coetzes, his mind is always jumping.

Sometimes, they spread in a good direction, but other times—or mostly, they are plummeting toward the abyss.

Tonight, he wasn't going to let them waste his time.

As the molten iron continued to boil, Carlil closed his eyes and began to sketch a sharp, straight shape in his mind. It has a straight, dangerous line grip and a silver gauntlet......

A sharp blade.

A promise.

A weapon reborn from the bloodstained beasts - and a gift......

He opened his eyes and pulled a blade from the edge of the ice that had been resting for a moment. It clinged to Carlil's palm, cheering and screaming in a low voice.

"Nope."

Carlil held it up, staring into his eyes through the reflective blade.

He whispered, "You don't belong to me. ”

The ice edges fell, shattered.

-----------------

"Gifts?"

Konrad Coetze's eyes widened, and he sat down in his chair and repeated: "Gifts? For me? ”

Ferus Manus and Roger Dorn nodded expressionlessly, their speed in unison, even the faint movement of their eyeballs seemed so similar.

"But ......"

Conrad Coetzes put down the pen in his hand and tilted his head: "Why?" ”

"Because you are our brother." Roger Dorn said with a blank face.

His tone sounded like that of a math teacher announcing 1+1=2.

Coates blinked, turned his head as if asking for help, and looked at Fogham. The latter was leaning against his desk to examine Coetze's notes, and the Chermos man was so serious that he even covered his face with them.

- Of course, it's possible that he simply doesn't want to see Ferus Manus and Roger Dorn.

But......

The Chemus sighed, but put the note down anyway, and said softly.

"If you want to take it, take it, Conrad. It's nothing, anyway, for Ferus Manus, what is a weapon? He can build one in a few days. ”

Conrad Cozis silently turned his head and looked at Ferus.

'Gorgon' shook his head expressionlessly. "It took me 10 days just to design the sketches."

"Oh, ten days?"

Fogrem sneered, his tone now very different from when he spoke to Coetzes. "It's only been ten days?"

Dorn frowned.

He wanted to open his mouth to refute Fogreme's mistakes about weapon design—in fact, ten days into a weapon design is a terrible statistic.

But then he thought of the furnace breaker of Ferrus. That warhammer had been forged by Fogrem himself, and there was no way the Chemos would have made such a low-level mistake.

“......”

Silently, Roger Dorn took a slow step back.

Seeing this scene, Conrad Coetze's expression couldn't help but become more confused, but he didn't have time to say anything.

"Yes, ten days."

Ferus nodded calmly and spoke quickly.

"It's not that you don't know how to forge, Fogen, my warhammer can deliver a heavy blow to anyone who thinks so. So, I beg you, don't ask questions that will make your brilliance diminish. ”

Dorne raised his eyebrows slowly, a rare look of surprise. Coetze stared left and right blankly, completely oblivious to what was going on here.

Fogrem narrowed his eyes, then nodded.

"The light is gone...... That's an interesting statement, Ferus. I accepted. ”

He lowered his head and looked at their pale brother, "So, the problem is this, Conrad. Ferus wants to give you a gift, a weapon, a power sword - but he doesn't know if you'll like it. ”

"Power Sword?"

Koz blinked: "I haven't used a sword, let alone a power sword." But why do you think I don't like it? ”

"Because Carlil Lohals obviously doesn't know how to use a sword."

Roger Dorn uttered the sentence calmly in Fogham's ghostly expression—and not only that, but he even picked up the next sentence in the midst of the Chemus's rapidly changing expressions.

"And we think you're likely to emulate his fighting style."

Dorne nodded expressionlessly. "With all that said, we don't think you might like Ferus's sword. That's why we're here to ask you, so that Ferus will have time to reforge your legion before it arrives. ”

Conrad Coetzes blinked, but did not speak in the first place.

"Conrad, Rogge didn't mean that." Fogrem spoke very quickly.

"What do you mean?" Coetzes asked, looking up.

Facing his gaze, Vogrim was stuck again. "He's not—at least not what you think."

"But......" laughed Conrad Coetzes. I'm learning from Carlil, he's very efficient. ”

"And ......"

He stood up and changed to a solemn tone: "Carlil says that the gift is not about whether the person receiving it likes it or not, but about the heart of the giver, doesn't it?" I don't judge a gift by liking it or not. ”

Fogrem breathed a sigh of relief, he wanted to speak, but Dorne got ahead.

"But it's a weapon, and for a warrior, picking your favorite weapon is a very normal and serious thing. For some, a warhammer is better than a greatsword. ”

Roger Dorn shook his head slowly, calmly, and completely absently at the sight of Fogham's glare, "So I think you should think again." ”

"Hmmm......"

Kotz turned his head in distress and glanced at the Chemus. The latter quickly changed his expression, smiled encouragingly, and then continued to glare at Dorne as he turned his head away.

As for Ferus Manus as the founder himself...... He was very calm, but his eyes had become a little strange.

"Would you like to see it?" Ferrus asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Your gift, it's just one step away from being ......"

A dry smile squeezed out of Gorgon's grim face: "I can see it, you don't know if you like a power sword, so, do you want to go and see it?" ”

After a few seconds, Conrad Coetzes nodded heavily.

"Thank you." He whispered.