Conrad Coetzes never imagined that time would pass so quickly.

Fourteen days, has this been the case?

This rare period of learning was a very fulfilling process for him, and he only had one distraction, and after that, he never went back again.

Fogham had tried to see if Carlil had said anything, and he told Coz that he didn't have to take it too seriously. But Conrad Coetzes just smiled and denied.

In fact, Carlil never asked him how his lessons were going and how his learning was going.

He didn't need to ask.

And now.

"We're leaving, brother."

Standing on the deck of the Imperial Dream, the Chemus spoke in a solemn tone.

"The Milky Way is vast, and we still have a few brothers who are still among the stars like you, and everyone is looking for them, and Father and we will not let them go away. So, as we said okay, we're leaving. ”

Conrad Cozis nodded silently, he had no idea what to say at such an important moment. He had a lot to say, but he couldn't say a word.

Aside from the primitives, no one stayed on this deck. Koz didn't know whose order it was, but he could guess.

It's just that why don't you choose to show up at this time?

He pursed his lips and nodded. Fogham smiled and patted his chest, instead of wearing the purple tulle he once loved, he was dressed smartly, with a heavy notebook in his hand.

"How about I'll tell you the name I gave it the next time we meet?" Vogrim asked with a wink.

"Okay."

Ferus Manus stepped forward and smiled.

It wasn't the first time Coates had seen him smile these days, but, frankly, it was the first time he'd seen Ferus smile so naturally.

"We'll see you again someday, brother. It won't be a long time. ”

Next was Roger Dorn - 'The Rock' calmly stepped forward and nodded at him.

He was expressionless, but very sincere and serious, and said, "Take care, Conrad. ”

"Is that what you're trying to say?" Fogrem shouted in disbelief. "We've been talking about it for days——!"

"—he didn't say anything." Roger Dorn said calmly. "Don't worry, Conrad. Anyway"

He was silent for a moment, but finally patted his brother on the shoulder with his right hand, who was still shorter than him.

"See you then, brother, take care."

With that, he turned and gave way. Lorga Aurelian stepped forward with a complicated expression, and when he saw him, Koz's expression became complicated.

"I don't know what to say, brother." Luo Jia said in a low voice. "But please believe me, I have no ill intentions towards you."

Staring into the pair of eyes, Coates nodded slightly.

He knew that Loja wasn't lying—maybe Loja Aurelian did say something to Carlil that he shouldn't have said, but that didn't mean he was going to deny Loja everything.

If he did, Carlil would be the first to feel upset about it.

"I trust you, Luojia." He whispered. "But I also ask you to stop saying that about Carlil"

Without answering, the golden-skinned giant just sighed heavily. He clutched the tome in his hand tightly and smiled sadly but still warmly at his brother.

"Goodbye, brother, they've said a lot to take care, so I won't say more. But I'll pray for you, every day. ”

Lorga Aurelian pursed her lips.

"Peace be upon you, peace be upon Nostramo."

"Thank you."

The goodbye moment was fleeting, the genogens were gone, and the deck was empty again. Conrad Coetzes was still standing here, as if waiting for something.

Five minutes later, from the other end of the deck, a tall giant arrived. He walked through the wide portholes, his expression flat, but as if he had been born here.

"Conrad." He greeted. "How?"

"Ten minutes to go." Conrad Coetzes replied in a low voice. "They'll dock with the Emperor Dream from here. The ship was called the Nightfall. ”

"Nightfall. It's a good match for Nostramo. ”

The giant smiled, he was far taller than Conrad Coetzes, but their faces were the same pale, and even their eyes were equally dark.

"So, have you figured out what you're going to do?" Carlil asked gently. "I remember, we talked about it last night."

"I need a speech, but I don't need a draft," said Fogen.

"Well, the speech." Carlil nodded. "It's true that such an important occasion requires a presentation. Improvisation. Seems pretty good too. ”

"And then. I'm going to remember the names of all of them. Konrad Coetzes said seriously.

Carlil raised an eyebrow in surprise. "It's not an easy job, Conrad."

"You know there are 20,000 of them, right? That's not a lot compared to other legions, but you'll have to associate them with their faces and personalities with 20,000 names. Are you really going to do that? ”

"Yes." Conrad Coetzes said firmly.

"If they really are my legion, then I should do it. I should respect them, shouldn't I, Carlil? ”

The giant who was questioned by name smiled dumbly after a moment of silence.

He nodded: "Yes, yes, you should respect them, while there is still time, remember another thing we discussed last night?" ”

“.”

"Conrad?"

“.”

"Don't do that, Conrad. We said yes. ”

Midnight Ghost hissed and retorted, "It's good for you to do that. ”

Carlil's expression became very strange, and he asked softly, "Really?" So how are you going to explain to them that I'm a four-meter-tall giant? ”

I don't know."

"No, no, you can't answer them with those four words I don't know."

Carlil laughed again, only this time, he looked a little helpless. "Come on, tell me, how are you going to introduce me to them?"

"You're from Nostramo."

"Good, and then?"

You raised me."

"Partners only."

"Carlil, can you stop mentioning that word again?"

"Why?"

If you mention it again, I will answer them that I don't know."

Carlil raised his hands in surprise and made an ancient ritual. "Okay. So, what about after that? ”

"You-"

Midnight Wraith blinked, tilted his head, and began fiddling with the pendant on his chest that had been gifted by Fogham.

"-You were rewarded by the emperor for this, and he transformed you, so you can be four meters and two meters tall."

"There's not much difference between making up a completely unrealistic story and lying, Conrad."

Carlil frowned.

"I don't remember ever teaching you to lie. Moreover, how do you want them to believe that the transformation technology mastered by the emperor can make a person grow to four meters two? I'm even taller than you! ”

"What then?" The ghost asked, blankly. "I don't want you to disguise yourself with psionic powers, that's weird."

"What's strange?"

"It's just weird." The ghost insisted.

“.”

Carlil couldn't help but sigh.

"Well, let's not talk about it for now. But I'm not going to be in front of them right away, you can go and meet them first, give a speech, a military parade, how about it? ”

"And where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere." With a sigh, Carlil tapped his temple. The cold light of the two points of Senlan flashed away, and he disappeared without a trace.

Midnight Ghost's eyes widened. "Carlil?"

"I'm here."

A familiar voice came from beside him. "That's it, Wraith, Conrad Coetzes. Don't speak Nostramo when you get on board, understand? ”

"Oh"

"Straighten your back."

"Oh."

Remember, don't be nervous."

"Good!"

——

Breathe deeply.

Take a deep breath and calm down, Phil Zaloster. You've imagined a scene millions of times, haven't you?

There's nothing to be excited about, stay calm, stay calm, keep your pride and honor as a member of the glorious Eighth Legion.

Let your genetic father see what you look like, make him proud, and make him smile.

Breathe deeply.

Phil Zaloster opened his eyes in annoyance.

An annoying pale face swayed from side to side in front of him, and even deliberately tapped his fingers against each other, making a sound of steel colliding. And this voice was the main reason that interrupted his meditation.

He snapped, "I swear to the Father of Genes, Adbeaman Basley, that if you make that annoying noise in front of me again, I'll keep you in the infirmary for six weeks!" ”

"Oh, stay for six weeks? The medics are going to kill me. ”

Adebiman Basley's pale face showed a triumphant smile.

He tapped on his breastplate, on which the decoration of the Imperial Aquila stood out. The MK2 Expeditionary Power Armor reflected the light spotlessly, and the joints were oiled, apparently having just been serviced.

He grinned and began to laugh wildly.

"Look at what you look like, Lord Zaloster. How can you still have a little bit of the Eighth Legion? ”

"We were chosen by the Emperor to atone for our sins, we are the Inquisitors of our crimes, we destroyed the conspiracy of Saragon, we destroyed the heresy of the people who privately bred psionic beings, and you are not happy to be like this now?!"

He rolled his eyes and began to shout.

"Emperor, who will help me forget Phil Zaloster! He was a far cry from the reliable man I remembered! ”

Taking a deep breath, Phil Zaloster slowly stood up.

He was also wearing a valuable MK2 power armor, with a gloomy blue and black as the main color of the armor, and the shape of a human skull was delicately outlined in white on the iron face, and the double-headed eagle logo glittered on his right shoulder.

"Are you finished? I know what you're looking like you're looking for in this no-brainer, Adebeeman. ”

He asked, suppressing his anger.

"I've said it all, and it's fair to vote for me to agree to the removal of the post – have you figured out the situation, Adebeeman? Is all you have in your head is that pathetic lust for power? ”

"Power?"

Adebiman smiled, but it was a sneer.

"Power is bullshit with me, isn't it!"

He scolded in a high gothic mixed with a kind of Terra slang. "I'm your adjutant, I'm your adjutant! Adjutant! Phil Zaloster! ”

"You are our company commander and think tank director, why do you want to remove from your position?! If the Father of Genes refers to a new Triple Commander, how will our brothers respond? Well? Not to mention how that brother would feel, tell me, what are we going to do? ”

Phil Zaloster pursed his lips, holding back his anger to the bottom of his heart. He could see Adebeeman's sadness at the moment, and he could fully understand the reason for his sadness.

But

"This decision was reached by the eight company commanders and all the squad leaders after a discussion at forty-seven meetings, Adebeeman."

"We have agreed to step down from our positions and retain only the most basic ranks and establishments, so that the original can better accept and manage his legion. Tell me, Adebeeman, is this decision not right? ”

Adebiman Basli did not answer.

"Answer me, Adbiman Basley!" Phil Zaloster shouted in his usual commanding tone.

And then—

"—Just, Company Commander!" Adebeeman immediately replied in a low voice. "Perfectly legitimate, there's nothing wrong with it."

Phil Zaloster stared at the warrior with his head bowed, at his brother, and after a moment of silence, he sighed.

"You have to let me scold you, exercise this power that I have already relinquished, you are happy, don't you?"

"The commander of the third company has and can only have Fer Zaloster." Adebeeman replied in a low voice.

"Don't make me seem to be noble," Fell shook his head.

"We are all sons of criminals, and our bodies are full of iniquity. Every battle we have fought is atonement, every second we have lived is a stolen time, and it is the mercy of the emperor that keeps us standing here."

"But you're at least much better than some." Adebeeman said softly. This sentence is less like a rebuttal and more like a narrative. But his words made Fell frown sharply.

"Who?" Fell looked at him sternly.

"Those people — you know who I'm talking about, company commander."

"Call me Fell, or Zaloster, or just call me brother."

"Anyway, you know who I'm talking about."

Adebeeman whispered. "They are fellow sinful men, but they do not cherish this precious opportunity. They deserve to die just as much as their fathers. ”

"Be careful, Adebeeman, they are also our brothers."

Adebeeman shook his head and did not refute the statement. He left the quiet meditation room and went to the bridge, leaving Phil Zaloster alone.

He stood calmly in place, his expression a little worried. Although what Adbeeman said was not recognized by him, Fell was well aware that he was right.

The Eighth Legion is an honorable legion, but few people know that it has tasted a lot of blood since its birth.

Its roots come from Terra's underground prison, which has effectively become a massive underground nest capital.

Without light and fresh air, darkness is the norm as always, and any little bit of light is a gift.

In such an environment, the prisoners gradually degraded, they became cruel, strong, and intelligent. In contrast, their skin has turned pale and their personalities have become taciturn.

They call themselves the Children of the Night, and the people above the prison never provoke them, but just leave them to fend for themselves.

Until the arrival of the emperor.

He picks the sons of the prisoners, he takes them out of that bleak prison, and he gives them a new lease of life.

Fell Zaloster closed his eyes in grief, ceasing to remember the Legion's dark past. He didn't understand why the Emperor had chosen them, but he wouldn't delve into the reasoning.

Emperor, there are some people in your legion who have forgotten your favor and unconsciously followed the path of their fathers.

His questions went unanswered. The ground shook, and the sound of machinery rattled slowly in it, a slight noise came through the walls, and then, a voice sounded above him.

"We're docking with the Imperial Dream." The voice spoke, solemn. "Get ready, Eighth Legion, and we'll see the Father of Our Genes with our own eyes."

Yes.

Fell Zaloster snapped his helmet shut.

We will see it with our own eyes.

——

With his back straight, Conrad Coetze slowly walked into the crowd of black presses.

He walked very slowly—very slowly, actually.

He kept pace as he tensed, and slowly passed them. He was surrounded by a crowd of people in power armor, even though they were very intimate enough to make a wide road to the main bridge

Calm down, Conrad. He kept admonishing himself in his heart. You have to be calm.

- The stiff walk lasted for eight minutes before it ended.

At the end of the bright red carpeted road appeared a high platform, unadorned and with square edges. Conrad Coetze could even tell that the metal artifact had not been built much earlier.

He lowered his head, and when he raised it again, he had already changed his serious expression. It was like an instinct, and he didn't even need to use it in too much detail, he could use it as if he were commanded.

He walked up to the high platform, and a cold chill came from his right wrist.

In the audience, there are 20,000 pairs of expectant eyes.

How do I speak? How do I speak? How can I speak?

Conrad Coetzes took a deep breath.

"Good day, officers and men of the Eighth Legion."

A serious and heavy voice sounded in the next moment. His voice echoed across the deck packed with twenty thousand people, every syllable of High Gothic perfect—his mind was blank at the moment, but he knew exactly what he was going to say and what to say.

However, he was startled by the sound of the microphone that had been placed.

Is this my voice? Conrad Coetze asked himself. That sounds like that to me. Unfamiliar?

"My name is Conrad Coetze."

He ignored the feeling and continued to speak.

"Unlike you, I'm from Nostramo. It is a star of eternal night, and atmospheric pollution, synchronization with the orbits of satellites, and the fading of the sun have made it what it is today. ”

"It was cold and unforgiving, and the aristocracy controlled everything, from industry to the most basic food, clothing, shelter, and transportation. They have recast all order."

"There is a lot of sorrow and misery here, and I have no intention of hiding this from you, soldiers of the Eighth Legion. Therefore, I will tell you the truth directly that it is not perfect, and it should even be destroyed, but it is my home planet. ”

He paused for a moment, wondering how they would react. But the 20,000 pairs of eyes in the audience just stared at him calmly and silently through their eyepieces, without saying a word.

Conrad Coetzes knew that was what waiting meant.

He took another deep breath and looked abruptly to the empty right hand side of the high platform. There was no one there, and the light source fell softly overhead, creating a white light in front of his eyes. Staring there, he slowly raised his right hand.

"Also, allow me to introduce you to my adoptive father."

His words were tantamount to dropping a bomb from the audience, and the soldiers of the Eighth Legion, who had been silently saluting him, now looked at him, helmets and goggles hiding their emotions, while Conrad Coetzes was calm and indifferent.

He had to do it.

"We'll talk about that later, Conrad"

With a sigh, a tall giant appeared at the other end of the platform. From nothing, extremely abrupt, extremely incomprehensible.

At this moment, there were countless dangerous voices.

The sound of guns drawn, the sound of loading, a dangerous hum, and the sound of the disintegration of the power weapon being activated—their distrust was palpable.

Although many people laid down their arms after realizing that the object to whom Conrad Coetze's words were referring was the tall giant, nearly half of them still held them firmly.

"Please lay down your arms."

Conrad Coetzes said solemnly. "This is my adoptive father, Karil Lohals. He raised me because of him, and I am what I am today. Without him, there would be no me. ”

The audience remained silent, and after a few seconds, a slight sound joined together.

The soldiers of the Eighth Legion complied with their request for a genetic primordial. Even if they are full of questions now.

"Thank you." The pale giant said sincerely. "Otherwise, I don't know what to do—I learned about it fourteen days ago."

"I learned of your existence, twenty thousand, heirs of my blood. Legally, and genetically, you are my sons, and I am very confused about that. ”

"I don't know how to face you, I've never experienced this in my past life, and now, I've seen you with my own eyes, but I'm still confused. This doubt hovered in my heart, and it did not diminish in the slightest. ”

"I still don't know how to deal with you, I know that you should have a lot of questions right now, and they must all be about my adoptive father. But it doesn't matter now, because I'll explain it to you one by one. ”

"Remember, it's my commitment."

"Me"

The pale giant closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"I want to ask you to do one thing for me, men of the Eighth Legion." He whispered. "I'd like to ask you to take off your helmets so I can see your faces with my own eyes."

There was still no answer from the audience, only a series of mechanical sounds.

The helmets were taken off and sandwiched between the crooks of their arms by these superhuman warriors. Their faces were pale, and their eyes were dark, but not as completely black as the Nostramos.

At this moment, 20,000 pairs of eyes were staring at their genetic father in a complex manner, no one spoke, no one made any sound, not even the grunt in their throat.

There was only silence in the huge arena at the moment.

Conrad Coetzes reached out and grabbed the side of the platform so that he wouldn't fall down from dizziness.

He gritted his teeth, his muscles tensed as the shock of witnessing the truth began to tense, and a different kind of throbbing began to churn in his heart.

He had never felt this emotion in his life, and in the first second he felt it. He has begun to cherish it.

The giant standing beside him glanced at him silently, and although his face was still light, his right hand twitched slightly.

"Thank you, thank you."

Conrad Coetzes said hoarsely. "Thank you, men of the Eighth Legion, it turns out that what my brother Fogham said is true, and I will understand when I see it with my own eyes"

"Now, I understand. You are my sons, there is no doubt about it, no one can argue, no one can change it. But I still have one last question for you. ”

Holding on to the metal platform, Conrad Coetzes asked slowly, carefully, softly.

"Will you accept me?"

——

Waiting, nervously waiting.

The tension was so great that even the ends of Phil Zaloster's fingers began to tremble.

There was a short line in front of him, and there was only one person in front of him. But that's because two Terra hours have passed, and two Terra hours ago, the queue was desperate.

And if Phil had turned his head now, he would have seen another long, desperate procession.

At the end of the line was a room that had not been cleaned up for a long time.

Their genetic prototype was among them—and after they showed their attitude with a chorus of shouts of 'accept', their protogens issued their first command.

Although Phil Zaloster preferred to call it a polite request, everyone—including him—took it as a divine command.

Their primordial body said: Please prepare a room for me, soldiers of the Eighth Legion, I want to meet you one by one. I will remember your faces, your names. This is my vow.

Who can say no?

No one can.

Thirty minutes later, it was his turn.

Finally.

Taking a deep breath, Fell slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside. The brothers behind him stared at him silently, no one spoke, they just waited quietly.

Behind the door is a large space that used to be a training room for the training of recruits in melee combat.

There were even traces of the training machines being violently dragged away in the middle of the hall, and it didn't take a word for Fair to understand how embarrassed they were when they were dragged away.

His brothers weren't going to let these machines leave with dignity.

There is a chandelier overhead, which hangs gently and emits a soft light.

Because they have lived underground for a long time, the soldiers of the Eighth Legion cannot look directly at the sun or overly bright light sources on weekdays, even after the transformation.

This is one of the few weaknesses they have, and as a result, they all have night vision devices installed in the eyepieces of their helmets.

However, Phil was not wearing his helmet at the moment. He doesn't need it either.

Trembling, he walked into an iron table, behind which was a pale giant sitting in a chair.

His black hair was neatly combed, he was dressed in a modest blouse, a gleaming prismatic gilded pendant swaying across his chest, his hands resting on the table, his nails neatly trimmed.

What am I looking at?

Fair Zaloster thought angrily, why do I have to pay so much attention to the details of the original appearance?

"Please be seated."

He spoke softly, softly, with a Gothic accent.

"It's only when you sit down and talk to me on an equal footing that our conversation really begins."

Fell sat down tremblingly, pulling away his chair only to move so quickly that its four feet rubbed against the ground to create a spark.

He lowered his head in shame, expecting some kind of admonition, but unexpectedly, their original form just spoke softly.

"Don't be nervous, what's your name?"

Phil Zaloster.

"My name is Conrad Coetzes, Fell, and it's a pleasure to meet you. Do you allow me to call it that? ”

I? Do I allow it?

Fell looked at him blankly: "Father, father? ”

The pale giant smiled gently, "It's enough to call me Conrad or the Primordial." You're Terra, aren't you? You're all of Terra. ”

"Yes, yes, the original."

"Terra, what does it look like?"

Fell froze, he didn't expect to hear such a question from his original body.

His heart had already become agitated by this special meeting, and at this moment he directly lost the ability to think - he froze in his seat and came back to his senses after a full three seconds.

"What's wrong, Fair?"

"No, no, it's okay, the original. I just didn't expect you to ask me this question. ”

"Don't use honorifics."

"What?"

"I say, don't use honorifics, Fell." The pale giant looked at him with a relaxed and natural expression.

"You don't have to talk to me like that, you don't have to be inhibited, you don't have to be too serious. It's true that I'm your genetic proto, but that doesn't mean I'm nobler than you. Superiority is a ridiculous word, don't you think, Fair? ”

"I, I don't understand, Primordial."

Phil Zaloster said with a mess of his mind. "Can I answer that question about Terra?"

He asked almost pleadingly.

Conrad Coetzes smiled dumbly—this was not the first person to have lost his temper in front of him, but every time he saw it, he felt a sour warmth in his heart.

Again and again, this feeling resurfaced again and again, leaving an indelible mark on his heart.

Conrad Coetzes cherishes this feeling in his heart.

"Of course, Fair, actually, it's up to you to answer or not."

Coetzes said mildly. "If you feel that this question involves your privacy, you can completely leave me alone."

Fair Zaloster thought carefully before answering—it wasn't that he hadn't heard Conrad Coetze, but he didn't allow himself to answer such questions casually.

The members of the Eighth Legion were all of Terra, so how could he casually answer such a question?

Moreover, he did not allow himself not to answer.

"Terra. It is the cradle of mankind and our home planet. Protoplasm. ”

Phil Zaloster spoke in a low voice.

"But my memory of it is very vague, we grew up in an old underground prison. It's almost another nest, but underground. ”

"It's a harsh environment, but we're all used to it, so no one thinks there's anything. It wasn't until after the Emperor pardoned us, after I passed the selection, that I saw it with my own eyes. ”

"Terra is a giant nest, the Primordial. It's not special, and the natural environment is terrifying, but, for some reason, it's so important to me. ”

"Ah, it's like how I feel about Nostramo."

Conrad Coetzes sighed slightly. "Your description gives me a sense of déjà vu, Fell. However, Nostramo is slightly different from the Terra in your narrative. It's special. ”

Phil Zaloster saw his original form, the pale giant, and laughed coldly.

It was the first time he had seen this emotion on the face of their genetic father, and for some reason, he felt that this was what he should be.

"Special?"

"yes, it's very special. What's special about it is that it's terrible. ”

Fell looked at Conrad Coetzes in amazement, who shook his head with a smile and said, "If you want to know, I can tell you a thing or two in advance. I had planned to schedule this event for tomorrow's official military parade. ”

"If that doesn't bother you, Primor." Fell replied very quickly.

Are you kidding? How could he not want to know?

"I'll tell you when the honorific title is gone." Conrad Coetzes said slyly. "How?"

"Is this a joke, Primordial?"

"It's not."

I'll try."

"Very well—where do I start, then?"

With a long sigh, Conrad Coetzes pursed his lips and spoke after a brief silence.

"What kind of place Nostramo is, I have already described it to you roughly. But words are very pale after all. If you can't see it with your own eyes, you probably won't believe that there is such a place in the world. ”

"Nostramo is a planet ruled by aristocracy and gangs, Fair. The only order that exists is power, violence. Anything else is superfluous. ”

"The people at the bottom are either workers or miners, and these two statements are even only rhetorically embellished. The truly apt description would be that of a slave – no, maybe even worse than that. ”

"At least the slave owners regarded the slaves as their private property and valued their lives very seriously, didn't they? But in Nostramo, the people at the bottom. It's food, materials, furniture. They are anything but people. ”

"They can't be human alone."

Phil Zaloster was stunned, he didn't know how to answer the original body's words.

This description is appalling even in the dark underground prison at the bottom of Terra.

The prisoners were rationed with food, and cannibalism was an unforgivable crime throughout the underground prison. No one would do such a thing, and this group of sinful people tacitly did not cross that line.

Even among criminals, there is a hierarchy of crimes.

The descendants of the prisoners will keep in mind the crimes of their ancestors, warlords, war crimes, serial killers, people who deceived the world. None of them had ever eaten man.

But

Looking at the pure black eyes of his genetic father, Fell gradually realized that he was serious.

"Surprised, huh?" Conrad Coetzes asked with a smile.

The smile on his pale ghostly face was so calm, so peaceful, as if he was telling a story that had nothing to do with him.

And at this moment, Fell suddenly remembered that their genetic father had grown up in such an environment.

"You"

"You." Coetzes shook his head. "It's 'you,' Fair, I've said it many times, don't use honorifics."

"Did you grow up in this environment, Proto?"

"Yes." Conrad Coetzes chuckled and bowed his head.

He didn't explain anything more, but Phil Zaloster suddenly felt a fierce anger boiling through his heart, and it came so suddenly that he almost forgot a question.

Why didn't their original body unify Nostramo?

"We can help you." Suppressing his anger, Phil Zaloster said. "We can help you clean it up, Proto."

"That's going to be discussed later."

Conrad Coetzes smiled, he didn't say anything more, just stood up and held out a right hand to Fell.

The ancient ritual is repeated today, originating from Terra, and Fair, who is of Terra descent, has no idea what the gesture means.

The Eighth Legion has always been a loner, and their task is to punish, to punish those who dare to cross the last line. Whenever such people appeared, the emperor of mankind would send them to sow his wrath.

As a result, they hardly generate any communication with other regiments.

They rarely even communicate with Mechonists, let alone auxiliaries.

Companies and squads are the most common combat units in the Eighth Legion, but on their battlefields, there is no such thing as bombing, vehicle coordination, and swarm charges.

Their wars are diametrically opposed to wars in the conventional sense.

Phil Zaloster stared blankly at his original form.

"It's a handshake." Conrad Coetzes said patiently. "An ancient etiquette that can be used to meet, it can be used to say goodbye. It's from Terra, Fell, don't you know? ”

"I don't know, Primordial." Fell bowed his head in shame. At that moment, a hand pulled over his right hand, which was surrounded by iron armor.

"The handshake is easy, Fell." Conrad Coetzes said with a smile. "There's nothing strict, you just have to be like this — look."

The pale hand was clenched tightly with the gloomy blue-gray steel.

Fell stared at this scene in amazement, his mind drifting into the unpredictable distance.

——

The Nightfall was a Glorious Queen-class battleship, and all of these ships were behemoths. Carlil had read about them, but he never imagined that a boat could be so big.

Eighteen kilometers long.

Moreover, of all the Glory Queen battleships, the Nightfall was not even a particularly large one.

The largest one, the Indomitable Truth, was the first completed Glory Queen-class battleship, twenty-six kilometers long. It belongs to the Dark Angel Legion.

An interesting name - Carlil prefers to call it the First Legion, though. It's easier to remember.

What an exaggerated statistic. He thought, and then he remembered the weapons and equipment on the data. For Carlil, they're a bit more exaggerated.

It's really the combat power of the interstellar age.

With this thought, Carlil silently walked through the dark corridors - the soldiers of the Eighth Legion had the same habits as the Nostramos.

The same photophobia, like the dark.

The difference is that the former is a matter of habit, even after the transformation. The latter has been forced to become what it is today in the long torment of generational change.

The Nostramo people do not have a choice.

Still, it's a weird coincidence.

Just as coincidentally as the pale skin of the Terra-descended Eighth Legion, and their fighting style.

A punisher who is proficient in quick strikes?

This philosophy is in line with the fighting style that Carlil has always loved, and in fact, if you look into time, he is actually the imitator.

An imitator who has never met.

It's a pity that with the changes in his body, the 'quick strike' is now far from the actual situation.

In the past, he pursued speed because he couldn't fight, because he didn't want to get into a head-on confrontation with the gangs. And now fast. It's because the gangs can only hold out for so long.

Isn't it fast to kill fast?

He chuckled and turned his head, a calm that came out of nowhere on his gloomy and pale countenance, his dark eyes staring around the corner of the hallway.

In this way, he looked quietly for a moment before turning to leave. Ten minutes after he left, some dark shadows flashed by.

- Conrad, you've really caused me a big problem.

Carlil thought helplessly. Of course he knew who those people were behind him.

He had tried to persuade Conrad Coetzes more than once, but the latter did not seem to listen.

In fact, if Carlil had gone according to his thoughts, he would never have made his identity known so soon.

But Conrad Coetzes has already done just that.

He introduced Karil Lohals in a serious and serious manner in front of 20,000 people, forcing him to appear, using adjectives even adoptive father.

An adoptive father who is four meters and two meters tall.

An adoptive father who can pop out of thin air.

Although Conrad then promised him in a tone of rare maturity that he would explain everything to the Eighth Legion himself.

However, Carlil still didn't know how to tell him, and the most embarrassing part of this was not really an explanation.

De jure and blood-related, the 20,000 Astartes of the Eighth Legion were all sons of Conrad Coetzes. Although they only met today, there is no way to argue with this.

And not long ago, in front of 20,000 people, he openly announced that Carlil was his adoptive father.

I should have taught you about human relationships sooner, Conrad.

With a light sigh, Carlil continued on his way. The target of his trip was the upper deck of the Nightfall, which he had already visited. He intends to take in all the details of the ship as quickly as possible and keep it in mind.

Admittedly, the soldiers of the Eighth Legion were wary of him, but their original body had spoken, and Karil Lohals was free to move freely on the Nightfall—so they had to follow in a huff.

By heart, Carlil was reluctant to do such an apparently privileged act, but now that Conrad Coetzes had already said it, he had nothing to say.

It's not good to say in front of those 20,000 pairs of eyes that are full of suspicion about him, openly and solemnly, Conrad Coetzes, you are not right.

Or, hissing and communicating with the Midnight Ghost in Nostramo—the scene gets even uglier at that point.

That's a lot. Carlil thought darkly, silently stepping through the steel corridors, through rumbling rooms, and reaching the upper deck in the not-so-smelling air.

It's made like a labyrinth, with rooms, secret passages, corridors. Door after door, the servants staggered by.

These combinations of flesh and steel were provided by the mechanics in friendship - to be honest, Carlil didn't know much about them, but he didn't have a good impression of the Mechanics. The image of the servants is one of the main reasons.

Their shriveled bodies are clad in red robes, and the Mechonist emblem gleazes on them.

Their internal organs are almost entirely taken away, which is to prevent unnecessary energy loss.

Their brains have also been surgically operated, so that they are left with programmed programs and instinctive reactions, and no more thoughts of their own.

Still, Carlil stared as a servant staggered away.

The latter had an exposed tube in the back of its head, stuck in the middle of its pale back. Something semi-coagulated like black blood flowed slowly through it. It pushed open a door and quickly disappeared into it.

Carlil couldn't help but sigh again, and he tilted his head slightly to glance at the dark corridor behind him. Immediately after, he turned around.

"Good evening, everyone." He greeted politely into the narrow hallway behind him. "Can you tell us about it?"

No one answered.

"I'm sure I'm using authentic High Gothic."

Still no one answered.

"Okay."

Carlil Yaoyao's head.

"Those two warriors lying on the ceiling, you don't have to torture your arms anymore."

"The three warriors crouching in the shadow behind the sixth window, so are you. And the one standing just a few steps away from me. You've done a great job of using the simple tactic of going black. ”

As his words ended, the six Astartes, who had been following him all along, finally reluctantly walked out of the darkness.

They surrounded Carlil in silence, and the servants continued to come and go calmly, unoblivious to the small episodes that had taken place. Maybe it's the program, or maybe they really don't matter.

"Good evening."

Carlil calmly repeated his greeting again. "How are you feeling today?"

No one answered, and after a dead stare for three minutes, an Astarte with the Aquila logo carved directly above his helmet spoke slowly, his cold blue gloomy armor gleaming.

His voice was also altered by the voice changer built into the armor, making it hoarse and terrifying. Carlil raised an eyebrow, feeling a little new to this simple yet practical tactic of fearism.

However, instead of answering him or greeting him politely, Astarte unceremoniously asked a new question.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Carlil Lohals."

"We know your name." The Astarte urn replied angrily. "But we want to know the real answer."

"The real answer is these words, Karil Lohals—" he smiled, raising his hand and gesturing to his pale face. "—remember?"

There was no answer, only a silent stare.

The six giants, much shorter than him, surrounded him fearlessly, as if in silence to extract a confession.

Carlile was not offended. In fact, on the contrary, he admired their behavior.

This kind of courage is not available to everyone.

All right.

Carlil chuckled.

"You must all be curious about me—and I know that there aren't just six of you in the entire Eighth Legion."

"It's not just curiosity." Astarte, who was the first to speak, said. "It's more than just curiosity."

"I understand."

Kalil smiled and bowed. "And I have a solution. There should be a large training room on the Nightfall, right? As a soldier, you should have to do a lot of training on a daily basis, am I right? ”

The six Astartes glanced at each other slowly, their power armor humming, and then they nodded slowly and in unison.

——

"Come on."

Carlil whispered.

He stared at the young, pale face in front of him and slowly raised his right hand. A ferocious jab slap was sent off the ground, but Carlil did much more than that.

He grabbed the attacker's wrist and pulled him forward, causing him to lose his balance completely.

In a whirlwind, the assailant fell to the ground in the next second, and Carlil's left hand was already touching his throat, his index finger, middle finger, and thumb resting calmly on the Adam's apple.

The young man's eyes widened, and it took three seconds to realize what had just happened.

His face flushed rapidly, and the anger was easily noticeable to his pale skin. But the young face quickly suppressed his emotions.

Carlil smiled slightly, let go of his hand appreciatively, and let the young man stand up.

"Do you want to continue?" He asked softly.

There was no answer, and the young man just silently took on a boxing pose again.

This time, he placed his right hand behind his back and shook it slightly, leaving his left hand completely down and his arm bent. Carlil hadn't learned boxing, but he quickly realized the meaning behind the pose.

Defend with a shoulder lift and then hit me with a backhand punch

Good strategy, it really should be played this way. After all, I'm so much taller than him, and my arm span is much longer than his

"Are you sure?" Carlil asked again.

The young man bared his teeth in exasperation: "Yes! ”

"Okay."

Without any further temptation, Carlil bullied.

His first move was so fast that it was almost impossible to detect his next move.

The young man's eyes widened again at this moment, but not because he was dazed, but because he had a premonition of what was to come.

He tried to raise his left hand to defend, but it was too late. Carlil grabbed him by the throat with ease, still not pressing, just letting his fingers rest calmly on it.

"Continue?" Carlil asked softly.

The young man gasped for a moment, then shook his head in frustration and stepped out of the ring.

Some people who were obviously familiar with him tapped him on the shoulder and comforted him. And more people just started pouring towards the only entrance to the ring.

They were shirtless and shirtless, revealing faces and bodies that had been weathered or looked young. But it didn't matter, and Carlil watched them calmly, waiting for the next challenger.

Although he was so calm, he actually wanted to laugh at himself.

What are you doing? He sighed and asked himself. Fighting with them with bare hands is simply bullying them

And the people in the audience didn't let him think for long, and a new warrior walked up the steps, waved his arms proudly, and entered the iron cage.

The Astartes under the ring roared and shouted his name, proud and loud.

"Siani, Siani, Siani!"

"Siani?" Carlil greeted softly. "You seem to be loved."

"Not really." The warrior grimaced. "They don't usually do that, they just think I can beat you. After all, I've been the hand-to-hand combat champion for five years in a row. ”

"Really?"

"That's nature!"

Siani laughed.

"I'm from Terra, Karil Lohals, I don't have a last name, just a first name. I'm a prisoner's son, so you can call me Siani of Terra! ”

"Yes, Siani of Terra." Carlil smiled and nodded. "How do you want to fight?"

"Of course it's hand-to-hand combat! How else can you fight? ”

Siani grimaced again, he wasn't very handsome, but he behaved very naturally and generously. "Come on! Lohars! ”

"Okay."

Carlil smiled and stepped forward, reaching out his fist, trying to touch him. The latter was stunned for a moment, but soon realized that this was a ceremonial action. He immediately laughed and punched Carlil.

After that, their battle began. No superfluous nonsense, no bells to be ringed, only slow steps that begin to move and eyes that become sharp.

Siani deserves his five-year winning streak.

Before him, Carlil had already fought one hundred and thirty-three people, and Siani was definitely the best of them.

He has a ferocious cunning in hand-to-hand combat at close quarters, which provides him with an instinctive quick reflexes. Relying on it, Siani even dodged Carlil's jab attacks repeatedly.

Not only that, but he was even able to find time to counter, and three of his post-counter hooks flew past the tip of Carlil's nose.

"Siani of Terra, you are indeed strong."

Carlil genuinely complimented, but Siani didn't approve of it.

The latter frowned for the first time, and he took the initiative to pull away, stopping where he was, leaning against the cold, eerie iron cage made of black metal and shaking his head.

"What are you doing?"

He shook his head and said.

"You're definitely more than that, Lohals. Just standing in front of you, I already feel a little out of breath, and you actually made a look like you were fighting back and forth with me."

"Are you insulting me?" Siani of Terra asked sincerely.

He was furious. Looking at that face, Carlil thought.

"Nope." He replied calmly.

"Then why don't you give it your all?!"

Siani roared abruptly. "The Primordial calls you his adoptive father! I'm now going face-to-face with our protogen's adoptive father, and I'm using all my might, Karil Lohals! This represents my respect for you! Do you know what that means? ”

"I know."

Of course I do.

"Then let me see your full strength!"

Siani grinned. Raise your arm and charge straight at Karil.

It's a radical departure from the style he's used to in previous fights, and it's almost like a fight-to-life. But Carlil could see the sincerity behind this reckless behavior.

Siani from Terra is willing to believe his genetic father, and is willing to believe that Karil Lohals, a giant who can make Astarte feel terrible, is his adoptive father.

But he didn't want to believe the identity, the name, and the person.

Therefore, he wanted to witness the truth with his own eyes.

Carlil clenched his right hand and stepped into the punch. A loud, almost explosive muffled sound swept through the ring in the next moment. Siani froze in place, and Carlile's right fist landed next to his right cheek.

For a moment, no one spoke, and even the shouting of the Astartes below the ring stopped.

Siani's hearing was in a terrible streak, he could hear his alternating heartbeats through the conduction of his bones, but he couldn't hear anything else, he almost thought he was deaf, until Carlil spoke, asking softly.

"Do you feel it?" Carlil asked softly.

I felt it." Siani replied bitterly.

Sighing, Carlil didn't answer the question. He just smiled calmly, and nothing else.

Two minutes later, Siani walked out of the ring. Carlil stared at the silent crowd and began to wait for the next challenger.

(End of chapter)