"We're here for you."

Fell said to the fat nobleman. His eyepieces are blood-red, and small technical changes can make a huge difference.

The latter screamed and fired in a language not yet incomprehensible to the Eighth Legion, and the bullets sped down from the high platform like a howling raindrop.

But the firepower of the automatic gun was a little too ridiculous for the MK2 power armor, and his dying throes seemed extremely ridiculous at the moment. However, none of the two people present laughed.

They are just silent and that's it. Heart-pounding anger began to creep in the silence.

"Aresta." Fell asked slowly.

"Yes." A young voice rang out in the communication channel, with irrepressible anger.

He hurried out, throwing the fat, ugly brute at the feet of his company commander two minutes later. However, this did not relieve him, and the young warrior raised his foot and angrily crushed the nobleman's right leg bone.

The crisp sound merged with the dull crumbling sound into a terrifying sound that was almost unbearable.

"That's enough, Aresta." Fell whispered. "There's no point in torturing him."

"Pain makes him understand something." Aresta said angrily. "At least it will make him understand that the child should live freely, not be in his basement."

He angrily stopped talking and lifted his foot again.

"What can pain make him understand for a man like him?"

Fell sternly raised his right hand. "Torture is only one of the preferable options when it comes to torture, Aresta, don't use him to vent your anger, he doesn't deserve it at all."

After a few seconds, the young warrior nodded silently.

He wears an MK3 power armor that is a good way to help a young and reckless Astarte like him survive the complex and ever-changing war.

That being said, though, Fair doesn't really see recklessness as a disadvantage. In his opinion, there are times when not acting impulsively will not achieve the goal.

"Take him to the middle of the city."

Phil commanded briefly.

"The trial will take place in two hours, and we still have time to find out these monsters who are trying to hide."

He lowered his head and glanced at the wailing nobleman.

"The darkness belongs to us." Fell whispered. "They can't find any shelter in the dark."

Aresta nodded, picked up the monster, and soon disappeared into the night.

At this moment, in the courtyard of this luxurious mansion, Fell is the only one who exists. Moments later, he called his lieutenant in the communication channel.

"Adebeeman, where is the original body?"

"Who's talking?"

His adjutant asked rustling in the channel. "Is it the third company commander, Phil Zaloster, or the former third company commander, Phil Zaloster?"

“.”

Fell cursed a Terra slang profanity in a low voice, and a triumphant mockery rang out from the communication channel.

Adebeeman's voice followed: "The original body is looking down from that tower in A-7 District, he wanted to act with us, but was persuaded to go back by a certain company commander. ”

"Who?"

"Who else could it be, my company commander? Who else but Van Cleef, the company commander, dared to confront the original and persuade him to enjoy the dinner and not get involved in it and get stained with blood? ”

Van Cleef

Fell almost sighed—this was the same company commander he had sympathetically pushed to report bad news to their primordial body.

He must admit that Van Cleef's strange insistence at certain crucial moments did always work.

"I see." He said in the communication channel. "Go ahead, Adebeeman, and make sure that all sinners receive the punishment they deserve tonight."

His adjutant did not answer, but smiled hoarsely.

Fell hung up the communication, turned around, jumped over the tall walls of the mansion, and began to run through the night. His movement was so smooth, so natural, that he knew everything about it.

Eleven minutes later, he reached the only tall tower in the A-7 area with precision.

Instead of calling them by their original names, they renamed them with cold numbers. This is very much in line with the style of the Eighth Army, which is efficient, ruthless, and fast.

Phil climbed the tower and saw a tall figure. Their primordial bodies watched calmly and calmly at everything below, taking in everything that had been on the Prim Nest.

"Primordial." Fell lowered his head and spoke softly. "How do you feel about this dinner?"

"I don't know how to answer your question, Phil."

Conrad Coates smiled and turned around, shaking his head.

His pale countenance was as unpredictable as a glitter in such dim light, and there was a calm in those two dark eyes, and Fell suddenly felt a chill in his heart, and for some reason he felt a sudden solemnity.

"I don't understand your words."

"Honorifics." Coates said slowly. "Why did my third company commander forget my words so quickly?"

“.”

Fell lowered his head without saying a word.

"I feel good, Fair." Conrad Coetze whispered quietly. "You don't know, but I'm actually a first-time visitor to Prem, just like you. I used to only be active in Quintus."

He smiled and shook his head.

"But I've known about Prem for a long time. The weapons it produces circulate throughout the nests, and sometimes even replace monetary wealth as another form of trading currency. Amazing, right? ”

I don't understand where the wonderful point is, Primordial."

"It's in the word itself."

Conrad Coetzes walked softly past Fell, looking away from him for a view on the other side of the spire. Some shadows jumped back and forth in the darkness, flashing with light, screaming incessantly. His smile began to grow brighter.

"Wonderful?"

"Yes, wonderful. You see, Fiel, there is only one order in Nostramo, and that is the power that comes with violence. However, even so, the aristocracy was still accustomed to dividing everything by interests. ”

"They danced in the gloomy court in the warm and comfortable skin of innocents, drank blood, and yet pretended to be followers of order."

"Don't you think there's a weird sense of absurdity in this?"

Phil Zaloster didn't immediately answer his original words. He just thinks – thinks extremely seriously.

It was a long time before he answered Coetze's words slowly and deliberately.

"That's true, Primitive." He said solemnly. "But this just proves that they are just a bunch of monsters who don't deserve any sympathy."

"The nobles do."

The Lord of the Eighth Legion raised his head, a glittering chain around his neck. They are bound by a gilded pendant.

"The gangs aren't, Fell."

Coates spoke in a low voice.

"The gangs in Nostramo's nest generally live between two and three years, and only the leader can live longer, but not more than twenty years."

"Gangs usually recruit new people in two ways, one is to go to the sons of those workers, and the other is to get the supply directly from the laboratory where the embryos are cloned, of course, and there is a third way."

He turned around with a smile.

"I'm sure you've seen that third way."

Phil Zaloster clenched his right fist slowly.

"Yes." He replied in a low voice. "Children of the Controlled"

"yes, kids. So, it's true that the nobles are all monsters, but the gangs are not. ”

"They are monsters who have been shaped by nurture, and they are people who have been forced to become monsters by suffering. They're skinny now, and their faces are weird, but they weren't like that before."

Fell looked cautiously at his primordial form, wondering what Conrad Coetzes would say next.

However, Konrad Coetze didn't say anything.

He was just silent.

Pale and tall giants stood atop the minaret, their evening robes matched the reliefs of the minarets at their feet, and not far away bloodstained statues stared hollowly at the sky.

Without saying a word, he stared into the distance, and in the darkness under his feet, many shadows stopped at this moment and stared at the tower.

After a long time, the Lord of the Eighth Legion sighed.

But they can't be saved." He said sadly. "Or rather, there's only one way to save them."

Fell pursed his lips.

There is no real empathy in the world – yes, it is, he agrees. But. Why, he wanted to cry at the moment? ——

"We'll know it, Carlile." Enric replied solemnly.

He's not admitting, and he's not going to hide something about some crucial subtleties.

He said the words "Knowing Everything" from the bottom of his heart. Admittedly, for the current Eighth Legion, Karil Lohals is still full of mysteries and suspicions, but does it matter?

Conrad Coetzes trusted him, and he has lived up to that trust.

That's enough, it's enough to keep Enric honest.

"Don't be so nervous." Carlil said with a smile. "I'm not going to ask you questions that might involve the internal secrets of the Legion, I just want to ask, what do you think of Nostramo?"

Enric didn't need to look in the mirror to know that his expression was probably very good at the moment - but he was wearing a helmet.

Nostramo is a planet that shouldn't exist."

His lieutenant said, his voice muffled, and the voice change function of the breathing grille had been turned off. Richter's own voice sounded clearly in the night, with his characteristic seriousness and seriousness.

Of course, his words made Enric almost pull out his blaster.

Carlil nodded noncommittally. "What else? I'm sure you're not going to end there, are you, Richter? I'm looking forward to hearing a great narrative, even if it's a little long. ”

"Karil—shall I speak for him?"

The tall giant looked at him amusedly, and shook his head, so relaxed that Enric was almost stunned.

"Why are you so nervous, Company Commander Barbatos?"

He blinked. "I've said it all, just to ask some questions."

Before Eric could reply, Richter continued. He still held the hilt of the power sword in his right hand, and his posture was serious.

"Two days ago, we didn't know anything about the planet. All we knew was that the original had been found, so we rushed all the way to it."

"We're lucky that we don't have any tasks to deal with, otherwise, we might have to push back a long time when we met the Primordials."

"Most of the legions in the Empire have already welcomed back their genetic fathers, except for the Twelfth, Nineteenth, and Twentieth Legions, and we are the only ones."

"Unlike the disciplined war dogs, we hardly work with anyone. Unlike the Nineteenth Legion, we are as proficient as they are at infiltrating enemy lines and fighting small groups, but the sins we have erased cannot be made public. ”

"Our honor is not less than half of theirs, but, no one in the Empire will compare us with the Nineteenth Legion."

"The Twentieth Legion is extremely mysterious, they are almost only responsible to the Emperor, we are hardly needed, Lord Carlil."

"We are loyal to the Emperor, and we know that sin should be wiped out once and for all. In fact, we also like to hide in the dark. ”

"But I can't deny one thing. I believe that my company commander could not deny it, and each of my brothers could not deny it - we always envied it when we heard about our cousins in other regiments. ”

"We don't know where our original body is, and we don't know if he's healthy. We don't know anything about him, Lord Carlile. ”

"And now, here we are, we're standing on the primordial home planet—we're standing on a living hell. Now, we can all understand what our primordial body is going through. ”

"And you, you as his adoptive father"

Richtenar let go of his right hand, slowly lifted it, and removed the helmet.

There were two sinuous marks on his countenance that glistened.

"We don't know how to thank you." Richter said hoarsely. "I know that my words may be far from the answer you want to hear, but that's all I can say, I'm really not good at words."

He closed his eyes, wiped away his tears with his cold armor, and put on his helmet again.

Silent, Carlil nodded slowly.

He memorized every word that Richtenar uttered, and these words were the blood that flowed from a heart. If he allowed them to be sprinkled in the cold rainy night, he would be disgusted with himself.

"Your words almost make me not know how to answer you."

Carlil said in a deep voice.

"You thank me, but I didn't raise Conrad Coetzes out of kindness. I also have my purpose, Richtenal of the Eighth Legion. Don't think of me as a noble saint, I'm not at all, really."

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the coldness of Sen Han completely descended in the next moment. The raindrops froze, and the humming of the power armor almost stopped. Enric's eyes widened, and a term popped into his head.

But the words spoken by Carlil Lohals were very different from the words in his heart.

"I am what they call a vengeful spirit."

He said calmly.

"I am the faith behind that cult, I have bloody hands and countless killings. Richtenar of the Eighth Legion, Anrique Barbatos of the Eighth Legion, remember this"

"Don't forget."

It's almost a rewrite, between quantity and quality I choose between I want to.

Today I updated 30,000 and 9,000 tomorrow I will try to update one 15,000 or 20,000, anyway, I will do my best.

However,It doesn't seem that the chapter development is very good and will drop the average order.,So I'll continue to send a big chapter tomorrow.。

Good night.

(End of chapter)