Few people knew that the Nightfall's ballroom had been converted from three rooms connected in tandem - which of course didn't conform to any norms, so the company commanders held many meetings to decide whether or not to do it.

Phil was the one who voted against it every time.

He didn't think that a building like the Ballroom would be of any help to the Nightfall and the Eighth Legion, and that view was completely disproved after a collaboration with the Ultramarines.

Since then, Phil Zaloster's vote has been in favour.

Thus, the only banquet hall on the Nightfall was built. Although they did it by tearing down the walls and removing the circuits and pipes, they at least had a banquet hall.

And now.

Sitting at a long table, Phil carefully wiped his left hand with a cloth soaked in engine oil.

He'd executed so many people tonight that his handnails were stained with too much blood they shouldn't have.

Originally, this kind of simple work was usually left to the servants, and although it was not uncommon for no one to like to maintain their own armor, it was still a little strange to sit in a banquet hall and do it.

But what can Fell do?

As soon as the trial was over, the Eighth Legion returned to the Nightfall without stopping.

The order given by their primordial body does not contain the intention of staying on the Nostramo, as to why they returned to the banquet hall.

That's because, of course, the banquet hasn't officially ended.

"Aren't you really going to eat some nutritious porridge, company commander?"

"I don't really want to talk to you right now, Adebeeman."

"Why?"

His former lieutenant leisurely lifted a metal spoon, and the nutritious porridge so thick that it completely encased the spoon began a steaming chemical reaction on it.

He did it on purpose. Fell thought exasperatedly.

Everyone knows that if nutritious porridge is not eaten quickly within half a minute of contact with metal products, it will solidify on the spoon due to the high temperature and a series of subsequent reactions, becoming a part of that spoon

"You'd better not waste food in front of me." Fell said in a low voice. "The chefs' work shouldn't be wasted."

"I know, company commander, but don't you want to talk to me?"

Adebeeman grinned, and after eating the nutritious porridge, there was a dull sound coming from his mouth between chewing.

"I'm going to have to throw you in a cage when it's done."

Fell said dangerously, shaking his left hand at the same time, the oil-coated hand armor was now shining, and there was no more blood.

"There's no one in the third company who can beat me in the cage, company commander." Adebeeman chuckled under his breath. "You haven't forgotten this, have you, the former commander of the third company? Or did the resignation make you forget something you shouldn't have forgotten? ”

Fell lifted the oil-soaked cloth with a grimace and threw it in Adebeeman's face.

He did it so resolutely, so quickly, that Adebeeman was stunned for several seconds. And when he took the cloth down in a rage, his company commander was already holding a bowl of nutritious porridge and eating it, and his movements were very natural.

"Childish revenge." The adjutant of the third company said coldly.

"Just as naïve as you are." Fell replied with a sneer. "You've been squeezing me out of office for the past two days, Adebeeman, don't you think you're naïve?"

“.”

"Yes, I know you have a grudge against this, and so do the others, but the other lieutenants don't go overboard as much as you do, Adebeeman. This matter, the original body has planned to meet with us tomorrow to settle it, you don't-"

"—I must do so, company commander."

The adjutant of the 3rd Company of the Eighth Regiment gripped his spoon and spoke slowly in the bustling ballroom.

"If it weren't for you, I would have died thirteen years ago. If it weren't for you, the seventy-three brothers who were with us in that bunker would have died. You saved us, Phil Zaloster, so you became our company commander. ”

"Therefore, if you are to leave your post without a word, the last forty-one veterans of the Third Company will not hesitate to rebel against you with new recruits, we will ask your opinion before every battle, and if you do not give orders, we will not attack."

"Nonsense!" Fell growled. "War is no child's play! And the original has already said that it will not let us go! ”

"That's because of the kindness and wisdom of the Primordial." Adebeeman said softly. "It's because he knows what to expect. Company commander, you betrayed us yesterday, and I hope you don't forget about it. ”

Fell was stunned, he never thought he would hear the word betrayal from his lieutenant.

At this moment, he was struck by lightning, and then he turned his head to look around the long table, which was full of people belonging to the Third Company, but no one looked at him.

Whether a veteran or a new recruit.

Everyone—all looked away the moment his gaze swept over.

"I" Fair's lips quivered. "I didn't betray."

"Perhaps, but you forgot that you saved us all." His adjutant said solemnly. "As for now, company commander, you should eat quickly, the nutritious porridge is getting cold, and besides, the original body is also here."

What he said was true.

Phil suppressed his emotions and began to quickly eat nutritious porridge with a spoon, as well as turning around, searching for traces of their original bodies in the silent banquet hall.

His eyesight had always been excellent, and as a result, he was able to see their original form very quickly.

——

Conrad Coetzes didn't know how he got to the door of the ballroom - his mind was in a state of confusion as he did so. He only arrived here on instinct and memory, nothing more.

Carlil's words almost shattered him completely, and to make matters worse, he couldn't even convince himself to be angry with him.

Just like ever, he knew that Carlil was right.

At the thought of this, he frowned in exasperation, and although it was only for a moment, Conrad Coetzes remembered the anger that had risen against himself.

Carlil was right. He said to himself. You shouldn't go to him and get his approval, you should come and meet your legion first.

Pursing his lips, he pushed the door open and walked into the banquet hall.

The hall that had been buzzing with people before was silent for a moment, and twenty thousand pairs of eyes stared at their original bodies brightly or heavily, and Conrad Coetzes smiled slightly, throwing all the emotions in his heart into a box in an instant.

He would taste them when he was alone, but not now.

Now he is the master of the Eighth Legion.

"I want to thank you."

Without the help of the machine that could amplify the sound, he stood in front of the door and spoke loudly. "You have done what I have not been able to do, my legion, and you have made the thick dark clouds that have been swirling over Nostramo dissipate a lot tonight."

He paused for a moment, looked around, and stared at each other with the eyes of all those who had seen it.

"Thank you." He said sincerely.

There was no answer, only silence, and the Inquisitors of the Eighth Legion looked helpless and restless at the moment.

Some people's hands began to tremble with nutritious porridge, and some people who were drinking bland and tasteless beer suddenly took it in their mouths and forgot to swallow it.

The air filter in the ballroom was working quietly, and the slightly fragrant air was constantly spilling off the ground, but for some reason, the main atmosphere here seemed to be only an eerie awkwardness.

— and this embarrassing person also includes Conrad Coetzes.

He stood motionless in front of the door, trying to get a little reaction.

But the heirs who were still staring at him before now formed a strange tacit understanding, and everyone lowered their heads in unison, as if they had a communication channel where only Conrad Coetzes was not there.

It was a long time before a voice rang out. A man with towering cheekbones and a fierce face stood up, it was the company commander Van Cleve, a man who dared to even admonish their original body not to participate in the trial.

"You shouldn't say thank you."

He said this with an aggravated honorific.

"As the genetic prototype of the Eighth Legion, it is only natural that you lead us."

"And, even if this matter is removed, the trial of Nostramo is already within our responsibility, and the Eighth Legion was reshaped by the Emperor as the judge of sins and taken away from Terra. So you shouldn't thank us, your thank you is in"

He took a deep breath.

"It's torturing us."

Conrad Coetze heard someone inhaling air in horror.

And Van Cleef was even going on, the skin on his cheeks was already shaking, but he just didn't stop.

"You can't thank us." He said seriously and earnestly. "Unless we do something you didn't expect."

Conrad Coetzes did not respond to his words immediately, he fell into deep thought, which came by such a coincidence, so timely. After a moment, he smiled wryly.

How did I do it? Just finished training by Carlil, and was taught a lesson by his own company commander

"You're right, Van Cleve." Conrad Coetzes nodded. "I really shouldn't be thanking you, and I'm going to apologize for that—but you don't seem to be too eager to accept my apology right now."

He laughed calmly, a little bitter in his expression.

Van Cleef actually had a lot to say before this moment, but after he saw the complicated expression of the original body, all of them were forgotten.

To make matters worse, his lieutenant even began to cut his throat at him across the table.

“.”

Van Cleef decided to do nothing but see it.

"Well, then, let's continue the feast." Conrad Coetzes said. "I want to celebrate, I want to celebrate you, and you should be happy that you did a job well tonight. You should celebrate too – so let's start again! ”

He announced, walked into the banquet hall, raised his right hand, picked up a bottle of beer from the nearest table, threw up his head, and began to drink the strange liquid.

The warrior puffed out his chest with excitement, as if he had received some great honor.

As for his brothers .

Well, gnashing of teeth isn't noticeable in cheers, is it?

——

Carlil sighed softly.

"I can't teach you anything, Siani." He said. "My mastery of hand-to-hand combat comes from my familiarity with the tissues and structures of the human body, and this dangerous technique is not suitable for sparring training."

"But you had a 1,233-game winning streak that day."

Carlil was silent, still not saying that he had been fighting them with all his reaction and strength yesterday - it would be a bit too hurtful to say that.

"And I—Siani of Terra!"

The warrior standing across from him puffed out his chest proudly, and though he was scarred by the beating, he could still speak in a loud voice. "I have to learn your technique! Carlil Lohals! ”

"Okay."

"Hah!"

Siani let out a short laugh before sprinting again. Carlil sighed, forcing himself to stop the instinct to fight back, and instead let Siani take six steps before taking him to the ground again.

He was very careful throughout the process. But that doesn't seem to be the case with Siani and the people in the ring.

"Good!" Lying on the ground, Siani cried out with her teeth gritted. "Six steps! I'm improving! ”

"Siani! Siani! Siani! The Astartes of the Eighth Regiment in the audience also shouted with him. Terra's Siani! Terra's Siani! ”

Lying on the ground, the young warrior burst out laughing. Carlil smiled as well, but not noticeably.

He shook his right hand and began to mock his actions in the back of his heart.

In just one day, you have mastered acting skills to this point? You're such a hypocrite, Carlil Lohals.

"How?" Siani asked as she got up and grinned. "Isn't it beyond your expectations? How am I improving compared to yesterday? ”

Carlil didn't answer, just chuckled and shook his head.

His lack of knowing what to say was interpreted by Siani as a rejection, who frowned and replaced it with a serious attitude.

"I know that if I was serious, I might not be able to last even a second. But I'm at least improving, right, on a purely technical level? ”

"Of course, Siani." Carlil said. "I don't know anything about technology, but you've made progress."

He wasn't lying, it was true—the six steps that Terra's Siani took to him had an element of his release in it, but that strange self-guided step could not be explained by a so-called release of water in a sentence or two.

If someone else were to fight him, I'm afraid Siani would have suddenly appeared out of his opponent's sight. In hand-to-hand combat, this advantage is striking.

"I don't know anything."

Siani shook his head with a smile and leaned against the pitch-black steel cage of the ring, the icy chill making his swollen and aching skin slightly better.

The young man spoke again seriously and earnestly.

"I'm really here to learn from you, Carlil, so please don't say anything too humble. Technology itself goes hand in hand with strength, and I'm grateful that you're willing to weaken your power and simply use technology to fight me. ”

"But I really didn't use any technology."

Siani laughed helplessly, and he raised his right hand and made a quick swing. His hand blurred in the air for a moment, and then, what had been a jab-fist attack suddenly turned into a dangerous chokehold.

He withdrew his hand.

"Isn't that called technology?" Terra's Siani's eyes widened, and he questioned.

"This" Carlil froze.

For a moment, he didn't know how to refute it.

Isn't that technology? In his opinion, of course it wasn't. However, as soon as he brought into Siani's perspective, he immediately realized how lethal this trick he had become accustomed to could be.

But he is not without points that he can refute.

"What if your opponent is wearing Power Armor?" Carlil asked. "You can't expect to break your armor with your fists."

Siani smiled, very happily.

"I'm not a big fan, Carlil - I'll learn all your hand-to-hand combat skills little by little, and then I'll learn weapons from you." He smiled and blinked. "You're not going to refuse me, are you?"

I would like to. Carlil shook his head helplessly.

"I'm not going to say no." He said seriously. "But I don't promise I'll be able to teach you for long."

"Huh?" Siani was stunned and lowered her hands that had just been raised. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, Siani." Carlil said briskly. "You're still going to. Study? ”

"Of course!"

Thera's Siani frowned, "But what do you mean by that?" Aren't you going to stay with us? ”

"I don't have any position in the Eighth Legion, and you're stuck in Nostramo, so I can be lucky enough to walk on the Nightfall by the light of Conrad Coetzes, but I won't be cheeky to stay."

Carlil chuckled and shook his head. "You're a legion, isn't it too funny for someone like me to stay here as a non-military man?"

“.”

Siani was silent, as were the Astartes in the ring. After a moment, he nodded.

"That's true." Siani of Terra whispered.

He didn't say anything more.

And one in one.

(End of chapter)