"Nukeria." Kiliman said.

He pronounced the name in High Gothic and looked down at the tablet on the table, where the laurel sparkled and matched the lights in the room.

After a while, he looked up: "A barbaric civilization."

There was a vague and inconspicuous flash of anger on his face, and Gage caught it. He knew why, but he didn't refute it.

How do you refute the facts?

"Barbarism indeed, primordial, but not without merit." Gage explained his original form. "At least they have a lot of technology that clearly comes from the Lost Years."

"The development of technology can only contrast their own ugliness, and this does not help the truth at all." Robert Killman said with a frown.

His hand slid up and down on the datapad, which submissively responded to his control and brought more news about the world to his eyes.

The Ultramarines used a series of sophisticated means to obtain these materials, and now, they are in the hands of Robert Killman.

"Actually......" Gage hesitated.

He paused, as if not knowing how to proceed with the explanation, and his original form solved the difficulty for him after a few seconds.

"Actually, they don't have the technology to do it." Killiman looked up at his First War Leader with a very serious expression.

"Most of the people in the region are still living very primitively, and I can't believe that there is such a planet in the Extreme Star Field. The rulers, clothed in silk and satin, dwelt in splendid and advanced palaces, while their people rebelled like savages against nature in the form of tribes......

Killeman shook his head in disbelief.

"Am I dreaming, Marius? They would even take the slave squads and throw them into the gladiatorial arena to fight each other for the amusement of the so-called 'high cavalry?'

The commander of the first battle group was silent for a moment before answering the question.

"This is not unusual, my lord." Gage said heavily. "At least for us veterans. We've dealt with a lot of things like this before you returned. People are either oppressed by their own people, or by aliens, sometimes both......

He shook his head, and said no more, for Robert Killman's eyes were filled with determination.

He turned his head to look at a seated giant, who was calmly reading with a long scroll of parchment, the original size of the couch seemed just right for him.

"What do you think of this planet, Carlil?"

"You've got the answer, Robert." The giant looked up and smiled. "So why do you want to ask me again?"

"My answer may not be what you want."

"Why do you want me?" Carlil raised an eyebrow. "Nukeria is not an agrarian world."

"It can be." Kiriman said solemnly. "Judging by orbital scans and messages from the scouts, the soil of this planet is quite suitable for large-scale farming, and it is clear that these long-oppressed people also need a proper job to allow them to live a normal life."

Carlil didn't answer, but slowly rolled up the parchment in his hand little by little.

After doing this, he glanced at Marius Gage, who was trying to keep his eyes open, the power armor of the First War Leader was extremely shiny, and the smell of engine oil was obvious, apparently he had taken good care of it before coming to see their original body.

"I think it's better to leave this matter to the Gage Captain." Carlil whispered. "After all, if you're going to use force to conquer this planet, the First Warband will definitely take the lead, won't they?"

Robert Killiman turned his head solemnly and looked at his First War Leader.

The latter's expressionlessness at the moment added more amusance to the silence that followed for the next minute and a half, which Killiman certainly did not ignore, and he was quick to do so

Realized what Gage's silence meant at the moment.

"If you have something to say, Marius." Kiriman said helplessly. "Haven't we all been like this in the past? Something to say."

Gage still didn't answer his original words, he was silent and thought for another forty seconds before giving a cautious phrase.

"Wheat grows more vigorously in war-torn land." Gage said. "I don't mean to hide something from you, the Primitives, the First Warband does crave glory—but the people of Nukeria need us to remove the tumor that is hurting them, don't they?"

Kiriman smiled.

"Then let the war begin." He said softly but firmly. "Start now."

Eighteen minutes and forty-one seconds later, a discrete rain of fire descended from Nukeria's orbit.

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

Kleist woke up in her sleep, her bones, muscles, and skin trembling in unison. She lay on the stinking hides with her eyes open, and it took her a moment to realize that it was not her delusion, for the rock walls were also trembling, and sand and gravel were falling and spilling on her face.

She sat up jerkily, feeling a pang of irritation. The torches burned, and the smell of animal fat was still distinct. Karelian remained on the rock wall, leaning against it as if it were his feet.

They all woke up.

"What's going on?" Someone asked in a low voice. "Are the slave owners planning a few rare night fights?"

"They have a dance party in the evening, but they don't have time to take care of us." The other laughed vulgarly. "These pieces of crumbs should be eviscerated and thrown into the mud."

A shrill laugh erupted from the cavern, as the gladiators had always done, their words the only weapon they could use to hurt their slavers. So each of them will learn to use it and become proficient in it, no matter where they came from in the past.

Children of gladiators, children from the forest, children from sand, volcanoes, oases, plains...... Regardless of age or gender, they turned words into armor and weapons, and then puffed up their chests and went to their deaths one after the other under the watchful eyes of the slave owners.

No one can escape.

At least not in Kleist's memory, she had been in this gladiatorial arena for three years, and in three years, not a single gladiator had ever walked out alive. They were either buried in sand pits or buried in the mouths of wild beasts.

The discussion went on for a while, as did the vulgar jokes and cynicism, and there was a commotion in the cave, but no guards came to stop it.

Strange to this in the past, the tall cavalry doglegs would not miss an opportunity to show off their prowess, and would seek every opportunity to torture them, including the noise of the night.

The cavern gradually became quiet, and they all realized that something was wrong.

Kleist looked at the man leaning against the rock wall with his eyes closed, and asked softly, "Karelian, do you know what's going on?"

"I don't know." Carrelian replied with his eyes closed. "But I advise you all to be quiet and conserve your strength......

His advice worked, and everyone fell silent. The cave was originally inhabited by eight people, six had died in the battle three days earlier, and now eight more had been added.

With the exception of Karelian, who had his eyes closed, everyone else had their eyes open, staring at each other in the dark, talking silently, even Kleist.

—but she wasn't thinking about the tremors of the rock wall, she was thinking about the roars that came from the ground from time to time. The owner of the scarlet face had spoken his name to her a few hours earlier, and she had taken it as an honor.

Angelon.

She shuddered as she silently read his name. The crowd in the stands excitedly called him Angelonius, or the undefeated, but how many people really cared what he was called?

She lay on the hide, staring at the rock wall, thinking about it all, feeling a terrible bewilderment. However, this

The mood didn't last long.

A low, shrill sound rang out suddenly, creating an unbearable, terrible noise in everyone's ears. But before they could react, they suddenly felt a loud tremor on the ground, albeit only for a moment, but everyone felt it.

"What's that?" Someone asked in the dark.

No one answered him, because no one had an answer.

The rock wall is enclosed, and if the gate is not opened, there is no other way to see the outside world. If it weren't for the light from the vents at the top of the rock face, the gladiators might not even be able to tell the difference between day and night.

They waited with bated breath for a moment, wondering how the guards in the arena would react, but they didn't hear the trademark shouting—in fact, they heard the screams of humans, and a heavy sound that rang out one after another.

The discussion began again, and people gave their own opinions.

Some say it was a coup d'état, after all, this is Daishea, the capital of Nucheria. Some people say that it is the dead gladiators who have come to ask for their lives, and in the end, he even shouts the word revenge in his broken gong-like voice.

Short and powerful, it crashes against the rock wall, like some kind of ancient echo.

They were excited. Kleist thought.

The child from the forest jumped out of her gravel-covered bed and came to the heavy iron gate. She pressed her ear to it and listened carefully.

At this moment, a number of hidden sounds strangely reached her ears, the most obvious one being the screams and sirens of the guards, and then the muffled hum of their weapons firing.

But what about other than that?

She also heard the heavy sound, and the many heavy footsteps in unison. They were so neat that she was astonished—was it a multitude of people in armor in motion, or a man with many legs?

She couldn't get an answer, because just two seconds later, an explosion swept her away.