Nukeria's Orbit, Mascurag's Glory, Primordial Study. A conversation is taking place.

"War." Robert Killeman said. "Yes, it's our main responsibility."

Angron didn't speak, just nodded silently. The steel cable throbbed heavily behind his head, and the sound of vicious friction reappeared in his skull.

Kiliman looked away unbearably. It's been two months, but he still can't get used to it—he feels like he'll never get used to it, and it's impossible for a normal person to be indifferent to the suffering of others when he sees it firsthand.

Staring out the porthole, he began to tell the story.

These days, he has a conversation with his brother every afternoon. Sometimes it's just small talk, talking about the past or the scenery in the mountains. But sometimes, the topic can also get heavy, as it is now.

"But the war will end one day. I don't know when it will come, but I hope that when that day comes, my legion will be able to become the leader of a peaceful world. ”

"Ruler?"

"No, it's helpers and protectors." Kiriman turned his gaze back solemnly. "I know it may sound arrogant, but the transformation surgery and our blood have completely changed the warriors of our legion, they are supermen in the physical sense, and they will become supermen in the earthly sense."

"And it's dangerous, and I've been keeping a watch on it. So I'm proud to tell you, brother, that no one on Maculag would consider the Ultramarines to be higher than them. All people are equal. ”

Angron nodded calmly, he still couldn't quite understand what Kiliman was saying, but he had memorized them all. Anyone who is serious about what they say should be taken seriously.

"But, then again, it's just wishful thinking on my part, not everyone thinks the same way."

The Lord of Macurag smiled abruptly, slightly bitter. "One of our brothers once harshly criticized me, saying that I was dabbling too deeply in the world, and that was not what a genogen should do."

"Who?" Angron asked briefly, his light blue eyes narrowing slightly.

He couldn't fully understand Robert Killeman's words, but he could distinguish something else.

Robert Killiman's 'stepping into the world' is a gentle exhortation that he knows what is extraordinary, but deep down, this transcendence only brings him a sense of responsibility, not an empty arrogance.

"Why do you ask this?" Kiriman said half-jokingly. "You haven't seen them yet - and even if you do, I don't want you to speak for me. I'll argue with him myself. ”

Angron shook his head. "I'm not speaking for you, I'm not going to speak for you, I'm just wondering why he said that."

Kiriman fell into deep thought.

yes, why?

A glittering golden face crossed his mind, and the conversation was far less congenial than it was at the moment—in fact, Killiman preferred to call his conversation with Lorga Aurelian.

But he had to admit one thing—whether it was a quarrel or a conversation, every communication with his brother made him think about many things he had never thought about before.

Take Angeland as an example, he has a unique philosophy that belongs only to gladiators. This unique gritty sand-like perspective inspires Robert Killiman.

Because he doesn't understand."

After a long time, Killiman replied.

His brow furrowed, as if he were dealing with a puzzle that no one else could solve.

"Don't understand?"

"yes, he doesn't understand why I'm ha." Killiman shook his head and chuckled.

He switched to a more archaic tone, akin to an aria, which made Angrand sick just by hearing it.

"He doesn't understand why I'm willing to give up my sanctity, the Son of God but willing to go into the flock, the shepherd of God but willing to give up my authority and take responsibility."

"He said that I had deprived the Lambs of the opportunity to go through the ordeals, to know their true selves, and to bask in the grace of God. In other words, he felt that I was depriving ordinary people of the way to get closer to God, and he thought I was being selfish in doing so. ”

Angron frowned deeply.

"Who the hell is this guy?" He spoke in disbelief. "What the hell is he talking about? Receiving divine grace? Where is God? What does it mean to be selfish? ”

"He thinks that our father, the emperor. It's a god. Kiriman said calmly. Frankly, this is not a difficult point of view for me to understand. ”

"I haven't seen him." Angron asked bluntly. "Do you think he is?"

"He's definitely not." Kiliman replied categorically. "We all have different opinions about him, and for me, I'm pretty sure he's not a god."

Angron nodded thoughtfully, and as is customary, he jotted down the matter, and then brought up another.

"When will they come?"

——

When will we arrive?

The Twelfth Legion, the Commander of the War Hounds, Jill Baldwin, asked himself, but could not come up with an answer.

Of course he couldn't get an answer, he wasn't a navigator, he didn't have a third eye to see the brilliance of the torch to steer them with determination. Thinking of this, Jill couldn't help but smile.

He had just played a little joke on himself - Firm Determination was the name of their flagship. Of course, the brief smile didn't last long.

He knew very well that even the most experienced navigators would not be able to figure out how long it would take them to navigate.

There are generally two ways to navigate in subspace.

The first is a calculated jump.

Calculate the predetermined course before entering the subspace, then dive into it in one go, and begin to pray incessantly that the unpredictable currents in the subspace will not change during the voyage.

This method is called 'purposeful death-seeking' by the vast majority of people Jill has seen, for the simple reason that the vast ocean in the subspace is changing from moment to moment.

If you enter in this way, you will have to sail blindly, and if you are lucky, you will be able to return to the physical realm after a while, but if you are unlucky.

The number of ships lost in subspace every year is terrifying.

The second, on the other hand, is much safer - the Emperor has built a spark on Terra, and the Navigators can see its brilliance in subspace through their third eye, which they can use to report to the captain to adjust course in time. As long as it's not too unlucky, it's only a matter of time before you get there.

But, then again, time.

Jill sighed.

Subspace is a terrifying world, a world that is so different from the places they know so much, and time is the most significant part of that difference.

There is no day or night, and although the clocks and watches placed on board are still in motion, everyone knows that their time is only a representation. If you really want to know how much time your subspace voyage has spent, you can only calculate it when you return to the physical realm.

Some say that one day in subspace is equivalent to twelve days in the physical realm, and Jill has reservations about this. He was tempted to ask the person who said this, is your day twenty-four hours in Terra, or is it some other planet?

The difference is objective and eternal, just like the legions that got back to their original bodies one step ahead of them.

Salamanders, for example, had a conversation with war dogs, and Jill talked to one of their company commanders about it. The latter, in a pleasant tone that they were not aware of, recounted how they had stayed on the burning planet and waited for the Emperor's will.

And then there, Novshindak - where the Iron Warriors recovered their original form, and the War Dogs were there at the time, watching the commotion of the otherwise silent Iron Warrior after the Emperor's messenger spoke of the imminent return of the original body.

And what about them? They just stood in silence, and then left in disgrace, continuing to roam the dark sea of stars, eager to receive a message that would stir them up one day.

A month ago, they received.

The believer was from Macurag, and the insignia of the Lord of the Thirteenth Legion gleamed on the collar of his straight uniform. It was a serious middle-aged man, not tall and tired, but still straightened his back and spoke in his loudest voice what Robert Kiliman had brought to the war hounds.

"I have discovered the father of yours in the Extreme Star Field, and there is no doubt about it, his name is Angelang. I have enclosed the coordinates with the letter, and another official letter has been sent to Holy Terra, and the supply fleet will depart as soon as it is received. The Ultramarines and I will be waiting here before the Emperor's hounds arrive. ”

Jill Baldwin remembered how he felt when he heard the news, and how he ran up to grab the messenger and asked him repeatedly.

A pang of guilt welled up in his heart, the messenger who had come all the way to inform them had been tormented enough by his agitation, and if it had not been for the timely stop of Kunna, the champion of the first company, the messenger would have been injured by his agitation.

He apologized afterwards, but the Messenger didn't care. He just smiled and nodded, and wished them good luck.

After that, the dogs boiled over - the 120,000 men of the Legion ran like crazy on the Steadfast Resolve after hearing their captain's announcement, shouting and cheering, and the discipline was briefly forgotten by them, and Gil did not stop it.

He understands them.

How could he not understand?

Jill Baldwin closed his eyes and began to look forward to the moment they leapt out of subspace. On the bridge, the navigators were still diligent in their work, Geller standing to wrap around the massive flagship, protecting it through the endless darkness.

- But, you and I both know that there is always something watching in the dark.

Yes, forever.

And also.

The card is powerful, it must be a conspiracy of chaos!

(End of chapter)