Carlil looked thoughtfully at the mirror in front of him, his expression calm.

In the mirror, a pale face is revealed, completely dark eyes resting quietly above the cheekbones, the bridge of the nose is high, and the lips are shallow, pursed into a line. Like a sculpture, it is condensed under the dim light. The face was no different from what he had used to be, it was the same cold when it was expressionless, and it didn't appear gentle when it smiled.

The only difference was that the face—or rather, the flesh clinging to the skeleton—had been built up by bits and pieces of psionic energy over the course of seven days.

They were genuine, his flesh and blood, and he was now a living man in a biological sense.

"I'm starting to doubt medicine, instructor." Jairziño Guzmán said. The medical officer stood behind him, every detail of his countenance revealing a numbing calmness.

Carlil turned his head and smiled apologetically at him, "I'm sorry to let you go through this, Jairziño. But you can still continue to believe in medicine in my case. Belong to a very small minority of the very few. ”

"Is it like your height, instructor?" Guzmán asked with a sense of humor, shrugging bitterly. "Well, I guess I should try to convince myself that, as a special case, your situation doesn't mean anything."

"At best, it only means that I am a psyker."

"Mighty and terrifying psyker - Phil Zaloster of the Third Company can't do that, Instructor, and he's pretty much the best psyker of us."

"You've divided me, Jairziño." Carlil raised an eyebrow. "What? Am I not a human being just for a trip? ”

Guzmán didn't answer, his expression answering the question in his place—a complex expression that wanted to laugh but didn't dare, a recognition of Carlil Lohals's particular sense of humor, and a certain concern.

"There's no one else here." Carlil said. "So, if you want to laugh, laugh, Jaylziño. My sense of humor is terrible, but the joke should be pretty good? ”

The medical officer raised his hand and covered half of his face, not knowing what to do. This calm lasted for dozens of seconds, and by the time he lowered his hand again, the medical officer had completely regained his composure.

At least on the surface.

"How?" Carlil looked at him expectantly. "You're going to have to at least make an assessment of my joke, Jaelziño?"

Guzmán finally burst out laughing.

He thought that this kind of joke after joke was much more terrible than the one that could be told in one sentence. In a sense, the joke teller is like planting a mine, and a chain of minefields is of course much more difficult to deal with than a single one.

The person who listens to the joke is the one in charge of demining, and you never know where the enemy will plant a mine that could cause a chain explosion. As soon as it is detonated, the aftermath will continue to be generated.

The medic couldn't help but laugh a little louder at the thought of this—at this moment, he suddenly realized that his sense of humor seemed to be even more terrifying than what their instructor was going to be.

This incident has swept away the pressure that has accumulated from his constant inspections in recent days, but it also brings out another thing.

Brought out the voice of his original body.

From behind him, calm and clear.

"What's so funny, Jaelziño?"

The laughter froze, and the 'cemetery' fell silent again. The medic stared wide-eyed at Carriel, who smiled and said nothing.

After a brief moment of silence, Jaelziño turned his head, and sure enough, he saw Conrad Coetze, the original body of the Eighth Legion, in the darkness.

He was wearing a black robe, and his sharp features looked soft at the moment, but those dark eyes stared curiously at the medical officer, probing his heart. Seeing him turn his head, Conrad Coetzes asked again.

"Why did you laugh so fiercely, Jairziño?"

"Can I not answer this question, Proto?"

"Yes, of course you have a choice, but I'd like to hear it. I want to share the joy in your laughter. ”

The Medic was silent again, and for five seconds, he told the joke in its entirety with the determination to see death at home. He kept his head down, so he didn't see Conrad Coetze's expression, but when the narration was finished, he heard a series of chuckles.

Jaelziño looked up in disbelief to find that their gloomy primordial was laughing very happily at the moment—not fake, but genuine joy. It filled the pale face, and the gloom between the eyebrows and eyes was much clearer.

"I have to say, it's a terrible and misleading joke. But, personally, I would classify it into good jokes. However, as the Lord of the Eighth Legion, I must also warn you that you better not tell this joke to your brothers, Jaylziño. ”

"Of course I won't." The medical officer replied quickly.

Of course he could hear what his original was hinting at—what a joke, and not everyone had this terrible sense of humor, and if he dared to say it, he would probably spend the next few days in the dueling cage.

Conrad Coetzes nodded at him.

"So, would you mind letting me talk to our instructor alone for a while?" He asked softly. "I have a lot of work to hand over to him."

——

"Work?"

Carlil looked at his titular boss, "Don't tell me you're going to get me back to work right now and start paperwork." ”

"Haven't you already started?" Conrad Coetze sat in his chair and asked rhetorically. "You're starting to put extra work on the servants the day after you get back, Carlil."

That's an interesting adjective." Carlil laughed dumbly. "Well, I'll admit I'm a person who can't be idle, so, what's the matter?"

Conrad Coetze shook his head and gestured, "You haven't forgotten the Adamantite Mine on Nostramo, have you?" ”

"Will a poor man forget every ounce of his wealth?"

“.”

Midnight Wraith looked at him disapprovingly and began to hiss again, "I'm down to business, Carlil. But you've been less negative lately, and I think I'd like to thank Robert Killiman for that. ”

Carlil didn't reply, just chuckled and nodded, signaling that he understood the ghost's displeasure.

"Anyway, the nobles trade with several planets around Nostramo, where Adamantite is the main commodity, and they have already made some trading agreements with the people on those planets. Every five years, they send a fleet to trade with the nobles. ”

Carlil raised an eyebrow, and Conrad Coates nodded, confirming his thoughts.

"They approached Nostramo three hours earlier and were stopped by us using gang jumping. The fleet consisted of three ships, none of which were equipped with any weapons, no armor, and no detection capabilities. They don't know anything about our appearance. ”

"According to the Mechanists, the ships are extremely old and cannot be identified by the model, and most of the area has been abandoned with no possibility of repair. One priest speculated that the ships were a legacy of former human colonizers, a short-distance transport ship that specialized in transporting goods between planets. ”

"One or more human worlds that rely on the remnants of their ancestors to trade with Nostramo?" Carlil spoke softly. "It's interesting, do any of them speak Nostramo?"

"There are quite a few." Conrad Coetzes replied calmly. "Many of them are even descendants of nobles on Nostramo, and according to the information obtained from the torture, they went out to 'increase knowledge' and 'travel freely'."

Carlil grinned, his white teeth glinting in the soft light of the office of the Lord of the Eighth Legion: "So, do they know what's going on in Nostramo now?" ”

Conrad Coetzes also smiled slowly: "They don't know. ”

"So, what are you going to do with them, Legionnaire?" Carlil asked again.

"I'm going to put them in custody first." Coetze replied firmly. "It is a mercy to simply execute them, and their fathers died in the fire you kindled, and they were not spared. The people on Nostramo are not yet aware of the existence of justice and judgment, but they will soon know. ”

Carlil smiled softly, and subtle relief flashed across his face: "So, what about the rest of this fleet? ”

That's the point."

Conrad Coetzes pursed his lips, "I don't know what to do with them." ”

Carlil wasn't surprised by his answer, he nodded, "Thinking about it as the Lord of the Eighth Legion, what answer would you come up with?" ”

"I should take the place of the empire and regain the lost land."

"Recovering the lost colonies is part of your job."

"But."

"But what, Conrad?"

Conrad Coetze was silent for a long time before giving his answer. His tone was hesitant and slow, in some extreme contrast to his previous firmness: "But that means I'm going to start a war. ”

"You're at war." Carlil replied calmly. "Humanity has no other path than unity."

"Even if war is used to achieve this unity?"

"Even if war is used to achieve this unity."

"Is that right, Carlil?"

The instructor of the Eighth Legion gazed calmly at the Lord of the Eighth Legion, and after a short silence, gave him an answer in a calm and resolute voice: "I will not change you with my ideas, but your questions will be answered on this path, Conrad." ”

There's also a chapter that's being coded

(End of chapter)