Carlil tapped his fingers on the table with a calm expression that only those who knew him well could realize what he was thinking at the moment.

And for those who are not familiar with him, or who have only seen him a few times, his expression at the moment is still very intimidating.

At least, Marius Gage and Barron Benson had absolutely no idea what the instructor of the Eighth Regiment was really thinking at the moment.

The Captain of the Ultramarines' First Battle Regiment and the current First Company of the War Dogs sat steadily in their chairs, working with Carlil on the boring and boring job of 'waiting'.

Gage is very good at this, and I think it is inseparable from the many paperwork of the Ultramarines, and it is impossible for someone who is impatient and unable to get into a state of concentration to continue to do this job. The battle leader's face was calm, as if he had entered another dimension.

Barron Benson was different, and the expression of the captain of the war hound company, whose arm had been replaced by machinery, looked a little distressed.

The war dogs have never been good at waiting, and they are more accustomed to the blood and smoke and the faces of the dead than this matter. They weren't very quiet people, never was.

War dogs are well-known in the Empire for this, and even have to bind each other with extremely strict military discipline in wartime, but even so, it is inevitable that some young brothers will rush into the enemy group and die in vain due to the rise of killing.

And, if the only person sitting here was Marius Gage, or if Carlil had been replaced as a company commander in the Eighth Legion, perhaps Barron Benson would not have looked a little restless.

But

The commander of a company of the war dogs lowered his head and began to stare at the conference table, beginning to chant a name in his mind. The commander of the eighth company of the war hound, who was far away on the Firm Resolve, naturally couldn't hear it, but this did not prevent Barron Benson from finding a channel to vent his embarrassment at the moment.

He wanted to speak directly to Karil Lohals and apologize for the misunderstanding they had caused – but how?

Moreover, Barron Benson is not stupid, he knows how terrible the experience of the war dogs is, and can roughly guess the role of Karil Lohals in it.

He knew that this whole thing must not be publicized, and Marius Gage had reached an agreement with him that he would only need to report it to the original body to be able to characterize the matter once and for all.

His reflections were dismissed after five minutes, and the door slid open, and three giants entered.

The commander of a company of the Eighth Regiment followed behind them, and silently exchanged glances with the three people who had already stood up in the conference room, and then the greeting sounded, which seemed normal, but somewhat strange. After the greetings, they took their seats.

Conrad Coetzes sat next to Caryl, and Van Cleef sat between the two company commanders, at the end of the long table. Angron and Robert Killeman sat across from Conrad Coetzes.

"Long time no see, Instructor Carlile."

Robert Killiman was the first to speak, smiling and greeting, completely erasing what had happened yesterday in that room aboard the Imperial Dream.

"Is it business as usual?"

"That's nature, Master Killiman." Carlil nodded, raising his hand impeccably and making a gesture.

Conrad Coetzes gave him a strange look, didn't speak for the first time, and only after making sure that no one would speak again did he ask the question he had been holding back.

"You didn't talk to me about this meeting." Konrad Coetzes said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I didn't inform you, Legionnaire, but it wasn't my idea, it was the Emperor's request." Carlil replied.

Killiman stared at him, and exchanged glances with Angrand, who expressed his confusion with a small nod. But the Nukerians never buried the problem after all, and he spoke bluntly after that.

"That's how you usually communicate?" Angron asked. "I'm sorry to say it, but it sounds weird like that."

"It's working hours, and I don't usually leave work." Carlil replied, and Coates sighed, not loudly, but assured that his sigh would be heard by everyone.

Van Cleef blinked calmly, lowering his guess about the age of the original object a little more. Some things can't be hidden, and Conrad Coetzes is mature, even so mature that people instinctively trust them, but some of his habits are too obvious.

It was evident that the Eighth Army was now divided into two factions.

On the one hand, there are the emotionalists who believe that the original is older than them, and on the other hand, there are the rationalists who try to guess the true age of Conrad Coetzes with countless evidences.

As for Van Cleef, he is occasionally the former and occasionally the latter.

Well, he's the latter now.

"What's wrong, Legion Commander?" Carlil glanced sideways. "Do you have any questions? If not, I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible. ”

"Of course I—no."

"Okay." Carlil nodded, and pressed his hand on an instrument on the table.

The walls in front of them cracked, the sound of machinery running, and exposed cables wrapped around the pipes, which rumbled. The mist cleared again, even beginning to reach the ankles of the primitives.

"This room hasn't been used for a long time and is in disrepair, I'm sorry." Carlil said without changing his face, and the corners of Van Cleef's eyes began to twitch, and Barron Benson gave him a sympathetic look.

The War Dogs do empathize, after all, their ships are no better off now.

After a brief hum, a pale blue projection rises. With his insight, Killiman discerned the truth of the projection, which was a recorded video, not a real-time conversation. The image fluctuated vaguely for a moment, and soon its true face appeared.

That's the Lord of Mankind, the Emperor.

"You don't have to get up." He said to them like a prophet. "Sit down and listen to me."

The Emperor paused, deliberately giving them time to react. He is shown wearing a white robe, with a laurel wreath glittering above his head. He put his hands behind his back, then spoke slowly.

“.”

——

"Harcosus"

The emperor pronounced the name with a serious expression. He's thinking, obviously.

Carlil didn't interrupt him, just waited silently. He waved his arm, and a blue glow responded immediately through the cracks in his armor, and a target made of solid alloy was smashed into twisted scrap metal.

Two Praetorian soldiers stepped forward and took it away. One of them was recognized by Carlil, and he was none other than La Endymion.

Is it really good to let the forbidden army do this kind of thing? Carlil shook his head, but he still didn't ask the question, interrupting the Emperor's thoughts.

The Emperor, on the other hand, did not continue to speak until a full three minutes later.

"Destruction." He said with a frown. "No, it's not just destruction – there's more to this planet."

"Can't you see clearly?"

"I never saw the future." The Emperor shook his head. "It was obscured, obscured by the thing's withered claws and rancid feathers, and I could only catch a glimpse of light. That's where the problem lies. ”

"You're not sure if the scene you're seeing is made up by it, are you?"

"Yes." The Lord of Humanity narrowed his eyes. "But it doesn't matter, I'm used to visions and lies He weaves, just cut with a sword. Moreover, now that the three genetic primordials are gathered, this world can be a gift of witness. ”

Carlil sighed, "Every time I hear your tone, I find it hard to get used to"

"You'll get used to it." The emperor said in a low voice, a flash of golden light in his eyes. "We're all going to get used to it."

It's a little less, I know, tomorrow three more.

Let me get some sleep and replenish my energy first.

(End of chapter)