Conrad Coetzes squinted at the sky and was silent.

It was dark, the sunset in the world of the Rals was as magnificent as a dream, the sky was an almost illusory pink, the clouds overlapped and mixed together, and the swarm of Stormbird and Thunderhawk took off to tear them apart.

The Original's eyesight allowed him to see farther than normal Astarte, and combined with the helmet's eyepiece's built-in zoom function, Coz was able to clearly see the gunboat's markings.

They don't belong to the Midnight Blade or the Emperor's Son, they belong to the Whisperer. The paint was a dull red in gray, and the scriptures were all over the wings, dense and dense like a swarm of insects.

The Lord of the Night did not comment on the matter, he had learned the need for silence early on. After a few seconds, he simply lowered his head and stopped paying any attention to the sky.

The Nightblades were cleaning up the battlefield, and in the past hour they had captured a city of the Lal people, a time that was not considered efficient under the leadership of the Primitives.

One by one, the corpses of the aliens were thrown into the fire, four-armed and twisted. Coates looked at the fire closest to him and took a deep breath.

The breathing grate didn't filter the air at his will, and he didn't smell the burnt stench of the flesh being burned. In fact, he smelled a fishy smell, like an old dead fish placed in a cellar.

After a brief pause, Koz turned on the filter again.

He turned, and walked past the many corpses he had made with his own hands, the severed limbs mercilessly crushed by his steps. He didn't shy away from their thoughts, his gaze was indifferent, as if he had stepped on garbage, unconcerned or unconscious.

A helmetless Nightblade greeted him, with a fierce and gloomy face, one eye a dull, metallic gray. He had apparently only recently had the metal prosthetic eye fitted, and the rejection had caused all the flesh around his right eye to become red and swollen.

"What's the matter, Drassock?" The Lord of the Night asked in a soft tone.

His fourth company commander silently lowered his head, his expression loosening slightly. It looked like mourning, but the voice was so heavy that it sounded like a sword strike.

"I apply for an oath of vengeance."

The Lord of the Night narrowed his eyes.

"Have you figured it out?" He asked succinctly. "It's an option with no turning back, Drassock."

"I've figured it out." The commander of the fourth company replied slowly. "My mind is clearer than ever, Primitive. I have found my true self and seen the truth. ”

Conrad Coetzes slowly removed his helmet, not allowing himself to be separated from his offspring in metal and eyepieces at this moment.

An oath of vengeance.

After officially participating in the Great Expedition, a new tradition was born within the Nightblades. The Great Expedition was a war, a confluence of many, almost never-ending wars. Sacrifice or bloodshed is simply commonplace, and there is absolutely no way to avoid it.

After one battle after another, those who are still standing and alive are determined to comfort the souls of the dead who wander in the darkness with more blood.

"In that case, I'll allow it." The Lord of the Night replied majestically. "Dye your hands red with the blood of your brothers, Drasuk, and you will not stop until the blood of your enemies has completely covered them."

"Yes." Carl Drassok hissed in reply, and immediately turned away.

Generally speaking, the Vow of Vengeance is not available to every Nightblade. This 'honor' is only granted to officers or well-recognized killers, who generally ask people who are higher than themselves to be witnesses to the oath

Staring at the back of the fourth company commander who turned to leave, Conrad Coetzes put on his helmet and silently turned away. He moved away from the battlefield and found a rather remote ruin to stay for a while.

Not far away, the sounds of the Rand raiders and rhinoceros personnel carriers rumbled, and Coetzes listened nonchalantly as he sat down on a crumbling stone pillar.

His cloak was windless in the darkness, and the scarlet color fluttered slowly. The foul-smelling sea breeze blows from the far end of the atoll city, slowly, but by no means gentle. The Lord of the Night tapped his knee-length armor with his fingers, listened to its dull echo, and suddenly spoke.

"Did your scouting find anything?"

In the darkness, two bits of blue light slowly lit up.

A giant wrapped in darkness stepped out heavily, and the water beneath his feet immediately froze, and it was an extremely black abyssal ice, ominous. The pale skeleton exuded a cold aura, and there was a little blue light escaping from the eye sockets.

"The city of the Lal people is very interesting to build." Carlil said. "They don't build cities based on geographical advantages, they rely on some kind of law."

"Regularity?" The Lord of the Night turned his head and tilted his head to observe the skeleton. His actions are very intimidating, especially when he is wearing a helmet. It's a pity that the people he stares at have long been immune to the vast majority of fears.

Carlil spoke softly, answering Koz's question.

"Your brother Foggrim has given me an overview of the battlefield from the Pride of the Emperor, and based on the available information, the city of the Ral can almost be considered a star map. All cities are shattered stars, just waiting for a clue or something to link them together completely. ”

The Night Lord's face under his helmet became serious, and when he spoke again, his voice became muffled, "Is it them.?" ”

"I didn't smell the stench, and I didn't see any suspicious signs." The skeleton said calmly. "The Lal are suspicious, but they don't pay attention to it. Also, Conrad, do you know where the Whisperers' gunboats are going? ”

"You saw their gunboats too?"

The skeleton seemed to laugh.

"It's hard for me to see the battle like that. They were going to the religious center of the Lal people. A city of temples, or rather, a huge alien church. I don't need to say it, but you probably know the attitude of the Bearers towards the alien gods. ”

"Are they going to burn that place? That's good, I'll applaud in support. Conrad Coetzes said this without interest. I'm sorry, but I'm not very interested in the relentless assault of religious rejection."

"Me too. But they are, after all, legions of the Empire. ”

"You want us to be involved?"

"It's going to depend on your opinion." Carlil looked up and glanced at the sky that was getting darker. "Darkness is our hunting ground after all."

"Let me think for a moment." Konrad Coetzes said.

He took off his helmet again, and flipped his helmet over in the midst of the mechanics and the sound of gases being released.

The eyepiece is scarlet, with gold and midnight blue tenacious stays around the edges. Everything is so eerie and terrifying, but with an elegance and nobility that comes from nowhere.

Midnight Wraith gritted its teeth in disgust and said in Nostramo, "Do they have to add this intricate pattern of unknown significance?" ”

Carlil didn't speak, just smiled.

"I can see you're smiling through the mask!"

"Well, then, congratulations?"

Coates sighed visibly and poked his finger at the batwing on the edge of his helmet, "You should know that I don't really want to stand with the Bearers. ”

"Why?"

"I don't like religion." The original says bluntly. "It's not about Luo Jia, I just simply hate believers, especially such fanatical believers. Standing with such a person, I would have trouble breathing. ”

"Sounds like you're suffering from some kind of religious allergy." Carlil tilted his head in Coetze's way. "But you should be healthy, Conrad, and you're unlikely to get sick."

At this moment, in his near-upside-down vision, he could clearly capture every bit of helplessness on Conrad Coetze's face—a look on his own that he was convincing himself, quite helpless, and quite quite

Interesting.

"Are you laughing again?" Coetzes asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yes." Carlil nodded. "No way, I can't help it."

"Tsk"

"What do you mean?"

"Meaning—"

Conrad Coze slowly rose from the stone pillar, his cloak blown by the wind and the sound of hunting. He raised his hand and put on his helmet. The movements are ordinary, but they are as solemn as the king himself wears a crown.

"—you've managed to annoy me, Carlile."

"I can't afford that."

The Lord of the Night ignored the words.

——

Through the porthole of the transport plane, Vogrim looked majestically out of the burning ground. It's dark, but the burning alien city lights up half the sky. The original withdraws his gaze, closes his eyes, and takes one last moment of contemplation.

In fifteen minutes, he would be on the battlefield himself, throwing aside the cumbersome constraints of strategizing, and once again slashing and slashing the enemy as a warrior. He had been looking forward to this moment for a long time, and with the conquest of the emperor's son, how could he not go to the front in person?

If it weren't for the fact that the three legions had to have a commander who could see the whole picture and give orders, Fogrem wouldn't have forced himself to stay on his flagship for that long. However, among the three primordials, who can take on this responsibility besides him?

Lorga Aurelian was a good at oratory, but other than that, his military prowess was not very good.

Conrad Coetzes was a terrible commander, but that was only based on the fact that he was in command of his own legions. He's a partial general.

Fogreem, on the other hand, has unwittingly knocked on the door of the Almighty on the road to perfection. Under his command, the joint operations of the three services were very successful.

In just two days, they completely dragged the world of the Lal people into a sea of fire. If you attack alone, I'm afraid it will take a month. Thinking of this, Fogham couldn't help but be a little glad that he had found help.

He was not ashamed of this thought, maybe he used to, but now it is not necessary. Rejecting help from others at all times is essentially just paranoia, especially in war.

If he were to build a ladder to perfection with the blood of his heirs, how inferior would he be?

The Chemos would never allow themselves to be like that.

With this thought in mind, he slowly opened his eyes. The special transport plane was subtracted in many places to fit his stature, but some of the decorations that were considered 'necessary' remained.

For example, an eagle claw flag and an eagle wing flag are gifts sewn by a group of grateful civilians to represent the gratitude of a world. The texture is not precious, and the craftsmanship can also be called cheap.

However, for all these years, Vogrim has never let these two flags really stay out of his sight. For him, they have long surpassed honor.

"Cazorón." The phoenix suddenly called out. The man he called was one of his company commanders, Julius Casoron, who was also the captain of the Phoenix Guard. He has followed him for many years, and he is loyal and skilled.

"Original, I'm here." Cathoro responded immediately, the golden eagle face of his helmet fluttering in a purple undertone, and the scarlet eyes staring at his original form. "What do you command?"

"How do we win?" Fogham softly asked a question that should not have been pondered by Casolon at all, and the company commander was stunned.

He had recently returned to the Pride using a shuttle, and as the captain of the Phoenix Guard, he had to follow him as the original body set out. Over the years, he had learned a lot about warfare.

However, what the original body was asking about at this moment was beyond his expectations.

"That doesn't seem like a question I should be thinking about, Primitive." Casolon replied cautiously.

"You're one of my most important commanders." Fogham seemed to smile. "How to win should be at the top of your list."

Phoenix's glittering lips and the smiling expression on his face at the moment should have been attractive, as evidenced by the countless men and women who had screamed for him.

However, his eyes were so calm and powerful.

Casolon was speechless for a moment, completely unsure of how to answer the original question, making the moment a little awkward. Fortunately, Forgrim did not continue to stare, and he quickly looked away and turned his gaze to the two eagle flags again.

"My brothers' legions have all headed for the religious center of the Lal people, Catholon. According to some surveys, the Lal people are not a tech-dominated society, they are more religious. ”

"Such a system is more cohesive, but it also has more obvious weaknesses. Generally speaking, their religious center is their ruling center. This is the decisive battle, my son. ”

The phoenix stretched out his hand and touched the two flags affectionately, and his violet eyes really began to burn, beautiful and intimidating, shining with divine light and extremely sharp.

"And we're going to win." He declared. "We will completely cut off the last life of the Rals and expel this alien from the human galaxy!"

There is one more chapter. ，

I'm late because I'm not in good shape, sorry.

(End of chapter)