The rhinoceros troop carrier rumbled and trembled, mercilessly running over the ground.

The metal box had been remodeled inside and out by the technical sergeants of the Fifth Company of Nightblade.

The defenses have been greatly reduced, the engines have been replaced with new models with more power, and even the tracks have been thickened and thickened by more than a little. The original weapons have also been reduced as much as possible, all in order to turn it into a monster of speed.

After all, the Nightblades don't need to use the Rhino Personnel Carrier as cover or have it suppressed by fire, as long as they can quickly drop a company or hunting team into the mission.

But because of this, the experience of sitting in this metal iron box is completely incompatible with the word 'comfort'.

No matter what the tracks run over, the person sitting in the car can clearly feel it.

"I might as well walk over there," Siani grumbled in a low voice. "The guys in the Fifth Company are all crazy when it comes to improving vehicles, and they don't think about shock absorption at all?"

The adjutant of the 1st Company, Moletz, did not answer his words, he was too lazy to pay attention - Siani from Terra would complain on any vehicle.

He complained about being too steep in a modified rhino personnel carrier, a Rand Raider complained that it was stuffy like an iron coffin, and a Spartan assault tank was saying it looked like a stupid big man, which was completely out of his temperament

Morecz has reason to believe that Siani will complain even if he one day gets on the hoverbikes of the Praetorian Army.

Of course, he would be accustomed to Siani, and his company commander would not.

Van Cleef looked over with a blank face, and with just one look quieted Siani. And he doesn't intend to stop there.

"You seem to have a complaint against the technical sergeants, Siani." The commander of the first company clasped his hands, and the military medal on his shoulders shone brightly. "I've come to wonder if Yago Savitarion learned some of his habits from you."

"This is slander, my company commander." Siani hurriedly raised his hands from under the four safety straps, expressing his innocence. "I'd never stick a chainsaw weapon into dirt, sand, or building materials like he did."

"But you're going to throw a blaster a lot." The pharmacist, Serie Donio, who was sitting next to him, said quietly.

"I've seen it many times, Siani. He ran out of bullets and threw it out to smash people. You'll not pick it up until you've finished tackling it. ”

Siani turned his head and glared at the pharmacist.

"That's true." Morets immediately joined the fray, and he nodded to Van Cleef, agreeing with the pharmacist's words. "I testify that what Seriel said is true, company commander."

Van Cleef silently fixed his gaze on Siani's face, who miraculously remained expressionless, and even managed to open his mouth to argue for himself.

"The blaster is happy about this, have you ever seen it complain?"

"It's just not talking, Siani, I'm afraid."

Van Cleef sighed and said no more, letting the conversation end here. After a few minutes, the troop carrier finally stopped bumping. The metal door collapsed to the ground with the sound of the machine, turning from the gate to a downward path.

Coming out of it, Van Cleef immediately smelled a strange smell wafting through the air.

The wilderness of Nostramo was a poisonous no-man's land a few years ago, where only mutants and ferocious beasts could survive.

The Mechachanism has transformed its environment from a poisonous swamp and sand to a wilderness that at first glance looks acceptable. Although there are still no plants that can improve the environment, at least they look much better.

Cut to pieces by the details of the building, the light spilled onto Van Cleef's face, turning his face into a grotesque abstract painting. The company commander silently glanced back at the sight of more vehicles heading towards him.

There is a wide variety and variety, but most of them have been dismantled weapons. After all, they're here for a celebration. If he had gone to war, Van Cleef would not have come in a rhinoceros.

He would take the other thirty-nine men into the mastodon and let it crash into the rear of the enemy, which would be much easier than riding a rhinoceros.

"Van Cleef." A voice came from his side. "Have you all arrived in the first company?"

"It needs to be prepared, instructor." The company commander replied with a turn, unsurprised to see their instructor striding out of the darkness.

The dark shadows were not dispelled by the light, but remained in place like living creatures, waiting for Karil Lohals' next call-up.

Van Cleef glanced at them, his fingers twitching slightly, and he felt a throbbing of wanting to call. He forced himself to look back, only to find Karil staring at him thoughtfully.

"Instructor?"

"Nothing, Van Cleef." Carlil smiled. "But I still need to warn you that the darkness is still dangerous."

"I don't think I'll need them," Van Cleef said as he tensed his muscles. "Also, what about the Primordial Guard?"

"Temporarily draw the soldiers of the first and eighth companies to form it, and change into the Terminator power armor, the servants should have them ready."

Carlil shook his head as he spoke—no matter how much the company commanders tried to persuade them, their demands, and even their implicit threats of pleading, Conrad Coetzes remained unmoved. In fact, the Night Lord's words even seem a little cruel to some extent.

'Do you really think I need a guard?' Do you really think I need protection? ’

"Understood." Van Cleef nodded, and began to communicate with Anrek Barbatos, the company of the Eighth Company, using the communication device he hung from his collar. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Carlil finally observed him carefully for a while.

Van Cleef wore a standard old-fashioned gown with a strong military touch. Unlike most of the designs that are popular nowadays, this dress is very old-fashioned and strict in most details.

Whether it is the two gold armsts on the cuffs, or the waist without any wide design, it reveals a sense of quaintness, and the whole dress is not even embellished except for the three colors of black, blue and white.

In fact, it is the military medals that hang on the right chest and on the shoulders on both sides are more eye-catching, and one of them is particularly precious. It has a silver base and a golden lightning bolt in the body.

Carlil looked at it for a moment, then looked away. He hooked his fingers, and the darkness pounced excitedly, wrapping around his body, causing him to completely disappear in place in the next second.

Van Cleef watched him leave, resisting the instinct that swelled up in his heart, and continued to tug at Enric Barbatos—"No, the Guard only needs a hundred, and your Eighth Company can only occupy half of them. ”

On the other end of the conversation, Enric Barbatos cursed a Terra slang in a gloomy tone.

——

Conrad Coetze stood at the top of the platform and looked down. The night breeze of the wilderness ruffled the black hair on his forehead, making those eyes a little strange.

Legion's servants and improvised helpers from the Hive set up the grounds, food and drinks placed on long tables covered with black and white tablecloths.

Tens of thousands of candles were placed on steel candlesticks that had been prepared long ago, and were lit as soon as the feast began. At that time, the lights will be turned off and flickering candles will take their place.

The managers of the various nests and some of the workers who perform well on a daily basis were also invited to the scene, and they also had a long table.

Gazing at all this, the Lord of the Night nodded in satisfaction.

He whispered, "This is the first time it's been activated, Corax. It was the idea of the Ultramarines to build it, and I wasn't going to agree to it, but Lucretius Corvo convinced me. Any legion needs a grand hall to entertain cousins or others worthy of such an occasion, he said. I admit he has a point. ”

Coreus Colax nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. Coates could see why—what could it be other than the fancy gown he was wearing?

The dress was undoubtedly prepared for the Nineteenth Legion, or rather, the Raven Guards for their primordial body. The somber black is the main color, and the delicate white is embellished in some places.

Coetzes couldn't quite describe what the dress looked like, but he could describe it in one word.

Fogreme-esque.

"Just take it easy, brother." The Lord of the Night withdrew his gaze, not intending to put any more pressure on Corax. "There's no need to be nervous, the people who are going to come to the stage to represent their respective legions should be nervous. Do you see that bunker over there? ”

Coraks nodded, of course he could see it. The bunker and the magnificent building had an air of misfit, and even a blind person could smell the roughness and gore it bringed.

"I stole the idea from Angelun." Conrad Coates grinned.

"He didn't completely dismiss Nukeria, and some of his improvements became one of the cultures that are now unique to the Hound of War, such as this one, the duel pit. Dealing with War Dogs will inevitably give it a try, and if you're going to work with Angelon in the future, you'll probably be invited aboard the Steadfast Resolve. ”

"Can I say no?" Corax frowned. "I know about the dueling cage, the training ring and the like traditions, but the duel pit you talked about doesn't make me feel a little good."

"It's up to you, brother." Coetz said patiently and gently. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't want to change your impression of Angeland with my opinion, so let you deal with him yourself. So—"

He turned his head, changed his angle, and leaned his back against the railing of the high platform: "-Who did you choose?" ”

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)