The loading deck of the Tridesia was now surging with frenzied energy, with workers and sailors hurrying across the deck, and technical sergeants in charge of the logistics part standing between them in twos and threes with data boards, observing the data of various vehicles.

Not all of them are willing to do the job, and many want to go back to the surface for a few days of rest. But after all, this is a duty, and you can't help it whether you want to or not.

Although there is no shortage of character and atmosphere to rebel against authority in Nightblade, no one would be stupid enough to rebel against the authority of bombers and gunboats, without them, how would the war go?

The servants came from the other end of the hangar, loaded with tools and pushing carts in their hands. They don't complain and they can't complain. They just walked from the other side of the ship in a dull way, and left here in a dull way, back to where they came from.

Programmed to manipulate what little of their consciousness is to move the mechanically stuffed flesh and blood, they are alienated, but they are not aware of it themselves. They are programmed to live as they do for the rest of their lives.

But do they really have the concept of 'life'?

Sevita watched them go, not thinking about the answer.

He stood lazily in an inconspicuous corner, leaning against the wall with his hands on his chest, his expression nonchalant, even a little lazy. It's certainly not a particularly good gesture, and he looks like a clean version of the Nostramo gangster.

Carlil acceded to his request, and the young members of the 1st Company were able to stay aboard the Tridesia under the guise of 'temporary assistance with logistics', which was good, in fact, very good.

Of course, Sevita didn't know why Imperial Fist and Sigismund had come all the way to Nostramo, but he didn't bother to care about it.

During the Great Expedition, Astarte traveled all over the galaxy, and you had to go wherever you wanted to go or not. Sevita didn't care about Sigismund's arrival, he only cared about when Sigismund would leave. It's cruel to say, but that's what he really does.

He didn't want to stay on track all the time, there were several large baths on Nostramo for the Nightblades, and he had been thinking about it for a long time. If he didn't get rid of Sigismund, he wouldn't have been able to bathe in the ground.

Ever since he was a child, he had always liked the bathhouse, and even made him have a lot of affection for the Ultramarines

Aimlessly, her thoughts diverged, and Sevita felt a sense of relief that she hadn't felt in a long time. He closed his eyes and began to listen to his heartbeat.

This habit was learned from Bellos, who did not wear gold-rimmed glasses.

The narrator followed them through a fallen city, and when Sevita had no time to care for him, he single-handedly killed six rebels with a knife, and then strangled the last one with his hand.

When the Nightblades found him, Belloth knelt among the corpses on the ground, taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. When Sevita asked him what he was doing, the narrator said that he was listening to his heartbeat.

Bellos's expression was calm, he didn't feel any emotion for the killing, he didn't wear his glasses, and the emotion in those eyes was a terrifying indifference.

Absurd.

Who would kneel in a corpse and listen to their own heartbeat?

Thinking of this, Nightblade involuntarily showed a sneer.

He simply opened his eyes and stopped paying too much attention to the memories of the past. This is not a good thing, he has experienced so much since he joined the army that it is enough to completely change the consciousness of an ordinary person and turn them into a murderer or a madman.

These things have shaped him today, but they have inevitably made some changes in him.

With a mean grin, Sevita turned away. He's done with the task of 'temporarily assisting with logistics', and the routine maintenance of the loading deck is no longer a concern for him.

Next, he was free to move. Whether it's resting, meditating, or venting his energy to the fighter servant in the training ground—with that in mind, he stepped into the mist, dimly lit corridor of the Tridesia Strait.

However, accidents always happen first. Between tomorrow and the unexpected, the unexpected always comes first. It will stand coldly at the junction of a peaceful tomorrow and today, laughing at everyone who thinks it can be overdone.

What a bastard.

Sevita took a deep breath.

His boots touched the icy deck, and in that moment, a sensation far more than cold permeated his body in the blink of an eye. All of a sudden, he seemed to be a different creature. He is no longer human, but a torch that shines.

Flames that did not belong to the human world erupted from his mouth, nose, eyes, and ears, turning the world itself into a faint black and white. Sevita involuntarily lowered her head and glanced below deck.

His movements are no longer under his own control, but rather like a leashed machine.

At this moment, his gaze penetrated the metal, the machinery, and the core layer of the Tridesia that no one allowed anyone to see, and reached a shuttle that was moving between the stars.

The Imperial Fist, named Sigismund, stood by the porthole of the shuttle, waiting for the end of the short voyage.

Sevita bent down and let out a low growl from her throat. Not like a human, more like a monster. A voice sounded from behind him, with a hint of obvious exclamation: "Another seizure?" ”

"Shut up, Macarion." Sevita said without looking back, her expression gloomy.

"Don't act so mean, brother." The man known as Makarion smirked twice. "We all know that you need to have some sort of ritual with Company Commander Fair on a regular basis, but it seems to be happening more and more often lately, isn't it?"

"Do you want to be in the dueling cage?" Sevita straightened up and asked softly.

"I'm okay with that, if it's with you." Macarion said with a smile, the mockery in his voice still evident and undisguised.

Sevita snorted and walked away—he wouldn't admit it, but the truth is, as Macarion said, his hidden talent had been coming in more and more lately.

Of course, Sevita doesn't reject psionic power, he also knows how strong his psionic talent is, and the only reason that prevents him from using it, or even blocking it with the help of Phil Zaloster, is actually very simple.

Primordial Life.

He remembered the day when Conrad Coetze summoned him aboard the Nightfall.

Their primordial sat in a large armchair with a crimson backrest staring at him. The expression on his pale face was unpredictable, and his eyes were deadly silent, by no means familiar to the nightblades on weekdays.

It was the seventh year that Carlil Lohals had become a stranger, but the Lord of the Night hadn't changed much, and it had been less than two years since he earned the title of 'Lord of the Blades'.

[You need to block your talent, race.] 】

Conrad Coetzes said, his expression calm, his eyes hinting at sadness.

[This power is essentially a curse, but you are born to carry it.] You are a cursed man who has also entered such a cursed army as ours. In a sense, it was a coincidence. But I don't want you to be consumed by the curse yet, so go find Phil Zaloster. 】

Sevita did as he was told, without asking why—he didn't usually use psionic energy at all, and what he relied on in battle was chainsaw halberds and blasters, not large-scale psionic spells.

Blocking it wasn't something he could swallow, but somehow, after the blockade, his talent became stronger.

Occasionally, it would break through Fair's power and break free, bringing something to Sevita that he couldn't see. It's like Sigismund on that shuttle.

Nightblade sighed in annoyance, and after ten minutes or so, he returned to his room and changed into a training shirt.

——

"Long time no see, Savitarion." Sigismund said. "I didn't expect you to be so positive."

"Are you going to fight or not?" Sevita looked at him with one hand on his hips, holding a training chainsaw in his right hand. The weight was quite a bit worse than the one he was used to, but it was still within acceptable limits.

"The field has been emptied, and the sword is ready for you. A two-handed sword, just right for your habits. So, do you fight or not? ”

"You know my habits?" Sigismund raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Sevita was silent for a moment and sighed: "Are you going to fight or not, cousin?" I'm pressed for time. ”

The Imperial Fist laughed.

Aside from the difference in hair color, he is very similar to Roger Dorn. This is the case with all Astartes, who have already carried the mark of a demigod before they have met the protogens.

It is normal for the Son to resemble the Father, but it is rare to see it to the extent of Sigismund. It's a pity that he's smiling right now, and Roger Dorn.

"I'm tempted, but I'm not here to find a fight." Sigismund shook his head and put the greatsword back on the weapon rack in his hand.

"I didn't think I'd fight you before I came, and besides, you don't seem to have any passion for fighting now, Sevita Leon."

Sevita didn't deny his claim, but just smiled coldly, "How do you know that I don't have any thoughts about beating you up?" ”

Sigismund chose to sensibly ignore Sevita's taunts.

"Venting your anger is not the same thing as simply loving to fight, and Richtenall, the master of swordsmanship, in your legion, is just like me. And you wield a chainsaw halberd, just to complete the mission. I don't think you have a moment of enjoyment or pleasure in the use of violence. ”

"You've met me twice in total, why do you act like you know me well?"

Sevita asked a little incredulously - his invulnerability, of course, was not because of Sigismund's words, but because of this self-acknowledgment.

He didn't understand how an emperor fist could be like this. Easy-going?

Sigismund laughed again, and instead of choosing to answer Sevita's question, he brought up something else: "Do you know Ulanor, cousin?" ”

"Unless I'm deaf and blind and an idiot cripple."

"Have you always been so mean?" Sigismund sighed helplessly. "Well, anyway - we've won."

He deliberately set aside a few seconds to give Sevita time to react. It's very sweet, but it's a pity that Nightblade's expressionless face spoils this matter perfectly.

There was no joy in him, no emotion in him. The way he looked at Sigismund made the latter feel as if he were just a wall.

"Hmm." Sevita nodded. "It's good."

“.” The Fist of the Empire looked at him incredulously.

"What do you mean by those eyes?" Sevita asked slightly unpleasantly. "This is indeed a great victory, with the Shadowmoon Wolf, the Ultramarine, and the White Scar and countless soldiers thwarting a dangerous opponent under the leadership of the Emperor - but what does that have to do with us? We didn't participate in this war. ”

"Oh!" Sigismund suddenly realized. "It turns out that you chose not to celebrate for this, and I have a lot of brothers who think the same way as you. Also. ”

He sighed softly: "Who wouldn't want to fight alongside him under the direct command of the emperor." ”

"I don't want to." Sevita said expressionlessly. "I have seen our Emperor Majesty with my own eyes, and my eyes hurt for days afterwards. Our veteran said I was lucky, and if the emperor wore gold armor, I might have gone blind on the spot. ”

"It's not that serious, is it?" Sigismund said with a slight suspicion.

"Believe it or not?" Sevita rolled her eyes visibly. "Why do you think our eyepieces have their own photometric adjustment function?"

"Well, well, I'm thinking too little—" Sigismund raised his hand and apologized.

"—In short, we have won, and the Emperor has announced that he will hold a triumphal ceremony on the planet Ulano. Many of the Primitives and their legions have already announced their departures, and no one wants to miss the event. ”

"Then why are you still here?" Sevita asked bluntly. "I mean, why did you make the trip?"

Sigismund's smile finally stiffened.

"Because," he said slowly. "My primordial asked me to inform his brother that he didn't want to see anyone miss the event."

"No, I mean, here." Sevita pointed to the ground. "Why do you have to come here, Tridesia, Sigismund? Is it bad to stay on Nostramo? ”

The smile on Sigismund's face was completely gone.

"Okay." Expressionlessly, he stretched out his right hand and took the sword down again. "Best of three games, agree?"

"You're so polite, brother." Sevita chuckled. "Let's take twelve hours as a standard and see how long we can fight."

"Okay." The Imperial Fist replied with a slight gritted teeth.

Chapter 4k.

Also, yards.

(End of chapter)