Never in his life has Anglel Tay felt so overwhelmed as he does now. Anxiety, apprehension, and uncertainty about the future all blended together, almost turning into a bone-eating poison that was about to engulf him completely.

However, I don't know how, maybe it's a miracle, he still retains a little sanity. And Ingrell Tay ironically understood that this reason actually came from a stronger emotion in his heart.

Hatred.

"Will he meet us?" He heard one of his brothers asking, his voice rough and worried. His name was Hermot Lacruz, a native of Colchis, an experienced priest.

"Maybe, maybe not, why do you care?" The other man he had brought with him, Batusa Narek, asked rhetorically in a calm voice.

Obviously, he's looking for trouble.

"Because I obviously care more than you do, Batusa!" The priest refuted the statement with a low roar.

His anger was so palpable that it almost stood in fantastic contrast to his black armor - of the three Bearers, only his power armor was painted black.

This is to commemorate the destruction of the City of Perfection, the day on which what they experienced has left its mark on them forever.

"Really? Let me give you an example. Batusa said, reaching out and patting Hemot on the shoulder, looking friendly, not provocative, but Ingres Tay knew exactly what he was doing.

This is not a provocation, it is far superior to a provocation.

For a moment, he almost felt like he would see them fighting each other. But they didn't - once again, a miracle happened.

Hemot held back his temper and even let out a cold snort: "There's no point in arguing, Batusa, you stone head."

"Let's all be quiet." Angler Tay said. "Arguing here doesn't help anything, it's up to him whether he sees us or not. Who in the galaxy can force Karil Lohals? ”

"Lord of the Blades?" The old priest threw out the word, and there was a sudden conviction in his voice. "He should be able to, he is the son of God after all."

Angel Tai closed his eyes in pain.

"Sometimes I really don't understand how you can continue to believe in the Emperor, Hemot." He muttered softly. "You're such a madman."

"How many of the 1,300 people who came with us were not insane?" Hemot immediately retorted. "Or rather, in the perception of our own legion, how many so-called 'normal people' are there among our 1,300 people?"

"Not a single one." Batusa spat out coldly. "We are traitors, madmen, fools, traitors. The only bridge between the Legion's blades and our flesh is Loja Aurelian. ”

"Lorga Aurelian when he is awake." Hemot corrected again, this time, his voice was far closer to a murmur than Angle's Tay.

Yes, Lorja Aurelian when he is awake, but how long can he stay awake?

As this question surfaced, Ingrel Tai lowered his head in silence. Before his eyes appeared a golden-skinned giant, whose face was sometimes distorted, sometimes calm, like an unpredictable cloud.

However, he only has a brief moment of calm on rare nights, and the frenzy that distorts his facial features is the norm most of the time.

In this state, he would walk barefoot from one end of the ship to the other with his arms waved, and the faithful would follow him closely behind him and listen to him preach loudly on the ancient beliefs of Colchis.

This change began after the destruction of the Perfect City, and at first, the Bearers were terrified and alarmed. Everyone could see that the original was not in a normal mental state, but with the assurance of Erebus and Cole Fallon, this fear gradually changed.

Later, Lorja Aurelian also proved himself normal in many wars. As always, the bearer of the mantra shouted against the enemies of the gods, brandishing his scepter and walking at the forefront of the battle line, slaughtering in the name of the gods.

Only a few were aware of the treacherous change in the atmosphere within the Legion, and remained vigilant. Only a few people can see Loja Aurelian when he is awake.

Don't think it's lucky, there's nothing more unfortunate than this.

"Go to Karil Lohals, take someone you trust to him, and go to that triumphal ceremony."

That night, Loja Aurelian stood in his house inscribed with scriptures and roared at Angler Tai, his fists clenched.

"Go to him, tell him my words are not credible, tell him-"

The original abruptly stopped sounding, and the golden characters began to writhe on his skin, a creepy golden glow coming out from beneath his skin. In the next second, Loja Aurelian's face took on that twisted frenzy again.

He smiled at Angler Tay and began to chant the scriptures to himself. He was so friendly, so charming, that his eyes almost turned into two swirls of light that wanted to devour people's souls.

Angler Tay didn't know how he had left, he felt nothing but fear and pain. He had thought about it a million times, and he had been terrified and pained a million times. He had to do this to make sure he was right and that he wasn't mentally ill.

Logically, he should be numb, but he didn't. The Primordial suffered far more than his, and Ingres Tai would rather suffer and sink himself than see Lorja Aurelian suffer such a change.

Yes, his original body did produce to some extent. Change, and this change, is something that he cannot and cannot understand.

If one side of the story is not credible, then the other two people standing here, Hermot Lacruz and Batusa Narek, can also testify to it.

They are also unfortunate, and have seen the original body transform back and forth in madness and calm. Ingrej Taichai, this is probably one of the reasons why the grumpy Hermot can put up with Batusa.

They all have each other to trust.

In the eerie reception room of the Nightfall, three Bearers waited with their bare hands. They don't know what kind of verdict Carlil Lohals will give, they just want him to see them at least.

A man pushed open the door to the meeting room and walked in.

"Please wait a few more minutes, cousins. Our instructors are busy mentoring new blood. He whispered, with a strange accent in Gothic, with a very pronounced tone.

This meant that he was from Nostramo, and for the Astartes, changing their accent was a breeze. The deliberate preservation of the accent of his native language was, in Angle's perception, an outward expression of pride.

Like all of the legendary Midnight Blades of the Empire, he was dressed in gloomy dark blue armor and a face as pale as a ghost or corpse, but Angle-Tay noticed other details.

For example, the man's shoulder armor has gold trims, and his hands are dyed scarlet. The color was far stronger than blood. Two criss-crossed blades glittered on his right shoulder armor.

"Your Excellency?" The old priest immediately asked—of course he had, he had always been an impatient. Moreover, this person was the first person they had seen after seventeen minutes of sitting in the reception room.

If you don't ask him, who are you going to ask?

"Shen." The man replied politely. "Adjutant of the 4th Company. I'm sorry to keep you waiting, but it's not easy to determine your ID."

Angel Tay knew what he was alluding to, and he could hear the lieutenant's metaphor. The Speaker smiled bitterly, got up from the sofa in the reception room, stepped forward and shook Shen's hand, "I'm sorry. ”

"It's fine." Shen squinted his eyes, grinned, and then took the initiative to let go of Angle's handshake. "It's just a small thing, so please wait a little longer."

He politely looked around, nodded at them, and turned to leave the reception room. Angler Tai remained on his feet, watching him leave, and his mood calmed down unexpectedly.

He took a deep breath and simply sat back on the couch. He thought, having come this far, what else is there to be anxious about?

The Bearer simply closed his eyes, allowing the face of Lorja Aurelian to appear in front of him once more.

He began to meditate on the words of the primordial past, the words of sincerity that had cleared him from the dust in the countless days after the war. Ingrell Tai was used to war, but he didn't like it.

However, in the interval of this thought, he felt a chill very suddenly. He didn't know where it came from, but it was so real that it looked like someone was holding a knife across his neck.

The Bearer snapped open his eyes and stood up, his right hand instinctively touching his waist.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until his fingers touched the empty belt that he realized that his weapon had been turned in when he boarded the Nightfall with two of his companions—and now he was standing in front of a giant with his bare hands and in an awkward position.

The latter looked at them calmly, shadows surging between the pale bones of his armor writhing like living creatures. Malice is undisguised, it roars silently.

Carlil Lohals.

The 'Blade' of the Eighth Legion, the legendary ghost, is a monster that makes people feel cold just by saying their name

Angler Tai gritted his teeth and forced his right hand to hold the weapon to twist and turn into a strange handshake.

"Hello." He said with a loud voice. "I'm Ingrel Tai, one of the Whisperers. I have something to say to you. ”

Carlil looked at him calmly, tilted his head, and did not answer, nor shook hands. Half a second later, the blue light in his eyes flashed and disappeared.

Updated.

Yes, I'm going to start sending the knife no, it's time to advance the plot.

(End of chapter)