Frankly, it wasn't a pleasure to watch Fogham slowly change into his armor, at least for St. Giles.

Even though the phoenix's ceremonial armor was breathtakingly beautiful, and even more so, it couldn't stop the archangel from getting bored with this process, which lasted more than six minutes.

Fortunately, the Chemus probably knew about this, and he did not extend the time of the matter, and after putting on the silver tiara set with precious stones, he ended the costume change without choosing any more accessories and worrying about the color scheme.

After Fogham thanked the skilled servants, they left the locker room and began to walk side by side in the wide tunnels inside the volcano.

In the past, it was common for the guards to walk side by side, but this time, the Blood Angels and the Emperor's Sons, who were in charge of the guards, had already left the interior of the volcano one step earlier.

St. Giles knew that they would now most likely be standing side by side like a guard of honor, waiting for Magnus to arrive on some tarmac at the end of the tunnel.

"He was an hour and forty-three minutes late." Fogrem spoke calmly and gently. The long silver-white hair was scattered on the purple and gold shoulder armor, and the gold and red cloak was flying behind him with the stride of the original body.

"So?" St. Giles cautiously presents a twist. "You're not happy about that?"

"I'm probably not the only one who is dissatisfied, and it's not just the genetic protos who are here today, but there are many more people who are far busier than us. But, to be honest, what I don't like is this attitude of his. ”

Phoenix stopped and sighed softly.

"Rightfully late, rightfully seen as a gentle and friendly place - and I had to be on the same side as him."

"I know you think the immediate removal of the think tank system is too extreme, but our opinion doesn't really matter, Fogen."

St. Giles shook his head, and the silver chains and pendants hanging from his wings shook in unison at this moment, making a crisp sound. He didn't pay as much attention to manners as Vogrim, and he had to choose to change into a ceremonial armor when he traveled.

The archangel wore a simple white robe, and if it weren't for the ornaments, his outfit would have been completely simple.

"yes." Fogham sighed again. "Our opinion doesn't matter."

As he spoke, he actually laughed, but his smile was not very good-looking: "But Magnus probably doesn't think so." ”

St. Giles didn't take the sentence, but just motioned for the phoenix to move on, and quickened his pace. Ten minutes later, they walked out of the tunnel and arrived at the apron reserved for the primitives.

The sky in Nikaia was overcast and cloudy, and the apocalyptic scene of lightning, thunder, and volcanic eruptions did not stop a storm hawk from slowly descending.

It staggered to a halt in the corner of the tarmac, the violent roar of the engine began to subside, and the prepared servants and technicians rushed up to do emergency repairs.

They had repeated it many times, and any plane that tried to fly in Nikaia would have to be put to the test. The hatch slowly opened, and a crimson Magnus and his guards slowly stepped out of it.

Compared to the Blood Angels and Emperors, the number of the Lion Guards was a bit too small, and he only brought ten members of the Guard, so the reason was naturally unknown. Magnus has always been mysterious.

The second-most knowledgeable scholar in the galaxy today wears a brown-black undershirt with a gold and red embroidered tunic and an eagle emblem armguard, and his long hair is scattered and scarlet like blood.

As soon as he stepped out of the hatch, he noticed the angel and the phoenix, and a smile immediately appeared on his face. The primitives walked towards each other and began to greet each other, and the whole process did not last long. When the greeting was over, they were the first to step into the tunnel, and the guards followed behind their respective primordials in three rows.

Magnus spoke softly, a little reserved, his voice echoing invisibly through the tunnel. It was clear that he had used some force to cover up his voice and the conversation. St. Giles frowned, not understanding why he was doing this.

"It took me a whole year to get to Nikaia, brothers, but I didn't let it slip out of my hands. I researched many theories and read countless ancient books, and in the end, I succeeded. ”

"Success?" Fogham raised an eyebrow. "What? Have you come up with any new psionic theories? ”

"Yes, but it's not." Magnus smiled and approached Vogrim to present his research to him.

"I know the main arguments of this meeting, and I know what it came about – Riemann Ruth and Motarian's long-term short-sightedness caused this, and my father had to deal with it, I understand him, but I also have my own considerations."

"What do you want to say, brother?" Fogrem asked solemnly. "Or how are you going to refute Ruth and Motarian?"

Magnus smiled passionately and mysteriously, "Quite simply, don't they think that psionic energy can cause disaster?" Then I'll show them how gentle and effective psionic energy really is."

"You haven't said what you've researched, Magnus." St. Giles spoke softly, a hint of worry flashing through his heart. Somehow, he suddenly felt a strong sense of unease.

"Don't worry, my angel! You'll see later! The Crimson King laughed and was triumphant, with a pride on his face that belonged only to scholars.

This pride has been born in countless scholars who have completed amazing research theories, and it can almost be regarded as a kind of inheritance and guidance of fate. Now, at last, it's finally in Magnus.

The Crimson King had done countless studies in his lifetime, but none had ever been so satisfying and so proud. At the moment, he is happy and hopeful for the future.

But will the future really be as bright as he thinks?

Fogham sighed imperceptibly and exchanged glances with St. Giles. Both could see the seriousness and helplessness in each other's eyes - no matter what, the meeting was going to take place eventually.

——

Slowly and relaxedly, Karil walked past a large group of praying worshippers, strolling leisurely as if on an outing. He didn't deliberately restrain his steps or hide his figure, but neither the believers nor the servants noticed him.

His back was no longer obscured by the shadows, and the hideous back of the blade was completely exposed to the air. Pale and pitch black intertwine and spread, as strange as living creatures.

He's like a monster, or a ghost.

Carlil calmly walked down the corridor, through the arches strewn with scriptures and the bones of believers, and explored the labyrinthine results of the Law of Loyalty.

He wasn't surprised by anything he saw, after all, there really wasn't anything to be surprised about. So far, there has been no sign of the 'Fall' on the Law of Loyalty, and he has not even seen half a star in it.

The prayers of the faithful are still fanatical and solemn, and they pray to the gods for the future of mankind, even willing to pay the price for their penance and life for decades to come.

The environment is not as dirty as it is rumored, it is full of traces of the life of ascetics, and everything is neat and tidy. Even the resting place of the bodies of the faithful, with the scriptures and the strips of cloth, is chaotic and messy, but it is beautiful.

Normal here is not what it should be.

But what about Ingres Tay?

It had been a full year since the 1,300 Whisperers left the City of Perfection, but no news had come from them, and they had disappeared as if they had evaporated from the world. Thirteen hundred Astartes are not a small number, even for the Bearers.

Furthermore, Carlil's perception of the 'shadows' was also affected, he didn't know who did it by what means, but he sincerely admired the other party.

What an amazing enemy, I've never met.

With such a cold compliment, he slowly followed the heartbeat of the shadows into the depths of the bridge of the Law of Loyalty.

Whisperers in casual clothes or armor can be seen everywhere here, doing things according to their daily schedules. Standing guard, training, and maintaining armor and weapons are all business as usual, and nothing is wrong.

Carlil skipped them for a moment and stepped into the deepest part of the bridge. He had some gloomy and dark desires, but he couldn't let them unleash here.

There were no more bright lights in the depths of the bridge, and the dim flickering candlelight took its place, and Carlil continued deeper, an open hall welcoming him under the arch of candlelight.

Cold sarcophagi filled the hall, and the names of the deceased and the emblems of the companies to which they belonged were inscribed. Objects of remembrance from the ship's devotees are scattered around all the sarcophagus. Garlands, letters, carvings of the pious

Under their influence, it has a temperament that resembles both a cemetery and a temple.

Karil's eyes narrowed, revealing his form. The flickering candle flame pierced his body directly, ignoring it and casting no shadow.

He followed the increasingly rapid fluctuations of the shadows to a sarcophagus. A line of solemn flower characters is clearly visible on the surface of the sarcophagus.

"Commander of the Seventh Assault Company of the Sawtooth Sun Band, Angel Tai. Passing away in the ordination ceremony, the first deceased, we will see him off in the realm of the gods with supreme respect. ”

Carlil whispered the words, resting his right hand lightly on the sarcophagus and shaking his head, a cold rage flashing through his eyes.

In the next second, his right hand suddenly sank into the sarcophagus.

The candles in the main hall were extinguished, and a gloomy breeze blew. Seconds later, with a sneer, the candle flame lit up again. The sarcophagus itself had been pushed open, and there was nothing in it, not even half of the bones.

At the same time, at the other end of the Loyalty Trumpet, a man jerked his eyes open, blood pouring down his throat.

Updated.

Guess what?

(End of chapter)