Leon El Johnson watched Rieman Ruth take his last breath.

He took off his hand armor—ripping it off, to be exact. It was difficult to do this, and his power armor protested, and for some reason a burst of hot steam erupted from the junction.

He immediately raised his hands and did not let them touch Riemann Ruth. The lion set his armor aside and lightly touched Ruth's face with his fingers.

It's cold to the touch, like you're touching frost.

The lion withdrew his hand expressionlessly and looked into the eyes, which were pure nothingness. After a few seconds, he suddenly bent down, pulled Riemann Ruz up, and began to carefully examine the wounds on his body.

Ruth's injuries were severe, and the temperature was leaving the body, but the blood was still trickling out. Four brutal wounds pierced the chest, making it impossible to stop the blood, and the fragments of organs, flesh, and bones rushed out together.

Through the collapsed skin, the lion found that the Fenris was full of broken bones, nay, maybe not broken bones, but broken bones, such as his left hand.

The muscles under the skin of the forearm were propped up by shattered bones, and the wound revealed a terrifying scene, red and white, like a terrifying painting. There was not a good piece of flesh on his body, just like his armor, which was so broken that it was impossible to find the old glory.

The male lion gently put his brother down.

An old knight limped from behind him.

"How?" He asked, the beard on his chin turning from white to a dark red, as if he had once vomited blood. "We're all here, Leon."

"How many?" The lion asked without raising his head.

The lion's sword lay quietly on his lap. It was still bright, and the honor of slashing off one of Horus Lupecar's shoulder armor hadn't changed the sword in the slightest.

Leon Elzhuangson stared at its mirror-like blade, staring into his eyes through the reflection.

They've crossed that river, they've boarded Terra - but that's not the goal, it's not the end to get on Terra, it's the win.

The question is, how do you win?

The lion grasped his sword and slowly stood up.

"I can't count it, it's a conservative estimate, it's about 140,000, who can tell the hell about these hellish things?"

The old knight let out a hoarse laugh as he spoke. He didn't look tired, he could even be called confident.

The lion looked at him with a slight strangeness, but Luthor spoke meaningfully about something else.

"And—" He blinked. —maybe more people will come along the same path you left behind, Leon. I'm glad you didn't let the Caliban be destroyed. ”

"I said I wouldn't do anything like that." The male lion turned calmly. "It's my hometown. But I have to remind you of one thing, Luther, that some things are not being dealt with now, just because I don't have time. ”

"Are you still going to destroy it?"

"I will execute all the masterminds and accomplices behind this matter in the name of law and justice, and then depending on the situation." The lion said slowly. "And, if I could, I'd ask a Midnight Blade to record this trial."

"Why don't you invite Conrad Cotz himself?"

The male lion didn't answer the question, just shook his head gently.

It was a few seconds before he asked another question: "How are you?" ”

Luthor didn't answer, he just shook his head in the same way as a lion, and stretched out the prosthetic leg from under his cloak. It was no longer shiny, but mottled, with several dangerous sword marks on it glaringly indicating its presence, quite high-profile.

Leon El Johnson narrowed his eyes and asked, "Who fired the gun first?" ”

"I don't know." Luthor said. "But the gunfire was followed by orbital bombardment and a cluster charge by the Panzer Division, as if they had long since decided that we were here to kill them."

"The next time we meet, that's really it." The male lion said in a softer voice.

Luthor nodded, not speaking. He knew that the Lord of the First Army had the second half of the sentence to say.

"But I still want the truth – at least part of it. I've killed a lot of people, Luther. Some of them also showed confusion and confusion when they died, as if it was not their intention to fight us. Some even lashed out at me for betraying them, and apparently they really did. So, no matter what the truth is, there are people who are forced to fight us. ”

"You're going to forgive them?"

"Never." The lion said, but paused. "Because someone laid down their arms and was forgiven, and they didn't, they died. I will pay tribute to them with the blood of the real murderer. ”

"So." Luthor asked again. "How are you going to attack?"

"Do you have a map?"

"Nope."

"Communications?"

"Not either."

"Remote Sensing Mapping? Radar scanning? The lion persistently asked, to which Luther replied very simply, he just shook his head and explained.

"Nothing, Leon. Do you need me to remind you that we don't have a fleet? They're still in Caliban's orbit, so it's a war with no air supremacy, no follow-up reinforcements, and no intelligence. ”

"Just what I want." The lion said coldly. "If the power shown by that thing is followed, I have no doubt that it can easily master our fleet. I will not set our own weapons on any loyalist. ”

Luthor heard a hint of indignation, but he didn't say anything, just walked over to the dead Fenris, and slowly knelt down.

He sighed, very long, with palpable sadness. Of course, he wasn't familiar with Riemann Ruth, but if even one of the Primordials could be killed. And to die in such a cruel way of death, then, can the murderer do anything else?

Or can the murderer easily replicate this incident in someone else?

"Do you think you might be better than him?" Luthor asked. "Forgive me, although both the Emperor and the Palm Seal have used the word it, I still don't believe it. There will be such a thing. ”

"It's it." The male lion corrected, his expression serious, his eyes slightly shining in the darkness.

The sound of shelling was constantly coming above them, and the loud, distant echo made everything start to be absurd, like the tedious scene that the most incompetent home screams and sees in a dream.

"So, can you beat it?"

"I can't." The lion said. "You don't understand that feeling, Luther. Standing in front of it, fighting it, it's like fighting with—"

He paused, and said no more.

"What are you talking to?"

The male lion still did not answer, but just spit out a name in his heart.

Emperor.

But how is this possible? Leon El Johnson was shocked by his answer, but then the memories that surfaced proved his idea.

The feeling took over his heart once more, and the lion painfully realized that standing in front of that thing, he needed the support of willpower to even swing his sword.

He couldn't even raise his arms against that thing without enough determination - was it fear? The Lord of the First Army asked himself, and then immediately denied it.

No, definitely not fear. But if not fear, what was it that made him instinctively want to run away from fighting it? Like refusing to raise a sword against the emperor?

His thoughts began to drift into an unpredictable abyss, and Luthor interrupted him. Very timely, just right, always.

"What should we do with Lord Ruth?" The old knight muttered to himself. "He deserves to be buried, but we should hand him over to the wolves first."

The lion looked down at him, unable for a moment to determine whether Luthor's opening was intentional or unintentional, and he could not see any evidence in the old face that would lead him to the truth, for Luther had no expression at all.

He simply knelt beside Riemann Ruz and pressed one hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist. There were still traces of blood on his cloak and armor that had not had time to be clear, and several bullet holes were ugly on his right shoulder armor, blurring one of the marks that Leon had drawn by hand.

The lion's eyes narrowed, revealing a rare displeasure.

"We've got to find his wolves first." Leon said. "At least some of the wolves that came with him were still alive, and these wild and untamable Fenris had a terrible life force that I don't believe they would all die - and, Ruth, dead."

"What do you mean?"

The lion finally showed a palpable sadness, and he slowly bent down, picked up his right hand armor from the ground, and hung it around his waist.

"There's some kind of connection between Astarte and their respective genotypes, Luther. And Riemann Ruth is dead, so the connection will begin to tremble, a warning will be issued. ”

Leon Eljonson said in a deep voice, his voice tightly linked to his words. Luthor looked up into his adopted son's eyes, and suddenly he had a comical description—he felt that the lion was singing.

A vast tragedy of which he himself was not aware, a ballad that did not involve any mourning, nostalgia, sorrow or anger, like the howl of a wild beast under a moonlit night.

No one will know that it is just mourning the loss of a member of the community.

"It's a connection that is closer than a blood connection, a call from deep in the genes. So, if something happens to Ruth, the wolves will definitely know, even before we know. In this case."

Leon El Johnson bent down again and reached out to draw the Bacchus Spear from Riemann Ruth's hand.

He held it in his hand and pressed the spear to his forehead. Ruth's blood stained his face red, and it began to drip slowly from his eyebrows downwards, splitting his face in two.

"It's not hard to find them."

An hour and twenty-two minutes later, he was proven right, but it was not good news, as the soldiers of the First Legion had also found traces of the Speaker.

On top of Terra.

There is also a chapter, or two, or three (not sure)

(End of chapter)