First of all, I want a gun, one is enough.

The caliber of this gun doesn't have to be great, and the overall design doesn't have to be completely ergonomic. But it has to be a gun, a live-fire weapon, and I don't want a damn laser gun. Give me a live-fire weapon, and—

Ur Pesson heard a wet sound.

He turned his head and saw a shadow buried deep in the ashes, an ugly skinless lifeless.

Muscles, nerves, and blood vessels twined around its smooth body, and it bit a human's arm, and Orr's own face was reflected in the compound eyes of two scarlet flies.

It tilted its head to look at him, acting like a vigilant canine, but it was no dog. Dogs don't have such elongated and twisted limbs, and dogs don't eat people

Oh, no, no. Dogs can eat people.

Ur Persson raised his gun.

But the dogs that ate people are dead.

He pulled the trigger, and there was a strong reaction force from the gun, but Orr's hand was as solid as a rock, and the force and force were reciprocal, which should have been an indestructible law, suddenly disappeared from him.

The flames erupted from the muzzle, time stretched and slowed down, the thing opened its mouth, its bloody hand slowly dropped, and three explosive bullets spun and flew towards it

Hit them all.

The thing staggered, but wasn't dead. It opened its mouth wide and let out a silent roar, and what happened next became the one that Ur Persson knew best.

He rushed forward and began to stab and slash the body of the thing with a bayonet. It tried to bite him, surprisingly fast, but it didn't actually bite him.

Orr wasn't a superhuman, he just lived a long time, and he could live forever. So he knows how to protect himself in the face of this kind of stuff – and the most important thing is that you have to be courageous.

Ur Persson doesn't have the courage, not necessarily, perhaps, but he's angry and tired right now.

Moreover, the jewel on his chest was very hot.

It took him a few minutes to dismember it.

Sitting between pools of blood and convulsive limbs, Orr slowly stood up. He walked back and picked up the gun he had thrown down, and began to head in a certain direction again. There was no one around him, it was his own request.

That's what he told the Imperial Fist Company Commander named Fafnir Ran.

"You mean, I'm going to have to cross about four positions and then I'll have to walk up a bridge to get to my destination?"

"Probably." Fafnir Rann said to him with his head bowed. "The question is, how are you going to get there, Ur Pesson? All of us here are here to help. ”

He pointed to his brother, as well as to himself. The bright yellow armor, red and dust-stained, had long since lost its former glory, and the faces of these warriors were covered in blood and the wounds of war.

And they all looked at Ur Person as if he were some kind of savior.

You're Astarte. Ur Persson thought to himself at that time. Do you think of me as a savior?

He wanted to ask directly, but he was interrupted by his heralds, and the men he had pulled back from the trenches and the battlefield with the artillery fire, who came wordlessly and gathered behind him.

One by one, they have obviously been tortured by this hell to the point of complete numbness, but they still burst out of this numbness a kind of expectation and brilliance that should not exist.

They looked at him. He didn't say a word.

"And us, sir." The herald was the first to salute him, and there was a hollow under his coat. "We are willing to take your command."

And Orr Pesson said, "No, you stay here and continue to fight." ”

He said it lightly, but resolutely, and he made his choice, so he now bowed his head and stooped forward in the trenches where only the dead remained, his guns clenched tightly in both hands, and his breath was like a murmur, causing a small ripple in the air.

He cautiously jumped over a corpse and pulled him up, he didn't like to see a soldier lying face down in the mud. For as long as time passes, the faces of the dead will be frozen hard and crusted by the cold mud, and the contents of the mud will burrow into their flesh and blood, which has no temperature, and begin to taste the feast.

Ornin made some effort to keep his face to the sky.

He walked on, the toes in his boots no longer conscious, and the silence around him was dead and cold. The fog dispersed, blending with the darkness, blurring the vision. Even if the needle gun was still in his hand, the scope would probably not be of much use anymore.

That's great. Orr thought to himself. See what you've turned Terra into? Is that what you want to do?

What a great ideal, I told you long ago that your ambition and eagerness will kill us all. I don't care about death, but what about these people?

You let them die, old friend. You let them die, and then they have to be eaten by dogs.

He sounded complaining, complaining, condemning, but it wasn't. Orr Person knew who had turned Terra into this, and who had turned these living people into bloody corpses one after another.

But he still had to blame him.

He turned left, climbed a two-meter-high trench with his gun propped up, and left the place.

The positions were covered with thick ashes, everything looked gray, and that was the color of war. Gray and foggy, even if it bleeds, it is gray blood.

Orr continued walking, with a hundred thousand points of vigilance. He didn't know the way, but he had a special guide—the jewel on his chest.

It erupts with a burst of crimson light when Orr goes the wrong way, dispelling the darkness that seeks to consume him and bringing him back to the right path.

But the problem is that the right path is usually not the easy way to go.

Orr stopped, looked at what was in front of him, and squeezed a low curse out of his throat, then a question.

How do I get through here?

The gem didn't answer, but Orr's face was illuminated by a surging red orange light, so bright that his eyes began to ache.

Wordlessly, he bent down, spat into his hand, and grabbed a handful of thick ashes, crumpling them into a small ball. He raised his hand and threw the ball straight out.

It made a graceful arc and silently fell into a clattering cloud of hot magma, melting in an instant.

Orr looked up at the golden glow in the sky.

"How am I going to get there?" He asked sincerely. "Tell me, how am I going to get there?"

There was no answer, only the churning mist and the whimpering wind.

He stood where he was, waited a little longer, and still did not answer. So he turned and walked away, but the jewel on his chest burst into a temperature so strong that he almost suspected he would be burned.

Orr couldn't help but scream in pain, he reached out and grabbed the chain, pulling out the gem, his face full of anger. It floated to its feet, dragging him by the neck as it walked forward.

Thus, a comical picture was formed. It's rare in the world to do something so ridiculous, and it's not even easy to describe - how do you describe a man who is fighting a gem?

Let's start with the minutiae.

The gem radiated like a flame. It had been set in a rough metal base, which had been seamed, and the chain had been cast from scrap iron, which was quite piercing, and had created a little blood mark on the man's neck.

The man turned his back to the gem, and he tried to walk back, gun in hand, his whole face completely tense, while the gem restrained him with a chain, floating in place, trying to lead him towards the boiling and burning lava lake.

The stalemate lasted twenty minutes.

El Persson finally turned around exhausted.

"What the hell do you want?" He asked again. "I have no way out, can't you see? You stuffed me with this task without saying anything, do you think it's fun? Well, well, I'm coming, I'm back on Earth, and then what? ”

He raised his hand indignantly and pointed to the magma lake, his tone becoming extremely irritable.

"I'm not one of those supermen you made, and I don't have the protection of power armor to ignore such magma. Accept it, old friend, you and I both know that this magma did not form naturally, they put it here. ”

"They knew I was coming here about tens of millions of years ago, so they put this lava lake on my only path. There's only one way, but I can't get it. I gave up, that's all. ”

The gem still did not reply, but quietly faded from its brilliance.

It's colorless, it's supposed to be transparent and clear, but sometimes it looks like a mirror, like at this moment. It reflected Orr's face so that he could see a pair of tired eyes, and a long, chattering, complaining face.

Orr grabbed it in a fit of rage and jerked it, forgetting that the chain existed. He was pulled by himself and stumbled, and just like that, he fell comically and ridiculously into the thick dust.

For a long time, he lay in it as if he was dead, unwilling to get up again.

It wasn't until some sound that shouldn't have been heard by him wafted through the fog and into his ears that he barely got up. The gem lit up again, floating, and dragged him in the direction from which the voice had come.

It was like finding another way for me. Orr thought to himself. You're really kind-hearted, sir.

He deliberately ignored the fact that he actually took the initiative to embark on this path.

He held his gun, shoved the glowing gem into his chest, walked through the mist, and was sure of one thing little by little—the sound that woke him up was not something that nature could make.

Of course, there may not be any so-called 'natural' on Terra right now. Ur Person listened intently to the voice, carefully distinguishing it.

The first sound he identified was the small clatter of blades slicing through flesh, then the incessant screams, and finally the muffled sound of a blaster because of the distance

You're going to take me to another battlefield?

The jewel still didn't answer, but it didn't burn him to tell him that he was on the wrong track, so he had to keep walking.

Orr stepped through the thick ashes, crawled over two burned Titans, and walked almost a few kilometers on the torn apart servant before he saw a color other than gray.

It was an eerie blue with lightning lines that flickered and flickered. And, of course, pitch black, scarlet, and a paltry hint of gold. Frankly, it's a gorgeous color scheme, and it seems a little too much for armor.

Especially considering that they are engaged in a confrontation between the two armies.

And Orr knows who they are, and who their enemies are.

- It's the Bearer, of course it's the Bearer, and besides the Bearer, what other beasts in the galaxy will wear scarlet armor?

However, they looked a little different from the traitors he remembered.

The vast majority of these bearers are not humanoid, and their armor does not have the coldness of clay steel, but has a sleek arc like flesh. Their hands no longer hold weapons, and claws, pincers, or blades extended by their arms take their place.

Several of them looked like giant alienated insects, their green eyes shining like eyes, blinking behind long, hard hairs.

Ur Persson closed his mouth in embarrassment, his throat rolling.

He had seen many disgusting things, such as men and women being cooked alive, and poor children who had been sacrificed to so-called gods by ignorant priests with sharp knives.

These and other things fundamentally destroyed his expectations and desires for human society, and if it weren't for some changes, I'm afraid he would have found a place to bury himself and not ask about the world.

However, these speakers are different, they are something else that should not be present.

Ur Persson accepts that there are wicked and demons in the world, but he cannot accept that wicked and demons are one.

This is blasphemy.

He picked up his gun, smashed the mist with his mud, blood, and dust boots, and walked into it with himself.

The first person to notice his arrival was a Nightblade Company Commander wearing a helmet. He was probably a company commander, and Orr couldn't tell their specific ranks. The man looked at him for about half a second before turning his head and continuing to shoot with the blaster in his hand.

Orr didn't care what his meaningful gaze meant, and just pulled the trigger.

The enemy he chose was a flesh-winged Whisperer, and as always, he hit it accurately. Unfortunately, the blaster he had in his hand didn't do much to do that.

The bomb sliced through its wings like water, exploding on its wings, smearing deep blood and scorched black in many places. The mutated and twisted traitor roared angrily, leapt from the chaos of battle, and slew in front of Orr.

It seemed that he could not tolerate being hurt by a mortal in his eyes—but he could only do that, his claws had only just been swung out, and before he could get close to Orr, he had been precisely split in two by a knife.

A dark blue shadow flickered, followed by a roar, blood, and an unbearable scream. The whole process is only two seconds, but in the eyes of Ur Pesson, it can be divided into several specific steps.

The Bearer roared and hurt the company commander, who could clearly see the thing stabbing him in the chest with his other claw, but the company commander seemed indifferent to it. He didn't even bother to bother with the damage, just swung a sword.

The power sword was incomparably precise and powerful, slicing through the bearer's abdomen, shoulders, and glowing green eyes. Blood splattered out, and a pitch-black flame ignited, burning wildly on the mutated body.

The company commander raised his hand again, cut off the claw, and took a step back. The Whisperer, who had lost his claws, fell to the ground and began to let out a shriek that almost made Orr wonder if he was deaf.

He shuddered as he watched as the thing crackled in the flames, its body melting and escaping like grease.

"Hello, Company Commander Al Pesson." The Nightblade whispered affectionately in his ear. "It's time to come back to your senses, don't keep staring, the fire is not good for the eyes."

Orr glanced up at him, and with great difficulty brought himself back to his senses, as the man had said, and immediately asked a question.

"Do you know who I am?"

He nodded, and the voice coming from the breathing grille seemed to be a smile: "Your tone sounds funny, Your Excellency, Company Commander. Submit. ”

Ur Person bowed his head.

A sharp, armor-wrapped finger tapped slowly at his chest, a white knitted cloth in the upper left corner of his chest, to be exact.

It was sewn into the military uniform, on which his name and rank were written.

However, as early as when the military uniform was issued to him, he ripped off the knitted cloth. Long before he was on the Glory of Macurag, the cloth with his name and rank on it had been burned to ashes.

And now.

"I'm Adbeman Basley, the lieutenant of Nightblade's Third Company." Nightblade introduced himself. "You look confused, Ur Pesson, where are your troops?"

I don't have troops, but shouldn't you be a company commander? Forgive me if I'm wrong, I haven't been able to tell your rank from the armor paint. Orr reluctantly came back to his senses and replied.

He tried to make his tone a little more natural, of course, in order to get closer to the company commander and set the stage for his next question. However, Orr received an unexpected answer.

"I'm not a company commander." Adebiman Basley said softly, in a rather soft tone.

He looked down and reached out to pull out the claws that were stuck in his chest. Behind him, the figures of the Bearers were gradually obscured by the mist, and soon disappeared.

A hoarse voice sounded from behind him, with anxiety: "They ran again." ”

"Let's just keep chasing." Adebiman replied without looking back, the scarlet eyepiece still staring straight at Ur Pesson. "Just get in time for their next sacrifice, don't be impatient, Arestha."

"Understood, company commander."

"I'm not a company commander, Aresta. The commander of the third company could only be Fer Zaloster, and I was still only an adjutant. ”

"Say whatever you want." Nightblade, known as Aresta, shook his head and walked away. Adbiman Basli chuckled and shrugged at Ur Pesson.

"My brothers have always taken a lot of offenses against me, but it's still better than being alone, Company Commander Ol-Pesson. Soldiers fighting alone are a little too pitiful, don't you think? ”

Orr was a little nervous for no reason, he always felt that there was something in this man's words, so he nodded stiffly, and followed Adbiman Basley's words: "Yes, I think so too. ”

So, a hand reached out and put it on his shoulder.

"Well, then, I suggest you act with us first." Adebiman Basli said. "You're not going to have an opinion, are you?"

Ur Persson looked down at the unmoving gem and nodded even more stiffly.

This chapter is 5.3k, and there is a chapter before twelve o'clock, so write as much as you can.

(End of chapter)