Don't believe in a truth that can't exist. Leon Eljonson heard his ghost say. I don't want you to be driven crazy, it's painful to lose your mind.

He didn't answer, just clenched the spear in his left hand. Riemann Russ's legacy glistened coldly, the tip of the spear pointed at the dark sky. Dozens of white-scarred battle motorcycles roared past his right front and began to spy on intelligence.

There is no one more suitable for this duty than them, who come like the wind, go like electricity, and can always come and go freely. Moreover, vehicles such as battle motorcycles are already precious in their current army.

The battle to open the Torch Gate had cost them most of their vehicles, and now, even Riemann Ruth's tin cans were a. After considering many factors, the male lion agreed to their initiative to ask for help.

He didn't want the White Scars to leave at first, and God knows what the shattered Terra would bring them? However, looking at the eyes of the white scars, he still couldn't say no words after all.

You're soft-hearted. Ruth sneered in his ear. You weren't like that in the past, Leon, you used to-

"-Leon!" Someone called him, and his voice was urgent.

The lion turned his head and saw his bruised brother, St. Giles. The brutal scars are still not healing, and many of them are still bleeding. Even the self-healing ability of the genetic protogens does not make them get better quickly.

The male lion frowned, his expression becoming a little gloomy. The demon's hideous face flashed in front of his eyes, and the killing intent flashed away.

"I'm here." The lion bows his head calmly. "What's the matter, brother?"

"I saw something." St. Giles said with a pale face. "My talent."

Not again.

Ruth sighed in his ear: Why is it always like this, Leon? Why do the kindest of us always face the worst?

Because that's what the world is. The lion said in his heart.

He stopped, let go slightly, and plunged his spear deep into the muddy ground.

A Warlord-class Titan deafeningly passed by them, followed by assault boats with murderous dark angels. The crowd was surging, and the two primordials met each other against them, looking at each other.

After a few moments, the lion raised his left hand and placed it on St. Giles' shoulder.

"What do you see?" He asked, his voice still calm.

An icy current escaped from his lips and teeth, and he visibly suppressed his anger and spat out a word from his throat: "It"

The lion's two hearts suddenly stopped beating for a moment, and when they beat again, his heartbeat was already raging like a continuous thunderclap. Beneath that ebony armor, bloodthirsty music played wildly in his chest.

Other. Ruth pleaded in his ear. Calm down, Leon.

Don't you already know how to stay sane at all times? Don't give up at this time, don't try the impossible

Don't follow in my footsteps. He said word for word.

Leon Altheuson began to take a deep breath.

"What's wrong with it?" He asked in a slightly hoarse voice. "What did it do again?"

"I see it driving the dark wolves." St. Giles replied in the same hoarse voice. "They were gnawing at a piece of steel, and a stone, under a high, broken wall. There are corpses everywhere, Leon. Iron Warriors, Fists of the Empire"

Walls. The lion quickly captured the keyword.

He turned and drew his spear, its grip unstained from dust. Then he began to stride, the lion sword motionless in the scabbard behind his back.

The forest appeared before his eyes again, and he breathed in the familiar smell of moist earth, and it didn't take much effort to get out of the forest and find the other brothers who were in the middle of the battle.

Ferus Manus, Fogham, Chagatai - they all came together wordlessly and quickly, and relied on the lion's abilities to issue multiple orders.

The old profession of heralds is back, only this time, they must first learn how to find a way to go in the forest. Twelve minutes later, the army came to a halt at a slow pace, which was beyond the limits of what they could do at a time when the communication system was no longer functional.

Looking at his brothers, Leon El Johnson gave a complete picture of what St. Giles saw. He didn't choose to let the Archangel do it.

Ferus Manus was the first to succinctly pinch the point.

"If there's a wall on Terra that deserves to be driven by the so-called wolves, even with a common garrison of the Iron Warriors and the Fist of the Empire, I think it can only be the Imperial Palace."

The Iron Hand gently weighed his furnace breaker, tapping his fingers on it one after the other, making a slightly dull echo. Since the beginning of the war, he has become more and more reticent, and his anger has gradually become the opposite extreme.

The less he spoke, the more evident that ferocious anger became.

Fogrem covered his forehead in concern, not wanting to think about the reason behind this, but focusing on the prophecy of St. Giles.

Black flames billowed from his eyes as he spoke, and the cloak of shadows hung behind his back, writhing like a living thing. No matter how you look at it, it's completely different from the person you once was.

"But how are we going to get to the palace?" He asked the fatal question. "The situation is chaotic and there is a lack of guidance. We are afraid that we will be drawn into many wars along the way. ”

"I can try." The lion said. "My talent can—"

- You can't get by, brother. Riemann Ruth shook his head as he stood among his living brothers. The owner of the Vengeful Spirit won't let you get there so easily.

The lion closed his mouth, his eyes churning with anger.

The Khan of Chagatai glanced at him thoughtfully, his gaze drifting from the Bacchus spear. He smiled as if he knew something, and suddenly said, "You might as well look up at the sky, brothers." ”

I only heard a sharp sound, and the white tiger broadsword was already out of its sheath, and the cold light flashed, and it pointed straight to the sky. In the depths of the dark clouds, there was a golden glow that was too fierce for it to surge.

"The light of the torch." St. Giles muttered to himself.

"Yes, Startorch." The Eagle of Chogoris shrugged and backhanded his long knife into its sheath. He rested his left hand on the hilt of the knife and squinted and began to rub it.

"The Torch's greatest role is to guide the Empire's ships in subspace, and with its brilliance, navigators can see where the road in front of them leads and where Terra is located. So, from an occult point of view, does it have the property of being the 'right path'? ”

When did he begin studying the occult? Ruth's eyes widened. Ask him, Leon!

Lionheart reluctantly opened his mouth, knowing that if he didn't speak, Ruth would keep pestering him.

"When did you start studying the occult, Khan?"

"About a few hours ago." Chagatai replied in a relaxed tone. "Although I am not very interested in these feudal superstitions, but, considering what we are going through now, I think that there is probably a lot of truth in these things that have been labeled as lies by the truth of the empire."

He smiled.

"Anyway, we can't do anything now, why don't we try this slightly metaphysical method?"

"What if it doesn't work out?" Ferrus asked emotionlessly.

"It doesn't cost anything to try." Chagatai kept smiling and continued to answer. "Could it be that it will be like those country witches, walking tremblingly with clay pots, asking us for money?"

"That's true." Fogrem said.

He almost laughed at Khan's words, and for a brief moment of brilliance almost made people think he was back in the old days—but the truth was cruel after all, and the ends of the phoenix's hair were still burning.

The lion sighed: "Well, it looks like we need to reconvene the think tank." ”

It's against Nikea's ban, brother. Ruth winked at him with a grin. But I forgive you, and don't forget to bring my pastors as well.

The lion glared at him, but the talent was already working, he didn't want to waste any time, he just wanted to hurry up and go under the high wall to support the loyalists who were fighting—of course, he had another desire, but he wouldn't say it.

Otherwise, the annoying wolf will hear it and annoy him endlessly.

You should know that I can hear this too, right? Ruth asked faintly.

The lion paid no attention to him, but St. Giles spoke in a worried voice: "But what if what I see is wrong? ”

He looked at his brothers, swept over each one's face, and made a brief but long eye contact with them.

"What if it's a trap?" He asked softly. "What if what I see is what it wants me to see? We all know what the hell it can do."

Ferus Manus said coldly: "Even if this is really the case, even if it is only a ploy of its kind, we must go to our aid. ”

"yes." Phoenix said softly. "In any case, the revolt is meaningful, St. Giles. Even if this revolt does not lead to any results, it is much better than powerless evasion. ”

He raised his hand, his five fingers slowly clenched, and the flame flashed away, and the sword of fury reappeared.

"I can't wait to see it again." Chagatai said coldly. His hand was still on top of the long knife at his waist.

The angel of Baal took a deep breath and nodded wordlessly and heavily. He understood that his brothers had made up their minds. And if that's the end, if that thing will be waiting for him under the high walls

My blood will bring a new dawn.

——

Ezekel Abaddon gritted his teeth.

It doesn't make sense, it doesn't make the slightest sense. He exhaled a cold breath and looked down to see a cold corpse, his blue-gray tentacles firmly encased, and the dead man's face was full of pulsing veins. After a while, it spoke.

"Engagement!" It screamed and spat out battle reports from the front in disgusting fashion. "We're engagement, Ezekell!"

It makes no sense. He thought as he stared at the thing.

Then he spoke, hypocritically returning to his senses: "I don't care what method you use, the Warlord has given the order, and he wants to see the heads of every Iron Champion and Imperial Fist be cut off. ”

The deceased was silent for a while, and suddenly giggled, not a reply from the other side of the front, of course, but its own laughter. Abaddon was keenly aware that it was laughing at himself.

Anger slowly emerged, forcing him to clench his grip on the ghost that had gone deep into the dirt.

"Then you'll have to send me more people!" The corpse suddenly began to roar again. "These damn bastards have placed explosives and traps in every corner of their trenches, and I'm going to pay at least two lives for every three meters I advance!"

"I'll send four more companies to attack from the flanks." Abaddon said. "And then there are the three of the Whisperers—"

"-Fuck, get them out of the way!" The corpse suddenly roared in Kosonian language, full of gangs. "I'd rather die at the hands of the enemy than be stabbed in the back by those madmen!"

Abaddon turned his head gloomily and looked at Cole Fallon, the first company commander of the Bearer: "I remember that we have discussed the matter of military discipline, Cole Company Commander, you must restrain your people. ”

"I'll do my best." Cole Fallon replied dryly and nonchalantly. "But what's the point?"

Abaddon clenched his fists and roared in his imagination.

The meaning is to win! The significance is that we are fighting against the forces of the Fist of the Empire and the Iron Warriors!

We can bombard their positions with artillery, we can approach quickly with tanks with troops, but in any case, this war will end up turning into a tug-of-war, into a huge flesh millstone! Because we're facing them, you know?

But he didn't say it after all, and under Cole Fallon's intriguing eyes, Abaddon nodded.

"A war commander will not be happy to see an undisciplined army." The Son of Horus said with an almost numbing calm. "How many people can you send?"

The Bearer smiled, his dark teeth flashing: "How many people do you need?" ”

There was no hint of pride in his tone.

"What do you mean?" Abaddon instinctively retorted, and for some reason, he was wary.

"I'll give you as many as you want, Lord Abaddon."

Cole Fallon suddenly began to laugh, laughing so hard that he could barely breathe.

"I can give you the cultists to use as cannon fodder, I can give you elite blessed sons, and I can give you a large number of stalwarts of troops. I can get you any kind of troops you want, do you understand? ”

He bent over with a smile.

"What's so funny?" Abaddon clenched his fists and asked in the roar of the corpse.

"Because, because—" Cole Fallon laughed maniacally and grabbed his throat. "—Our fate is sealed! We are but slaves to the gods! We can be endless as long as they want! ”

Abaddon looked at him coldly, once again holding back the thought of killing him. He turned his head and said to the corpse, "I'll give you 20,000." ”

The corpse roared and replied, "What? ”

"A force of 20,000 Whisperers." Abaddon said. "You don't have a choice, go and win for the commanders and fight side by side with them."

"Fuck you, Ezekell, you madman." The son of Horus scolded. "Fuck you!"

Abaddon swung his sword and slashed off the corpse's head.

(End of chapter)