Yago Savitarion slowly stood up from the chair he belonged to, propping up his desk with his hands.

It withstood his weight perfectly, and the pressure exerted, and the lightning lines on it that had been flickering suddenly bloomed under that pressure.

He was wearing a piece of Seiko Power Armor, on which the traces of Nostramo Adamantite ore bounced. They were supposed to be just another pattern, but now they suddenly changed color.

The blood-like scarlet color began to spread from the inside of the armor, changing the lines completely, making them look like the exposed veins of the armor, or the brutal marks left by a knife and axe

"What did you say?" He asked.

The man standing across from him silently took off his helmet.

He had a mutilated face, and the marks left by extensive burns completely destroyed the handsomeness that the face was capable of having. His left eye had been replaced with a prosthetic eye, and his forehead was inlaid with half a metal plate, which was shining silver under the cover of his messy hair, and he looked hideous.

"Say it again." Yago Sevitaleone said.

His hands had left his desk, and the lines were extinguished. At this moment, the room was once again plunged into darkness, but Sevitalyon's dark eyes shone brightly, a tyranny that was being restrained by the best of reason.

If you don't see it with your own eyes, I'm afraid no one can believe that a human can have such a terrible desire to kill.

The messenger, who was forced to bring the sad news, caught the scene clearly, and he did his best to stand up a little straighter.

"Word has come from the Bloody Mujahideen that they have encountered a subspace storm that has materialized."

Sevita closed her eyes, then slowly opened them again, and said, "Get me a head." ”

The Courier nodded, and left the office almost at running speed. Ten minutes later, accompanied by a think tank, he returned with a skull presented in a pitch-black wooden box.

Judging by the appearance alone, the head must have belonged to a certain Astarte, and it was a traitor. While he was alive, his brain would beat inside his skull, and his eyes would stay in those swarthy sockets

But now, there was no flesh left on the skull.

Not only that, but an orangutan's red claw holding a broken skull was carved on its forehead in an artistic way. The carving looked like a painting, and the claws were even touched-up regularly.

Sevita left her desk and grabbed the head in her hand as she looked at the think-tank's expression. He looked like he was about to rant at it, but he paused.

He looked at the think tank and handed the skull in his hand with a blank expression.

"Contact them." He spoke word by word. "I don't care what method you use, Sahir, but I'm going to get in touch with them in five minutes."

The think tank named Sahir nodded, he reached out and took the skull, and then said, "With the blessing of the holy number, this matter should not be difficult, Commander of the Battle Regiment. ”

Sevita looked at him gloomily and didn't say anything, just clasped her hands.

Knowing his terrifying gaze, Think Tank coughed lightly and put his free hand on the skull.

The faint glow of psionic energy began to bloom in his eyes, and on the other hand, two points of pitch-black fury lit up in the hollow eye sockets of the skull. Not only that, but it even trembled, as if it had suddenly come to life.

Time began to pass, bit by bit, without mercy. Sahil's expression began to become more and more solemn, and he never relaxed at all.

He tried again and again, even though five minutes had already passed. If it weren't for Sevita putting her hand on his shoulder, I'm afraid he would have kept trying.

"Captain, I"

"No more need, Sahir, I understand." Sevita said calmly.

The tyranny in his eyes had vanished completely—or, alternatively, had just been masked, waiting for a moment when he could explode.

His composure also dissipated Sahil's uneasiness to a certain extent, calming the young think tank, who was unanimously considered extremely talented.

Sahil was silent for a moment, pondering his words, and then cautiously expressed his opinion.

"I've managed to make a connection to the skull, and the skull responds to me, but they don't. There must be something else hidden in that subspace storm, which is why it is hindering their movements. ”

"I know." Sevita said.

He waved his hand and motioned for them to leave. The messenger immediately took a step towards the gate, but Sahir licked his lips in reluctance.

He seemed to have something to say, or just wanted to try again, but Sevita had already turned and walked to the porthole in the room. Outside the porthole, the dark galaxy opened its hands to him, revealing a cold, malicious embrace.

He didn't say a word, he could definitely detect any movement of Sahir, no matter how small.

This is already a naked refusal.

The young think tank turned around in frustration and was about to leave, but Sevita opened her mouth at this moment, and there was still only calm in her voice.

"Tell Orak Kataks to get all the skulls ready. As well as opening Van Cleef's burial ground. ”

Sahil was stunned for a moment, he quickly understood what was hidden behind these two sentences, and in shock, the young think tank hurriedly turned away.

The footsteps of him and the Courier were heard clearly in Sevita's ears, and even though they had long since left the hallway, the sound was still there, and began to gradually alienate.

It became monotonous, boring, and hollow, as if an old clock was doing its work on time.

Sevita clenched her fists and exhaled a breath of cold air, so cold that it didn't seem like a stream of air coming out of the lungs of three living superhumans, but from the abyss of extreme cold, from the place where all nightmares ended

He turned, and the expression on his face finally changed. Tyranny and calm are gone, leaving only pure and primitive suffering.

It wasn't like the emotions he, Yago Sevitaleon, could express, but it was, and he was in great pain.

This feeling came from his bone marrow, which could not be eradicated, could not be stopped, and could not even be relieved of this pain in a small way.

As long as Sevita is alive and doesn't undo the spell that Phil Zaloster left on him, the pain will last forever.

The bell was still ringing, but Sevita waited patiently.

It was certainly not the first time he had dealt with it, he had long since learned to despise pain, and nothing could push him away from the path he had chosen. Even the terrifying feeling of every bone and muscle fiber being gnawed and chiseled couldn't stop him.

His determination somewhat affected the duration of this pain, and after fifteen minutes, Sevita slowly straightened up.

A huge amount of hot steam from sweat rose from the cracks in his armor, obscuring his countenance, leaving only a pair of cold eyes with a cruel glow.

Ten thousand years have passed like this, not counting the rigid empires and the legions that have been renamed warbands and have undergone a split to better garrison the empire's borders. Even he himself has made a great difference.

He became patient, calm, calm, and even began to unconsciously use the tone of the elder and the superior to talk to others.

However, these are only appearances, and the real Yago Sevitaleon is eternally present beneath this skin. Only at some point will he come to the surface and easily replace the peaceful and wise superior he is now.

Sevita exhaled a cloudy breath, twisted his neck, and returned to his desk, beginning to sort through some of the parchment scrolls he had been flipping through.

These are all precious materials stored inside the Nightblade, and if they are combined, then these scrolls of paper, which can accumulate to about one meter and a half, can probably be summarized as an encyclopedia dedicated to Erebus.

Among them, the personality analysis alone even wrote hundreds of thousands of words, and it is worth mentioning that they are basically written by Sevita.

How strong his murderous intent is for Erebus may be seen from this incident.

After a few minutes, Sevita left the office that had been used by a total of three people. The world outside the heavy gate was not at least a small amount of light, but a complete silence of darkness.

The sound of the whirring wind howled from the end of the hallway, and Sevita shook her fist blankly to break the gust of wind, saying hello to the Nightfall.

He made it to the location of the Think Tank on foot, the home of the Third Company of Nightblade, and it didn't take long to do so. As he said, the think tanks are ready here.

The director of the think tank, Orak Kataks, hung his hands folded in front of him, and it looked like he had been waiting for a long time. Registrar Namral stood behind him, along with the remaining four think tanks.

With the exception of the young Sakhir, the other three think tanks are all veterans of more than three centuries of service. Sevita greeted them one by one, and assessed them in their salute without a trace.

Inside Nightblade, the Think Tanks are not like most veterans, who can continue to serve as long as they don't 'die'.

It's weird, but they do have a weird 'expiration date' beyond which they will never return.

However, the world is always cruel, and despite this misfortune, it has prepared another blow for them - they themselves have no way of perceiving when this deadline will come.

Even if the service time of previous think tanks is used for statistical planning, it is simply difficult to measure. It can have huge errors of decades to centuries in different think tanks.

For 10,000 years, only Yago Savitarion could be the bell-ringer who sounded their death knell with unmistakable precision.

However, it is worth mentioning that due to certain traditions, the third company of Nightblade did not serve as a combat company like other warbands that adhered to the Astarte Codex.

Inside Nightblade, each company commander of the Third Company will also serve as the director of the think tank, and the headquarters of the think tank is also in the third company. Due to the proximity to the water, many recruits within the Third Company were also discovered to have psionic talents, and turned into think tanks, or backup think tanks

There can be many think tanks.

As long as the seals on their bodies have not been broken.

"The skulls are all ready, Warlord." Orak bowed slightly.

Behind him was a long altar-like pentagonal table, on which torches swayed in chains. The four skulls lay out one after the other on the table, with only one corner free.

These skulls are derived from the Crimson Claws of the Mass and are thousands of years old. They are the invention of a think tank that helps Nightblade and its children communicate with each other regardless of distance in the dark galaxy.

However, these skulls are much more dangerous than the methods of communication used by the avengers, and because of this, they are carefully kept inside the heirs of the Prince of the Night, and are not circulated.

"Good." Sevita gave cold approval. "You've always been so reliable, Orak. I think your apprentice has informed you of my intentions and what is happening in my office, so I won't have to say a word, and you can start contacting them. ”

"All of them, Captain?"

"All." Sevita said. "Crimson Claw, Judgment Blade, Shadow Knight, Soul Hunter I'll interrogate it, and you can keep trying until I'm done."

"I see." Orak said.

His face was as transparent as a pale in the light of the torches, and the cyan veins were revealing beneath it, like a buried treasure.

As a result of his long use of psionic powers, his eyes had changed from the nostramo's signature pitch black to a rare quenched blue, reflecting the light of the fire, giving their owners infinite calm.

Sevita smiled at him, then strode through a pitch-black iron door into the depths of the Third Company's garrison.

In the faint light, many people immediately noticed his presence. Despite repeated orders about the necessity of etiquette, they still bowed or saluted, and how Saivita wished they were to be like him, taking only the simplest nod of greeting.

He reluctantly responded to them one by one, and eventually, under the company flag of the third company, he walked towards the two heavily armed Terminator veterans.

They stood at the entrance to a deep cavernous corridor, their shoulder armor trimmed with gold, the insignia of the Nightblade engraved on their left shoulder, and the company's emblem on their right shoulder, the head of a pitch-black, roaring bird of prey, whose dark red glow quietly bloomed in its eyes.

"He'll return." Sevita said.

"And so does he." The two veterans replied in unison, raised their hands, and made a Aquila salute with their chainsaws, and gave way of their seats.

Sevita stepped closer to the inside of the cavern, strange to say, for the moment he stepped into the cavern, all sounds disappeared, leaving only the sound of his own footsteps, as if entering another world.

The floor here is not made of steel, but a material as clear and transparent as glass, which is dim and dark on the inside when viewed from the outside, but now when you enter it, it naturally emits a misty blue light.

Sevita continued to walk into the depths with a blank face, unoblivious to the strange colors reflected by the light. As a result, another occupant of the place expressed its dissatisfaction.

"What about my last jailers, dear Yago? What did you do with them? It asked.

Its voice is soft and kind, like a wise old man who has experienced the world. Sevita sneered, scoffing at its words.

"They have gone where they ought to go, and they have gone to the slaughter of their own kind, to the detriment of your master's power. Carlos. ”

The creature named Carlos paid no attention to his taunts, but just burst out laughing and began its mockery.

"You're still using your brother as a consumable, Yago!"

"You're such a heartless madman, I thought five jailers would be enough to satisfy you, but who knew that you would be so mad as you turned all those gifted people into patients who need to endure the same pain as you"

"Is this some kind of tradition within you? Phil Zaloster would be very relieved if he knew about it! ”

Sevita finally stopped, anger in his eyes, but instead of revealing it completely, he pulled out his short knife from his waist with his backhand and threw it out.

It cut through the air, penetrated deep into the flesh, and finally crucified itself against the wall. And the wounded flesh did not shed blood, but a gritty white thing.

Carlos screamed.

"Yes! You want to kill me! So get started! ”

Sevita stared at it coldly, approached slowly, raised her hands, and pressed them against its wounds. His sharp fingers dug deep into its wings, digging inward, bringing more of the grit out of it.

Carlos struggled frantically, blue feathers flying around, and the pupils of birds that covered his body blinked in unison. However, if you look closely, you will see that most of them have completely decayed.

Not only that, but it even lost a head.

"No, never."

Sevita pressed into its ear and whispered softly.

"Don't even think about it, Carlos. You won't die unless he comes back and kills you personally. And until then, no matter what, you will not die, you will only be tormented. ”

Tzeentch, once known as the Lifeweaver, raised his head with a wail, but the chains that bound it suddenly burst into flames. Sevita looked up and saw that a heart was beating slowly from the ceiling, sealed in by glass crystals, and suspended by iron hooks.

That heart came from Van Cleef, the former first company commander.

He briefly manifested in the physical realm 2,700 years ago, crushing an offensive of demons encircling the Nightblade and capturing the Weaver on the spot. Since then, the demon has been locked inside the Nightfall, subjected to endless torment.

The flesh and blood of its body have become that kind of gravel, and whenever it is about to reach the state of 'death', which belongs exclusively to the living in the material realm, the grit will return to its body, restoring it to its full form, and welcoming it for a new round of torment.

Not only that, but Van Cleef even destroyed one of its heads permanently. Nowadays, the lifeweaver can only tell the truth and only see the future.

As for the heart

Sevita narrowed her eyes and let the vision return to Carlos.

The Great Demon was much taller than him, and it lived on the power of intrigue and magic, but none of it did anything to the Nightblades, who had once sworn a vow of vengeance.

He vows to start hunting it at some point until the end of time, until it dies.

The oath had not yet been fulfilled, but it had not been shattered, and the Nightblades had been blessed with another power that allowed them to ignore all of Carlos' disguises, deceptions, and even the simplest psychological inducements, which could not even do anything to them.

What's more, the person standing here at this moment is Yago Sevitaleon.

Carlos lowered his remaining head in despair and asked, "What do you want to know this time?" ”

Sevita laughed, reached out mockingly, and took the dagger from its wings, and wiped the grit off its body before returning it to its sheath.

"You have long known that there will be no consequences for trying to provoke me, that your death is destined only by him, so why do you do it every time? How? Have you switched to another master and started to enjoy the pleasures of so-called pain? ”

"Ask a question!" Carlos screamed again. "You cursed bastard, scum, poor wretch! Ask me questions and get out! ”

Sevita couldn't help but laugh out loud, laughing very presumptuously, but also genuinely happy. Don't get me wrong, he's certainly not a sadist, at least most of the time.

But if he could see a demon mad with his own eyes, why wouldn't he do it? However, he did not delay himself in doing his business, and after laughing, he immediately asked questions.

"Tell me about Erebus."

He threw the question simply and directly, and then got another scream.

"I told you a long time ago that I can't see the future for him! The gods have overshadowed him, and even if it is just a shadow, I cannot see it! ”

Sevita shook her head with disdain, and in Carlos' angry gasps, he asked again, "So, tell me about Crimson Claw." ”

Carlos trembled reluctantly, and in a few seconds, he answered Sevita's question fluently.

"They are being attacked by a combination of the Black Legion and the Bearers. With the help of eighteen burning worlds, they summoned a subspace storm in the path of Crimson Claw, and then made a gang jump. ”

"The number of jumpers is not large, and even most of them are just recruits, but they have already installed bombs in their armor in advance, and as long as the jumpers meet the enemy, the bombs will be detonated"

"Your brothers are in a bitter battle, they are trying to break out, they want to get out of the attack, come as soon as possible, and answer your call."

Carlos burst out laughing.

"But they can't do it anymore!" It roared contentedly. "Just like you! Yago Savitarion, the wretched creature who lived the longest! You are destined to watch these people die without any choice! ”

Sevita took a step back and looked at it coldly, not saying anything, not even showing the slightest mood swing.

After a few seconds, he asked again: "Can't do it, do you mean you can't get there early, or can't you make a successful breakthrough?" ”

Carlos' laughter came to an abrupt end, and it struggled in agony, the inability to deceive was causing the demon's instincts to eat at its soul. In the end, it answered Sevita's question.

"It means that you can't come early."

It vomited a mouthful of grit, then lifted its foot in anger and began to trample on them, then yelled again: "I'm done!" Now you can get out! ”

"Don't worry, we're not done yet."

Sevita sneered and stepped on its claws, and began to apply force slowly, then crushing back and forth. The demon immediately screamed, as if it had endured some unbearable pain.

This has to be attributed to Orak, who is performing a ritual outside, and his talent is indeed very high. Thanks to his help, the pain is magnified in Carlos's body, and Sevita only needs to use a very simple method to start an interrogation.

And Carlos is completely powerless about it, it can neither resist, nor die, or even lie. For it, it was probably only a fraction of the horror of learning that Karil Lohals was returning.

"What more do you want to know?" Carlos pleaded. "Hurry up, and get out of here."

"Tell me, what's going on on the Litatra right now?" Sevita asked.

Carlos' body trembled again, and this time, it would be longer than any time Weta could remember.

He had interrogated Carlos many times, and each time he had learned something vital to the Empire. Like the arrival of bugs, or the assassination of St. Giles, the current regent of the Empire, or the wave of orcs not far from Caliban.

All this information was told to him by Carlos. Therefore, Sevita can quite say that if it weren't for Carlos, the current empire would have been a little worse.

Subsequently, after the matter was reported to Macardo, the Palm Sealer, the perception of the demon within the empire was quietly transformed.

From having to let it die, to making sure it was alive no matter what, and being imprisoned on the Nightfall.

It's ironic, but it's also very humorous, at least Sevita can't help but laugh out loud every time she thinks about it.

He really wanted to tell the joke to some of the people he knew, and he understood that they would be overjoyed, and then patted him on the shoulder and told him that the next time he said something like this would make him unable to get up

Sevita extinguished his weakness and buried this temporary hint of humanity back to the bottom of her heart, looking at Carlos.

As he expected, the Lifeweaver screamed and burst into flames after a violent tremble, the blue flames that belonged to the Lord of Change raging brightly across its body.

Sevita stepped back again, watching its suffering coldly, smiling and clasping her hands. Nine minutes later, the punishment was over, and the lifeweaver looked more and more desperate.

The flame was a punishment from Tzeentch, and even Tzeentch couldn't get it out of this situation

It lowered its head without saying a word, and was silent for a long time before speaking: "I don't see anything about Litatra. ”

"I see." Sevita grinned and nodded gently at it. "Thank you for your help, Carlos, and we'll see you next time."

He turned to leave the cavern, the heart briefly beating and flames flickering above him. Ten minutes later, he returned to the seat of the Think Tank, where Orak Kataks was doing his work with a frown.

However, when Sevita returned, he immediately stopped calling.

Sevita glanced at the skulls and asked, "How's it going?" ”

Orak shook his head tiredly and said, "Crimson Claw and Shadow Knight didn't answer, the Judgment Blade was approaching, and the Soul Hunter said they needed a little more time. ”

"Good." Sevita said.

Other than that, he didn't say anything, just turned and walked away, leaving the think tanks with a cold and very convincing back.

——

For a long time, Shen Du followed a principle he had set for himself. He followed it and spent the long years. There are always people who choose to be the cornerstone and take on everything.

Shen had seen many such people with his own eyes, and he knew that he didn't have that ability, but he was still willing to give it a try. With this unconscious courage, he endured everything and survived to this day.

Will it be the end today?

Shen looked up from his cell and looked at the ceiling covered in ash. Over the years, it had been completely transformed, becoming a grayish-white patch made of his own ashes.

It stands to reason that he could not have seen anything else through them. However, the Night Soul is no longer the Retribution-class battleship it once was, or rather, it is more than just a battleship.

It now has another talent to respond to Shen's requests.

Actually, any requirement.

For example, at this moment, Shen wanted to see the outside world, so the Night Soul responded to his request in a violent jolt and vibration, allowing him to see the outside world, a burning planet, and an Abyss-class battleship that was disintegrating.

Shen recognized it at first sight, he had seen the ship twice before he had entered the place. Every time is unforgettable, the powerful firepower of the Abyss-class is impossible for ordinary ships to resist, even the Retribution-class battleships.

Unless a great creature like the Emperor Dream or the Mountain Formation came in person, the Abyss-level would be almost synonymous with the word invincible in the physical universe.

But those two warships haven't left the solar system for 10,000 years, and they must be stationed inside to be on the lookout for attacks from demons and traitors. However, at this moment, such a powerful ship is disintegrating on its own.

Its bow seemed to be burning, its deck was shattering, and its crew let out a silent scream in the universe, dying of lack of oxygen and extreme cold.

Shen cast his gaze on the desecrated eight-pointed star ship's bow, and suddenly opened his mouth and read out a sentence in Nostramo.

It means explosion.

A corner of the eight-pointed star immediately responded to his request, and in the firelight, the bow of the ship exploded like a bang, tearing a small hole in the battleship.

The main bridge was even exposed to a vacuum for this, and countless Chaos believers began to desperately call for air in the vacuum, but Shen did not have the slightest pleasure.

He didn't see what he wanted to see, like some Astarte in scarlet armor, or Erebus, for example.

They don't seem to be on this ship. In other words, it was not the one who caused the Night Spirit's violent jolting and damage to the ship's hull. Shen turned his gaze to the other side of the Night Soul, and indeed saw another Abyss-class ship on the dark side of Litatra, named Waves of Chaos.

"That's a lot of money." Shen whispered softly. "Push out an Abyss-class battleship as bait and then set up another one. Two of the three are here, will the last one be absent? ”

He couldn't help but laugh, and he seemed calm. A few minutes later, the door of his prison was opened again, and Kaïl Sahola walked in with a serious expression.

"We're under long-range sniping, and the Void Shield has been hit twice. According to Captain Seraphim's reasoning, the third hit must have caused damage to the hull itself. What to do, Shen? ”

"Wait."

"What are you waiting for?"

"Wait for me." Shen replied.

Immediately afterward, his feet slowly touched the ground. Kayur's eyes widened, looking astonished, but before he could say anything, Shen waved his hand and motioned for him not to speak for the time being.

He spoke apologetically to Keul.

"There's something on board, Kayor. It's been 10,000 years, and it's never changed. ”

"Is that it?" The current warband leader of the Shadow Knight asked quickly.

"Yes." Shen bowed his head slightly. "But I ask you not to take part in this battle, I can sense its breath, and what it brings, and its purpose is clear, and it has headed for the ceremonial grounds. If I don't show up, it's going to kill our sergeant. ”

"I'll arm immediately." Keul replied quickly. "We know what to do with it, hurry up-"

He held out his hand anxiously, and even used your address for a moment. Of course, this is not for the sake of sarcasm, but simply because he is anxious and forgets how to face Shen, or this is his true attitude towards Shen.

Looking at him, Shen shook his head with emotion.

After all, it's just a junior, it's a brother, but more is still just my junior. With this attitude, when will we understand that I am finally leaving?

"—I don't have to." Shen took his outstretched hand. "The time has come."

"But." Kaul took a deep breath and tried to argue his case. "We've evicted it many times, and this time was no exception! You don't really have to. ”

"Why should I leave my prison if it is not necessary?" Shen asked calmly. "I've been here for nearly 10,000 years, watching for their return. Now, I'm just one step away from achieving one of my goals. Why should I cut off my hope at this time? ”

He sighed softly, let go of Keur's hand with an aura that Shen would never have had ten thousand years ago, and then raised his arms.

"I'm so sad." Shen said softly. "Can't you see that, Kayor?"

Black flames ignited.

At the same time, a roar of rage, excitement, and forcible patience that could not hide the laughter in it swept across the Night Soul in the power of chaos.

"Shen!" Samus roared with a wild laugh. "I've come to give you the death of a hero!"

——

40, Shattered Terra, Steel Fortress.

There were two people talking in the dark, one of them had a young voice, but it exuded an unstoppable twilight and depression, as if an extremely old soul lived in his body.

The other man's voice seemed strange, as if he was talking to someone through something, and his voice was not only dull, but even weak. The two people who were talking here were named Machado and the other Peturabo.

They looked at each other through a thick layer of glass.

"Are you sure he'll come back?" Peturabo asked.

The once-mighty Lord of Steel was now floating in a golden nutrient solution, his hands disappearing from elbows down, as did his right leg.

He had a deep scar on the right side of his face, almost spreading to the left side of his face, and countless scars on his body, the most obvious of which was probably his chest, where there was a large burn.

It's just that it's weird to say, if the burn marks are viewed from a certain angle, they can just form two broken eagle wings.

"I wish he could." Makado said.

His current image is very different from before, no longer the thin old man in black robes, but a tall and sturdy silver-haired young man. Clad in a linen robe, he still holds the iconic Aquila staff in his right hand.

A glittering gold medallion was worn on his chest, representing the supreme power he had been given under one man, not even the regent St. Giles, who could really give any orders to the bearer of the seal.

However, in the eyes of the public, he is nothing more than a young man with great power, a descendant of another palm seal bearer who uses the name 'Machado'.

Yes, in order to avoid mass panic and some unnecessary, snooping of the stupid worms who seek immortality, Machado made up a lie.

Not very clever, but enough to convince the general public, and to leave officials, nobles, and lords speechless.

Of course, there is nothing to say, and sometimes, there are always people who want to do something.

"You want?" Perturabo looked at him coldly in the nutrient solution and repeated the word.

He seemed disdainful, his hair that had grown for some time was hanging and floating, adding a lot of intimidation to his gaze.

If other people were here, they would probably be terrified. But, for Machado, this level of 'peturabo-esque' gaze. Far less violent than the Iron Lord has ever been.

"Yes, I hope." Makado said. "Hope is the most beautiful thing in the world, especially when the evil god is no longer able to control the future of mankind, we can enjoy hope, look at the future, and look forward to tomorrow."

"If you're just here to instill in me these clichés, then you can go back." Peturabo said with a sneer. "Go back to your endless business, Roger Dorn will be sorry for it"

"You seem to be able to say his name without any scruples."

"I've been fighting with him for ten thousand years, old man." The Iron Lord raised his chin haughtily. "What makes you feel like I still look down on him?"

Macardo didn't answer, perhaps because he didn't know how to answer, or maybe it was just because the soul in the young body could no longer face this strange sight normally.

The Palm Seal was silent for a few seconds, then shook his head suddenly, and said, "I'm not here to discuss this matter with you, where is Gavel Loken?" ”

"He's been buried for a long time." Peturabo said. "Are you too old to remember this?"

"Of course I remember that he was impaled in the battle with the demon Samus, and Shen sent his remains back and buried them in the depths of the Steel Fortress in the name of the Iron Warrior Clan's Iron Monument First War Leader, but he didn't actually die."

Perturabo frowned sharply.

"Are you crazy, or am I hallucinating?" He asked coldly.

"No, I'm just telling a fact. If you look closely at his coffin, you will see that it has a mourning poem carved into the Nostramo language. He faked his death, and now, when it was time for him to come back to life, Shen needed his help. ”

Perturabo looked at him in silence for a moment before slowly bowing his head: "I hope this crazy word of yours is worth stopping the treatment process early." ”

Inside the huge glass jar, the nutrient solution suddenly began to drop. Immediately after, the steel floor slowly opened, and several mechanical arms rose up.

The prosthetic limb designed and manufactured by Ferus Manus and Vulcan themselves was brought with them, and the black nerve cables were connected to the connecting hole reserved for the severed limb.

Perturabo lowered his head into a fist, and at the sound of his satisfied breathing, the ground cracked open again, and the glass cover fell into it, disappearing. The mechanical arms handed over a piece of traditional Olympian clothing.

The Lord of Steel put him on with a calm face, but suddenly asked, "Why do you look at me like that?" ”

Machado shook his head and said, "I just don't understand why you don't want to be reborn with a severed limb. ”

"Scars are my honor." Peturabo replied calmly.

He turned, and disappeared into the darkness. The person in the palm of his hand did not immediately step to follow, but stayed where he was, twitching the corners of his mouth with great effort. It wasn't until minutes later that he barely managed to give a hard smile with a frown.

He hadn't smiled in a long time, not even a ceremonial smile, but his body would never be so resistant.

The real reason may be due to the endless work, responsibilities and hopes of a future that is always far ahead.

Together, they made him what he was, and together they cut him down on his humanity, and they made him miserable and tormented.

"Machado." Perturabo cried out in the darkness.

The Bearer gripped his scepter, mumbled, and stepped along.

He didn't say any of these things.

But 10,000 years.

(End of chapter)