The Night Soul is a typical Retribution-class battleship, not maneuverable, but heavily armored and with almost incomprehensible firepower.

Most of the designers in charge of this model had a huge phobia of insufficient firepower, so they wanted to crammed the sides of the ship with huge arrays of weapons, and frantically arranged the macro cannon and torpedo arrays as if they were machine gun emplacements.

He was oblivious to how much of a burden it would place on the crew responsible for loading. Not only that, but the man also installed a 'lesser' number of light spears on the ship's spine, as well as a nova cannon hidden beneath the ship's bow.

It's not enough to simply use the word overfirepower to describe the Retribution class, but it does have a benefit - the firepower of the Retribution class gives it a special deterrent.

As long as you find an opportunity to aim, most enemies within range will be smashed to pieces by a salvo. They wouldn't even have a chance to fire, and the Void Shield was even more useless at this level of firepower.

There is no doubt that the Night Soul is a battleship that is enough to strike fear into the hearts of its enemies. But the problem was that the enemy she was facing now did not exist in a cold vacuum.

It was on the deck of the Night Spirit, and no matter how powerful her firepower was, it was nothing more than useless paper stats against an enemy she couldn't hit.

"Shen!" Samus roared and called. "It's time!"

There was no answer, only the deep darkness surging on the deck. The ancient warship seemed to be unusually angry at its arrival, and a thick fog swept in, and the wind followed, turning the cold mist into countless icy knives thirsting for blood.

They hovered around the demon, creating countless wounds on its body, sticky blood gushing out of the wounds, and before they could emit heat and blasphemy, they were thrown and shattered by the sharp knives that thrust into it and turn into ice slag.

Samus burst out laughing, two hot streams exhaling through his wet nose, unconcerned about his injuries.

There was only pure excitement on its beast-like, human-like face, as if it had waited for a hundred lives for today

— and it did, it was banished by the Shadow Knights hundreds of times.

This entanglement can be traced back to 10,000 years ago in Cowes, and in 10,000 years, the battlefield of vendetta has been extended to the entire galaxy.

It appeared with the Tide of the Great Wall in the solar system, storming the defenses and intending to enter the shattered Terra. He also secretly entered the world of Villein, the home of the Shadow Knights, and stirred up a bloody storm within it.

It's not that no one has tried to banish it in the flames of rage, and thus do it once and for all. However, this beast is unusually cunning. If it senses the breath of the flames, it will never appear.

Except this time.

This time, the only exception. Because Shen did not hide his arrival, nor did he hide the changes in his body. Samus didn't flee, and even stopped where he was, watching Shen strolling from the end of the darkness.

The already faint light was completely swallowed up, and the flames burned in the darkness, and the composite steel that made up the deck was twisted and deformed, and the flames were scorched into crystal clear hot iron, and silently clinging to Shen's armor.

At the top of the corridor, the pipes responsible for transporting energy and maintaining temperature spontaneously bent down, as if the battleship itself was bowing to Shen, and then broke in unison, as if saying goodbye. From the place where the fracture occurred, steam gushed out continuously, obscuring Shen's existence.

Only the burning eyes were still clear.

"How long have we waited for this day?" The demon asked with a sigh.

Its left paw was on its chest, and it looked polite, but Shen didn't answer, so it stared at Shen with its wet beast pupils, full of anticipation, wanting to get his answer.

And Shen didn't answer.

He never answered.

A burst of fire streaked across the portholes, illuminating their faces completely. The deck rumbled, and the ripples of the Void Shield took on a psychedelic purple in the firelight. Not far away, Litatra continued to burn, and the disintegration of the abyss of fury never stopped.

The debris was like a burning comet traveling the Milky Way, spanning thousands of worlds just to come to this world to rain fire, crash into the ground, force the continental plates to displace, destroy the nests, and kill civilians one by one in screams

"Isn't it beautiful?" Samus asked.

Shen shook his head slightly, and the demon reached out his right paw and tapped the porthole, which it could have torn apart as easily as it did with white paper, but instead of doing so, it began to explain its thoughts to Shen very seriously.

"In my opinion, most mortals don't really deserve to live."

"They don't understand how many people's efforts are hidden behind the innate gift of life, and they don't know that the power to survive is something that countless people like you have fought desperately to get back in the galaxy."

"They have never seen you wallowing in a puddle of mud, one after the other in death, tearing at your enemies like wild dogs. They have no gratitude or respect for you, but instead treat you as a scourge because you will only be in the most dangerous places."

Shen looked at him indifferently, and the molten iron and steam began to twist as if they had come to life, embedded in the molten cracks in his charred black armor.

Looking at this scene, Samus laughed unconsciously, and it tilted its ears and began to listen to Shen Na's gradually stronger, thunderous heartbeat, and his smile gradually expanded.

It sighed with emotion.

"Like I said last time, Shen. It seems to me that they are just wasting their lives. But now it's different, and now, these numb people have a chance to get lost."

"Ah, by the way, I must admit one thing to you, I don't really like Erebus, even for a living person like me, he's disgusting."

"To me, he's just a posturing, self-proclaimed bastard. But even such a bastard, he did one thing right – he enlightened your world and its people. ”

Samus folded his paws in earnest, straightening his waist like a human. There was a longing on the beast's head that only humans possessed.

"After today, will those mediocre mortals continue to sink?"

Samus's eyes widened, and a soft inquiry spat out between the tiny fangs. Then, there are more words that are not at all like they should come out of the mouth of the devil. Every sentence is philosophical, and every word is full of bloody anticipation.

In the darkness, Shen's heartbeat resounded like thunder.

"No, they won't again." Samus said softly. "After today, they will cherish every minute and every second of their lives."

"As long as they can survive until the next day, then the morning sun will be the brightest and warmest light in their lives, but there is a premise."

Samus let go of its claws, allowing them to hang naturally over the bent hooves.

The demon roared.

"The premise is that there must be a hero to save them!"

Shen stared at it indifferently.

In the darkness, the shadow of his non-existence began to burn.

Then the steam burst, the mist dissipated, and the black armor and chains were turned into white ashes under the boiling molten iron, and fell completely. Beneath it was not a bare chest, but a different kind of armor.

A kind of armor between flesh and steel, hideous like the sacrificial armor unearthed in ancient times.

Once upon a time, priests dressed in similar things, smeared their entire faces with blood, assumed the authority of the gods, and recited ancient prayers in living sacrifices.

But now Shen didn't say anything, and the pitch-black flames slowly enveloped his face, and began to burn flesh and blood, turning everything into ashes in the rising black smoke.

In the end, only a white but hideous bone surface remained, and the black smoke that had not yet completely dissipated escaped from the hollow eye sockets and the finely fitted, non-human-like sharp teeth along with the flames.

The sigil of the Chaos Eight-Pointed Star silently appeared at his feet, and one of the corners was so bright that it danced in bright red, and with each leap, there was a thunderous roar.

It was as if a heart had been buried beneath the ground, freshly pulled out of the enemy's chest, still bleeding alive, waiting for a sharp blade to pierce it

What had once been Shen began to roar in the darkness.

——

Sevita slowly put on his helmet.

He had a private armament room, and even though he didn't want anything like that, Sevita had set up such a place for himself after being persuaded by generations of warband brothers.

He still doesn't like it here.

In his opinion, the room had no purpose other than an unnecessary display of authority and special status, and his weapons were not large enough to require a private armament room to store them separately.

After all, for 10,000 years, he had deposited all the weapons he had captured and been rewarded with in the warband's arsenal. Recruits with excellent training can receive them, veterans can receive them, and the elite of the combat company are required to have a sophisticated weapon in their hands.

Moreover, Sevita didn't make the warband strained.

They are backed by Nostramo, and with many connections within the empire, they simply cannot be poor. Although the ore of Adamantite from Nostramo can no longer be traded or gifted, there is no problem with internal digestion.

So, what exactly is the use of this private armament room?

Sevita glanced down at the servant who was looking at him with a chainsaw halberd in his hand, and held out his right hand, which bowed his head respectfully, followed the set procedure, raised his hands, and reverently handed over his weapon.

The servo skull began to play prayers and triumphal poems from within the state church, and in the holy whisper, Sevita grasped his weapon. Then, a brilliant golden light spilled from above his head.

These are the bones of devout believers who voluntarily donated their remains after their deaths.

Sevita suppressed the urge to flee immediately, and allowed the golden ashes to fall on his body before leaving the armament room.

War was no longer what he once was, the power of faith was in full swing, and although he had refused to send military priests from the Anglican to the Nightfall, there was nothing he could do to stop them from sending these pious bones again and again

They are useful to demons, and not just to demons. With that in mind, the Nightblades are perhaps the most needed warband across the galaxy.

Thinking of this, Sevita chuckled without a smile, full of mockery. He suppressed his emotions and quietly went to the boarding deck.

In the dark hangar, the eight Dalians of Nightblade were waiting silently, eight flags fluttering softly above their heads. These flags have been weathered for 10,000 years, and have long since become worn out, covered in blood, but they are still hanging here unrepaired.

Sevita glanced up at them, didn't say anything, just threw the chainsaw halberd out with his hand. A veteran of the first company immediately reached out and took it, as if he had long been accustomed to it.

Then, Yago Savitarion's trademark hoarse voice echoed through the massive hangar.

"It's been 10,000 years."

He said, and then slowly took off his helmet, his pale face calm and not the slightest indulgence of the past.

"I often gazed at my own face in the mirror, but I found no trace of old age. I'm still the same as I was 10,000 years ago, not even a single scar. ”

"Time has been too generous to me, my body has not weakened over the years, and my strength and speed have never slowed down, the only problem is that time has not changed my soul."

"My perspective on the world is still the same as it was 10,000 years ago, and I'm still used to seeing the world the way it used to be. So I remember each and every one of you. Every one of the deceased in these 10,000 years, their tombstones and epitaphs were carved by me. ”

"I watched as their seniors passed the selection, entered the warband, underwent surgery, and finally became a Nightblade. Then I watched them die, in every way. ”

"The post-war data reports do not reflect the loss of life, they are submitted to the Ministry of Military Affairs, in exchange for many awards and honors, but who remembers those who died?"

Sevita smiled.

"Only I remember." He whispered. "I remember them, and then it came to you again. The cycle repeats itself. I've watched you go through the selections, get trained, and survive the makeover surgery. Then become Nightblade, and finally stand here, ready to step into Hell. ”

His smile began to widen, a smile the Nightblades had never seen before. In their minds, Yago Sevitalyone never seemed to smile. At least not such a genuine, heartfelt laugh.

"But, no matter what the final outcome is, I will remember you."

He raised his right hand and hammered his chest: "Yes, Yago Sevitaleon will remember all of you. And if we win and he comes back, I'll introduce you to him one by one. He will know you, and he will remember you, just as I did. ”

No one spoke, only a neat glow emanating from the scarlet eyepieces.

Sevita raised her hands and put on her helmet again.

Now, get ready. We're going to hell. ”

(End of chapter)