Perturabo calmly walked into a cemetery, or rather, a jungle of steel.

Machado followed, his scepter shining like a torch illuminating the darkness around them, and a casket of steel encircled them. At a glance, there is no end in sight, and no one knows how many people are buried here.

The Iron Lord may have known, but he had never confided the number to anyone, not even Rog Dorn, who had not been able to get an answer to the question from him.

They walked in silence, their robes mopping the floor, and one of them stepped barefoot on the cold steel, making a dull echo. The other man was clearly wearing boots, but he couldn't make any sound, as if he didn't exist there.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a coffin that had been welded to death. In terms of volume, it was clearly intended for Astarte. Needlessly, Machado sank the scepter in his hand slightly, allowing the firelight to illuminate the coffin.

A crude Imperial Aquila appeared, along with the tombstone-like warband emblem of the Iron Monument. Underneath them, is a name.

Machado pronounced it.

"Sebarus."

"It's Gavel Loken." Perturabo clasped his hands together and replied. "It's just a crude pseudonym, and I'm not going to hide his true identity from anyone."

"But you made him the first leader of a subgroup of Iron Warriors."

"Isn't he?" Peturabo asked rhetorically with a sneer. "Gavier Loken was dutiful, and so was Cebarus."

"He led his brothers to fight endlessly within the galaxy, and during his service, he fought a total of 679 wars, large and small, and protected 226 precious imperial worlds. There are countless people who survived because of them. In any sense of the word, he deserves the position of Warlord Commander. ”

Machado noncommittally let go of the scepter in his hand, and it lost its support, but it eerily kept its balance and stood on the ground.

Immediately after, the flaming flame broke away from the tip of the staff and floated up, landing in the palm of Makado's outstretched right hand.

Perturabo frowned, his expression suddenly changing to a little displeasure—a level of displeasure that would have scared a large number of people by his standards.

"What psychic trick again?" The Iron Lord asked.

"Definitely."

Machado replied in an ancient language, and there was a slight dazing look on the face that was too young. Then he placed his right hand on the coffin, and the burning flame disappeared into it, never to be seen again.

As Perturabo watched this scene, the wrinkles between his brows deepened, and he looked as if he would be angry in the next second.

"You'd better explain to me what you're doing, Makado."

In a warning tone, the Lord of Steel lowered his hands and turned them behind his back. His chin seemed to be raised haughtily, but what was revealed in those eyes surprised Machado.

If he could still express this emotion perfectly, he would have laughed out loud by now, but he had lost this ability.

So, he just shook his head.

"The psionic tricks of your mouth can resurrect the dead, but, throughout the ages, only one person can do it. And that person wasn't me, and I was nowhere near that skill and extraordinary willpower. Besides, he couldn't do that now. ”

In the face of his answer, Perturabo remained completely silent, except that his hands behind his back were completely clenched. After a long time, he spoke slowly, his voice already very deep.

"How has he been?"

"Half dead." Macado said calmly.

"Be detailed."

"He couldn't be distracted, and he couldn't even give any response to the people who came to die in batches. He had to be fully focused in order to remain in control of the god's body. For 10,000 years, the power it possesses has been increasing. ”

Perturabo bowed slightly, and stopped talking. His face was completely lost in darkness, and his left hand, made by Ferus Manus, and his right hand, made by Vulcan, had entered locking mode, limiting his output.

If not, his emotions will most likely affect the stability of the two prosthetics, forcing them into combat mode

From this point of view, his brothers are indeed highly skilled, and humans are involuntarily exerted in times of emotion, and their works perfectly reproduce this.

Silent, Perturabo unconsciously thought of his brothers.

With the exception of Roger Dorn, they hadn't been in touch with each other for years. Even St. Giles, who is in the same solar system, has last seen him for a full century and a half.

As the sole regent of the Empire, he struggled with government affairs for a long time, and due to the peculiarity of his status, St. Giles rarely left the solar system. Even with Machado's help, he had to deal with a sea of complicated work.

For 10,000 years, every recorded war required him to see it himself. The government work that slipped through his and Makado's fingers alone was enough to exhaust hundreds of high lords

And in that meeting, the angel of Baal did not look very old, and his blonde hair was still dazzling. But this was only a façade, and the Lord of Steel knew that his brother just didn't want him to worry, so he insisted on facing him with the same appearance that belonged to the past.

As for the others. Occasionally, news of them would come back, but most of the time it was just gossip from the mouths of the Rogue Traders.

For example, Ferus Manus and his warriors destroyed a horde of orcs trying to invade the Empire's borders, and Leon Eltheusson's angels fought alongside the Space Wolves.

Vulcan and Chagatai Khan personally led an army to the edge of Chemus to help the emperor's sons fight the power of the Nurgle plague. Forgrim thwarted a bloody massacre by the Sadist Army in Baal and the sons of St. Giles

Except for those that are really too far away, the Rogue Traders have traveled to almost every corner of the Empire. The empire now seems to have returned to an ancient era, relying on merchants who traveled far and wide to send messages to each other.

This is simply backward to an extreme, and Peturabo has long been dissatisfied with it, but there is nothing he can do.

The Torch's brilliance was still not bright, and most of its brilliance failed to illuminate the darkness of the galaxy today, but instead went back in time, penetrating thousands of years to reach a war that had long ended.

Machado raised his right hand and tapped the steel lightly, interrupting Perturabo's thoughts with a dull echo that drew his attention back to the real world. The eyes of the person who holds the palm print are very deep and direct to the heart.

He looked at Perturabo as if he understood exactly what he was thinking.

The Lord of Steel looked at him expressionlessly, clasped his hands again, and asked, "So, did your psionic trick that wasn't a psionic trick succeed?" I told you that Garvel Lorcan is long dead, don't tell me you can really bring the dead back to life. ”

"Not me." Macado repeated again.

He removed his right hand, and suddenly a rapid breathing sound sounded in the coffin that was completely sealed, and the golden light bloomed from within, making the steel transparent for a moment, and a decaying corpse sat up slowly in the golden light, without any interference from the coffin.

Machado stretched out his right hand again and pulled the body out of the coffin. No one knew where he had the strength to pull a corpse that was much taller than him.

But that's not the point, the point is that the corpse is rapidly reviving in the golden light.

Perturabo let out a rare sigh, and at the sight of such a miracle, there was no joy in his eyes, only a heavy sadness. Although it is fleeting, it is also genuine. However, he quickly collected his emotions and stepped forward instead, speaking in a deep voice, "Gavel Loken." ”

The man he called so turned his head in confusion, his eyes as clear as a newborn child. He opened his mouth and spat out indistinct words in a slurred manner, as if under deep anesthesia, not yet fully conscious.

Perturabo frowned again, expressing his doubts and dissatisfaction with Machado with minimal facial expressions and body movements. But this time, instead of giving him any more explanation, the Palm Seal reached out and held his scepter.

He held it aloft, and an unbearable and terrible sound suddenly rang out in the otherwise quiet room. A golden light spread from the tip of the scepter and landed in Gavel Loken's hand, transforming it into a sword that seemed to be burning.

Immediately after, there was another brilliant light that was thousands or even tens of thousands of times stronger, and even the original body couldn't help but squint its eyes, trying to block this terrifying light

He wanted to keep his eyes on them, but the sun, which was by no means mild, told him not to look directly at the gods.

god

The Lord of Steel gritted his teeth and gurgled.

Thirteen seconds later, the light was gone, and everything had died down, except for Gavel Loken.

The Palm Seal holder carried his scepter, and fell to his knees weakly, blood gushing out from within the seven orifices. Peturabo stepped forward to help him up and asked in a cold voice, "Where did he go?" ”

Macado replied with a strange, rusty, and hideous smile. He didn't say anything, but it was like he said everything.

——

Samus reluctantly returned to the ship that didn't welcome it through the forces of Chaos, and the Night Soul had already given it a second welcome as it struggled to throw itself out of the portal that Erebus had temporarily opened.

Compared to the first time, this time it was even more violent. The broken pipes flew up in unison, transforming into countless real sharp knives in the thick fog, and pounced on it.

At the same time, the ground beneath its feet was deformed. The solid steel deck suddenly turned into a muddy swamp, completely engulfing half of Samus's body.

In the face of such a terrifying attack, the demon seemed a little listless. It lifted its recovered right claw and stopped the sharp knives. They bleed a little, and that was the only thing they could do.

Other than that, Samus was even unscathed.

It supported itself with both hands, and forcibly pulled its body out of the swamp of steel, and its entire body was already burned extensively, and the flesh kept falling, but it ignored it, and just walked forward with one foot deep and one foot shallow.

Its sense of smell has always been keen, and as early as 10,000 years ago, it smelled the events of the day and saw the battle between Shen and Erebus

Samus had worked so hard to get himself involved, but now he had to stay away from there for a drop of stupid blood.

It could smell the blood, and because of that, it was furious.

Just for a drop of blood? Just for this? Erebas, you stupid bastard.

The demon grinned angrily, and as if angry, he bit down a large mouthful of steel in front of it and began to chew on them. Its teeth easily turned the alloy into tatters, and it even swallowed it without showing any discomfort.

The cold wind blowing from the dark decks became more intense, the Night Soul roared silently, and its plasma engines began to operate at more frantic power, hoping to reach Litatra's low Earth orbit as quickly as possible.

Samus didn't know what the Night Spirits was trying to do, but he could vaguely sense its anger. The demon pondered for a few seconds, then suddenly revealed a sneer.

"How about we make a deal?" It asks the darkness.

The wind is still there.

"I'll give you one. Uh, coordinates? Yes, coordinates. I'll give you a coordinate, and the enemy you're going to deal with is right there. It's precise coordinates, you know? ”

"As long as you have it, you can launch your ridiculous airborne compartment to accurately hit the enemy who is fighting Shen, how about it?"

Darkness surged, and countless shadows appeared in the cascading mist. When Samus saw this, there was a little caution on the beast's head. It took half a step back without a trace, its tail sweeping across the ground like a whip.

"I have only one request." The demon said slowly but very seriously. "I want you to send me down with me, I have to be present in that battle."

The shadows did not answer its words, but the mist continued to spread. Samus was not in a hurry, and even chuckled lowly: "Believe me, I have no interest in that so-called ritual and blood. My goals have always been clear. ”

In the silence of the shadows, the mist rose again, and after a few seconds, they enveloped Samus. And the demon didn't resist, with a strong tearing feeling, and in the next second, it appeared in an airborne warehouse, occupying it full.

Samus turned his pupils, looked left and right for a moment, and then grinned again.

It immediately spat out a coordinate, and then, in an extremely strong tremor, an airborne chamber with the Shadow Knights warband emblem rushed ahead of all the Shadow Knights who were preparing, and entered the low Earth orbit and atmosphere of Litatra first.

No one knew that there was a real demon in it, and it was laughing wildly. It laughed out loud at its own simple and crude plan, and there was no doubt that it was a perfect betrayal.

It's more fun to make an impromptu idea, isn't it?

Its chaotic nature was greatly satisfied by the friction of the airborne chamber, and Samus was already eager to see the look on Erebus's face when he saw it again

However, what it didn't know was that behind the airborne warehouse, a golden light was following it closely, like an appendage.

——

Tujea reached out and grabbed the glowing shard, and he pulled it out of his pocket, confused and confused.

This seemingly inconsequential action evokes some power that lurks within the shard, and darkness rushes over you. The world before Tujea's eyes began to crumble, and those flickering scarlet cracks tore Horst's hut to shreds like one terrible wound after another.

In its place, a white wasteland.

The sky was dark and the clouds were tumbling, as if the end of the world had come. The white on the ground is made of ashes, which flutter in the whining wind, forming one fleeting spiral after another.

Tujea looked at the world tensely, instinctively wanting to raise his right hand, reach into his coat pocket, and grasp his gun. However, a cold hand silently reached from behind and grabbed his wrist.

Tujea shuddered violently, and immediately turned his head, but he didn't see half a shadow. By the time he came back to his senses, the fragments in his hand had completely disappeared, but there was no figure around him.

Seeing this, Tujea's heart did not swell with much fear, but instead rose with a cold anger.

He gritted his teeth and pulled out his gun, which opened fire into the sky. As if to respond to him, all of a sudden, the wind was blowing so hard that he could barely open his eyes. The corners of the coat fluttered in the wind, and the hat had long since flown somewhere.

Tujea didn't bother to look for it now, he just reached out to cover his eyes, and then shouted in the wind.

"Give it back!"

A voice suddenly appeared and asked, "Why?" ”

The wind died down.

Tujea stiffened his back to the direction from which the voice came from, and the hammer fell a little from the floor. For some reason, his back was completely wet with cold sweat, and his willpower was even more shaky. That voice.

He had never heard such a voice, and it was impossible for a human to speak in such a way, and every word sounded like the howl of a dead man, but it was so soft. His sanity was being tested, but Tujea managed to calm himself down.

He has to thank those cheap organic sweets for that. The sour taste of the last candy he had eaten was still on the tip of his tongue, and the sourness reminded him of what he should do now.

Tujea turned slowly, clutching his gun, and opened his mouth without blinking: "Because—"

Suddenly, he couldn't say anything.

A giant with a moonlit crown on his head looked at him calmly, his hands behind his back, and shards floating in front of him. A shadowy cloak automatically sparkles behind him without wind, like black satin or a river.

Tujea stared at him blankly, completely stripped of all thoughts.

The giant sighed, turned his head sideways, and complained to his cloak: "You see, this is one of the prices I pay, I can't even talk to people properly. Let's talk to him, how about it, Larch? ”

The cloak frantically transmitted a thought back to the refusal.

"Why?" The giant asked in surprise, and then he received a laughable answer - the demon named Larch had thought that the man's dirty coat was not worthy of it.

Sighing, Conrad Coetze, ignoring its protests, reached out and ripped it off, then threw it at Tujea. The poor investigator was so confused by the cloak that he fell to the ground with his head on his back, not moving at all, as if he had died.

Coates couldn't help but burst out laughing, and in a matter of moments, he already had three or four jokes to tell.

In these 10,000 years, he has saved a lot of jokes.

The Night King raised his right hand and gently grasped the fragment that was floating in front of his eyes, whispering in response to its call.

"I'm right here." He said. "Father."

At the same time, in a distant and silent darkness, a man opened his eyes.

(End of chapter)