Orak Kataks had never experienced anything like this in his life, and he couldn't even find an adjective to describe it. But he understands that this is just the beginning.

As Van Cleef said, death is just the beginning.

Orlac solemnly donned his helmet, his skeletal visor coiled with lightning-like lines that lit up as he breathed.

Nostramo's Adamantite has been completely assimilated by his psionic powers, and if nothing happens, the armor and helmet should be handed over to the next think tank director after his death.

Of course, this is also a premise, and he has to accept help from Yago Sevitaleone to do this.

If he accidentally ushers in his 'scrapping deadline' on the battlefield, then this armor will probably have to usher in another form of existence with him.

They will go through upheaval, with hatred as their bones and their anger as their blood, and the call of every hateful person will echo in their ears forever from then on

Orak took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down—his time was running out. The better Yago Sevitaleone treats him, the more he perceives it.

He had already met once when he was an apprentice, and the person he had been treated like this was his mentor, the former director of the think tank. After he took office, he himself experienced it himself.

Just two times is painful enough. Orak couldn't imagine what a terrible ordeal this would be for Yago Sevitaleon, and he could only hope that day would come soon.

Today, his last attachment to the world will also be completely dissolved, for no other reason than the return of Karil Lohals.

He is back, which means that the brothers of the warband will no longer have to go through pain, and the empire will usher in a drastic change, and the lives of those who have innocently sunk will finally have a chance to change

And Karil Lohals strongly disagrees with this idea.

At this moment, he was standing on the shuttle 'Bat Wing' sent by the Nightfall, waiting for it to take off.

Kaul Sahora stood behind him, unwordedly arranging his already modest power armor, as if wondering if the ribbons that had been temporarily hung should be saved.

Maharaja Scaradry remained silent in the corner of the cabin, his pale face blending into the shadows, and only a pair of eyes gleamed within it.

He was reluctant to come, and no one knew what was going on between them until Carlil came to visit, but in the end, Scaladry did.

For this matter, Sheikher Cold Soul just wanted to find a chance to laugh at Skaradek for a good time.

He would do everything in his power to slam the Maharaja's pride with all the sarcasm he could - yes, he had expected them to end up in the dueling cage, but that was his purpose.

For some people, violence is the most effective way to decompress, whether released or endured.

As he pondered this, Shehr couldn't help but smile pleasantly.

The deck beneath his feet began to tremble at this moment, the shuttle's engine had been started and it was about to take off, but his attention was drawn to another corner of the cabin.

There, an Astarte, who he was no stranger to, but certainly not familiar with, was looking down at a pale tome.

Its pages looked very dry and thin, but now they were lifted slightly by two fingers wrapped in steel, bearing a weight it shouldn't have took.

Glancing at the strange words on the page, Sheikher immediately withdrew his gaze and whispered without squinting: "Good day, hunter." ”

Astarte, known as the Hunter, looked up and nodded at him, "You seem to have changed a little from last time. ”

Sheikher sighed: "When will you stop using honorific titles to knock me?" ”

"It's not a knock, it's just a reminder from the day after tomorrow." The hunter said without humility or arrogance, and thus began a debate that had been going on many times.

"We have enormous power in our hands, and there are not many Astartes in the entire empire who can match us in this matter."

"They're all conditioned in some way, but we're different. The laws of the Empire are nothing to us, and officials from the Ministry of Government, Military Affairs, or Justice will not have any thoughts on us. ”

The hunter paused for a moment, accentuated his tone, and spat out something incredibly cold: "We can even assassinate a certain governor without any criticism."

"But that's because we're never going to step beyond the minepool." Shehr replied with extreme seriousness.

"Behind this power is the persistence of the Children of the Night for thousands of years, we have never blurred any verdict, and every attack that stains the blade with blood must pass strict scrutiny."

"What's more, we never ignore any rules and regulations, and the reason why officials don't bother us is because we send in any action report they need. Don't forget this, Lord Hunter. ”

"I never forget." The hunter replied softly. "That's why I have to stand here and treat all of you like strangers."

Shehr turned his head to look at Karil Lohals, who was standing in front of the porthole, and suddenly raised his hand and pointed at him: "Is that also him?" ”

The hunter did not reply, but gave a very intriguing silence.

Shehr frowned, showing a little anger for the first time: "What the hell are you guys thinking? ”

The hunter still hasn't answered the question.

Twenty-two minutes later, with a heavy muffled thud, the shuttle entered the Nightfall's boarding deck. After another half minute, when the complicated inspection procedures were completed one by one, the cabin door slowly fell.

Still wearing his heavy robes, Carlil stepped out first, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

The Nightfall Horn blew a howling cold wind, as if to welcome him.

At the same time, the gust of wind also blew away the darkness on the deck of the boarding ship, and the soft moonlight light gently lit up, completely revealing the few shadows hidden in the darkness.

Orak Kartaks was the first to step out of the darkness, and the lightning lines on the think tank curator's power armor brightened up at this moment.

Carlil nodded at him, but said nothing, instead walked straight past him into a darkness that had not yet been illuminated by the moonlight.

His figure blended in perfectly and was never seen again.

The director of the think tank retracted his gaze and began to greet his blood relatives one by one, not even caring about Carlil's disappearance.

"Captains—"

"—Before we engage in a long list of mutual threats full of false politeness, I would like to warn you of one thing, Orlac."

Shehr raised his left hand with a serious expression and nodded to the darkness: "Let him walk around the Nightfall alone, it may cause something unnecessary. ”

"What's the matter?" Orac asked rhetorically. "He was already familiar with this ship before you and my ancestors were born."

"Rest easy, Supreme Master, no matter what happened down there, as soon as he returns to the Nightfall, everything will be solved."

The last four, he pronounced separately in Nostramo. Shehr heard his hints, but was not very willing to accept them.

He frowned, wanting to say something, but swallowed the words back at the last minute, leaving only a moment of silence.

The Nightfall faithfully blew all of this to Carlil's ears with the help of a cold wind.

"Oh, don't do that." The 'instructor' said helplessly and amusefully. "I don't need this kind of tip-off, they all have a reason, they all have a reason, they are all right. It is better to go with the flow, and coercive intervention is counterproductive. ”

The wind intensified, whistling by, blowing his robes, and turning forward.

Carlil laughed again - the Nightfall was showing him the way, though he didn't need the extra kindness, but since it was insisting.

He walked slowly towards the place.

There wasn't a single figure in the corridors or training halls along the way, and Nightfall told him the whole story—the cause was Yago Sevitalyon's declaration of war, the endless gang jumping and artillery firing, and the ending

The end is not yet here, and they are still on their way back.

If there are no accidents, this process will last more than ten hours. Not everyone set off in gunboats, and the Bearers weren't just two Abyss-class ships.

Moreover, not all of them will be able to come back.

Carlil listened attentively to its debriefing, but his steps were not slow, in fact, he walked very fast. In just five minutes, he arrived at the final destination of his trip.

The heavy and huge gate of pure gold spontaneously opened in front of him, and a total of twenty-five protective measures were lifted one by one

In the end, all that left in front of Carlil was a man lying on a cold iron bed with frost on his face.

Carlil couldn't help but laugh.

He stepped inside, the door slowly closing behind him, the mechanical structure beneath the steel working at full capacity, hot steam gushing out of the cracks, leaving a black trail of blood on the ground.

Pale incandescent light shone from above the iron bed, making Yago Sevitalyon's frosty face seem transparent.

Carlil came to the side of the iron bed and leaned down to look at him carefully.

Compared to 10,000 years ago, Sevita's face has become a little older than it can be ignored, and on the whole, he may still be young, but that twilight cannot be concealed by any means.

It is only at this time that this twilight may cross his own restraints and appear on his face.

But there's another thing that's most conspicuous, and that's the cracks under the frost.

They are the rift of 'Yago Sevitalyon'.

Kalir's eyes narrowed, and he took the bone face from his bosom and gently clasped it against Sevita's face.

Nothing supernatural happened, not the slightest vision, except for a slight ice-breaking sound slowly coming from under the mask. It was as if the mask had fangs and was gnawing at the frost.

Despite this, Sevita showed no signs of activity, as if she was really dead.

Karil was not in a hurry, but stretched out his right hand, took the pot of Glocks meat placed next to the iron bed, and took the pretzel vial that hung on the edge of the basin, and began to sprinkle salt.

He's focused and attentive in his work, but it's a little weird—not to mention the fact that the meat has long since gone cold, just adding flavor to a steak around a dead man is food for thought.

But Yago Sevitaleone has no opinion on this.

Carlil put down the salt shaker, and the blue light of his right index finger flashed, and the iron basin filled with Glocks meat was suspended in the air, and even began to heat up slowly. The aroma of the meat quickly escapes with the boiling of the fat, which is appetizing.

Even Carlil couldn't help but take a deep breath of the aroma - it was only then that he finally regained a little craving for food.

He finally remembered that he hadn't eaten anything in the real sense since he recovered.

Nutrient solution is naturally not a 'food'

So, do you want to eat?

Carlil looked down at the pot and shook his head slightly—he didn't want Fer Zaloster to suddenly appear somewhere in the darkness and complain about his actions.

He turned, and his robes swept across the ground, stirring up the mist and causing it to boil suddenly.

Every part of the Nightfall was working with all its might at this moment, and its interior rumbled as violently as if it had been hit head-on by a cannon and hit by a dozen more torpedoes.

It roared, bringing together the ubiquitous fog of the entire ship in a way that frightened the crew, in one place: this room.

At this moment, the place became ghostly, and generations of dead souls on the Nightfall flew up and down in the fog. Some are captains, some are sailors. Some are civilians, some are servants

The souls of the auxiliaries also stand in silence, and some are even saluting Karil, their uniforms completely lost in the current Empire, with the only thing the Aquila having in common.

"Please help me." Carlil said, his voice low and his words short. "Or rather, please help him."

"How?" One of the souls asked calmly.

Carlil didn't speak, just pointed to the mask. Then the mist dissipated, and the ghost whizzed by, sweeping like a storm, and rushing straight into the mask, without hesitation.

Only one point of light remained, an old soul, dressed in a blood-stained captain's suit, with lightning bolting over the eagle's face, glittering on his left shoulder.

"I'm waiting for you to come back." The soul laughed. "We've been waiting a long time for this day."

Karil was silent for a moment, then shook his head, "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep. ”

"Death is just the beginning, my lord." The soul replied with a smile. "What could be more honorable than to continue fighting for humanity after death?"

He threw down the sentence and dissipated in place.

(End of chapter)