Chapter 547 - 65.Interlude: Angel Flapping Wings (Extra 3/5)

"Yes, I'll go." St. Giles repeats. "Yes, the destination is- damn it, Abo, don't ask any more, okay?"

"Nope." A hologram said.

He folded his hands, looking cold and impatient. In stark contrast to him was another holographic projection not far from him, this one's expression was calm, as if he didn't care if St. Giles was leaving.

He didn't even pay full attention to the conversation, instead holding a datapad with his head down and sliding over it.

"You've asked me twelve times." The archangel said expressionlessly. "And I'm pretty sure I'm not going to repeat to you where I'm going and what I'm going to do."

The Lord of Steel looked at him coldly and didn't say anything. He looked like a statue, and the kind of statue carved into a coffin. Gloomy but majestic, solemn but chilly.

He didn't need to have an expression, just the simple use of his eyes was enough to send shivers down the spines of many in this vast empire. Only now, he is facing the angels of Baal.

A hundred years ago, St. Giles had not cared about his brother's natural gloom, and now it is needless to say that it is evident from how he called Pertulabo.

The archangel responded with an icy gaze of equal intensity, and the two genetic primitives were tormenting the mechanical components and the souls of their respective instruments on their respective holographic projection tables across the sea of stars.

Their gaze continued until Roger Dorn spoke.

"You need support." Stubborn said in an affirmative tone.

St. Giles looked at his brother - in all fairness, at this moment, the angel did have some urge to refute it, but he did not put it into practice.

His impulse to retort was nothing more than an impulse, a collection of anger and resentment that was unrealistic and should not be treated as reality, not against Dorne, but at himself.

Splitting the legion into warbands was indeed in line with the call of the times, but it also put him in an unspeakable dilemma: the Holy Blood Angels were now only 1,500 at full strength, which exceeded the standards of the Holy Codex

Of course, he doesn't really have to strictly follow the holy scriptures, it's just a reference book, but it's because of the endorsement of an 'authority' like him that this reference book is useful.

St. Giles sighed.

"Yes." He admitted. "I need support, and a lot of it. I want auxiliaries—"

"—the Astral Army." Peturabo said. "Or the Imperial Guard. The Holy Blood Angel is not a war hound, where can I find an auxiliary army? ”

"Is there a difference between the two terms?" St. Giles asked as he glared at him.

"And, you're going to need more Astartes." Dorn said solemnly.

He pulled the topic back without a trace, if it had been in the past, the stubborn stone would not mind seeing the steel and the angel arguing with each other for a dozen words, but now it is different, every second is precious now.

The Empire has been out of touch with the Five Hundred Worlds for a long time, and now is an opportunity to reconnect this vast territory with the Empire.

"I'll issue an order for the Imperial Fist to support you along the way. You can assemble an expeditionary force as a regent, St. Giles, and all the Foundry worlds will be more than happy to provide whatever you need for this. ”

Hearing this, the angel frowned slightly, and he considered his words before speaking, "I don't think it's good to involve your sons, Rogge. ”

"Why?"

"Do you have to let him make it clear?" Peturabo interrupted slightly impatiently. "Twenty-five years of expeditions, continuous wars, big and small, if they don't happen to have some good conscription worlds, I'm afraid it will be very difficult to even maintain the number of warbands."

"They are born with some kind of responsibility." Dorne looked at him, the hologram fluctuating and his tone resolute.

"They understand the weight of duty, and—"

Perturabo sneered again: "—as if no one else understood." ”

"Listen, Roger Dorn, because I'll only say the rest of the story. You'd better hear every word of mine clearly, you stubborn elm head, or I'll personally go to your fortress and make you unable to get off the stage in front of your battle leader, do you understand? ”

"A hundred centuries can change a lot of things, your sons are not the fist of the empire. They have separate traditions and cultures, just like every warband that separates out. These are the protectors of other worlds besides your sons. ”

"It's likely that this tradition has been going on between them and the local people for thousands of years, and even in the darkest of times, they didn't let it go away. And you'd better not let their hard work go to waste. ”

"There is more than one duty in this world, and there are far more people who need to be protected than civilians in the five hundred worlds."

Dorn was silent for a while, and asked, "So, are you going to do it?" ”

"Yes." Perturabo nodded slowly, and looked back at St. Giles.

He said to his brother in an unquestioning tone, "Go find my Galactic Guards, and they will help." ”

The Archangel nodded, looking at the Iron Lord with a slightly regretful smile.

The latter frowned and asked, "What are you laughing at?" ”

"Actually, the Abo Military Department had already made a list at the behest of Makado and sent a summoning order. While we were talking, there were probably several warbands that had received orders to leave for the rendezvous and the location to wait for me. ”

"So, like Rogge said, it's an expedition, but you don't really have to argue, your sons are on the list."

He gets two expressionless faces.

"I'm just here to give you a notice." St. Giles forced himself to say so in a calm tone.

"But I didn't expect you to be so active in this matter, and even briefly forgot the common sense of our executive branch that any large-scale military joint operation must be carried out by order from the Ministry of War, remember, two adults?"

The holographic projection table was plunged into darkness, and both Perturabo and Roger Dorn exited the holographic projection table at this instant.

The pale blue fluorescence dissipated, but the archangel smiled uncontrollably and slowly stood up holding the armrest of the throne.

Ten thousand years later, the main bridge of the Red Tears is still distinctive, with pillars made of crimson cobblestone mined from the depths of the Bar Desert supporting a massive white dome on which the light of the stars shines.

The dome alone is enough to make the main bridge a work of art, but it's just a disguise. Only the most stupid person would really think that St. Giles turned the main bridge of his flagship into a work of art.

Beneath the dome was a large area of war equipment.

Dense thick cables stretched out from the energy center, connecting every contemplative in the vicinity. Men and women in naval uniforms are busily moving between the instruments, doing complex tasks to fully awaken the long-dormant war machine.

Once the preparations are complete, all kinds of weapons, including the Nova Cannon, will wake up completely.

If anyone could observe this beautiful ship in a vacuum, they would find that its secondary gun positions and even the various hangars were in motion, like an ancient beast awakening.

St. Giles took a slow breath of air and heard the prelude to war for the first time in a long time. He knew it well, and even the mountains of official documents could not wear out the terrible familiarity.

Every genetic agent, no matter what their appearance, personality, or predetermined responsibilities are, there is one thing they cannot escape - war.

The Emperor had chosen this path for them when they were just embryos floating in a tank of nutrients in the laboratory. Regardless of their nature, they are killing machines. Love it or not, violence is always in their blood.

This is true even in St. Giles.

The demon was right about him, and if you put everything aside, he was indeed a bloodthirsty warrior. However, it was precisely because of all this that he was not crushed by the thirst for blood. He could be St. Giles, not a ghoul on a wild planet.

Just like his children

"Primordial."

The angel smiled and stepped down from his throne, and the long staircase could not hide his enthusiasm at the moment. He stretched out his hands and hugged his warband leader heavily, causing the latter to feel a little overwhelmed for a moment.

"You seem to have something special today." Dante, the leader of the war group, said.

Even though the angel had finished hugging, he still seemed uncomfortable. This emotion is simply a completely transparent existence for the regent.

St. Giles looked at him with some amusement.

He had never seen Dante look like this, and since he had been promoted to captain of the war group in the war against the demons, Dante had never hidden his true emotions under that golden armor, and there had never been such a moment of emotional exposure.

"Aren't you the same, Dante?" St. Giles asked with a smile. "Don't you think today is a different day?"

Dante gave him a quick look, then bowed his head again and replied, "It's just war, my lord." ”

"Yes, war—but not the kind of defense you're familiar with. We have no fortress to defend, and while the enemy may still be inseparable from the demons, this time it's different, my son. ”

"This time, we were on the initiative. If I had not restrained you and allowed you to fight all over the galaxy like your other brothers, then you would have understood how much difference there is between active and passive in war."

As he spoke, Saint Giles sighed inevitably: "In the end, it is I who bind you. ”

"Please don't say that, my lord!"

"I just want it." St. Giles said.

He raised his chin and looked defiantly at his war leader, who looked at him in astonishment and helplessness, not knowing what to say.

Dante had been a warband for five centuries and sixty years, and had been the warband leader for four hundred years. The time he spent with the original body was unmatched in the entire warband, and even when you looked at the Legion period, I am afraid that there were few people who could compare to him.

But he must admit that today was the first time he had seen such a St. Giles.

Perhaps, this is the original character of the original body? Dante couldn't help but think.

He hastened to extinguish this thought, but inevitably a little snooping thought arose. So he looked at his original body again, and this time, Saint-Giles welcomed the observation of his closest son with a calm countenance, and Dante was horrified.

The familiar regent of the past, the giant who always smiled with affinity, is gone. Instead, a warrior with a sword in his hand, even the scarlet gems that adorned the sumptuous armor looked as hideous as blood splattered from the killing.

The archangel was supposed to be majestic and kingly, and the wings behind him made him as holy as a god, but now, Dante didn't see any demigods, only a warrior with great fighting spirit and enthusiasm.

A pure, warrior who wants to fight for protection.

"I'm going to regain my pride, my son." St. Giles said calmly. "For 10,000 years, when people talk about me, not many people remember that I also used to slay demons and evil on Terra with a sword and spear in my hand."

"For them, it's just a story in my aura, and they want to know if I'll visit their world tomorrow, which is their main pursuit. It's strange that everybody seems to see me as their life's goal."

"It shouldn't be like this, just like people shouldn't see you as a shadow of me, and see you as my right hand outstretched."

"They only know that you are my warlord Dante, but they don't know that you once faced a terroristic demon army alone, defending a crumbling fortress and protecting countless people."

"I don't mean to judge between these two ways of protecting the Empire, but I do have a personal preference, for me"

He jerked out the sword at his waist, the red-dyed blade gleaming. It had long since been destroyed, and it was Vulcan himself who picked it up and forged it again. The steel that reshaped it came from Nostramo, and the technology that replaced it came from Mars.

It was supposed to be an indestructible blade, but it had been dormant in the private arsenal of St. Giles for countless years, and it was only now that it was truly unsheathed.

The angel's voice began to echo across the main bridge, and the PAS system was activated, spreading his words throughout the ship and even the surrounding universe. The words are simple, but they contain endless power.

"Loyalists—"

"The time has come to fulfill our duties, the time to keep our promises. Draw your sword and kill the enemy, live up to the emperor's will! ”

(End of chapter)