"Were you really once a member of the Iron Warriors?"

"A guy like you didn't die under the strict iron laws of the Legion?"

"If I hadn't been able to see your soul directly, I'd have thought you were Alpharis."

The one who voiced his grievances was not Clone Peturabo, but Magnus.

Perturabo heard Magnus mention the Iron Warriors' iron laws, and noticed the word harshness, and cast a meaningful look in his eyes under his helmet.

"Nope." Locke said as if chatting, "The Legions were all mutinied when I became Astarte, and if it weren't for Dantioc's raid on a transport, I'd be one of the traitors now, so of course I've not been tortured by the Iron Law." ”

After a pause of two seconds, Locke complained a few more words.

"Eleven kills, the task is not completed, and one out of ten people dies."

"Really, what kind of cleverness does this have to come up with such a rule?"

"Is it because Perturabo has produced too many genetic seeds, or is my legion really steel inside and out to the point of being so resistant to toss?"

"If you change to other legions, you won't be wiped out earlier, how can you let our guys deal with it after 10,000 years?"

Locke said a few words to himself as if he were acting in a one-man show.

The clones were silent, like well-behaved listeners in the Macurag Theater.

"He must have been a super talker before he had the makeover surgery."

Horus thought to himself.

Astarte is not without emotion, or is all a bunch of stuffy bottles.

Dante, the leader of the Holy Blood Angel Warband, once took others for fathers when he was unconscious, and cried out like a child: "Look! Father! I've become an angel! ”

But becoming Astarte does suppress emotions to a certain extent, making Astarte a little "stuffy".

The Locke in front of him was a former Iron Warrior, and this is still a chatterbox, and Horus can't imagine how capable this guy must be before he is transformed.

In addition, Locke obviously didn't stay in the Iron Warriors Legion for long, otherwise he wouldn't have been like this for a long time.

"You're 10,000 years old, too."

Perturabo had been silent, and suddenly spoke.

"Dante, who has shown obvious signs of aging in the Holy Blood Angel Warband, is only about a thousand years old, you have lived for so long, have you been in the eye of fear for too long, so you can be like those people of the Black Legion who can fight veterans for eternity at every turn."

This sentence was like a mouth ball, directly plugging Locke's gushing mouth.

Locke directly became reticent.

He recalled a lot.

Emerge from the deathclaw drop pod and find yourself landing on an unknown planet, the stars are purple.

A fortress abandoned by the Iron Warriors.

Some fleshless and hateful-looking mutated freaks.

and the icons of the emperor, which were pieced together from broken copper and rubbish, and could only be identified as the emperor's icons by the words engraved on the surface.

And also......

"The agreement I signed when I joined the Sector clearly states that I have the right to conceal my past, as long as I continue to fight for humanity conscientiously." Locke said coldly, "You are also a special combatant, not superior to me, and I don't need to answer your questions." ”

Locke didn't say a word after that.

Just as Locke's language has the function of warding off evil spirits, while he remains silent, enemies gradually appear in his path.

After destroying many enemies with the combat skills that Ling Locke considered outrageous even at the level of a new Thunder Warrior, the group walked down the plain and monotonous steel corridor into a large gear-shaped indoor space.

There are quite a few defenders here, but not the Space Marines of Iron Warrior Renegade, but the Dreadeye Natives who have been taken captive or ruled by the traitors in any way they can.

Among them are not only humans, but even the Hundred Eyes Worm, a fellow of the original Sadistic Demon Prince named Ubang Drak.

Most of the defenders, who were made up of flesh mortals and a small number of powerful aliens, didn't even have the privilege of confronting the clones, and by the time the clones and Locke entered the room, many of them had already been assassinated by the Dark Spirit warriors.

All Clones and Danteok had to do was move forward and shoot every enemy they saw, as simple as that.

After sweeping the area like a whirlwind of clouds, Horus paused to take a closer look around.

It's a gear-shaped room.

In each of the raised empty spaces of the "gears" are some strange-looking creations.

Before they could see what they were, everyone's attention was drawn to the center of the gear room.

In the center is a large pit filled with arms-like objects of steel and twisted limbs that seem to have a life of their own, carrying things up and down.

And what they carry is not weapons and ammunition, but food, food that has been concentrated to the extreme.

"Here comes the flares." Locke shoved a white round of ammunition into the barrel of the refill underneath the blaster and fired it into the crater.

When the light illuminated the whole pit as if it were daylight, Locke's arms drooped and he did not move, as if someone had smashed him on the head.

The clones don't need flares to see what's underneath.

Killiman looked up at Locke after hearing the sound of a blaster falling on the ground.

In his opinion, this Astarte is either psychologically poor to the point of being embarrassed, or he sees something that makes it difficult for him to accept beyond his psychological limits.

And Astarte's psychological limit has never been easy to penetrate, not to mention, this pit is filled with some people who have suffered tragically, and it is not some terrifying thing that hits the soul.

"Materials...... Material...... They ......," Locke shuddered.

Sensing Locke's anger, hatred, resentment, sorrow, and sadness, Angelon approached Locke's side and pressed his large hand lightly on Astarte's shoulder.

Inside the pit are some people.

It looks like it's all human, human female.

The identification of humanity and gender is very obvious in these people, they seem to have been specially selected and do not have much variation in appearance.

And these women are already fat and swollen to incredible proportions.

A person is about a few hundred catties, or even a thousand catties...... The largest of them were the size of a mountain, and it was unbelievable that they were still alive.

And those arms of steel and flesh are feeding these people up and down, directly opening the modified mouthparts of these people's mouths, forcibly shoving food that looks like feces into their mouths, and then lifting their fat and swollen necks, causing the food to slide down the esophagus.

And so on and so forth.

(End of chapter)

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