The Ninth Legion, the Queen of Glory class battleship carrier.

In the secluded room on the ground floor, there were terrifying screams coming from the narrow corridor, and there was no one stationed or guarded along the road, and there was not even a single light in the corridor.

This is the room used to hold Astarte, who has fallen into a complete blood thirst, and can also be called a cage prison.

The heavy metal door creaked open, and the only light reflected in the dark hallway, and then a large figure walked out of the room, and the door slammed shut from the inside.

Immediately, the corridor fell into boundless darkness again, leaving only the dull footsteps of Dong Dong, which passed far and clearly.

"How's it going?"

The commander of the first company, Michelle Raldoren, hid around the corner of the hallway, stopping the figure from emerging from the darkness.

"Company commander, we can't wait any longer, we must inform Lord Primordial."

The chief pharmacist of the Ninth Legion, Toronto Ulm, walked out of the corridor.

He was holding a double-edged power axe in his hand, which was still stained with a little minced meat, and the crimson power armor still left traces of jet-black blood splatters.

"Chief Apothecary: Toronto Ulm, I know the gravity of this matter, but I must ensure the glory of the Ninth Legion."

The first company commander, Michel Laldoren, spoke in a serious tone, but it sounded more like a fierce and restrained voice, and he was ready to leave after speaking.

He had received the news that St. Giles was about to return home, and he needed to lead a team to the bridge to meet his genetic protogen, and St. Giles would personally preside over the memorial service.

"Company commander."

Toronto's tone was a little more solemn, and the latest data was passed on.

This experiment on blood thirst is shocking.

Michelle Lalldoren paused, but kept moving with determination.

"Company Commander, I suggest that you better take a look at the data passed on now, you really can't wait any longer."

Toronto Ulm shook off the blood stains from the power axe with a flick of his wrist and inserted it into the card slot on his back with his backhand.

If Michel Raldoren doesn't stop, he'll have to be ready to rush over and intercept.

"Mistress St. Giles is coming back soon, are you sure I want to watch it now?" Michelle stopped again.

"Yes, right now."

Toronto Ulm affirmed.

"At least we'll talk about it after the memorial service is over."

Michelle Lalldoren's voice trembled slightly.

He couldn't let the brothers who died on the Baal moon leave with a stain, and it wasn't their fault.

"I almost couldn't help but chop them in the confinement room."

Toronto Ulm roared to vent his emotions, as the chief pharmacist, how could he not know the importance of the memorial service.

But he can wait, the brothers who are thirsty for blood really can't wait.

The Ninth Legion, whether it is external gossip and speculation, or internal contradictions, has reached its most acute moment.

"If you don't report back to Lord Primordial, I'm afraid that my brothers who are thirsty for blood will no longer be able to leave as Imperial soldiers."

Chief Pharmacist Toronto Ulm calmed down and used the equipment on his robotic arm to project the process of treating a bloodthirsty warrior.

Astarte, who was imprisoned in the soothing room, was not fatal with his pale skin and fangs, but his cheeks, which had been visibly out of shape, almost made them lose their human form.

The worst thing is that these warriors have basically lost all consciousness, and have become beasts that can only bite and eat all the creatures in front of them, even if their names are called.

Had it not been for the pharmacist's prayer in their ears and the reflexive response, Toronto Ulm would have even been able to pronounce them dead, assuming that what was left behind was nothing more than a mutant shell.

"Do you think such an existence can still be called Astarte? Or is it still human? ”

Toronto Ulm leaned against the wall of the hallway, taking off his helmet to wipe the blood from it.

He was the chief pharmacist of the Ninth Legion, the one in the entire Legion who knew the horrors of the blood thirst problem the most.

Even Michelle Laldoren, the commander of the first company, did not know the true harm of blood thirst, and this almost irreversible damage made Toronto Ulm unable to solve it even after searching for a solution.

Now, even though these Astartes' genes have not undergone any changes, the obvious alienation traits on their bodies have made their identity doubtful.

Whether it is an alien or an Imperial soldier needs to be redetermined.

"Toronto Ulm, based on your status as Chief Pharmacist of the Ninth Legion, I confirm once again that it is necessary to notify our genetic protogen, St. Giles, immediately."

"Yes, I confirm."

The commander of the first company, Michel Laldoren, received an affirmative reply, and instantly seemed to be drained of all his glory, and his mental state visibly withered to the naked eye.

The mighty Ninth Legion, led by him, came to such a situation, Michel felt that he had failed the Empire, the Ninth Legion, and His Highness Alexander and Lord St. Giles.

"Then pass on all the information you have obtained to Lord St. Giles."

Michel Lalldoren walked lonely into the dark corridor, each step heavy and slow.

...

Starship Bridge.

The senior commanders of the Ninth Legion spontaneously converged towards the launch bay.

The pharmacists also received orders from Toronto Ulm to greet them.

St. Giles was already aboard the Thunderhawk gunboat, and was about to arrive at his legion under the escort of the Holy Blood Guard.

"Company commander."

When the commanders saw Michelle's figure, they all stepped forward to greet him, and spontaneously made way for him.

Michelle bowed slightly to them, as usual.

However, these keen commanders still noticed that the spirit of today's company commander seemed to be a little sluggish.

The chief pharmacist, Toronto Ulm, ran briskly towards the team of pharmacists through the passageway, whispering to them what he was communicating with.

Michel Lardorren walked alone through the crowd to the front of the bridge, taking off the badges of honor on the power armor one by one.

Then he fell to his knees with a thud, bowed his head and waited for the return of the genetic protogen, St. Giles, waiting for the final judgment on him.

Many commanders looked at each other, but in a few moments, they all came behind the commander of the company, Michelle, took off the symbol of honor from his armor and knelt on one knee.

In space, the red-painted Thunderhawk gunship passed through layers of energy shields and arrived at Starship Launch Bay under the gaze of everyone.

St. Giles walked ahead in armor, holding a box with flags in his hand, followed by two teams of Holy Blood Guards.

"Father."

Michelle Raldoren didn't look up.

Listening to the sound of footsteps gradually reaching him, he silently closed his eyes and waited for accountability.

"Get up, I know what's going on in the Legion."

St. Giles responded calmly, but there was a slight arc on his face because he couldn't control the excitement in his heart.

It seems that his best offspring, Michel Raldoren, finally knows to turn to his genetic father for help.

Now that his sons have called themselves father and recognized his identity, what can St. Giles blame them?