Destiny Steel

The scene of the purification ceremony

The scent of specially made Tizka meditation incense fills the entire Hall of Omens.

Above the heavenly dome, the eyes are pure darkness.

Hidden in the shadows, countless gold and gemstone powder-coated eyes gaze into the center of the venue.

The Lost Cultivation Chamber, from one of the Great Sages, was still working faithfully and reliably, a faint green light enveloping the faces of those who were sleeping within.

Julius' previous handwritten mark of purity filled all the places on the artifact that might have been stamped—the cautious young man consulted the library for instructional books on the Martian Cult, the Holy Anglican, and the Order of Astarte, and spared no skimp on his ink, fire paint, and parchment.

The golden red candles lit for the ceremony danced brightly in the hazy black shadows, becoming the only four sources of light in the hall.

The curator of the "————————" think tank raised his hands and used his uvula, tongue and tip of the tongue in a psionic propulsion, so that he could pronounce incantations in a way that was completely incomprehensible to others, and in some bands that only psionics could capture, in a way that untrained mortals could not use.

The supreme energy surging in the Supreme Wizard's body was being released through the bright eyes of the birds on the falcon-shaped staff, and the vast ocean was calm, unusually generous and loving, and Amenuth could feel a vast amount of the most rare power of calm, wisdom, and knowledge flowing through his mortal body.

His think tank apprentice, Julius, served as his ritual assistant - mainly to provide more auxiliary psionic powers to his teacher.

Due to the current severe shortage of psionics, the blonde Astarte, who had to work part-time as a warband priest, stood on the energy node of the purification ritual charging circle, closed his eyes, and exported his spiritual energy to the core node of the ritual in a precise and controlled manner.

"Praise you——! The one who is on the throne——! Cleanse us of the dust that is on things——! ”

A stunningly beautiful and brilliant blue filled the eyes of the Supreme Wizard, and on his staff, the falcon-shaped carving looked like it was about to fly due to the influence of the violently fluctuating psionic energy—no, it didn't look, a bird-shaped apparition was gathering higher above the top of the staff, and was rapidly growing larger above the celebrant of the ceremony—

“…… I said, Dasada, while it's true that we can't really hold some kind of Corpse Emperor lackey ritual on the Legion flagship, but now that the height of the feedback energy readings on this psionic thing in my helmet has begun to disturb me, isn't this wizard really going to make any big moves for us? ”

Shanto, the war blacksmith who traveled with Dasadra as the recorder, quietly questioned his companion through his helmet's built-in communicator and private channel in a serious gesture.

"I don't know, Shanto, but it would have been better if he had poked the basket." Dassad, now a full twenty-eight centimeters taller than before, replied indifferently in the new, recast, silver and gold power armor, "Then I can press this remote control and blow everything here into the sky with a reasonable amount of sound—directly into the cosmic vacuum." ”

"If the 'everything' you say includes the two of us, then I still choose to hope that the wizard can succeed in finishing this family drink."

Shanto muttered, using the quill in his hand to dip some more bone powder ink, "Oh, the engine room of the Iron Blood! What is that?! ”

The Supreme Wizard closed his eyes tightly, his black hair with a blue-purple sheen dancing wildly in the air current.

Astarte's entire body was swept into the air by a psionic hurricane, and it was difficult to tell if he was unconscious.

Above his head, the giant bird-shaped apparition that had been summoned was wildly changing its hue: black, lapis lazuli blue to ultramarine, elegant violet to uncomfortably bright pink, vibrant verdant to putrid yellow-green, rich blood to rusty dry red—the circle was hungry and incessantly draining the host's power, and a pained expression appeared on the think tank curator's face.

"I think he's going to overturn, it's familiar, I've seen at least a dozen wizards before their vitality was drained by rituals - I'm afraid he's made a big fight, it's just a recovery sample, and there's really no need for him to do it."

Dassadra didn't answer Shanto's words, but the Iron Warrior veteran quietly clenched a hand.

——————————

Luft Huron was sitting on his bridge seat.

This was the Spectre of Destruction, his flagship, who had followed Huron long before it happened.

For every part of this flagship, the Blackheart King was able to reflect the most subtle basic structure in his mind even with his eyes closed, and perhaps even better than the maintenance personnel of the ship itself.

After all, for a leader, if he does not know everything in his place, he will not be able to better implement his strategy and will, and it is easier to be negligent and deceitful.

Admittedly, as the position of its owner has changed, the place has shifted, and the passage of time, the Spectre of Destruction has also changed some parts of itself "with the times".

The double-headed eagle mark, symbolizing the service of the puppet emperor in the past, has been removed or directly damaged or smeared, and as a substitute and cover, the crew has replaced all the original main decorations with the eight-pointed star mark, which is now the object of their loyalty.

The rusty red black Iron Claw mark of the Red Pirate, as Huron and his men now call themselves, replaces the original Claw of the Astral Claw Warband.

There is no doubt that a great deal of change has taken place in the crew that follows Huron, and anyone who dares to question, resist, or disobey will be transformed into a growing number of new decorations on the Wraith: skinned skeletons, skinned and simply disposed of, carved or unengraved with profanity, severed heads, and words written in blood.

Even so, only utter madness is not allowed here. Luft Huron never fully asserts his allegiance to any one of the four gods, he only chooses what is best for him, and as such, the Lord of the Red Pirates will not tolerate any disorder, loss of control, or chaos under his nose.

He moves between the four powers, grabbing what he wants, and this self-confidence comes from his admiration for a certain kind of order—efficiency, precision, obedience, and execution.

Thus, the neo-badab tyrant is able to think carefully.

Now before him was the latest omen of the soothsayers: the rise of the morning star, the steel of the sky.

Huron pondered.

His thoughts naturally drifted to the Lord of the Black Legion, followed by the other forces, the other ...... Person?

The Blackheart King curled his lips, revealing bloody teeth.

"Well, the situation has to become more – suitable for war."

Wail......

It's bad weather, but there are still two shifts today

I forgot to press the publish button again and walked away (turn my eyes)

Some other fragmented thoughts:

Is there anyone watching Fist of Empires...... (Mask of Pain)

Why is the information of a start-up group so scarce?,Everyone is basically re-reading each otherLEX.,It's really pitiful that there is so little sinicization.,Any group searches for more information than them......

I'd like to write more about Imperial Fist, and you'll have something to write for me, too

Hell Joke: Today's Red Pirate position was originally the Imperial Fist, but because there was too little information about the Imperial Fist, it was impossible to write it, so the Blackheart King took the Imperial Fist position

(End of chapter)