"Ah~~ What a boring time, making people nostalgic for the old days."

His lieutenant numbly and obediently lowered his helmeted head, and removed the architectural design and the annual plunder index financial statements that had already been approved by the leader—even though the leather drawings and statements had forced their entire gang to work overtime for six weeks in addition to looting and directing the construction, and the war blacksmith only gave a cursory glance at it with great mercy—but this time there was no request to redo the first plan! The Chaos Iron Warriors are grateful.

The war blacksmith sat on his new throne in his new palace, well, boredly watching through the biomonitors that covered two full walls, as the xenomorphs, aliens, mutants, and other goblins of the place, under the supervision of his Iron Warrior's whips, boots, and blasters, diligently began to level the square in front of the palace for him.

In order to build this monitor within the time limit he requested, the remaining dimensional blacksmiths and mechanical scavengers under his command consumed about one-third of the alien brains, spinal cords, and optic nerves in this place at one time to make the main external displays, sensors, and link signal pathways.

His new lieutenants, warband warriors, Robinia subordinates, and the planet's dregs and slaves fear him now more than ever, and many believe that he has actually ascended, but the only reason they are still unsure that he is already a demon lord is simply why he remains in the real universe and not behind the Veil.

The War Blacksmith was aware of the rumors about him that were being spread in private, and had no intention of breaking their new impression of him, which was good and convenient, and it allowed his orders to be carried out faster and better, and saved a lot of explanations, ha, if some tall and strong former Imperial Fist was here, he would have to use his poor brain to think about it for a long time and start torturing himself, hey, he didn't know how to enjoy it. A man who is so ascetic, self-disciplined, disgusted with chaos, and filled with righteous anger that he thinks is noble. Well, the good thing is that the last time he saw the other person, it was clear that the other person had learned some ways to relax his muscles. What's the use of making yourself miserable? If you want to live happily, you have to learn to transfer this internal friction pain to those who always want your life to be on top or who don't like you.

After all, well, Malodarax was originally a world that had been completely "polluted" for a long time, and the torture of the planet itself made it take on a form that made even the observation of Malodarax from space itself a test of willpower and mental strength.

Due to the complete infestation, corrosion, and infection of the subspace forces, the original color of Marodarax is difficult to describe in a specific normal adjective, except that it will appear in optical vision a very close to black, very dark color, like a coagulated clod of decaying blood or something like that.

The first sight of the southern hemisphere will think they have seen some horrible and inflamed and ischemic-necrotic, planet-sized super cancerous tumor, and if the unfortunate person can see the north side of the planet a second time, he or she will see bright purple foxfire smiling and smiling on the cracks in the earth that bleed the blood of corruption like living creatures, rising and burning from time to time, turning any living creature that passes by into something terrible and dementing, and then igniting their flesh and finally their soul.

And now—

After the War Blacksmith disappeared from his original domination for a short time—no one knows exactly how long, only by comparing the very different Chanto at a certain point in time—things began to get even more chaotic and out of control.

When the Warlord walked out of his throne hall wearing silver-black Imperial power armor, with a glittering golden ribbon, medals, skull eagle wings on his chest, and wielding his power hammer, at first, all the wargang members and the Black Machine "guests" thought that the war blacksmith had gone completely mad, and that this would be the beginning of a new competition, and whoever could kill Shanto first and take his head and survive to the end would undoubtedly have a greater say in the subsequent division of the spoils and territory.

Thinking so, the six fools and unlucky ghosts who rushed forward and prepared to immediately pull out their long-cherished killer weapon to kill their superiors and masters immediately ate their last lesson as creatures: not every Chaos Cultist has a chance to eat the integrated miniature corona cannon and the power hammer with strange black and golden crack magic - not the golden and flaming effect common to the Puppet Emperor's lackeys, but the stronger the Chaos Cultist, the stronger the effect on the Dark Believer, If you are particularly favored by the god of chaos, then the terrifying power of wiping off the skin of you from three feet away - and the baptism of a relic, technology, pistol.

Of course, their desperation culminated in the ashes of their bodies and the last glimpse of their souls, much to the satisfaction of their consignees: the ammunition, rays, and weapons they threw or fired at the smug war blacksmiths were intercepted by a sturdy encircling Void Shield, and Shanto himself was smiling unscathed at his first practice subjects with a standard eight white teeth, and then blew the muzzle of his pistol.

After the second group of unlucky ghosts also died, the ruling class order here began to restore itself, and they immediately organized an army under the advice of Shanto, and by using xenomorphs and xenomorphs as cannon fodder in large numbers and at any cost, the colors of the northern and southern hemispheres of the planet quickly began to become uniform, the tumor-like hills and deformed blood vessels were incinerated, and the foxfire and bloody cracks were poured and filled with countless corpses and molten iron.

A new palace was built at the behest of the War Blacksmith, who buried the Red Widow's severed head in the space reef outside Marodarax into the foundation, and hammered two special enchanted bullets into her eyes that would never be extinguished, cursing her to be the guardian of the place for all eternity, until the ghost's power was exhausted by protecting the palace.

So now, apart from cleaning up the grey Hungry beasts in the space reef and overseeing the construction of new weapon defense platforms, Chanto suddenly felt a little bit of nothing to do, but his strength was still not enough...... He still needs to gather strength.

Until he saw two of his men come in with the fruits of a new round of looting.

Oh, this is the noble navigator of the puppet emperor......

A smile tugged at the corner of Shanto's mouth.

(End of chapter)