While a war blacksmith has unhindered the acceptance that he has inexplicably appeared at a certain point in the past, and happily begins to make some "necessary preparations" for his "little surprise", the river of time is flowing slowly over the cobblestones formed at each particular node.

Ahriman and his twin brother were walking down the beaten path at the far end of the Great Pyramid, they had just landed from the airport, helmets, staffs, scimitars, many scrolls, spice bags, and new runic trophies swaying with the rhythm of the walk on the magnetic locks around their waists, and the long black hair of the Thousand Sons Warrior was tied back with a ribbon, and the young Azek narrowed his narrow dark blue eyes and asked with some concern, "Olmuzd, are you alright?" ”

The warrior of the Thousand Sons questioned had almost exactly the same brown skin and noble countenance as the typical Achaemenid aristocracy of Azek Arimán, except that he looked a little pale, and the tiredness of a sickly face rarely seen by an Astarte loomed in his eyebrows.

"I think it's okay, brother." Olmouzd and Azek share the same surname, in fact, they are twins, and both brothers have passed tests and examinations, have been selected for the Legion of a Thousand Sons, and have undergone surgical transformation, and now they are both twins and comrades, so they are inseparable most of the time, and they are always the first to notice changes in each other.

"I should just be a little tired after overusing my strength......"

"But we shouldn't be tired," Azek looked at his brother with increasing concern, he did not look good, thinking of the recent increase in flesh and blood mutations in the legion and the dwindling number of companions, Chiko pursed his lips, "Maybe we can go back and rest first." See if incense and meditation can make you feel better. ”

"You're right...... Azek ...... ...... perhaps" Olmuzd muttered and shook as his power armor servo stabilizer helped him correct his stance and allow him to barely hold himself up. Azek's intensified gaze gave him a creep of bulging sight, like a living thing, just wriggling from under the skin of his brother's cheek, "fast and slow" into the back of his neck. He looked around with a slight trepidation, hoping that no one would notice anything strange about them.

But how to help his brother get back to their quarters, and then whether to go to the Legion Apothecary right away, or let him ...... first?

He hesitated for about a second, and at that moment, Lyman's ears caught the footsteps of the others, and the last thing Azek Ahriman had time to do was snap the golden-covered helmet with eyes, eagle feet, and teardrops to his brother's head to hide his increasingly twisted and painful expression.

As soon as his hand left Olmuzd, Azek turned around and saw the comer clearly, his heart sank suddenly, the comer was also wearing the red and gold armor of the Fifteenth Legion, Azek's excellent magical perception could feel that the surging power of the other party was surging out steadily, and faintly "circled" him and Olmuzd in a certain range.

What does that mean? Who is this? Is it a new position in the legion? I don't remember anyone in the Legion who had mastered the power of the Vast Ocean to such an extent. Despite such a critical juncture, Azek couldn't help but habitually make a general assessment of the opponent's power fluctuations and spell skills.

The powerful uninvited guest had the Legion's Sun insignia painted on one shoulder plate and his officer on the other, and the bright blue eyepieces on his helmet stared silently at the Ahriman brothers for a moment, but did not move.

The sound of hurried footsteps and the grinding of robes, apparently untrained in combat, accompanied by a mortal, a thin mortal who was only as high as the chest of the warrior next to him.

What is this new mortal with a beautiful, magical-looking honey-colored face under the hood, his or her long curly black and purple hair hanging down from the sides of his face, and a man holding a staff standing beside the silent tall Legion Think Tank? His mortal servants? Or the slave girls that some of the newly conquered nobles liked to give as gifts? Or is it a mana reserve or ritual sacrifice that he raises——?

Azek Ahriman casually swept the mortal attendant's bare fingers, and was about to find a reason to distract the comrade who seemed to be interested in them, so that Azek could help his fellow brother return to his room at least decently. But his gaze froze: his memory had always been good since he was a child, especially after becoming an Astarte, so he would not be mistaken, although it was dozens of sizes smaller, but the shape and pattern of the ring on the mortal's hand, and the shape and color of the gem on the ring, no matter how you look at it, belonged to the one they had just met - Magnus, the father of their genes.

Because it was a very special huge flame black opal gem, the characteristics of this gem determined that it would be ever-changing and there would never be an identical second gem, so—

————————

"Look, I'll just say that there is no need for any combat process at all, and Azek Ahriman will definitely be caught by this ridiculously simple trap."

“…… Your wisdom and your ...... to you I know better than I used to. Success relied on the "wisdom" and experience that spanned 10,000 years, and the Supreme Wizard of Qianzi, who played the pretense, complimented vaguely.

"I don't understand, but I have reason to think that you are not respectful to me, Emenute." Utherma Atra wiped the gem from her ring, which now took on a very different color from the original, the colored parts of Opal changed from golden red to pink, purple, blue and dark, and it was constantly changing, "Azek Ariman always noticed so many things at the same time, and was completely reluctant to abandon anything, that it was difficult for him not to be attracted to details that others would not notice, and to be trapped in them. ”

The two co-conspirators then turned their gaze to the other remaining person present, and Olmuzd, who was horrified but unable to control himself, almost fell to the ground.

"Don't experiment with your Legion's communication channels, Olmuzd," the psionic advisor sighed as he walked over, "It's impossible to reach within our circle right now, no matter how loud you scream across all channels. ”

The desperate warrior of the Thousand Sons reluctantly reached his hand for the scimitar at his waist, but the seemingly slender and graceful fingers of the mortal grasped out of thin air, and the solid pottery steel on his body was easily torn apart like a thin silk garment, and the wriggling and twisted chaotic flesh wrapped inside was thus naked in the gentle sunset of Prospero.

Amenut stared unblinkingly at the mutated traits that had accompanied most of his comrades in the Legion to the end of their lives, his helmet obscuring his expression.

"The situation is really not optimistic, let's deal with it a little bit and then take him back."

(End of chapter)