The lumens inside and outside the small living room have been adjusted to a softer hue and brightness to make the seated guests feel emotionally relaxed, and Lamizan even lit some soothing incense against the eyes of his dog.

[Your affection for this big-breasted, brainless and good-for-nothing Virgin Silly Big Red Hair, which is almost close to low-level taste, is best stopped in moderation, Lami Zane. 】

[Isn't that a bit too much, Pepe, love is a beautiful thing and feeling...... Besides, Angelon has brains now, who doesn't like it...... I mean, ahem, Peturabo, baby, my favorite of all the primordials is you! 】

【…… Hum. 】

"Anyway, I'm glad I'm finally able to meet you guys in person, and I'm glad to see that the matter is settled for the time being." The tall, red-haired demigod sat in someone's private-style living room, full of mechanical style and very comfortably decorated with cushions, cushions, drapes and greenery, to a man who had removed his disguise...... One primordial said.

The Twelfth Primordial held a cup of hot spiced black tea in his broad palm, and the cup of normal original size was a little too small in his hand, and those precious tea leaves were "voluntarily" contributed by a certain primordial who was not here now.

He was not guarded by his own heirs, and although the scarred and remorseful Ironheart Monks insisted that they leave a team of elites with the Father of Genes, even if they could not enter the room, then guard the door, but the Twelfth Gene Primordial gently but firmly demanded that they first go to the infirmary of the Iron, the Destiny Steel, where their own apothecary brothers could heal them.

"If you remain obedient to me and love me, my children, go to the medical deck of the Destiny Steel and offer me your wholehearted healing, and then present the proof of your healing to my throne as a medal."

Perturabo snorted disapprovingly at the remark, but his long, fluffy tail swayed slightly in the cockpit out of some positive emotion.

——————— the screen returns to the present small living room——————

There was still a hint of tiredness and blackness visible under Anglun's deep eye sockets, although he had also suffered some physical injuries due to the elements of the previous riots, mainly the rapid proliferation of muscle tears and skin bursts in various places - but the horrific self-healing ability of the original gene itself was more than enough to deal with those flesh wounds, and what really caused these signs of exhaustion for a protoplasm was some invisible, psionic energy, or rather, mental consumption.

Despite the fact that Mr. Ramizane Kalosini, the great sage of "Kédomo" or the temporary resident of the Fourth Primordial Body, chanted and attacked (?) Angron, the first to crawl the sea of blood to wake up and return to his senses, soon assisted the Iron Sanitation to collect the minds and bodies of most of his accompanying heirs.

But in order to better use his powers to appease every suffering soul who has fallen into the wrath of the Blood God and cannot get out of it anytime soon, and to drag them out of the Brass War Hell as soon as possible (the longer they fall in, the more likely they will not be able to return), Angelon forcibly combed and absorbed the negative emotions of dozens of souls that exceeded the normal level without enough Iron Heart Hermitage members, dedicated rituals, and ritual artifacts to assist them.

Soothed by their father, the Astartes eventually fell into a baby's sweet sleep and were sent to the Destiny Steel infirmary in orbit, but it was clear that Anglon was not as easy as he was in front of his children.

As soon as he entered the small parlor and closed the door to block out the worried eyes of the distant heirs, Angron's huge body swayed from side to side, and when he finally reached the huge full-size sofa, he immediately threw himself into the comfortable sofa and lay down, letting out a long, heavy, relieved sigh.

"Ahh "The sofa is as comfortable as I imagined. He stroked the surface of the couch, "That's good, I think maybe I can set up a room like this on the Ark of the Desert in the future." ”

The Scornless walked up to the couch, the sluice gates venting around its crew compartment, and the hatch opened, and a stuffed tyrant with black and white flowers looked down into the eyes of the lying giant with a haughty gesture.

"Hmph."

"Ahh

Angelon winked at the black-and-white stuffed tyrant as if to confirm something for the first time, and then turned his gaze to the other person in the room, the "Cadomo" mechanical sage, who was no longer in place, the large, deformed shell of the mechanical form standing beside him. A tender and urbane version of his brother, whom Angron once thought he knew but learned of his inevitable betrayal and patiently awaited his return for many years, was there gazing with a hint of curiosity at the Twelfth Genetic Prototype.

The red-haired giant stood up slightly, and sat up straighter.

He looked left and right.

"Ramizane...... Commander? Seeing such a vivid and rich expression of surprise on the face of his fourth brother, who was known for being cruel, ruthless, and uninteresting, the Twelfth Primordial felt as if most of his heavy mental exhaustion had disappeared.

"Peturabo...... My brother ......? "It's a rare sight to see the black and white demon prototype with a plump and fluffy mane on its chest and a dripping look in its eyes.

Angelon laughed, and the conquering king of Nucheria, the Iron-Hearted Merciful, laughed heartily, loud but not sarcastic, clean, hearty, and pleasant, like the kind of laughter one would think of as a true warrior and hero. As his happy mood dispersed uncontrollably, a soft spiritual ripple spread along with his laughter, making the corners of the mouths of all the creatures who felt it unconsciously puff up a smile.

Lamizan felt the knotted threads of thought in his mind seem to be gently brushed invisibly, not to tighten the already tight strings of thoughts, but rather to a soft sense of relaxation, his shoulders falling loosely, and at the same time he felt the soreness and stiffness of his neck and shoulder muscles that he hadn't noticed for a long time—how long had they been so unconsciously taut?

"Seriously, I thought you'd be more ...... A little bigger. ”

Angelon said to his real fourth brother, "But you do look as nice as I thought you would." ”

"Hmph. It's best not to try to put your hands on them. ”

"Of course. Not now. The red-haired giant smiled, then turned his head to Lamizan, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Lamizanne." So let's put myself on the ground. I am Angelon, the twelfth son of our father, the genetic protogenone of Ironheart, Angelon of Nukeria. ”

"Thank you...... And, you've worked hard. Angelon said softly.

For a moment, Lamizanne felt as if she had seen an illusory giant silver-white wings appear behind the red-haired demigod.

(End of chapter)