It's in the Antarctic base (?) Three generations of old, middle-aged and young (?) Before the reunion.

The Hearts of Iron are trying to move their flagship over the North Pole of the Pearl Moon and try to maintain a synchronized orbital rate there.

All other ships, including the Space Marine Cruiser, were in Carrick's orbital dockyard and resting - regardless of the details, the Iron Lord had kept his promise and given them a respite, so no one had made any unfamiliar requests to leave his Void Ship for the time being.

The waters that cover the entire planet of Pearl Moon are beautiful blue-green, but the salt content and other components are quite strong, and even the power armor of the Space Marines in the water pressure and corrosive environment under the deep sea at the North Pole can hardly keep all of their servos at normal combat capability levels for long periods of time.

If it had been Ironheart and Angelon themselves, they would not have started their exploration operations so early, enlisting the help of the Mechinators to build a large forward offshore platform, and then slowly drawing it out—referring to the loss of biochemical flesh and steel in centuries and thousands of starting points—was almost a certainty.

However, the current Iron Blood is not the one in the Eye of Fear, and with the completion of some "progress" in the visualization list, the existence of the Iron Blood is becoming ......more and more "unreasonable" and "original" in this galaxy.

In the words of some gods on the psionic side, it is not quite accurate to say that "countless threads of fate have been reunited in this place, and new nets have been unfurled".

Despite the fact that everything is invisible, few people can describe it in the language or words of any race. But in fact, in the nearby Ark Worlds and Pirate Groups or the most secret vaults in the Comoros, a prophecy has been whispered, one or more dead worlds, millions or even tens of millions of compressed pain and life essences, treasures capable of satisfying insatiable hunger and thirst, and a god of death waiting quietly in the dark.

"Speaking of which, your defenses against the Aeldari don't seem to be very strict here."

He has returned to the flagship of his warband, where the Twelfth Legion's genetic protogen, Anglon, is revisiting the new data and intelligence that further scanning of the Desert Ark's sensor array has brought to him.

Dassadra, an envoy sent by the Iron Lord to assist his brother, is currently at loggerheads with the mechanical priests of Ironheart.

The former thinks that the latter doesn't know how to modify deep diving machinery rigorously, while the latter thinks that the former is simply messing around without rules.

Dasadra swore that if this had been in Medlengard or Humso—oh, thank goodness the stubborn and unsightly scourge had finally disappeared and the Iron Blood felt much cleaner, the only question was where they would go to find the new apothecary—and suddenly Dassada had written it down and sent a new memo to Hunsor's warband, then he would have used his guns and hammers to ask the red-robed men to make sense!

But it's a pity that they are now in this situation, in an atmosphere that the Father of Genes laughs at as "friendly, united, progressive" (hell!). Dassada could only hold back his anger and wait on the bridge for the priests to complete the sacred incense and anointing procession in a circle three times, and then complete their muttering prayers before proceeding to the next modification step.

So now the Iron Warriors' war blacksmith, in addition to secretly suppressing his anger towards the mechanical believers, can only take out the politeness and accompany the Twelfth Primordial to talk here - of course, how many of these ingredients are curious about "Is the World Eater Genogen taught by a hybrid priest recruit in the form of eternal co-election really loyal" - at least the Iron Warriors who can live until the forty-first millennium later usually do a good job of managing their expressions.

- That's right, although the people they came into contact with from other parts of the galaxy seemed to have so far assumed that the Twelfth Legion was called the Iron Heart, a small but always loyal legion, and that the Twelfth Genogen was honored by the Conquest King and Supreme Tyrant of Nukeria, Angron Petra. But each of the Silver Skulls aboard the Iron Blood is surprised and alarmed to discover that they have another memory of them - the Twelfth Legion's War Dog renamed the World Eater, and their original form eventually becomes the memory of the demonic Maharaja Angelon.

So does this Angelon really exist? Or is that Angelon really just a collective hallucination of trauma and insanity that we have fallen into the eye of fear?

Retracting his divergent thoughts for a moment, and calming down, Dassada thought carefully about the Father of Ironheart's question, and replied, "Maybe it's because of the high density of anti-psionic traps and positions on our mothership, and the experience of successful capture." Oh yes—" he added, "Masters of the Prophets of the Hall of Omens before...... All have their own peculiarities, and their powers have helped us avoid the prying eyes of many xenomorphs and inanimates. ”

"Master Prophets?" Anglon blinked, "Wait a minute, do you mean Master Uthermaatra and Master Emenut Think Tank?" ”

"Ah, it's them, you already know ......? It is now the unfolding of this great rift that has caused many unbelievable events. The good thing is that it has brought you and your children to us, and I am very honored to have that. The War Blacksmith's voice smacked of nostalgia but not wanting to say goodbye, "But instead, many of us, including all of the Prophets, were also separated by the unknowable psionic storm and the space-time rift during this event, and just vanished from us. ”

"That's terrible," Genetic commented sensibly, his voice deep but very soft. "But you remember them. I'm sure you'll see each other again one day. ”

"I hope so, Your Highness."

————————

The submersible maintains a constant propulsion in an ocean rich in organic detritus and algae.

The light of the stars of the Carrick system pale from the surface of the sea, and the further they dived, the fainter the light of the stars became, and they had now dived dozens of kilometers below sea level, and all the light was completely gone, leaving only the searchlight of the submersible flickering faintly in the dark waters.

The spectacular and endless sea snow falls and falls like real snowflakes under the lights, all the way to the depths of the bottomless seabed.

Even if the whole body is wrapped in powerful power armor, one can feel a natural dislike for the deep sea from the soul, and in this completely isolated silence, a certain inexplicable fear engraved in the genes may be strongly amplified.

The Astarte procedure removes the negativity and most of the fears of the Space Marines, but this purported fear-clearing effect seems to work normally in the face of normal fronts, but it is difficult to say in some unusual scenarios, at least the Iron Hearts and their Primordials are obviously very sensitive to changes in emotions and souls, and at this moment, the awe of the irresistible power of nature makes even the sound of breathing become cautious.

Angron Petra, Dassada and a team led by Endred sat in the cabin of a submarine converted by War Blacksmith and Mechanic Priest, while Sktor guarded the reception base at the surface.

The massive pressure of the deep sea caused an eerie creaking sound outside the metal riveting and sealing layer outside the capsule, and the current carried the movement of creatures near and far along the steel.

"I remember that the exploration of the ocean here was 'mostly algae and microorganisms, but also some annelids, molluscs and crustaceans, and the morphological structure was close to that of Gutera.'"

"Yes, Your Highness."

An even stranger, sticky creeping sound "rubbed" against the submersible's outer shell, as if some kind of giant snake or giant tentacle was carefully peering for edible parts of the metal object.

"But most of the deep sea here hasn't been fully explored, right?"

"Actually, not at all, Your Highness." The war blacksmith held his weapon, his expression still calm and determined, "But the investigation of the locals' so-called 'sea monster attack' can basically be determined to be some creatures similar to the giant Obabin sea scorpion and the primordial giant worm. ”

"Huge meaning?"

"Huge means at least 70 feet long on average, Your Highness."

Angelon gave a slight estimate of the power of his weapon, but first there was a question of the water pressure - "So are they carnivorous?" ”

"As far as I know, Your Highness, the Iron Blood's analysis of them suggests that these animals may have consumed some miniature or small native creatures and plankton."

One, two, screeching scrapes passed over their heads, something huge slammed against the shell of their car, and the submersible crew shook and recalibrated their balancers.

A biological form that only appears in mortal nightmares spits across the sensor's imaging screen.

"Are these the same now?"

The War Blacksmith didn't speak, but everyone heard it, and the shockwave of dozens of powerful kinetic bombs was transmitted to the passengers' genetically fortified eardrums, or metal sensors, and with a strange howl, most of the massive figures on the bird chart began to move away.

"As far as I know, there is no such creature in the human history of Terra. Tess Dassadera. ”

"That's right, Your Highness, according to the Ironblood Library, they are creatures of the Cambrian period of Ancient Terra."

The red-haired monarch sighed. "Well, I see why you have to keep out there with so many extra unconventional weapons. Thank you for your persistence, war blacksmith. ”

"My pleasure, Your Highness."

A warning red light lit up overhead, and they felt the submersible begin to shift in a parallel way while the bird scanner began to scan the surrounding seabed with precision.

to the bottom of the sea.

(End of chapter)