"So it's certain that the time for the attack is tomorrow morning."

Angron Petra said calmly, and the others looked at the transcendent, imperial god beside them, as if they were a little awkward and unaccustomed.

But they were also surprised to find that the man said that he was not their Angron, but he was also familiar with their habits, and sat among them in the most natural posture of a Nukerian warrior.

The man was covered in gold and silver armor, and he wore a crown of sagehorns on his forehead, which represented knowledge and reason.

He was brilliant, powerful, rich, and civilized.

It's so out of place in the midst of darkness, dying, ruin, and despair.

Probably only the pride of the two sides as warriors is comparable.

But that bronzed, warrior-leader face made people want to follow and believe in it so much—just like the original, their Angron, and even more trust now.

"Yes, tomorrow morning. Our scheduled date of death. The man with the brass broadsword replied, not fearful, and even some of the gladiators laughed rudely.

Angron learns from Kleist that his name is Klomacchi, and that the brass broadsword, the Twelfth Primordial is very convinced, is just a brass broadsword, with neither a dismantling force field nor a chainsaw motor, considering that they used such weapons to escape the gladiatorial arena, burn the city below the mountain, and kill many of the objects of their hatred, in some way worthy of the name of the City Eater.

"Tomorrow morning will be the ninth day since we fled here, and today, the High Rider's Guards scouts have been reined in the vicinity...... Killed by our Angelon, the Guards are missing here, and they will definitely come up and check on and find us. ”

Klomacchi gestured to the head in the corner that was being played with with by a boy grinning in his hand.

The skull had a frightened expression, it had been torn from its neck, and there was a hole in the head where the implant had been ripped off, and the blood that had flowed out had long since coagulated.

Judging by the delicate silver threads in the chains on the wrists of the boy holding it, the Twelfth Primordial guessed that perhaps the silver cables were originally inserted into the skull.

The owner of the head was also very young, and Angelon thought to himself, judging by his naked eye, there would be no more than three years of age difference between the dead man and the person who played with his head.

But the two children who died in their lives were undying enemies.

They will never understand each other and tolerate each other's existence.

Angelon Petra pondered that what he was facing now was not something that could be solved by any tongue or verbal skill, only naked power. Only force can arbitrate. Only force can stop it. Only power can break.

Aha, well, if anyone wants to fight against the conquering king of Nukeria, then Angron assures them that they will be given the opportunity to listen to the king's teachings in silence.

But there is something that needs to be confirmed.

"So, after you brought this head back, none of you will see it again...... Angron Tulc, right? ”

Fifty-six heads are pointed up at different angles or in affirmation.

The red-haired Sage King nodded as well.

"I see."

Before he could speak again, someone's stomach cried loudly, and the stomach was so hungry and parched that it sounded like a plate of stone mills with nothing in the shriveled belly, grinding the master's own entrails, desperately trying to squeeze out some nutrients.

Molten golden eyes looked over, and the boy pursed his lips, trying to make an appearance that he didn't care.

"How long has it been since you eat?"

Kleist pouted, and she lifted her hand to pull a strand of long, dirty, sticky hair behind her ear.

"Eight days ago, we ran out of food, and we couldn't find enough prey for everyone to eat, and the snow covered the mountains...... But it doesn't matter, we knew we'd die, and we didn't think about it - we just let them hear our roar before we fall, and use our weapons to make those high-flying bastards bleed enough! ”

Angelon resisted the thought of shaking his head and telling them how much prey and food they had missed in the vicinity, knowing that he could easily see those who relied on his advanced equipment and knowledge.

His teacher's earnest teaching came to his ears again: Angron, you must not blame mortals for not knowing or understanding the truth.

"Didn't you eat anything in eight days?"

The huntress licked her chapped lips, and she looked nervous.

"It's Anglon's blood," she said, "and he cuts his flesh and feeds it to us, and those who can bear his blood have survived, and they are all here, and he himself has eaten nothing." ”

The Twelfth Primordial suddenly remembered a small incident that Ramizane had told him, and suddenly remembered an inexplicable word that Perturabo had said to him after maintaining the Power Armor.

He stood up, his heavy gold and silver armor and his own searchlight working together to have the effect of a star wavering.

The massive Celestial reached for his leg armor, as if to pull out something.

The slave gladiators cautiously formed formations, retreated, observed.

The carved leg armor bounced open a dark grid, and within the powerful electronic muscle bundles, nerve cables, and glittering translucent artificial veins was buried a metal tube painted with yellow and black stripes, and a skull mark on the surface, which to the slaves looked like a strange handleless dagger or some kind of blowgun from the flesh of the Iron Body.

"What is this?"

When Angelon Petra took out the metal tube and pulled the plug from it, the person closest to him had already swallowed subconsciously.

The fragrance of "food" judged by the most primitive instinct of human beings.

"A ...... Emergency food. The Twelfth Primitor spread out his palms and poured the contents of the metal tube into his palm, which was filled with brown particles that looked the size of the first knuckle of a mortal's thumb.

"Food?!" Kleist looked unable to hide her disappointment, "Food ...... But that's all? These look like they're only enough for one person to eat. ”

"Nope." Angelon thought back to what Perturabo had told him.

- I asked Magna to bake for me...... It's baked a lot, so I put one in the dark compartment of your leg armor by the way. Remember, the dosage to be consumed by a mortal should be calculated at a maximum of one cubic inch per fifty kilograms of body weight per day—

"I think each of you can eat one to fill your stomach."

The woman shook her head, "When you're too hungry, just eating a little bit will make your stomach cramp and more painful, let Jochuka eat it." She pointed to the teenager, "He's the youngest of us here." ”

"There's one for everyone." Angelon shoved a pellet into her hand, "Try it." ”

Kleist looked at the particles in her hand: they were irregularly rounded, had a rough surface, were pressed to be firm and tight, and in the palm of her hand there was a faint aroma of baked mixtures.

"Okay. If you insist. She shrugged her shoulders and swallowed the humble dry food pellet in one gulp.

After about twenty seconds, her eyes widened and she had a very terrifying expression.

Clomacchi clenched her sword and nervously called out her name, the huntress simply waved at him, and then a nameless tear welled up in her eyes.

"Oh-oh my." She almost groaned.

"Oh my God—what does that feel like? Angelon? My stomach was heavy and warm...... Strength and heat are flowing through my limbs! I've never been so warm! Should get up and hunt! But I don't really want to move? It's weird. ”

With a heavy heart, Angron Petra distributed the remaining dry food grains to everyone in the cave.

He knew that this was a manifestation of one of the most primitive human desires being satisfied, and that she had never really eaten enough......

"That's what it's like to be overwhelmed, Kleist."

Angelon replied as softly as he could, "Take a good rest after eating." ”

As he spoke, he stood up, took his axe from his back, and walked out of the cave.

"Sleep, and I'll wake you up tomorrow when the tall riders and their army come to you."

(End of chapter)