Seeing that the World Eater's gaze was finally beginning to recognize him, Kyle Lohn smiled and handed him a slender metal test tube.

"Water." "It might be a little salty," he said succinctly. ”

Daeorr took it, and drank it almost gratefully and impatiently.

Indeed, as the Shadowmoon Wolf said, these precious liquids were a bit salty and metallic, apparently recycled.

The World Eater listened, his mind pumping again, his body curled up to the limit his armor allowed, his arms almost touching his knees, his muscles twitching, his face contorted.

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The warrior next to him, wiping his helmet and goggles, said with a smile in his aristocratic tone, as if this small, broken, nothing-contained sanctuary was the golden salon of some noble lady. It's hard to believe that a well-talked, adorned warrior like Pilamus would shout loudly with the most vulgar roar in his deft combat strafing.

And the son of the emperor on the side, out of the nature of his blood, also politely picked up the words of the death guard.

"Hold on, just hold on a little longer, brothers. Believe me. The Emperor's son, Peramus, encouraged the others with as much confidence as ever, "Trust me as much as you believe in our Primordial, the father of my genes, His Highness the Great Forgrim." He is now meeting with the Lord of the Tenth Legion, they have a good relationship, he must not know what is going on here in the Istavan system, when he returns, he will find that everything is wrong, and the sorcery on the Lord Commander Edoron, he will definitely be able to disarm it! The noble Purple Courtyard Phoenix, the one who shines! He will definitely be able to set things right with Lord Ferrus, and bring back the good character and self of Lord Horus and the other Highnesses, and His Highness Fogham will definitely be able to, and if anyone can do this, it must be him. ”

"You're from the Sixteenth Legion...... You're not my brother! He gritted his back molars, and the smell of blood grew stronger.

But it's already good, the air here is full of burned dust, there is no more rain, there is no surface water, and it is good to moisten a scorched throat.

"I ...... Think, this is a reward for us. He finally said.

"Reward? Why is it a reward? ”

"Okay, okay, but you're already my brother." The warrior of the Shadow Moon Wolf coaxed soothingly, pulling his hand away from his face, before letting go of his arm.

Gormu just shook his head gloomily, and continued to try to piece together the shattered statue in his palm. "This is his test for us......"

"Will the Death Guard collapse?" Daorl felt as if Kylelorn had said something strange that he couldn't understand, "They're death guards, they're not going to break down." ”

They turned to look at the grunting Death Guard, and as expected, Gormu didn't say a word.

"The Pale King...... For some reason that we can't know...... He is testing our tenacity, how we endure and get through it......"

"But we're not death guards, brothers." Pilamus told him as gently as he could.

The living carry more despair.

Contrary to the former Sons of Horus, who tried to remove the traces of the Old Legion from himself, the Son of the Emperor continued to earnestly maintain his Legion coat of arms, although the dust everywhere stained his beautiful white hair a little, "Let those ridiculous traitors erase the insignia of the Third Legion, I am, I am, I will always be the glorious Son of the Emperor." He had explained so seriously.

The other three warriors, including the Death Guard, who had been silent trying to put together the Broken Idol he had found from the rubble, booed.

Suddenly, a blast sliced through the darkness and exploded on the rocks beside him, and then they heard the sentry's warning come to an abrupt halt in the splash of some liquid.

The swordsman and gunsmith breathed as he carefully and untirelessly polished his already mottled golden helmet and royal purple power armor, his chest still shining with the bright Aquila, the insignia of the Third Legion proudly worn by him in the same conspicuous place as ever.

2605: F700: 43: 6000:: 6c7

The World Eater grinned at Kylllorn, almost a crack in teeth, gums, and blood.

After countless guerrilla battles on Istavan III, fewer and fewer men, worse equipment and supplies, and more and more soaked in death for more than a dozen weeks, they were tired of continuing to listen to the perfection of the Third Legion and its leader, which was forever only a few days away.

"You're my brother too." The Emperor's Son nodded lightly.

"Brother? Are you okay? You okay? Kylelorn grabbed his hand as he tried to scratch his skull, and the World Eater shook it off in annoyance.

The brilliant sniper who finally joined them had spent the last few weeks trying to put together the Nameless Statue with whatever he could find.

More blood began to pour out from the depths of his skull, nostrils, ears, mouth, eyes, hot, itchy, painful, something lurking under his scalp and skull gnawing at him, urging him, devouring him.

It would be better if there was a potion to keep his head from hurting so much.

Kyle Lohn whispered, "Sooner or later, everyone will be welcomed, death or collapse, depending on which one comes first." ”

But the truth was that he would, and now Pilamus of the Third Legion was sitting on a huge concrete block that had fallen from the crumbling ceiling, his sumptuous embroidered gold cloak rolled up in his armbands, and even in such rough conditions he could still coil his legs gracefully like some mythical creature.

"'He' rewards our loyalty with death."

He handed the tube back to Kyle Lorne, rubbing the back of his hand against his chapped lips, muttering a possible thank you, and watching as the tube was tucked back into place on his own thigh.

His facial muscles were throbbing and twitching, and his smile was twisted and painful, stained with deep congealed blood from the acid and blood of his genetically modified salivary glands.

The World Eater shook his head, the nail telling him something, and the nail made him twist himself, expressing restraint as a posture of extreme pain on the outside.

Daeorr remembered the Mentor and his comrades who had died on the day of Angron's arrival.

"In my opinion, it's a test." The Death Watch grunted slowly from his throat, unable to tell if he was talking to the idol in his hand or commenting on the Emperor's son's speech, as he had been, tenacious, silent and slowly. "Look...... He's testing us all......"

"Who's testing? What test? Brothers. ”

"To be honest, I think Gormu may have collapsed or is about to collapse." The Shadowmoon Wolf whispered to the World Eater in a low tone that was polite to the person being talked about.

"This ......," his Adam's apple rolled up and down.

They were discovered.

The World Eater's saturation rage on the Loyalists begins.

(End of chapter)