“……”

Angron Petra hid himself in the secret door and cautiously glanced out into the hallway, he had no guards or servants with him, for he was not behaving in a way that was either seen or made any more noise.

A few imperceptible beads of sweat crept down from the original body's voluminous red hair and disappeared into the collar.

Now going out through the passage should ...... No problem.

He thought about it, and he didn't feel "that" nearby, and there were people who were arranged to delay today, and the path he took today was a path that he specially asked his fourth brother about that no one would usually walk and no one would notice, and its size was barely enough for the original body's body to pass through.

"Of course we have other hidden paths here," he remembered his black-and-white stuffed fourth brother telling him at the time, "but does that mean to me, to you?" With a hint of resentment and acidity, the brown almond eyes looked at the majestic Twelfth Primordial from head to toe, "This is the passage you can walk through." Incidentally, Angron selectively ignored Perturabo's "very efficient handling of this little thing" that had been bothering him lately - such as the possibility that the cannonball's shells could be cast with something magical extra.

After all, it was his responsibility, especially when he told Lamizan about the other loyalists and warriors that existed here, their goals, and the need to get them all back as he sat behind his desk with a grudge munching on a pancake for his work meal and serving it with coffee.

All right. Indeed, for the first two days Angron had used this dark line of the road, and it was fine to have no one except the slightest bump here, and as soon as he arrived at the place, he could close the door from the inside and pretend that he was not inside—and leave the rest to his trusty, loyal, and good heirs.

But today.

He looked left and right again, and the quiet outer passage was empty and bright, and the golden sunlight lumen in the distance illuminated the ground, and there was no one in the visible range here.

And the small door of the tool room used to clean the robot's storage was sixty feet diagonally opposite the secret door where he was, and at the speed of the original body, he would definitely be able to reach there in 1.5 seconds and complete the series of actions of opening the door and entering and closing the door.

Then the tall demigod would bend over and walk through the barrage of tools, and under a nondescript wall with a thick layer of dust and rags behind it, there was a door that required the Iron Lord's private code to be entered, and if he walked in, after the verification of several vigilant spells and aragonite and mechmen, the innermost high-speed self-propelled tunnel, which was very small for the original body, could take him to where he was supposed to go to work—there were so many things for them to decide and deal with.

As he assessed the timing of the sprint, he pondered that there were countless things that involved multiple threads of fate that needed to be dealt with, not to mention a super hodgepodge of treasure or super troubles at their feet. Even if there are three ...... here It is also difficult to perfectly handle everything properly in a short period of time.

And a large part of Perturabo's resentment lies in the fact that they are now lucky enough to have a horse...... Kadur is such a super hard-working and capable strong laborer, but his own limitations make it impossible for him to further deal with these matters related to the "line", and can only deal with the production and import and export trade of several planets, and the installation of spies on each ship, and other tasks that do not even need to be used by the brain.

The last loyalists on the Istavan III had indeed escaped their mortal fate, but the sheer amount of data and computing resources needed to restart the compilation of them and their follow-ups caused Perturabo to smash the ledger tablet in his claws in his face in anger afterwards.

Oh, his fourth brother is really handsome and cute, although Angron did get angry for a second at how he could treat another primordial like this, but, well, but the border collie is really cute, and the meat pads are very, very thick and bouncy...... Lamizan was right when he described it!

Then he took the databoard in his hand, flipped through the contents a little, and realized that it was just a catalog: the work of six copyist families in fifty-five centuries alone was the work of six copyist families in fifty-five centuries - well, Angelon had to admit that his furry fourth brother had indeed done too much for the future of the Iron Blood and the entire galaxy.

Twenty seconds had passed, and he had a scheduled joint meeting in thirteen minutes, and if he hadn't been on time, there would have been no gentle reassurance and postponement—after all, he was the one who did it.

Well, Angron thought to himself, maybe it's just that I've gotten too paranoid in the last few days because of "that", which was a bothersome but also a very novel experience for me.

He took one last eye check of his distance from the small door in the tool room.

It was still sixty feet, and everything was quiet, not even the speed of the breeze in the hallway had changed.

He pressed the open button of the secret door, and at the same time, the moment the door opened, his muscles were perfectly synchronized with the electronic muscle bundle in the power armor, and he rushed towards the target faster than the cheetah, and his excellent and extraordinary vision accurately captured the handle of the door, oh, the door even opened a crack slightly, as if he couldn't wait to welcome him-

Opened?!

The original metallic boots made a sharp grinding sound against the smooth ship's road floor, and a puff of green smoke and heat from excessive drag came out of the soles of his feet.

"My Primordial Lord, I'm glad I could—"

A constant exhaustion and a familiar feeling of anger enveloped the Twelfth Primordial at the same time.

"I told you, stop calling me that and sticking to me like that! Lucius. ”

Angelon Petra had always had a very good temper with his heirs and others, and few had the privilege of seeing the true wrath of the conquistador—after all, it was true that ashes or pieces of flesh were usually silent—but now the anger of the Genoplasm seemed to tremble the deck of the Queen of Glory, if it was so real.

"What the hell do you want?! I'm not your original person, how would Vogram feel if he knew you called someone else? Will he forgive you? ”

Lucius, the commander of the thirteenth company of the Emperor's son of the Third Legion and a survivor of the Istavan III, boldly raised his head—he had previously knelt on the ground and saluted the original body—and his purple eyes now glowed with pure joy, allowing his beautiful charm to radiate unreservedly with innocence and malice.

"No—that's different," said the swordsman's handsome face, with a sincere and vivid expression of grievance and woundedness, enough to make an entire theater of people scream and throw handkerchiefs and bouquets at him and faint a few times with excitement, "but since I fell into your hands, I have seen from you a piece of your power, your higher, stronger—you have reinvented me on the Istavan III, and you have become to me like Fogham, and you are my father." ”

Angelon Petra let out a deep breath from his throat.

"So your wish still doesn't change?"

"My primordial master." As Lucius spoke, he felt a wave of fear rise from within his body at the thought of what he was doing and asking for, but was immediately overwhelmed by more indescribable excitement.

"I want to fight you in the gladiatorial cage."

(End of chapter)