Although it escaped the catastrophe, the Blood Curse was still in a bad situation. It struggled hard in the subspace, and the Geller force field covering its body fluctuated and ruptured. The necrotic substance overflowed from the subspace was like bad pus flowing out of the rotten wound, surrounding the dying warship.
Its case is full of plasma and debris, and the engine is burning weakly, as if a patient is breathing—the wounds left by the bombing on the hull are still bleeding. If the patient is not treated as soon as possible, he will have to die slowly in pain.
But it can do nothing, only dead silence.
"I thought no one would find me here."
This is the wreckage of the former church of the Curse of Blood, but now there are only ruins left. San Gilles, depicted on the rusty steel on the walls and ceiling, is looking down at his despairing descendants. Santo Joel, the former champion, sat weakly on a stone bench.
Technical Sergeant Frank walked over gently and sat on the stone bench opposite the commander of the battle.
"There is nothing to relax on this ship, the commander of the battle, I found you without much effort."
“How is our situation?”
Santo Joel leaned back and leaned against a torn wall, his eyes slightly hollowed toward San Gilles on the broken ceiling.
"It can't be worse. The Geller force field is failing, and we can't stay in subspace for too long."
“Can we go further?”
"I'm afraid not."
"Okay, how is the reactor?"
Frank was seriously injured in his early service and needed to reconstruct the entire face. He implanted a mask under the artificial leather, which was almost the same as his appearance, but also turned the technical sergeant into a facial paralysis.
Santo Joel knew that this allowed the technical sergeant to use his eyes to express most of the information, and the other party's eyes told him that the news was definitely not very good.
"We're all left with fuel residue...Their last attack destroyed most of the fuel we carried, the residual reactor and fuel were only enough for another subspace jump, and now we need more fuel, otherwise we'll lose momentum forever."
"Then you have to at least tell me where to get it?"
"There are enough refining equipment on the ship that can convert anything into fuel, and any civilized world can provide something I can use."
"Ahhh, a civilized world, I hope we can find it before we are all drowned in subspace."
Santo Joel sighed and stretched his legs forward, looking weak.
"Captain of the War, you are blaming yourself."
"I guessed it well, is there any other way?"
“Seeking help from others.”
"Others? There are 'others' around us except the enemy? Anyone has a good reason to kill us."
"But this is the only chance, the commander of the battle."
"I may no longer be the leader of the battle team."
"Captain of the Battle, that's not your fault."
"I'm responsible for my warriors. I indulged the warriors. When the warriors are in trouble, should I pretend I'm not at fault?"
"If it weren't for you, we might have been wiped out by the Inquisition many years ago."
"We did survive, but we only had one-fifth of our original strength. It was me who caused us to enter the battlefield, and the price of escaping was to sacrifice many brothers... I am worried that now we are just surviving, struggling dyingly, gradually weakening until extinction, and what should I do?"
"If that's what you're worried about, Commander of the War."
The technical sergeant said calmly:
"Then death is not far from us."
"If I had the chance to choose, I would never choose such a fate, but fate never gave me the chance to choose... We can't fight for humanity as we used to, but I will not forget the role that fate gave me, which is why I am responsible for what happened to us because I made the choice."
The technical sergeant sighed and shook his head.
"Many years ago, the War Chapter sent us technical aspirants to Mars to learn from them the knowledge given to them by the God of All Machines. There I learned that even a wounded machine, a burning wreck, was not a destroyed thing to them, but a potential masterpiece. This is the way the Mechanical God pursued the footsteps of the God of All Machines, because they regarded all machines as potential containers of the Almighty Mechanical God... Commander, we were not destroyed, we were not lost, we were always the sons of San Gilles."
"But now I don't know what to do."
"I'll tell you what to do."
At this time, a sizzling report came from the communicator on the technology, and then he looked at Santo Joel.
"Captain, now we are on the edge of a planetary system where we have our last chance."
"What?"
"Naeson Galaxy, the home world of the Astral Knights, is also the location of the Alliance of Suffering. We can reach it with a short jump."
"you--"
Santo Joel looked at the technical sergeant in surprise. He naturally knew that this alliance existed, but had never had any idea about it.
"Is this the opportunity you said?"
The technical sergeant nodded seriously.
"This is our only chance. Since they are willing to shelter the wailing people, it is possible to shelter us, even temporarily, to give us a breath."
"What if they refuse and attack us?"
"Then this is our destiny moment, so I will give you the right to the leader of the battle."
Santo Joel frowned and thought, but he didn't know much about this alliance, and it was because of several major battles that he heard about it.
It is said that this alliance was led by Soshiyan Alexey, the commander of the Knights of the Astral Realm, what would the other party behave?
Finally, he made up his mind.
"Go."
Santo Joel looked at the technical sergeant.
"If you think this can save us all, let it go."
"I understand, leader of the battle, then I will perform the subspace jump now."
Santo Joel stared at Frank's distant back, and the technical sergeant followed him unwaveringly from the beginning, even in the bloody conflict with the imperial official institutions, he had never wavered.
As a student of the Mechanical God, Frank was consistently loyal to the War Chapter.
His decision, Santo Joel chose to trust.
Then he raised his head, and once again met San Gilles's gaze, clasping his fists to his forehead.