"I am trying to end this battle so that we can all return to our insignificant lives, so that our souls can still wear our skin... I am not violent by nature, and I allow everyone to speak and make suggestions, but
Do not regard my indulgence as weakness. I have given an order and you must obey it. You are not allowed to test my patience again tonight. The weapons director just showed us this scene appropriately."
The corpse next to Talos was still twitching and bleeding, and the prophet handed his bloody facial remains to the nearest servitor.
"Pack these away."
The servitor stared at him with dull eyes.
"In what way, my lord?"
The question was toneless.
"Eat it or whatever, I don't care."
The Prophet strutted back to his throne, walking through the filth exposed by the corpse.
Despite this, he still did not hold his painful head with his hands.
Something inside his head threatened to explode and crush his skull.
"The gene seed will kill you, and some people are destined not to survive the implantation."
An inexplicable voice sounded, and Talos raised his head and looked at the chain where Reuven was still hanging.
"I'll kill you."
he declared to the pile of bones.
"grown ups?"
An officer approaching asked cautiously. Talos looked at him and realized that he must have been weird just now.
The pressure from within his skull caused him to lose consciousness, causing his body to convulse, and his face to permanently squint like a stroke.
Suppressing the nauseating feeling, Talos wiped the drool from his slightly open mouth on the back of his hand.
Is this the end of our fall?
The prophet tried to clear his mind.
"I have nothing."
Talos hissed.
"All departments are preparing to deploy cyclone torpedoes. When the 'scream' begins to take effect and drive away the enemy's warships, they will immediately launch torpedoes into orbit."
"Sir, if launched from this distance, the probability of being intercepted is very high."
"I know, execute."
While Talos was busy designing their new breakout plan, the First Claw team had already left the bridge and entered the lower deck.
They have to deal with the rest of the trouble.
"Usus died in battle."
Markusen said to the darkness.
"I can't believe it. He was originally unkillable."
Sirion chuckled.
"Obviously not."
At this moment, the lights around them went out as the overloaded circuit ruptured, and the ship made a strange groaning sound under their boots.
The air in the cabin seemed to linger on them for a while, pushing and pulling on their limbs.
"What does it feel like?"
Valere asked, his backpack light box gleaming in the dim light, forming a beam in the darkness.
The light casts on the empty iron tunnel ahead,
Even though their retinal displays were filtered, other Night Lords still instinctively turned their heads to avoid the glare of the light.
"Don't use that thing."
Selion said softly,
Valier immediately complied - he was amused, even though he didn't have the grace to smile.
"Please answer my question first."
The former Red Pirate pharmacist pressed on.
"That sound, and the shaking of the ship, what caused it?"
Sirion led the remnants of the First Claw through the tunnel and moved deeper into the ship.
"This is the inertia adjustment that releases the cyclone warhead. What Talos did is either very smart or very, very stupid."
"He's angry."
Markusen on the side added, his brothers still wore helmets and did not stop to look back.
"Talos will not tolerate the death of anyone in the First Claw, whether it is Char or Ursus, even if he doesn't like them... I can tell from the way he walks that he does this Very hurt.”
Selion led the remaining Fiery Claws around another corner and followed the spiral walkway to the next deck.
The crew scattered before them, just as Lanna fled from the sudden light.
Only a few people, some wearing robes like beggars, knelt at the feet of their masters, sobbing, and begged to tell them what had happened.
Sirion kicked one of them aside, and his first claws passed through the others.
"This ship is as big as a small city."
He said this to the brothers behind him.
"If the aliens keep playing hide-and-seek with us, we may never be able to dig them out."
"Did you hear what they found on deck thirty?"
Marcusen suddenly asked.
But Selion just shook his head and did not answer.
"Don't be so pretentious, just tell me."
"Okay, okay, I said, a few nights before we arrived in the Storm Star Territory, the Eyes of Weeping Blood reported something... They said that the wall over there is alive, and that metal has blood vessels and pulses. It will bleed when broken."
Sirion turned his head towards Valiel, a dissatisfied sneer hidden behind his dazzling helmet.
"What the hell did you dirty little fools do to the ship before we stole it back?"
The pharmacist stomped forward, his prosthetic limbs hissing in imitation of human joint structure.
"I have seen Night Lords transports that are far more corrupt than you can imagine. I am not a loyal man, Sirion, but I have never spoken a word of respect to those in power. The Warp warps whatever it touches. I won’t deny that, but are you going to pretend that there are no contaminated decks in your precious Blood Alliance?”
"No."
"Is that so? Are you just wandering on the sparsely populated deck? Have you walked among thousands of slaves on the ship? Is it all as pure and unchanging as you said? Even though you are in the eyes of the great How many decades have you been in school?”
Sirion turned away and shook his head, but Valere would not let him lie.
"I hate hypocrisy the most, Sirion of the First Claw."
"Quiet for a moment, don't cry to me. I will never understand why Talos saved you, nor why he asked you to go with us when we left Hell Iris."
Valler said nothing. He was not a man who liked long speeches, nor did he feel the need to give the final word in an argument. None of this mattered.
When they reached another deck below, Markusen spoke, his voice accompanying their chirping footsteps.
"Serion, he stays with us because he is one of us."
More slaves were scattered in front of them - all in rags.
"That's right, since you say so."
Sirion replied impatiently.
Seeing his attitude, Markusen let out a low sigh.
"Ha, you think he's not one of us just because the sun won't hurt his eyes?"
Cerion shook his head.
"I don't want to argue, brother."
"I say this very sincerely."
Markushen insisted:
"Talos believed this too, that being a member of the Eighth Legion meant having a focus, a calm focus that none of our slain cousins had. You don't have to be born in a world without sunlight to be one of us. One has only to understand fear, to take pleasure in inflicting it, to taste the smell of salt and urine on mortal skin, and simply to think like us, and that's what Valiel does."
Sirion looked back at Valiel, who tore the visor of his helmet with lightning-like jagged tears.