Upon hearing these words, Sarpedon guessed that the other party had been shaken, so he smiled and said:
"It depends on the situation. No matter how many people are lingering in this world, it cannot be called alive."
"You killed a lot of people."
"Life is cruel everywhere. The galaxy has no love for us. I will let some of you live and linger in the ruins, waiting for that person's return... If no one survives, there will be no one."
Talking about what they saw will greatly reduce the significance of our operation. Maybe one out of every thousand people here will live to welcome Soshyan's return, which will be interesting and dramatic."
"You have no honor in killing the weak—"
Sarpedon cleared his throat, which sounded like a tank shifting gears, interrupting the dean.
"I'm tired of this talk. Do as I wish and you might survive the night."
The old man straightened his back.
"No."
"It's a good thing to see a man with backbone, and I admire and respect it, but right now, questionable courage has no place in this moment, and I'll tell you why."
A phantom warrior stepped forward and grabbed the teacher's thin hair with his hand.
The man's boots left the floor and he screamed.
"please……"
The man stammered, and the warrior drew his dagger and carved it in a neat motion along the instructor's belly.
Soon, blood poured out like a torrent, and the man's fingers tightly grasped the internal organs in his body, because they might flow out at any time.
It didn't take long for his pleas to turn into worthless screams.
"this--"
Sarpedon pointed.
"It's happening right now, right here in the ruins you call the Academy, and that's how we treat your subordinates."
The traitor still grabbed the teacher's greasy hair and shook him in his hand.
More screams, now interrupted by the sound of wet, smelly intestines slapping against the floor.
"Did you see it?"
Sarpedon's eyes never left the abbot.
"I know that they have all fled to the shelters and are trapped there with nowhere to escape, and now I am coming to you to call them out, otherwise my brothers and I will do this to everyone, just like to those who fled like maggots
people."
He reached out to grab the person captured by the traitors, clamped the throat of the twitching, still living person, and threw the bleeding body unceremoniously onto the desk.
"If you obey me, your subordinates will be saved from this disaster, and you will become one of them. But if you disobey me, not only will I not spare them, but you yourself will die, and I will kill you while you are still alive.
At that time, my pharmacist will skin you. He is a master of prolonging the painful sensory experience, so the prey must die within a few hours after the operation... Once upon a time, a prisoner lived for six nights, in extreme pain.
Screaming and dying from an infection in a filthy cell."
The old man swallowed tremblingly.
"Your threats mean nothing to me."
The next second,
Sarpedon pressed his iron-clad fingers against the dean's face, moving his cold fingertips along the contours of the weathered skin and fragile bones underneath.
"The human body does amazing things when the brain is scared. It becomes the embodiment of stress in a paradox, fight or flight? Your breath becomes sour because of the chemicals in your body, your muscles tighten.
Affecting digestion, reaction, and ability to focus, all the while the humid rhythm of the heart becomes a war drum, beating blood to fill the muscles to avoid injury....your sweat smells different, better, like
As an animal trembles in fear, desperately marking its territory for the last time, the corners of your eyes tremble, responding to hidden signals from your brain, hiding your sight from what threatens you."
Sarpedon grabbed the back of the dean's head, his face only a few centimeters away from the old man's.
"I feel it all in you, I see it in every twitch of your soft skin, I smell a thick stink coming off you, don't even try to lie to me, human, mine
Threat means everything to you."
"What...."
The old dean had to swallow again.
"What do you want to do?"
"I've told you what I want, send all the candidates."
The dean was silent for a while, then nodded and said:
"I need to talk to the people below."
"certainly."
Sarpedon let him go.
The dean took a deep breath, walked behind the desk, picked up a communicator, and entered a series of passwords.
Soon, the other end of the communicator was connected.
"Bring them up."
With just these words, he turned off the communicator.
While they waited, the Dean watched his college die, and the enemy lord named Sarpedon stood at the edge of the watch dome, communicating constantly with his compatriots.
His voice was a low, feral murmur, constantly updating each squad's position and charting their progress.
Every few minutes he would be silent for a while, watching the fire spread.
The faculty member had fallen silent, and the dean had closed his friend's eyes, choking on the smell emanating from the split body.
"You will get used to it."
One of the soldiers said with a smile, and suddenly turned on a portable tactical display.
The dean looked at the holographic feedback, and despite the distortion of his vision, he saw death clearly.
The phantom warriors massacred people in the middle levels of the hive. They did not attack the heavily guarded upper levels because they did not have enough troops.
The soldiers in armor tore open the partitions of the air-raid shelter and tore apart the crowds huddled inside. The dean watched as they dragged men, women and children by their hair and dragged them into the street, where servants took them away.
walk, or pin them to the side of a building to indicate that the nearest shelter has been looted.
The piles of corpses piled higher and higher - monuments of living flesh and blood, commemorating nothing but pain and suffering.
"Why?"
He whispered, not realizing he had said it.
Sarpedon looked at him and suddenly smiled and said:
"We do it because we like to do it, we do it because we can do it, you are his people, and killing you will cause him pain, and that is enough."
Soon, more than a hundred men appeared on the college playground, and Sarpedon led the dean to the playground.
He looked at the group of boys wearing college uniforms, most of whom were 16-18 years old.
"That's it?"
Sarpedon frowned, and the dean just nodded silently.
"Don't play tricks with me. A planet shouldn't just have so many candidates."
He walked among the boys, looked around, and then suddenly grabbed one of them.
The skinny boy suddenly turned pale with fear, he was sweating profusely, and his whole body was trembling, but besides fear, there was something else in his eyes.
Sarpedon suddenly felt something and slammed the boy to the ground.
"These are not candidates—"
At this moment, the dean suddenly yelled.
"For the Emperor!"
The boys responded in unison and jerked off their uniforms.
Sarpedon's eyes widened. Each boy was strapped with explosives——
The next second, he stretched out his hand and wanted to use his spiritual power, but it was too late.
boom--------!
There was a loud noise, and the entire square, together with the dean and Sarpedon, was engulfed by a huge rising ball of flame.