God Emperor’s Angel of Death

The gunboat takes off when the battleship carrying it passes by close to the planet.

In the cockpit, a silhouette wearing black armor is watching the track of New Badab, with warning lights scouring his vision.

This planet looks like a tuft of disgusting yellow fat passing through the smoke and dust, the wreckage envelopes its orbit, and the twisted metal gleams like a continuous embankment.

There is no doubt that there was a big battle here not long ago.

He revised his course to ensure that they would not approach the warning zone, then locked on the primary target and pushed the engine to its maximum output.

Although he was wearing power armor and locked in the pilot's device, as the pressure increased, he still felt the hammering sensation brought by the full speed.

"Warning, the current engine running state and motion trajectory will cause damage."

The mechanical beep rubbed his ears, and he ignored it.

He didn’t ask the technical priest who didn’t use much meat to access the gunboat’s communications, but it would inevitably do so, for someone who, logically, has been deprived of emotions for the sake of pure logic. For humans, that person's foresight is very good.

"The probability of engine output decline is currently 85.21."

After a while, the mechanical voice added:

"Estimated value. "

He didn't reply, it didn't make sense.

The immediate target is approaching quickly, and the outer guard battleship, which serves as the first defensive circle of the Destroying Ghost, is growing from a small distant point to the metal outline projected by the starlight.

Then he threw the gunboat into an irregular spiral trajectory and saw the two warning runes displayed on the helmet flash from yellow to red.

"Start the battle display."

He said to play, the space all around the body became a network of blue, red and green arcs representing potential targets.

Of course, they do not include battleships-he suspects that even if he fires at the smallest battleship, he may not be noticed by the opponent at all.

"Bird and several sighting arrays have locked us."

"Send identification signals."

"Obey."

The technical priest responded buzzingly:

"It is recommended that we reduce the speed, adjust the course to a stable trajectory, and turn off the weapon."

"No."

He answered indifferently without pausing.

"Send a signal and see if they still feel that their best course of action is to blow us away from inside the Void."

The outer guard battleship has now become Blocking the sight of New Badab and the towering cliffs of the starlight, what awaits in the distance is the inner defense battleship, and in the center of the ball formation that they form is the huge and angular outline of the Destruction Ghost.

Obviously the Huron fleet has suffered a certain loss, but it is not devastating, and the pirate king obviously has reserves in other places. At least there are two heavy cruisers and A battlecruiser is not in the red pirate fleet he collected.

He slammed the gunboat up, flew out a zigzag trajectory, and then flashed back to a spiral state, and the voice of target locking appeared in his ears continuously.

He was waiting while feeling the familiar feeling of the body in the armor being pulled by the G force.

He missed this, missed the control and crisis of the human-machine integration in his consciousness, which made him feel reborn, and also made him forget what he had lost.

At the same time, dance has another meaning in the red pirate's gun sight system.

Cut in, the weapon is activated, the aim is activated, if they dare to fire, let them die.

It is a message, a statement with meaning-don’t confuse power with power.

Of course, he does not want to put such things into practice.

"The other party's battleship has revoked their target lock."

"Very good."

"They are sending us greetings."

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"Give me the microphone."

"Obey."

The static sound rang in his ears and then disappeared.

"Heart King’s battleship and warriors welcome you, dear envoys."

The voice paused, and the people in the cockpit felt that they recognized it. It was ear-piercing. The timbre, the sharp talk, is used to drive rather than show politeness.

Kelkus, of course it is him.

It’s not Huron, not when the time comes unless they can confirm the reason for their coming here.

"Where did you come from?"

Kelkus's voice asked cautiously.

Behind the black visor of his helmet, the man gave a dry smile.

"I'm from Zhanshuai."

He replied.

The other party was silent for a few seconds, and then asked in a more modest tone.

"Your Excellency?"

The visitor gave out a chuckle, like the ghost of midnight, after which he slowly said his name.

"Iskander...Kayan."

Half an hour later, the gunboat arrived at the hangar of the ruined ghost, several warriors in black armor. Out of the open hatch, all the way to the place they needed to see the person.

After walking for about ten minutes, they saw the powerful tyrant.

But now the tyrant is in a bad state.

The tyrant still sat high on his throne, trying to maintain his posture, a metal claw scratched against the right handrail of the throne.

The wound made by Soshian no longer bleeds, only a few drops occasionally.

Looking at the few people who appeared in front of him, Huron's lips inhaled in a low voice, his arms tightened, his claws clenched tightly, and he plunged deeply into the obsidian.

Although he is trying to maintain his posture, all this is not hidden from Iskandar Kayan-he is the best wizard in Black Legion and one of the most trusted deputies of the battle coach Abaddon. one.

At the same time, this wizard from Qianzi is also one of the first people who cast Black Legion.

Kayang lifts the head, closing his eyes briefly, and opening his pale lips.

In another field of vision, Huron’s figure kept flickering, the ghost shadow behind the throne was stunned, and the blood oozing from the gap in the armor trembled constantly and blurred in the shadow, and then disappeared, the tiny Nether Soul Howling wantonly around his head.

Even though they are so far apart, Kayang can still taste the warm rust, sulfur and sweet smell.

Huron's state is far worse than what he showed, and even his survival is already a gift from the subspace.

Thinking of this, Ka Yang, who has a melancholy face and amber skin, smiled, and then opened his eyes.

"Your Excellency Ruft Huron, the commander asked me to greet you on his behalf."

"Abaddon’s greetings, of course."

Huron shook the head with a smile, but this action caused the wound in front of him to rupture more. The damaged armor near the wound turned up wrinkled like a sneer at the corner of his mouth.

Kayang affirmed that the rumor was true, and Huron lost a heart.

Then the tyrant picked up the cup on the side, and there was a red and black liquid in it, and then he drank it all.

Kayang frowned, not the other's behavior, but the kind of liquid.

He could feel that there was a certain violent power and dark witchcraft in the liquid, much like the magic potion "Heaven's Feather".

Don’t look at the name, it seems very beautiful, but the process of making this potion is extremely cruel. It requires the natural conception and the conscious but unborn fetus to be taken out of the mother, then crushed and mixed with a few This kind of devil's blood, after purification-tens of thousands of fetuses may only have so few milliliters.

The amount of Huron's sip——

After drinking the potion, the slump in Huron's body was suddenly wiped out, and he returned to the old domineering and shrewd .

"Go ahead, what Abaddon asked you to do."