The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"I'm here, Master."

Ottavia's voice sounded as tired as Talos looked.

"I am here……"

She said to the loudspeaker in the conference hall:

"So does the spirit race."

"Get ready to make the ship jump again."

"I can not stand it any more."

Her voice was crying.

"Master, I can't, sorry, I can't..."

"They will come to us in no more than twenty minutes. You have to get us away."

"sorry, I can not."

"You have been saying this for more than a week."

"Talos, please listen to me. If this continues, the subspace will kill me, one jump, or two times, it doesn't matter anymore... you are killing me."

The prophet got up from the commanding throne and walked to the railing of the podium, leaned down and looked at the orderly bridge below.

The holographic booth flashed a spooky threat warning: a total of six warships of the spirit race, their wing sails have disappeared in the twisted mist.

"Ottavia."

His voice softened.

"They can't chase us forever, I need you to give me more—a little help...please."

Ottavia did not answer, but a few seconds later, the spacecraft itself gave the answer.

When the subspace engine began to accumulate energy, turning one real world into another, the deck began to tremble.

"Do you remember."

Her voice echoed on the command deck.

"When I first controlled the Blood League?"

There was a strange duality in her tone, as if she was combined with the spaceship's machine spirit. This unhealthy unity made Talos get goose bumps all over.

"I remember, you said you could kill us all because we are heretics."

"I was angry and scared at that time."

He heard her take a breath.

"Everyone, get ready to enter the sea of ​​souls."

"Thank you, Ottavia, I will remember your contribution this time, and I will repay you when the time is right."

"You shouldn't thank the slave."

She replied, resonating voices echoing in the hall.

"And this hasn't worked yet. Save your thanks until we can survive. Do we run away or hide this time?"

"neither."

As soon as Talos spoke,

Every eye on the bridge turned to him, and the Legionnaires who were still on the command deck looked the most energetically.

"We won't run away."

Talos calmly said to Ottavia that he knew very well that everyone was watching him.

"We are not hiding, we have to make a stand."

Talos passed the coordinates through the keyboard on the armrest of his throne.

"Take us to the Nathan Galaxy."

"Throne!"

Ottavia cursed, which made the bridge-half crew frown at the imperial curse.

"are you sure?"

"We don't have the fuel to dance with them, and we can't break their blockade. If we are driven together like prey, then I will at least choose where to fight back."

Cyrion returned to the throne again, and asked with a joke:

"Then the question is, what if they wait for us there?"

Talos looked at his brother for a long time.

"What do you want me to say, Cyrion? We will do as we always do. We will kill them, or they will kill us."

The curse was floating in the subspace, and Talos left the bridge and walked to meet the soul who had every reason for him but had no desire to see him again.

Holding a sword in his hand, he walked down the winding corridor, his thoughts were dark--his choice was even darker.

He intends to do-something he should have done a long time ago.

When he stood in front of them, the door to the Hall of Reflection rumblingly opened. The servants were still busy with their own affairs, and the humble mechanical priests turned and watched him come in.

"Soul hunter."

A mechanical priest in a robe respectfully greeted:

"My name is Talos."

The prophet answered as he walked past him.

"Please use it correctly."

Suddenly, he felt a hand grabbing his shoulder guard, so he turned to face the person who dared to touch him.

This disrespectful behavior is very different from any tech priest.

"Talos."

Dieterian, the heretic of Mechanical Cult, said, and tilted the skull mask that served as his face.

"Although your appearance did not violate any code of conduct, it was unexpected. The result of our last conversation is that if there is any change in that thing, you will be summoned."

That thing...

Talos didn't like the words used by this mechanical cultist.

"I know our agreement, Dieterian."

"But you came here with a weapon, the sword drawn in this sacred place, when dealing with your behavior, there is only one result with great possibility."

"what is that?"

"You are here to destroy the coffin and kill the Macarion inside."

"Good guess."

Talos turned around and walked into the room attached to him, where the magnificent coffin of the war philosopher was placed.

"and many more--!"

Talos stopped, but not because of Dietrian's orders, but his own shock stunned him, but the sword was still held in a loose fist.

He saw the sight in front of him: the gorgeous sarcophagus was chained together on a ceramic shell of the contempt, and the blue halo of stagnation was still moving around the limbs of the war machine-locking them in There-motionless.

"Why are you doing this?"

Talos did not look elsewhere.

"I didn't order him to be made into a fearless mecha."

Dietrian hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"The resurrection ritual requires the recipient to be placed in a sacred case."

Talos didn't know what to say, he wanted to disagree, but he knew that nothing would impress Dieterian and show him anything meaningful.

And when he saw another figure in the room, he was even more surprised.

The man sat with his back against the wall, lazily holding the trigger of the chain axe, listening to the whine of the blade.

"Hi, brother, good afternoon."

The other night lord greeted him softly.

"Usas? What brought you here."

Uthas shrugged.

"I often come here to see him, I think he should come back to us, we need him, but he doesn't want to be needed."

Talos stared at Uthas for a long time, then whispered and slowly issued instructions to Dieterian.

"Activate the communicator~www.ltnovel.com~sir, I—"

"Activate the speaker, or I will kill you."

"As you ordered."

Dietrian trot all the way with his thin legs, clattering to the main console, and then several levers made unhealthy rubbing noises.

Hum, hum, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ahh

For a moment, the room was full of panting, animalistic and exhausted screams.

Somehow, the voice sounded like an old man-full of old, tired and faint.

Talos closed his eyes for a while, but his helmet was still staring forward, as cold and merciless as ever.

"enough."

He whispered.

"I want to end this—all."