Chapter 611 Sorry, I turned your father into...
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"The first child is raised according to the book, and the children behind him are raised according to the pig." - Gutera's saying-
"When a gambling man finds that someone will give them a guarantee regardless of whether he is willing or not, then gambling is impossible to stop actively."
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"Is it really not necessary for us to go?"
"No." Surrounding Pertulabo BC, a large number of holographic projection screens are now unfolding with twelve servo skulls as reference points. The speed of data light spots flowing has exceeded the calculation speed of ordinary space Marines. The Iron Lord has just sent out even Ahalin. On the contrary, he asked the veterans who are now working for him to take the aircraft to defend other positions on the ship.
The guards outside the office were all replaced by members of the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fist, as well as so many iron rings, Jade Dragon-type automatic combat robots and spider-shaped automatic turrets that Ramizane had never seen before. There were so many of them that he even suspected that if it weren't for the lack of space, Peturabo could have filled more large robots, vehicles and artillery here.
Sitting behind the desk in the office of the commander of the Destiny Steel, Ramizane Carlosini felt that he had never felt that being a mortal was so inconvenient.
Although he does feel bitter, sad, dissatisfied or complained when he is a mortal, he will equally thank the sunshine every day and every friendly response, or put his palm on the beautiful and happy moment on the back of his head, which is hot in the sun.
But now and then, so unfortunately, it is the primordial body of the mortal body that is meant a fact that he would not want it to happen:
He has become almost a mortal except for his size and mind, and now he has become a drag on Pertulabo.
Because the two of them could not get too far in the spatial structure (but for some reason, this law is much tolerant in time), but the limitation of the spatial scope and his current fragile condition are enough to prevent Pertulabo BC from personally going to suppress the "subspace invasion" accident on the Iron Blood.
Although his Peturabo told him not to worry too much, he had sent his most reliable maneuver company to suppress it, this accident was just another normal among many accidents, and the previous accidents had been resolved, and this time would be no exception.
But as someone who is too familiar with his current form, Ramizane can see that all the small movements of the black and white flower sheepdog are crazy about expressing an opposite answer.
Originally, if he had not lost his physical strength, at least he could try to accompany him to the scene to deal with it under the circumference of LOGOS and the mechanics. But now this body can be sprained by a 10-centimeter-small dip and lose its ability to move...
"Don't you really want the Desima Sage to go and have a look?"
Ramizane tried to suggest.
"He is a member of the Yuanhuan Cult. Although he is completely incompatible with the Martian Sect and has worked for me for so long, no matter how passionate he has to fight in this matter, it will be useless." Peturabo stared at the fast-moving screens and the information flowing on the door. The sent words obviously reduced the content of thinking. "After all, his body and thinking were born after the rain on Mars. He himself could not believe himself, so he had asked me to seal him in the armory."
"Oh."
Lamizane didn't know how to proceed, so he answered a word dryly, while sitting in place and thinking indiscriminately.
The words he had read in his home from ancient times to the present, the manuscripts and the forbidden books of the empire that he had read by the harbor window, everyone he had met so far that he could meet the numbers, the quick glances of history that only the Primaries or veterans knew in his chat...
The fragments of his thoughts were stirred together, making his imagination start to spread infinitely at this moment.
"... Then can we ask Magna to help? Just like when we brought Angelon back?"
"Magna's load value has reached the theoretical maximum." Pertulabo's black and white eyebrows frowned tightly. "At this time, if Utherma Atla is here, or Angron, Fogrim, Ferruce, Koz...Macado, Kaur, and even Leon and Kiriman... Forget it, don't want these two... But everyone is not here..."
"I'm here, baby!"
"You stay here honestly and just help!"
"Oh."
The alarm sounds from far to near.
At first, the fighting movements from the chapel blocks as far as dozens of deck areas could not be transmitted to the offices in the core area.
But with the abnormal, miniature earthquake-like tremor inside the Iron Blood, even if Ramizane doesn't have common sense of fighting, it should be known that things are starting to become less simple.
This big ship has undergone so many modifications with various technological contents. Even if someone has created any movements of the original fragment resurrection activity or the limited salvage activity of Istavan III, it is so quiet that it has not interrupted someone's sleep or made people in several deck areas feel obvious movement.
But now it is moaning in pain.
It is difficult for Ramizane to describe this feeling with the specific human feelings.
But he just heard the painful moans of Iron Blood under great pressure to force him to obey.
Although he didn't know that this was the pressure from the body's DNA encoding that was once engraved at the source of the Iron Blood Core Machine Soul and Gene Seed Reserve, he could feel the pain and despair and the dimness in front of him spread around him in an instant.
Among the guards in front of the office, the descendants who loved their fathers silently released the weapons in their hands. Their bodies became weak. When the potion masters summoned loudly at their companions, they found that the firm and tenacious sons of Dorn were unconscious, with sadness and confusion on their faces. Some even widened their eyes, and transparent tears flowed through the corners of their eyes through the scars of their battle.
After sending this group of companions to the pharmacist's laboratory at a loss, the remaining soldiers held the weapons in their hands tighter.
The surging existence like a star came straight towards their defense.
The composite metal and anti-psychic cabin partitions and walls were burned through and melted as if nothing had happened, and were once carefully designed by Pertulabo
He didn't need to know the route of the maze at all, he just needed to follow the lead of that seductive goal.
Go straight forward.
"It" shines in His vision like the fruit of wisdom on a tree. It is the promised thing He deserves, and only the Lord of Humanity is qualified to obtain it, and uses it as his will to save every lost and foolish world and fulfill His clear destiny!
Nothing can stop Him now.
His exquisite show of weakness and the strategy of leading the guards and the trillions of souls burned out in ten thousand years are enough to make Him this place unrivaled in this moment.
The last corridor is the door to the office at the end.
First of all, there are attacks from those automatic turrets.
They roared fiercely, and the deadly weapons swarmed towards a place like Him as if they were reckless.
The power of the human soul surrounds Him, and He raises a hand. Open your palms.
The shells, beams, gravity waves or other things were all still.
Then it fell down and disappeared without a trace.
He clenched his fists.
The machine souls of the automatic turret also whine, they began to be disordered, entered a meaningless continuous cycle, then overloaded, heated, and finally all paralyzed with a "pong" sound.
The same is true for combat robots, but their protection has allowed them to hold on for a little longer.
But He also pushed forward three hundred feet during this period.
The final line of defense is the Iron Ring Masses and the remaining Space Marines.
"You...can't get over."
He opened his golden eyes and looked down at his creation with his fingers that dared to point at his gun.
These works were once derivatives of His perfect creation, but now they aimed their weapons at their creators.
"Did you do well for him?" He said, even a hint of divine compassion and interesting surprise in his voice, "but it is not good enough." He stepped on the blood and scattered metal under his feet, rumbled across the rails like an unstoppable locomotive, crushing any flesh and blood that dared to stop His advance.
The door was pushed open with a bang.
Before the next second hand walked over, He had rushed to the mortal who had not reacted at all, with his forehead against his forehead and his eyes facing him.
"It's my turn."
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That's it.
Still the same.
it's over.
Peturabo thought coldly.
This "father" who was addicted to the comfort of the past, the tyrant, the self-righteous old thing, the Lord of humanity who was born by human desires and sacrifices, and a "father" who never knew what his father was but tried to tell his sons that everything could be solved with these.
It's the same again.
No mistakes, one song, one content, one in 6, one book, one bar, one reading!
He always feels that he can handle everything.
But he didn't understand that the world was not working as his mind that had adapted to the old rules for tens of thousands of years.
Peturabo almost felt angry.
But there is another hidden liberation.
here we go again! ridiculous! He just doesn't want to believe other people's words! Even what His so-called Son told him!
He must come in person, right? Then let Him taste the bitter fruit!
He watched coldly as He began to smugly attack the flesh and blood cage he had built for Peturabo and tried to replace that existence with something he knew.
The cage of flesh, which was now so fragile that it was shattered immediately and there was only a shadow on the office chair in an instant.
Then.
The existence behind the desk who could no longer look directly opened his eyes. He faced the "that", and then let out a terrifying scream of a silent but squeaking wave that swept the galaxy in the subspace.
The entire empire's holy realm was shaken, and the eyes of the terrified bishops and believers below were falling from the domes of countless magnificent churches. The star-speakers rolled to the ground, grabbing their blood-dreaming eyes.
The dark side of the empire was even worse, with the stormy waves in the subspace seeping out from wounds in various parts of the universe, forming one sinister subspace storm vortex after another.
Why did He think that Peturabo has not allowed them to meet?
Are you afraid that Ramizane will be defeated by Him?
joke!
The Lord of Steel knew very well how powerful the power he had found was to start a prairie fire.
He isolating them two to really protect Him. This old bastard who always relies on how big the matter is, will always be unable to see him. This is always the case.
As the person who has been circulating in this universe countless times, if he could solve all problems simply by ending this old bastard, he would have solved it long ago.
Do you really think he hasn't tried it? He was able to reach the Throne Hall with all his strength at the beginning of the 22nd cycle! It is not a mythical miracle to walk there. There are more than one alien and heresy who have arrived there. There is no need for too much force. Insiders, madmen and crazy believers can handle everything.
He put away his minions and watched the other party be washed away layer by layer in the torrent of sands of the Ganges River. His projection on the cave walls began to become smaller and clearer until it began to reveal His ancient, admirable but unrespectable nature.
This is over, he thought.
If Ramizane wins, then the universe will lose its fragile balance because it cannot suddenly lose His existence and quickly come to the end of everything.
If his former biological father had a chance to win an impossible victory, then Peturabo would bring it all to an end.
There will be no third path, and of course there will be no winners. Everyone loses, and of course it can be considered as finally reaching the balance of his report and everything will be zeroed.
Peturabo's mind was also floating away at this moment. He knew what it felt. Every cycle of death would make him feel how empty and vague the previous persistence was.
It would be better to say that he could persist in the moment of enlightenment after he had cycled so many times.
He suddenly realized that this was the moment when he could most realize how crazy his paranoid stubbornness was - even a person like Sigismund, who had been proven to be in such a way that all efforts to reconcile were nothing.
It is precisely because of his paranoid madness that he can hold on until the end to look back.
Genius and madman are already separated from each other.
Peturabo's thoughts returned to the unintelligible picture of what was happening in front of him, but his extraordinary soul was transforming it into a picture of his optic nerve and visual signals that his brain could receive.
He saw that His body had been completely blown away by the storm of the gaze of the irresistible being, and the last few sporadic lights left Him.
The flames of the star torch dimmed again at that moment.
The hilarious meetings of the lords were already being called, the imperial guards were reassembled, the palace was kneeling with desperate believers and pilgrims, and the warriors fighting farther away felt the unspeakable shadow of fear began to climb to the peak of their hearts - their weapons became sharp and the power surging in their muscles faded like a tide.
But—
Peturabo closed his eyes.
It's over.
...Huh?
This movement does not seem like extinction...
"Uh."
Ramizane's voice sounded, sounding a little weird... embarrassing?
What's going on? !
Peturabo BC opened his eyes and looked at it.
Ramizane was holding some inhuman form of his once biological father in his hand and looking at him awkwardly.
"Should I let go of my hand first? I seem to have turned your father into..."
He looked at his hand and said without being very confident.
"A pigeon."
(This chapter ends)