Chapter 36 A pot of porridge
“Silver bones...golden skin...lapis lazuli hair...bloody nectar...”
The Thousand Sons Supreme Wizard anointed the ritual items in his hands with holy Oil.
He murmured the incantation with a singing rhythm and tone and lit the last ceremonial candle.
Simulated sunlight slants in through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the Omen Hall.
The smoke of incense lingers between the golden lintel and silver door leaf, curling around the beam of light formed by the sun.
Julius was wearing a linen robe, barefoot and kneeling in the center of the circle with his eyes closed, his head slightly lowered.
The artificial sunlight shines on his blond hair and face, casting a blocky shadow on one side.
The chanting in the Mysterious Square reappeared after ten thousand years, and the Thousand Sons' murmurs rose and fell with the complexity of the syllables.
Divination. omen.
Tarot. Interpretation.
The pointed claws turn the wheel of fate, providing unpredictable random numbers for established events in the galaxy.
"It's this! It's like this! It's like this!" The Supreme Wizard's incantation became more and more joyful and fast, and each syllable danced gracefully and extremely between the tongue, palate and teeth.
Suddenly all sounds stopped.
Two tarot cards emerge from the deck.
"Let me see...um...the Broken World and the Knights in the correct position...?" Emmenut pondered, his fingers drawing symbols unconsciously, "Maybe it shows a good picture of where we are going. "
Is it such a sign?
The think tank apprentice ended his meditation with a prayer, raised his head, and the two tarots came into his eyes.
A chill that made his hair stand on end slowly spread along his spine.
From his perspective, those tarot cards were reversed.
——
When the mysterious intuition that had saved Hong Suo's life countless times from impossibility issued a fierce warning to him, a corner of the one-way glass in the interrogation room had begun to return to elementary particles.
After the next tenth of a millisecond passed, the Potion Master finally made a decision.
The grain of time moved slowly for another tenth of a millisecond.
Crack.
The chips on the poker table are pushed through the round.
Crack.
A huge rock was thrown into the middle of the river.
Crack.
The image of the master of Kalangal Fort’s pupils gradually dilating is the side face of the apothecary’s apprentice who finally showed a trace of true surprise.
"How..."
The light of the disintegration cannon flashed past people's eyes, and then the void shield opened with a buzzing sound.
"Alarm!"
"Master Hongsuo!!! Teacher——!!!"
The sound of broken ceramic armor falling to the ground.
Someone fell to the ground.
Roaring and weapons rapped on the power armor, noisy footsteps and voices came and went, gradually fading away.
Before being completely swept away by the waves of darkness, Honsou saw the last thing he saw——
The fallen Dark Crow, who was hung in the center of the interrogation room and connected to the brainwashing program, opened his eyes. .
"He" is looking at him.
With a pair of beautiful violet eyes.
From between hair strands. Violet eyes stared at him.
From top to bottom.
Looking down.
Violet eyes.
The winding aisles are like the digestive organs of some giant chaotic creature, glass sealed specimen cabinets, cold rooms, cold steel, blood, desecrated specimens, sacred flesh, being cut open and decomposed alive... Weirdness and madness, life and death, horrific rebirth, blessed disaster—
The operating light flickered—
Who started screaming again—
Violet Colored eyes——
——
The mixed chemical smell left after the ablation of paint, ceramic steel, glass and other materials stimulated Aharin's olfactory nerves. The herald of the Primarch felt his heart beating and sweating. It is flowing down quietly.
He grasped the handle of the power hammer and very carefully approached the person who was struggling in a ball on the ground using the movement method that an Iron Warrior Terminator could achieve that best described "approaching in a roundabout way"——
< br>The enchanted Contemptor Dauntless, who had exerted bewitchment and chaotic influence on their father, was in a posture with his genetic father that, well, Ahlin felt it was difficult to describe in words - in Rolling on the floor of the observation room.
Although Captain Vaught's in-ship alarms and emergency communication requests were flashing wildly on his own communication channel, Aharin did not pick up because he did not know how to organize the words to answer or describe what he was currently experiencing. encounter situation.
While his brain was shutting down, the herald of the original body replied sternly to all channels, "My lord is fine! Don't panic! Seal the interrogation room and let no one come near!"
The Cursed The XX! ! ! !
Why do I see this picture? !
Have I also been corrupted to the point of losing my mind? !
In fact, it is not difficult to pick out an adjective sentence suitable for the current situation from the battle adjective vocabulary accumulated by Aharin for thousands of years, but it is really difficult to use this kind of vocabulary for the behavior of his own original body. Too blasphemous——
The Contemptor's fearless molecular disintegration cannon power claw was still swinging unwillingly in the direction of the interrogation room, but the sheer weight and kinetic energy coming from the other direction finally knocked him to the ground and suppressed any further attacks.
The super-sized individual void shield has been deployed, separating the observation room and the interrogation room.
The genetic father of Alharin shouted a word that he could not understand but it must be some kind of ancient Terran language, and at the same time - without any fighting skills - at least one part of his body was exposed at the same time. With hundreds of flaws - even less motor coordination than a three-year-old child - relying solely on himself and the weight of the original body's power armor - he jumped on the Dreadnought and pressed it beneath him.
Well, yes, no skills, all depends on weight.
Not even the slightest respectful use of brute force.
Then the Iron Warrior War Blacksmith watched helplessly as his father, whose killing and fighting skills he had seen before, was ruthless, efficient, and perfect, forcefully pressed the opponent with his own weight, forcing this extremely evil being to turn over on all fours with his belly up. Weird posture, and then holding the fearless helmet with his supreme hands, desperately stroking the opponent's ear receiver with his hands -
Crazy.
I must be crazy.
Father! How did you get into such madness? !
How can I save you? !
How can I save you? !
Bitter tears unknowingly filled the eyes of the Iron Warrior. He gripped the handle of the hammer and walked to Fearless.
Aharin saw "Perturabo" raise his head towards him in surprise, the original body's pupils shrank, and his mouth seemed to say "no".
"Please forgive me, but this must...this must be corrected!!"
He raised his power hammer high.
"I can't stand it anymore, why are we all getting together to cause trouble!!!!!!!"
Amidst the explosion of the joint servo, Lamizane grabbed Aharin's wrist with one hand. , his belly suppressed the roaring and struggling Perturabo.
It was a mess inside and outside the interrogation room.
Quack!
There is another chapter today——
After six o'clock
(End of this chapter)