Chapter 296 Still Too Young
(*Your actions are becoming more and more confusing. Is drinking at home so fun? Looking at your previous behavior, in addition to discovering that you may be hypocritical and empty towards me The thin blood of the brothers has no meaning except for the unique goodwill)
"Shh."
A soft voice, addressed to the people in the two worlds.
"Who is pretending to be a fool? Come out and face me! Heretic!"
As he shouted, Ptolemion's gray eyes were trying their best to enlarge its black pupils so that its owner could vigilantly observe every corner of this cell.
This is not an easy task, because this place - like most spaces in all the ships of the Night Lords or one of their cousins, has no lights, and the genetically modified warriors inherited from Their father's eyes and power armor helmet allow them to see without the aid of light.
If there is no genetic gift from the Midnight Ghost or the Crow of Shadows, then the only thing that can be relied on is the possible starlight leaking in from a certain gap or a porthole, or in this Slaves living at the bottom of a city-like void ship, they would avoid their masters and use some dark hand-held lamps that were completely covered except for the front.
Obviously, the gene chain on which Ptolemion's organ development relies does not belong to any of the above, so he tried his best to open his eyes wide but could not see clearly this darkness that was so blinding.
Ptolemion's eyes tried their best to collect visual signals and used all his other senses at the same time, but when he suddenly turned around and attacked or touched the dark form he had imagined for an unknown number of times, He began to feel lucky that the cabin's sound insulation effect was not that good, and he could still hear the sound of the engine and the movement of equipment in the distance.
Ptolemion even thought he had heard several attempts to knock on the wall to send out coded signals, which gave him a little hope in the darkness: maybe some of his comrades had survived, and they were here. in a nearby cell.
Although when he tried to reply with a tap, the other party always fell silent, and then sounded again.
A trace of emotion that he had abandoned but now re-grown in his heart began to spread along his soul, the ancient and ultimate human instinct of fear of complete darkness.
A sentence he had read once, but had forgotten on the side page of an ancient divination scroll, emerged in his mind in this darkness:
When you gaze into the abyss, The abyss is also watching you.
The first is light.
There is light.
All things can be observed.
Everything observed begins to be defined.
So a little light suddenly appeared here.
A huge creature slowly and mysteriously emerged from the junction of light and shadow, like the final reconciliation of the contradictions of light and shadow: he has white skin that is more heartbreaking than the white bones in the moonlight. The night became darker, and his long black hair was dragged to the ground like a cloak. Another part was randomly pulled up and tied into a messy corolla shape behind his head. The power he radiated outward was full of the desire to destroy everything. , but because of its own existence, it folds it in, like a bird folding its black wings.
This huge creature looks fatally dangerous and visibly destitute, but at the same time it is thrillingly noble and beautiful.
As he began to approach, the champion of the Origin Chapter realized - with shame and resentment - that he had just held his breath for a moment because of the sense of sanctity this creature brought to him.
Obviously at this place and time, it is difficult for people to believe that he is a sacred creature with this appearance, so Astartes immediately chanted the names of the Emperor and Guilliman loudly, And began to look around for something that could be held in his hand and used as a weapon.
Unfortunately, he was destined to be disappointed. There was nothing here except him and the existence that suddenly appeared on the opposite side.
When it took another step, Ptolemion's hair stood up when he realized the height difference between the opponent and himself. He knew that it... no... he... could only be a demigod, even though mortals in this era It will only be known that the Emperor had nine holy descendants, and that they had nine evil enemies, but the Origin Chapter with an extremely long history will not mistake its own records, and the Astartes know more details.
His reaction was clear: shouting a war cry, the Astartes' eyes were filled with noble rage and a spirit of resignation. He put aside his fear, clenched his fists, and faced the enemies of the Thirteenth Legion. 's Primarch launched a charge.
————“Hmm, very energetic, but fortunately you met me. You must know that knights should not die with bare hands.”
After making a joke, Lamizane reached out and touched the opponent, causing a fierce but unsuccessful uppercut.
The moment the cold fingertips touched Ptolemion's warm skin, the company champion shuddered, feeling a small part of himself leaving him.
Full of rage and with more lands, he attacked again, but could only hit the void.
And Lamizane and Coze began to look through all the major events related to the champion's past and future in their minds.
“As expected, even though Malcador is very powerful, he still couldn’t imagine that such detailed changes would happen, and completely eliminated them in advance. The so-called wise man thinks a lot.”
(*You...how on earth did you think of...how did you notice this?! No one has ever noticed this before. It's incredible. Are all the stupid people in this galaxy destined to be silent?! )
"So you study hard and read more so that you can better connect the prophecy and divination content to interpret the required information when needed, or complete the metaphorical choice you have been given - this is what 'you' should master the most Conrad, learn the skills well."
(*...!)
"This will make me feel more at ease. I originally thought we needed more government slaves... Internal Affairs With talents in diplomacy, asking any of the original Night Lords on this ship to do diplomacy would be one of the stupidest things I have ever done.”
(*Markarian can do it.)
“Just to correct you, Markarian can still do it before entering Dauntless. I only trust Fulgrim in Dauntless diplomacy.”
(*...?! Wait, Fulgrim? Dauntless? Are you telling me that room is really Fulgrim's?!)
"Oh, that's another story."
He turned his eyes to the Origin Chapter Company Champion who still did not give up his attack on him.
"Hello." He said politely, "Ptolemion Saralon. There are some elders here who you should listen to."
"I and The source of hateful heresy, the seed of depravity has no sympathy at all.”
"What a pity. It seems that you have no friendship with your other ninety-eight brothers."
(*There is no sense of decency in your speech.)
The faint light illuminated the flash of confusion on the loyalist's face. It was obvious that if it was just his own life or - well - there were not many people, he would choose to refuse without hesitation, But ninety-eight people meant the entire company. The third company originally had one position that had not been filled in time before the start of this battle.
Wait! How does he know our total number? !
Ptolemion stared at the other person's face in horror, like a withered alabaster statue, and quickly calmed down.
"What do you want to say? Demon, I listen. After listening, you should accept the sanction from the throne!"
"Of course, of course. First of all, I have a proposal here..."
< br>(*chi, this little guy is still too young.)
(End of this chapter)