Chapter 313 Latte Is Coffee, and Coffee Is Also Latte
Tick tock.
The first drop of blood fell.
Talos's eyes were closed tightly, and the eyeballs under his eyelids were trembling at high speed.
He is watching.
The prophet of the Eighth Legion was watching, looking at all the people he had brought to Thesa Guarsa.
He saw them fall one after another, and one after another meet an uncomfortable ending.
Although for people like them, these endings don't seem to be...the worst.
Once again, he saw the last images of the members of the First Claw fighting their alien foes.
First came the Charr, the Invincible Charr, the Mighty Charr, and he saw once again his best brother, the strongest warrior of them all—perhaps he would become famous in the wight's false empire. A champion who meets his end or continues to fight in false but dazzling glory - but he falls in the phantom of glory that he longs for in his heart. Only one person knows his legend, and his name will be praised by no one. is the first.
Sirion was the second, but his death was by no means in line with the ending that anyone who knew him would have in his impression of the man who always said hello with a smile. The Smiling Lord died of the alien's witchcraft flames and was killed by those who The abominable witch burned into a charred corpse in the armor in inhuman pain. The prophet saw that she was still crawling forward in the direction of the enemy, and she was still holding him tightly in her outstretched hand. of bolters.
Valier and Selion are not friendly and have no intersection. It can even be said that they hate each other. However, after the banshee's witch fire devoured Selion, she passionately and quickly embraced Valier with a kind of black cruel humor. Lieer, the cruel skinner, master of anatomy and pharmacist, was holding not a weapon but a first-aid tool when he was finally burned to death.
Markutian, the rare noble and loyal Markutian among them, their poet and heavy weapons wielder, left his lifeless explosives behind to protect his brothers from the howling alien kalshiels. Instead of running away, he chose to pull out his combat dagger to protect his brothers. He did not take a step back until those skinny witches tore him into pieces with their slender curved blades. He did not take a step back until he fell.
Lufrix - Ah, Lufrix, commander of the Weeping Eye, the rotting corpse of the long-dead Eighth Army's past dreams of flight, he and his raptor kin over the ruins of the Dark City Screaming and fighting with those abominable creatures with pointed ears, who had huge wings on their shoulder blades and held sharp long blades in their hands, bleeding the scarred raptors until they fell to the ground. But those hateful alien birds were also torn apart by the bloody eyes' desperate counterattack. The black and red blood of humans and aliens sprayed on the ground like raindrops, regardless of each other.
Ursus, Ursus, this time Talos saw clearly, Ursus, poor Ursus, Ursus was once extremely alert, Talos's intuition was right, he still did not ask any Chaos The Supreme offered his loyalty, but the mark that was unknowingly and forcibly planted in the Eye of Fear has penetrated deeply into his flesh and blood. When he fell, he was still trying to express the apology and gratitude that he could no longer say... …Thanks Talos for trusting him…
Yes, yes, raindrops, it started to rain. The cold rain slapped his cheeks mercilessly. There was so much killing mixed in this sudden heavy rain that was like crying, that the heavy rain looked like it was falling from the sky. Scarlet blood... rain...? Is there such a big drop of blood...?
Wait, scarlet... airdrop pod...? More scarlet...Thunderhawk...the one at the front...is that his Dark End...? Septimus? Octavia? ! How dare he disobey his master's last order! Octavia should have been escorted by Dietrian and Valier, and Talos and the others would attract alien attacks on the ground. Then they could take the opportunity to commit suicide on the Cursed Echo with the last seeds and new blood. Escape from here amid the huge disturbance caused by hitting the ground...
wrong.
Valier? He just saw that Valier had...
He blinked, and the second sight image changed? Talos had never experienced an immediate change during the same omen sight, it was like having hot milk poured into a cup of black Reca coffee that was about to be consumed - why this metaphor?
Which future is going to happen? This was unlike anything he had ever seen before, when he ended up alone and faced death...
Completely different futures were playing out faster and faster in front of him, like a cruel lottery wheel. The price of a mistake was the difference between life and death. He had to let it stop and determine the correct one before he could wake up. Sufficient warning to his primarch and brothers.
Reinforcements...?
But every time he was the last one left.
Every time he saw the ending, he watched everyone die, and the last one was left to be killed alone.
There is no warrior leader.
There are no edged weapons.
There are no prophets of the future.
Reinforcements...?
In this forgotten edge of the galaxy, who will come to save a group of declining people who are unwilling to commit themselves to the Black Legion and vow to take revenge on the Throne of Lies?
His eyes grew dry and ached as he saw the gleaming winged skulls gleaming against ceramite and adamantine.
"Listen. My son. Soul Hunter, Talos." An extremely familiar voice sounded faintly beside him. "Don't doubt it. Even for me, the future I foresee is not unchangeable."
Talos' lips trembled, and he almost shrank back, "My father, the King of the Night, can even your prophecy be changed?"
"Well... Although I don't want to admit it, it is true after watching a certain weirdo's operation. Even if I know the process, there are still too many parts that can be manipulated-well, shit, I think they can indeed be manipulated under the premise.-That guy told me that after adding milk to Reka coffee, it can be Reka latte, but how can Reka latte not be a kind of Reka coffee."
An unprecedented vivid emotion surged into the prophet's soul, and he turned his head excitedly-there was no tall and noble body of the Lord of the Night as he expected-the glittering one was the Crown of the Night, but what was that black and white mass-
With an angry breath and a claw pushing forward, Talos fell into the sweet darkness again.
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The perception of the surroundings and the familiar temperature inside the power armor began to slowly return to the soul hunter's body.
But who is this? ... Who is rocking the cradle?
Who...
He opened his eyes.
The familiar reddish eyepiece view appeared as always, but the spots and interfering dark blocks disappeared, and the dome of the ancient ruins appeared clearly on his retina.
He was lying on a broad back, swaying with the trembling of the walking feet, like a child in a cradle.
"Captain? Malcharion? Is that you?"
"I'm here. Your fever has just subsided. Lie down for a while, Talos."
"Primarch..."
"Father is with me. Praise the Lord of Night."
"..."
"Talos? Still uncomfortable? Do you need me to call Valer?"
"No, no, War Philosopher," the prophet of the Eighth Legion said sincerely, "I'm fine, very good, don't let the pharmacist take off my helmet."