Chapter 317: Conrad, the Smart and Studious
The War Philosopher was leading a unique tactical team in the tunnels of the catacombs, advancing at a warning speed - although he insisted that he alone was enough to carry out the hunt for the pointy ears, and no other members were needed.
But the will of the Night Lord could not be shaken - the team he led was composed of a wonderful combination: a sacred and fearless elder of the Night Lords Legion, the strongest warrior of the First Claw of the Tenth Company of the Eighth Legion, a champion of the Origin Chapter Company who had not grown up to fifty solar years, an Origin Chapter veteran lieutenant who looked like he wanted to chop the weapon in his hand at the two Night Lords at any time, and a shivering female slave who was specially found from the lower slave deck of the Cursed Echo and then dizzily stuffed into this powerful combination.
They walked in silence in the dark for a while, until the little member who was temporarily added began to hug herself because of the cold air here, and the weak flashlight beam in her hand swayed in the darkness here.
"Didn't they provide you with more warm clothing, mortal?"
The two members of the Origin Chapter continued to move forward with their fingers on the trigger, but both pricked up their ears.
"No, Master, I mean, I don't know why I was sent here." She sounded like she was trying hard not to cry, "Maybe it was some kind of punishment, but I swear, I did all the work! I'm not lazy, I'm still useful! I promise!"
Sergeant Aeneas snorted at the cruelty behind these words, and Ptolemy seemed even more helpless in the face of mortal women. As for Charles, he just raised his two-handed chainsaw sword and moved his cervical vertebrae.
The fearless pace was slowing down considerately following the pace of others in the roar, "Don't call me master, mortal, I am not anyone's master. So, what is your name? If you are chosen by the Primarch himself, then your name must be known to us."
The two Imperial Space Marines - although they already knew what kind of incredible existence their cruiser and themselves were eventually captured by, they were still deeply shocked by the word uttered by the fearless, and they could not help but think of the temple on the distant Macragge - my father Guilliman! Your great enemy has returned to the world! We miss you so much...
"Okay, Master. I am Marona." The slave replied tremblingly, "Primarch? Sorry, my master, what is a Primarch?"
Although the recent cleaning operations on the lower decks and the efforts to restore order in the living area on the Cursed Echo have been fruitful, she is still accustomed to the old titles, and this also makes her not too unfamiliar with the news that new Astartes have joined here.
"... a myth." The strange sound came from deep inside Malkarion's iron coffin again, and now the other three Space Marines knew that it was actually the Fearless Elder laughing, "He was once only a legend, but now he is the one who returns to us and leads us to start again."
"I don't know, Master. I'm cold and can't see anything clearly." Marona replied, but Shar received instructions from the War Philosopher and took a roll of blanket from Malkarion's back and handed it to the slave.
"Here." His voice was distorted strangely and terrifyingly through the breathing grid, but Marona, who had been working on the lower deck of the Midnight Lords warship, was used to it. She hurriedly wrapped herself in the blanket with tears of gratitude, and stammered to promise that she would try her best to keep up with them and not become a burden to them.
The two Astartes of the Origin Regiment continued to remain silent.
Suddenly, Marona raised her head, "A lot of voices, a lot of whispers, Master."
"What?" "I don't see a clear target." The other three Astartes raised their weapons alertly, and the surrounding darkness still silently enveloped the ruined hall, as if choosing someone to devour.
Only the War Philosopher had begun to rotate his waist axis and prepared the weapon on his right arm, with the muzzle of the storm bolter pointing in the direction noticed by the slave.
"The aliens are approaching us, get ready for battle."
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(*I said... the team members you specially selected for Malkarion... are too weird.)
"Weird? Nothing weird, while Talos has not started to contact the Phoenix Lord, I can tell you. First of all, as long as Marona is moving with Malkarion in the catacombs, we can guarantee that Malkarion will survive and be able to successfully walk to the ground in the end. Therefore, as long as Malkarion and her partner, then no matter how the process is, this is what will happen, and Malkarion only needs to keep the body after the emergency upgrade. If he survives, he will most likely be able to support and protect the others."
(*Indeed, if it is based on this idea, I accept it. Then what about Charr?)
"Charr should have died a few months ago, so his fate is now like a rootless duckweed, and a slight shock will make it very difficult. But the battle here on Talos will definitely involve the Eldar gods, which is too dangerous for his fragile future. The fate of the other members of the Origin Chapter should have been cut off long ago, so we can't make things worse. Although the victory paths of the other Slash Claws have been arranged by you and me, they are still not as reliable as the team of Malkarion and Marona, so I arranged him to Malkarion's path."
(*This is... really complicated and tedious, and you have to be careful. Choosing the fastest and most direct ending is not so troublesome... Then why do you want to join the team with those two pseudo-emperor lackeys?)
"The Sons of Origin are now our precious... human resources, okay? Do you want to write a census report that can fill 500 data boards? - First of all, there is actually a very close and important cross-link between the paths of Ciel and Ptolemyon - the way they died - there are few links that can exceed this point, so Ptolemyon's joining is inevitable. They are destined to die at the hands of each other, but if they become teammates - ”
（*!! I see, this creates the paradox of ‘these two people will not die at the hands of others’ to fight against the enemy, protecting Ciel’s life.）
“Bingo, look, Conrad is such a smart and studious little pig! Great question, it’s a pleasure to explain these arrangements to you! Any other questions?”
（*……(Haha)……I admit that the first three people you chose are very meaningful, so why did Aeneas, who smells like the candles beside the throne of lies, become the fifth person? He doesn’t have a deep bond with the others, right?）
“Wrong.” Ramizane raised the first finger in the empty secret room. "First of all, Sergeant Aeneas was originally indirectly killed by Talos. Their metaphor is 'the prophet of the Eighth Legion cut off another choice with his own hands'. Although according to the original path, Talos actually had no choice, because there should be no you and me on his path. So the ancient omen of 'Aeneas sailing to bring the establishment of a new kingdom to the final destination' is completely illusory and cannot be realized. But now we are here. So..."
(*...Originally it was a very empty false illusion, but now it sounds a bit real, so what about the second point?)
"The second point..." Ramizane smiled kindly, "Speaking of this, Conrad, if there is a chance to return to the Destiny Steel, I should send you to read some ancient history books. This will be very, very beneficial to you. As I said, the most effective way for you to control your talents is to learn the logic of reason and knowledge."
(*??!!)