The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"Huh... it's okay."

Melissa Springer tried to relax, reminding herself that the explanation of prophecy was never straightforward. After all, even the library of the School of Psionics is often full of the most absurd meditation illusions. Validated forecast.

But she still hesitated, uneasy for the vividness of the dream.

"It's me, but... but I look different, I'm in tatters, and... there is blood on my face. One of them...oh, the throne... one of my arms is missing... ...Blood is pouring...I want to say something, but the wind is too strong, I...I can't hear, and then I see...I..."

She vaguely realized that a tear had slipped, from her cheek, and remotely, surreally, wondering why it was there.

what does that mean?

All the words were now lumped together, and she refused to stop. She felt that she was plunged into the same terrible fear as in meditation, rolling, screaming and freezing, and it was over all at once.

"I looked at it... that shadow, I mean... it's like I'm falling, crossing the snow straight to the ground, and then... something is chasing me, burning me from behind my eyes... Bless the emperor, it was the size of a nest capital, and fell from the stars... and then...".

"...Darkness crawled out of her womb."

She opened her eyes vigorously long enough to check whether the machine servant had recorded every word.

It watched her silently, waiting for her next order.

She sighed and indulged herself in a deep, exhausting faint.

But soon, her lethargy was interrupted.

"Who?"

"you're awake?"

"Ah, judge."

Melissa Springer bowed respectfully, her eyes drooping.

She hadn’t gotten used to the quirks of her new owner, but she soon learned that his extraordinary temper was more likely to be reflected in those who failed to show the respect he deserved, considering that he insisted on wearing only the narrowest eye gap. The mirror helmet, perhaps unfortunately, any gaze interested in his peculiar headgear will be mistaken for disrespect and may arouse all his anger.

In short, the judge Lennart Meyers has not always been a good person to get along with.

Even most of his fellow trial bureaucrats think so.

But Melissa thought she was relatively safe at the moment, as long as she lowered her head and occupied her sight with the hem of the plaid robe and heavy armor boots instead of his feather shawl and reflective mask.

"No need."

But today's facts have proved her wrong. For such a majestic character, the judge's voice today is surprisingly soft.

"I won't let my assistant bow to his knees like a grass man. I am your supervisor, girl, not your master."

"Sorry, my lord."

She straightened up and adjusted her gaze upwards, revealing a remorse. Maybe chest height would be more suitable.

At the same time, some of her gaze crossed the shoulders of the inquisitor and looked to the rear. There were the masked figures that formed the entourage of the inquisitor. Several of them chuckled, amused by her gaffe.

She suppressed the strong desire to knock down their heads and forced herself to calm down.

As the newest member of the entourage, she quickly learned that rank is not important at all: technically speaking, her importance is second only to the judge himself, but in this colorful crowd, it seems that respect is earned. Not required.

Each judge will have different entourage teams of different sizes. The size of the entourage is often related to the might and power of the judge. Of course, wealth is also part of it, but it is not the main factor.

Lennart Meyers has more than sixty followers. They cover negotiators, merchants, liars, killers, soldiers, psionics, mutants and many other fields, and these followers follow the judge based on the other side. Prestige, on the other hand, is seeking asylum.

Of course, the large political legacy left by the late mentor of the Inquisitor Lennart Meyers is also very important.

"I have read the scene you described."

Lennart Meyers' voice was confused, and a slender data board was waving in her field of vision.

"You have fainted before this."

"Because... the prediction is too realistic, my lord."

"I don't care how realistic it is, girl, but I won't tolerate my servant passing out at important moments."

"This won't happen again, my lord."

"Of course, it won't."

As the data board tilted upward, the inquisitor's gaze shifted over the spider-web text.

"Your description... is interesting to read. What does it mean?"

"I don't know, there is no meditator here who can interpret—"

"I didn't ask what the emperor's **** machine would do, girl! I asked you what you think."

She swallowed, resisting the urge to look at him.

"I... I think something is coming, my lord, to come here, I mean—"

"'Something', is this the best you can do?"

She was about to tremble nervously, her fists clenched to her side, trying to restrain the bitterness in her voice.

"Something from the stars, a huge and dark thing... a dark thing,\'

There was silence for a while, and the dust particles circulated in the beam of the hovering illuminator. At the edge of her field of vision, Melissa could see her entourage dragging.

Did her words resonate?

Suddenly, the inquisitor's deep voice broke the silence and her hope.

"The blood of the emperor."

He said loudly, with regret in his voice.

"Such details, how should I respond?"

Unsurprisingly, the room was drowned in laughter, and people vented their flattering pleasure in a burst of laughter.

For a moment, she found that she hated them.

She let herself relax and endured the humiliation gracefully-dug her nails deep into the flesh of her palms, blood seeping between her knuckles.

"Enough~www.wuxiaspot.com~ The judge's smile disappeared, and a sudden silence enveloped the room. He squinted at the crowd, his sturdy shoulders shrugged.

For Melissa, who was unwillingly bathed in the hustle and bustle of spiritual release, these words were like a spring breeze. She was fed up with them. Although they might be fools, they shut up.

"The action will take place in half an hour."

The inquisitor tilted his head towards his staff and snarled orders.

"Immediately prepare all tools and vehicles, and adopt the B-level grouping mode, now."

Soon, like a machine, a group of people were divided into several groups in a short time. Melissa was not familiar with everyone here, but she could still see some clues in the allocation of resources: in each group there was at least one strong fighter or soldier. , A psionicist with a hidden mask, a mechanic with a device, a priest with a hood and a chain saw, and a cold-eyed sniper.

The judge only uses one command, and the overall abilities and expertise are just right spliced ​​together, and there is no nonsense. Even for Melissa, who is still troubled by their contempt, this is an impressive efficiency.