The Emperor’s Angel of Death

　　 The screams enveloped the "Destroy Ghost" battle barge that was sailing along the tides of the subspace. Thousands of people were nailed to the outside of the ship's hull and hung.

　　 When the battleship entered the warm embrace of God's Domain from the cold physical universe, they were still alive—to a certain extent.

　　 Their deaths extend infinitely into a kind of eternal pain. Demons are attached to their bodies in hordes, firmly following the battleship, absorbing human pain and mentality when their bodies and souls are shattered.

From the top, the spear-pointed hull of the'Destroying Ghost' seems to be wrapped in a layer of creeping chitin and rotten meat. The red flame burns in a slow rhythm, accompanied by the tormented screams and the satisfaction of the demons when they eat. The tip.

　　 "Holy..."

　　 Chaos wizard Garon Suleite whispers in his mind

　　 "Truth..."

　　 The wizard nodded.

　　 "The glory belongs to the four eternal gods that encompass everything,"

　　 He continued loudly the prayers that hadn't stopped since the "Destroying Ghost" broke through the physical universe and entered the sacred realm.

　　 "Glory to the eternal and immortal eightfold truth."

　　 He sat in the middle of a black glass floor, right in front of the large observation window of the tower.

　　Eight concealed persons, each carrying a censer, the incense rising from the scented mollah, under the robe of each attendant, there is a pile of mutated and corrupt flesh.

　　 These people have hidden the blessings they have received. They dedicated their sight and hearing to serve Garon Suleit.

　　Galon Suleite, a member of the original whisperer, killed dozens of comrades in order to study black magic, and was eventually exiled by the legion, becoming a notorious fellow in the eyes of fear.

　　 For a mortal who can serve him, it is a blessing beyond imagination to be able to receive enlightenment and sacrifice.

　　 If you look directly at his face or hear his secret words, the souls of the attendants will be unbearable.

　　 Further back, is the only door to the tower's secret room, and there are two people hunched beside it.

　　 The red velvet cloak covered the whole body from head to toe, and dragged it to the surrounding floor, but the two of them were also motionless.

　　 A candle made of human fat, blood and bones was hung above their heads. The candle was carved with a black emblem, and the tears of the candle dropped to the ground as the flame burned.

　　 He wandered and thought, he knew the whispers in his ears were true.

　　 The sorcerer stood up from the ground where he was sitting, without robes or armor.

　　In the moment of meditation, Garon Sulet always chooses to remember that he is made of flesh and blood. When he stands up, his muscles will shake smoothly, from neck to toe.

　　 The skin on his body was pierced and branded. It came from many extinct civilizations in the past few thousand years-both humans and aliens. Garon Suleite can master any of these languages.

　　 For a chaos wizard, knowledge is power is not false, but real.

　　 He covered his face with his hands and blocked his eyes for a while.

　　 "Soul..."

　　 He felt the call of the sacred realm and got an answer.

　　 Void black smoke condenses around him, blurring like water droplets and ink on the parchment.

　　 gathered and hovered in large numbers with shadows of faces, screaming with silent pain, crying and resentment, and his mind was full of whispers. ,

"who are you?"

　　 "I don't want to die—"

　　 The wailing of a poor beast was ignored by Garon Sulet, and he continued to search for the answer.

"who are you?"

　　 "Oh, please show mercy--"

　　 is another hapless person, ignore it.

"who are you?"

　　 "The unborn."

　　 "What did you say?"

　　 "You will die--"

　　 "Then shut up."

　　 Garon Suleite ordered, the shadows around him stretched out ghostly fingers-their touch ran across his skin, and the cold flame burned through the flesh and blood.

　　 "Your ruin is near."

　　 The voice sounded directly in his head.

　　 "We remember..."

　　 "The dead remember..."

　　Garon Sulet closed his teeth tightly, the pain in his body was like a supernova explosion, and his brain seemed to be nailed in—nothing could be worse than being cursed by the subspace.

　　 More importantly, he doesn't know where this threat comes from.

　　 Could it be that poor little planet and little battle group that they are about to destroy?

　　Unconsciously, a layer of armor formed on Garon Suleite's skin.

　　 Soon, the ceramic steel armor plate, shoulder armor and arm armor gradually formed as the shadow enveloped, and the circuits and fiber bundles interacted with his nervous system.

　　 Finally, the crimson armor wrapped him all, except for the head.

　　 "Disperse."

　　 The shadow faded and returned to the sacred realm, leaving only echoes of hatred and resentment.

　　 The curse that he has been suffering has also disappeared from his body, so he bowed his head and thanked God for his blessing.

　　 Finally, he turned around and came to the wall of the secret room. His helmet was placed on the top layer of the weapon rack, and it was shaped into the form of an angry roar and a sneer.

　　 His weak comrades used to call him a "two-faced man".

　　 Like his skin, a large number of symbols are printed on a copper-colored helmet, his eyes are like coals burning in a furnace, his sharp silver teeth form a big mouth, and his forehead has two long horns glowing with obsidian light.

　　 Except for a short solitary meditation, he always wears it.

　　 Garon Suleite reached out and picked up the helmet, feeling the malice that it exudes and the **** smell from the tip of his tongue.

　　 Then he put the helmet on his head, the internal barb immediately pierced his cheek, and the breathing tube was automatically connected to his armor.

　　As he breathed, the smell of smoke filled his eyes, strange runes swirled in his eyes, and colors and lines that mortals could not see appeared in the room.

"coming...."

　　 Realizing that something is approaching, Garon Suleite said to himself.

　　 As the gate separating the sanctuary of the tower was opened, Garon Sulet turned around and bent over, and the people wrapped in red robes knelt down.

　　 These red waiters could neither hear the door opening nor see who came in, but the coercion of the visitors was enough to make them kneel to the ground.

　　 ‘Black Heart King’ Huron paused for a moment at the threshold, the huge claws of his left hand flashed with incomprehensible black light, and his body was covered with a scarlet armor full of cracks.

　　 If it weren't for his expression, he would look like a failed soldier.

Although the gods gave him a new life, they also left the mark of his failure on him. This cracked armor is one of them, and it has also become Huron’s cage-the tyrant can only survive full of dark energy In the armor, once left, it will be torn apart.

In the inhuman vision, Huron’s existence is radiant again. This is not the wild anger that shrouds the child of horror, nor is it the primitive etheric power of the magic wizard, and it is not the smoke of Nurg. The stench, of course, will not be the sultry fragrance of sex.

　　 That is a primitive gushing power.

　　 Apart from this, Garon Suleit could not detect anything else.

　　 "Ha, please forgive me for interrupting your ceremony."

　　 "The ceremony is over, my lord."

　　 Huron walked to him and closed his eyes briefly.

　　 "We have been sailing for a whole week, and in two days we will reach the edge of the Nathan Galaxy, where we will severely teach that fanatic, and will make the Empire remember our existence again."

　　 In addition to half of the Red Pirate’s forces, two-thirds of the main force fleet, including the battlecruiser "Hawk Hook", included more than a dozen capital ships and countless small warships.

　　 Huron is determined to win this time.

　　 Suddenly, the tyrant stopped talking and walked to the observation porthole, where the dizzying subspace light danced outside.

　　 For an instant, Garon Sulet wanted to know what Huron saw in his eyes.

　　 The sacred realm is a mirror to the soul. For everyone who dares to look at each other, what they see is different.

　　 When Garon Suleite looked at the subspace, he only saw the ghost, and he gave up the doubt about it a long time ago.

　　 "They must be vulnerable."

　　 the wizard said flatteringly.

"Do not."

　　 Huron shook his head.

"I feel that things are not that simple. Although I am not a wizard like you, and I don't know any predictions or visions, Subspace often pours out some secrets to me. Although I will ignore most of them, there are some... .. It's not that simple."

　　 When Huron turned to Garon Sulet, the dancing ghost was reflected in the wizard’s eyes,

"do you understand?"

　　Karon Sulet lowered his head, thoughts abound~www.wuxiahere.com~Master, what can I do for you? "

　　 Huron turned back, and Garon Sulet could perceive the cold and enthusiasm intertwined with the other person, seeming to melt into the shadows.

　　 "The subspace is too calm, it's so calm that it scares me, I have a hunch that something is happening...We have to prepare in advance."

　　 said, the overlord of the vertical and horizontal vortex actually sighed, this is an extremely rare gesture.

　　 "Send a message to the pupils of hell, so that they can increase their alertness and perform subspace transfers if necessary."

　　 "Yes, master."

　　 At this moment, a soldier hurriedly walked in and brought a very bad news.

"Master, the Star Whisperers of the Nasir Waterk fleet have just sent a message that they ran into the astral knights fleet at the edge of the Maelstrom! They were also the main fleet. They wiped out Nasir Waterk and him. Most of his subordinates, only—"

　　 Before he could finish his words, Huron's claws were inserted into his chest again, and he was thrown away.

　　 "Soshyang, I @￥##&@*!!!!!!"

　　 A series of curses in low Gothic language echoed for a long time on the deck of the ruined ghost...

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