The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Whispers continued, but a chorus of soft voices replaced words and laughter, and everyone's ears seemed to be covered with a high silky mist-even though the passing voice hissed and distorted.

Valier had been listening for nearly half an hour, his accidental interest turned into keen attention, and soon became full attention.

Septims saw the pharmacist more often than the holographic projection. He noticed that Valle's pale lips never stopped shaking-he tried to translate those unfamiliar words in his mind.

"grown ups--"

Septims tried again, but was interrupted by a raised fist.

If he speaks again, Valler is likely to come over.

"Ditrian."

After a few heartbeats, Valek spoke up.

"What's wrong? Skinner, what did you hear from the voice of the spirit race?"

"The game has changed. Let me go to the ground on Nathan Six."

As soon as he said this, Dieterian's spectacles immediately rotated and refocused in the eye sockets.

"I take negative action for procedures that completely violate Talos' orders and plans, or require you to submit sufficient reasons."

Valer didn't answer right away, still listening to the spirit language distractedly. Septims thought it sounded like some kind of song, sung by those who wish no one would hear their voice.

It was great, but it still made him get goose bumps.

"The game has changed."

A minute later, Valer repeated the previous words.

He turned to the humble podium, and his cold blue eyes scanned-cut, but saw nothing.

Dietrian was indifferent to Valler's whispers in the distance.

"I reiterated my opinion. If you want to modify the clause, it has become a requirement. Then provide a sufficient reason, otherwise you have no right to issue an order."

Valler finally focused on something—specifically, Dietrian, who was wearing a red robe with a skull face half-hidden in the folds of his hood.

"Spirits——"

Valer whispered:

"They whispered their prophecies. The Eighth Legion ruthlessly caused them to bleed in the following decades, do you understand? They didn't chase us because Talos's heart was screaming... they cursed us. They need to cut the unwanted future from the shackles of fate."

Dietrian made an erroneously aborted sound, which amounted to a snort of contempt.

"Enough. Alien's witchcraft is irrelevant, and alien's superstition is irrelevant. The most important thing is when I receive the order."

Valer's eyes turned to the distance again, and he listened to the aliens singing in their whispers.

"That's it."

The pharmacist blinked and stared at the bishop again.

"You don't understand, they are trying to prevent some future...something that has not yet come. There, Talos leads the Eighth Legion against their dying species. They sing songs like children praying. , I hope God has mercy on them, do you hear it? Are you listening to what I say?"

Septims stepped back, and the pharmacist gave way to a narrow path.

Valer walked over and stared at the sitting bishop. Septims had never seen Valler so high-spirited.

The pharmacist was almost gritting his teeth and narrating something.

"They are trying to kill a future that scares them! Something they don't allow! This is a huge risk for them, so they drive us to a dead end and use ghost-driven ships to chase us down! That's what they think of Talos to die."

Dietrian repeated the negative voice.

"Everything you say is purely based on guesswork in foreign languages."

"What if they are right? The prophets of the Eighth Legion will rise at the end of the dark millennium and let the spirits bleed, which is far beyond what their declining population can bear! Damn, you are not at work outside of work You turn a blind eye to everything, can't you hear what I say? Listen to me, you heresy warlocks, in the future they see, the prophet destroyed their Ark world!"

Dieterian had to admit that he was trying to make a decision.

Talos had asked him to take a series of actions to let the people and cargo on board leave safely, but the pharmacist offered a convincing reason-even if that reason could not be attributed to practicality and possibility for the time being.

"To deal with the probability of this ship surviving a direct battle with the enemy fleet, it is necessary to perform calculations that few biological minds can understand. I just want to say, you know, our chances of winning are not great."

If he could smile sincerely, instead of his face as a natural by-product of a metal skull, Dietrian would probably grin at that moment.

He is extremely proud of his good at downplaying.

But Valle was neither moved nor amused.

"Adjust the gear that makes a noise behind your eyes. If the spirit race is so afraid of this prediction coming true, it means that Talos may survive this war. We have a chance... My brother's fate is definitely not. To die tragically in this worthless world, I intend to give him a chance and let him seize this opportunity."

Dieterian's indifferent appearance has not even changed.

"Talos' final order is still valid. This container is now the genetic seed repository of more than one hundred Eighth Army soldiers who died in action. This genetic material must reach the Great Eye. This is my oath to Talos, and I swear to promise. ."

The last sentence made him very uncomfortable.

"You should run, but I won't."

Valer turned to Septims.

"Number seven."

"grown ups?"

"Get your gunboat ready and send me off Nathan Six."

Just as Valer announced that he was leaving the shuttle, Ottavia was doing—something she hadn’t dared to do for a long time—using her talent to try to see the outline of the subspace.

It took her a long time to calm her nerves, and then risking being seen by unnecessary existence, closed her eyes and untied her headscarf.

The rest didn't take much time. In fact, it was almost very easy—similar to the feeling of falling halfway from a difficult climb.

Ottavia was once the Eurydice of the family. She may not have been born with a strong navigator lineage, but her experience on the moody but determined ship of the Eighth Legion has honed her skills.

As she stared at the endless black tide, she couldn't help wondering where she and Septimus were going, and how they could escape the fate of entering the eye of fear.

This kind of thinking doesn't seem to be as pessimistic as before, and she doesn't know why.

Seeing the sea of ​​souls was like opening her third eye—as simple as she knew that some navigators would let the spirit enter the subspace, but she did not need to enter.

Her father can only see Subspace with three eyes open. She never knows why, they all have their own personal habits.

When she saw it, she just stared at the ebb and flow of the semi-formed void with mysterious eyes. The shapelessness is like a tide, and the shapelessness is like a snake.

Shamans and witches from the primitive times of ancient Tyra would think that this is no different from their ritual to spy on the mysterious hell.

But when she was searching, she couldn't help holding her breath every time, until her beating heart and painful lungs forced her to breathe again.

She realized that on a certain logical level she was projecting her sight through the evil subspace, and might even project fragments of consciousness into space-but Ottavia didn't care about this concept.

The important thing is what she can find with her second vision.

Not long ago, they ran again and again in the cordon of the spirit race, crossing the tide along the path of least resistance, and she did her best to guide the echo of the curse and ride the wind and waves.

She has always been caught between the two states, looking at the fractured subspace, feeling her hands on the swollen belly.

Now she is free from the pressure of navigating in subspace and can watch it freely.

Ottavia stared tighter, her gaze stretched deeper, past the black shadows beyond the star torch light, looking for any light source in the conflicting clouds.

For the first time she began to see what Talos had done.

The demonic substance collided before her eyes and was torn apart by the brutal wounds, infiltrating each other.

She could hear her name in the stormy sea, a whisper, a scream, a howl...

Ottavia pulled herself back and opened her eyes.

The subspace is always constantly changing, and it is reactivated within a few hours after the first scream.

However, ~www.readwn.com~ now she is preparing to guide a strange ship into an unnavigable area.

The navigator put her bandanna back in place, tied the ponytail back, and stretched out on the uncomfortable throne, trying to relieve the pressure on her back.

She thought about the attendants standing outside the door, they must be crowded in the narrow corridor.

Missing Septimus with a detached attitude is a painful thing in itself.

More importantly, no matter how unwilling to admit it, or even to herself-she wants Septimus to be with her.

How stupid to fall in love in the darkest galaxy, in the darkest corner.

When Ottavia moved on her seat, her eyes widened from the sudden shock, because she had just received a news.

The news was sent by Septims, it was short, but it made her heart fall to hell.

Afterwards, she slowly put a hand on her belly, feeling the new life move in her body.