The Emperor’s Angel of Death

On the other side of the team, the young think tank who walked fast next to Johserius was named Lucius Antros. His original archangel-like appearance was a model of the battle group-it's a pity that he occupied The hideous scars on the half-side holes were scars left by his first trial of recruits, and they have not disappeared according to personal wishes.

He hopes to always remember the lesson of that failure.

The young think tank walked outside the team, the long golden pony tail above his head was swaying in the candlelight, and Antros and Johcelius were always staring at Mephisto, who was striding forward.

The last in the queue of warriors who look like sculptures is named Albinu, the battle brother of the Holy Blood Angel. The warrior’s armor is decorated with golden emblems and medals, and several precious battle groups. The relic distinguishes him from other fighting brothers, and demonstrates his status as a high-ranking priest of the Holy Blood.

The holy grail hung from his waist is on the sacrificial pile, and the left armour is equipped with an arm-type first aid-a bunch of vicious-looking chainsaws and drills to help Albinu save the lives of many of his brothers in crisis. The genetic seeds of countless soldiers who died in battle.

The blood slaves standing around looked at Albinu with reverence in their eyes, even comparable to Dante.

According to rumors, sooner or later Arbinu will be promoted to the highest priest of the Holy Blood, instead of the legendary warrior Cobro, who has served for five hundred years, and become the holder of the Scarlet Grail.

The team stopped at the highest point of the mountain and paid tribute to each other with the standing honor guard officers.

It wasn't until the scratching of the armor awakened Mephisto from his meditation that he realized that his soul had already wandered beyond the clouds.

He followed Dante through the vault. There was an abandoned church on the mountain. Now there are thirty cold bodies displayed in the resting place of the dome of the church: they are all stripped of their armor, and they have exaggerated muscles far beyond ordinary people. It is wrapped in layers of red and gold brocade.

Arbinu took the lead and confirmed that everyone's genetic seeds have been removed-it will be properly kept and continue to contribute to the battle group.

This is part of the etiquette, and the removal operation was completed shortly after the soldiers were killed.

Then Albinu removed the silk and satin that wrapped the body, and the bitter chemical smell filled the small church.

Symbolically inspected the cold body, and moaned a few eulogy, Albinu wrapped the brocade back, stepped back, and nodded to Dante.

As Dante stepped forward, the beautiful movement played by the four-cloth speakers broadcasted the wilderness.

The blood slaves knelt down and folded their hands together and began to pray devoutly.

Dante took the scroll held up by the blood slave, and the gesture of his fingers on the pages of the swirling book stopped abruptly on the most suitable chapter.

He cleared his throat, swallowed back when he was about to say something, and looked back at Mephisto.

"The Recorder."

The echo distorted Dante's tone.

"Would you like to personally send them the last ride?"

Mephisto stared at the wrapped corpses with no distraction, yet he could not recover from his thoughts.

Aroused by Dante's words, he suddenly raised his head.

"Team leader?"

Dante handed out the scroll in his hand.

"This will be the final part of the farewell journey. It's your turn to show their past lives."

Mephisto carefully looked at the expression of the battle captain, trying to find the clues of disagreement-although he also understood that ‘duplicity’ never belonged to Dante’s way of being a human being.

Aware of what happened to him, he still wants to read the eulogy by himself?

It's incredible.

Mephisto hesitated for a moment, and finally nodded, and took the scroll handed out by the battle captain.

"We feel futile and sad..."

The voice he read was quiet and peaceful. As soon as the think tank's words were spoken, the blood slaves surrounded by him were silent at the moment-no one could have expected the final link to go like this.

It was not the great war leader or the noble priest of the Holy Blood that ended the journey of sacrificing the warrior—it was Mephisto.

Through the bright light in the hands of the blood slave, the clearly recognizable words got stuck in Mephisto's even more throat.

He is also wondering whether he can properly shoulder the burden of his choice?

Dante thought he was safe and sound, but Mephisto knew that things were not so simple.

Only he understands what price he has paid in order to finally return to this world.

Is he strong enough?

Is he really able to become the shadow of the battle group's rising sun?

Is he really able to be a shadow in their souls?

Can he hold onto himself?

On the other side, Dante was also studying his actions.

With a light sigh, Mephisto gently closed the book and handed it back.

Anxiety turned in Dante's eyes, but Mephisto put his palm on the shoulder of a fallen soldier before he spoke, and chanted softly:

"For the unfortunate dead, we feel futile and sorrowful. The blood shed sharpens the angel's blade, and the martyrs never sacrifice in vain."

For the next ten minutes, Mephisto relied on his memory to sing the soul-resting song of mourning the dead—he didn't need the leather-bound hymnbook.

There are few books in the think tank sanctuary that he has not read through, and his memory is always accurate.

Although facing Dante's eyes, Mephisto could still feel the gazes of everyone around him-they were watching his mind, waiting for him to shake.

But they are doomed to be disappointed, and Mephisto's voice will be firmer every time they read a eulogy.

In the process, Albinu occasionally gave Dante a worried glance, and the scene of the conversation between the two the day before came to his mind again.

"Commander of the battle group, what do you think? Even if he looks peaceful on the surface now, it does not mean that he is still complete inside. We all know that a person who has experienced black anger cannot be complete, so we must not condone him, right. wrong?"

Belonging to Dante's private room, Albinu faced the battle captain and shook his head slightly-his attitude was very negative.

Albinu’s attitude towards Mephisto was more firm, perhaps because he had seen too many brothers fall into black anger and couldn’t help himself. He insisted that Mephisto be imprisoned and sent to the Tower of Death in Barr-there. It is another final home for the lost.

Dante raised his eyebrows facing the attitude of the Holy Blood priest.

"I will not'indulge' anyone in the battle group, Brother Albinu, but I also don't have the habit of trying the fighting brothers without verification ~ www.readwn.com~ After this, the most prestigious war in the empire. The commander's gaze on Albinu became as sharp as a blade.

"Brother, each of us has our own destiny and our own burdens."

In the end, Albinu succumbed to Dante's tough attitude.

But it does not mean that he agrees with Mephisto.

"...The Emperor Zhizhi of the Candle Torch, the Cave Extinction Sprite..."

Mephisto's voice became louder and more confident, as if to prove something.

Under everyone's gaze, the last eulogy he chanted was like a thunderstorm, surging along the see-off queue with a roar of dragons and tigers, shaking every heart that had doubts about him.

"...They live up to the blood of San Giles!"

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