Colonial Suit

"t71, x214, c7613 coordinates, b55 surveillance unit, Krodir Conqueror high-energy reaction, vanished!"

"t2212, x364, c91182 coordinates, g711 surveillance unit, Krodir Conqueror high-energy reaction, vanished!!"

For a time, reports flooded the fleet channel, the information conveyed was basically the same, and the duty officers in front of the light screen were dumbfounded, almost unable to believe their ears.

The Krodir had left a deep impression on them; these great warriors had salvaged hope for humanity in the previous battles, only to depart one after another on the eve of victory.

Their power had once shaken people's hearts, and their departure was equally cruel.

Legendary warriors, none of whom had yielded in the face of powerful enemies, were swallowed by strengthened cells and turned into unrecognizable blood.

The tragic state of even the soul being annihilated left everyone who witnessed it speechless.

They couldn't understand what kind of will, what kind of soul, could allow them to fight so selflessly, knowing their ultimate fate.

To never give up, even knowing that death was certain.

Could this be the true Krodir?

This is… the nation of battle?

The exhortation to live well and live with dignity was already well known to all humans.

In the eyes of many, it was merely the consolation of the Krodir Conquerors, but to more, it was a legacy.

It was the entrustment of one generation of strong, one generation of unyielding, to another generation of their kind.

Live well, with dignity, live on.

So easy, so difficult.

In the starry sky, on the bridge of Ragnarok, Sloth personally witnessed the disappearance of a Conqueror.

The Conqueror looked terrible.

His body was melted by the implanted armor in a matter of seconds, and then turned into blood in everyone's sight.

A living life, no, a living powerhouse, disappeared just like that, his death even more helpless than a lamb.

But what was surprising was that even in such intense pain, such cruel torment, the Conqueror didn't say a word from beginning to end.

His expression was so calm, and even when the strengthened cells submerged his face, his pupils remained indifferent.

It was as if he had been waiting for this day for a long time, waiting for… countless years.

"Why?" Sloth asked loudly.

"Why?"

"There is no justice in war," Hecate replied, a hint of understanding on his face.

"No matter the reason, no matter the background, when killing becomes a habit, that is sin!"

"Do you think the Krodir never have moments of weakness? That's just your imagination!! They are a race of battle, their weakness only exists in private, only within themselves!

Those wars, the wails of countless lives? What kind of torture do they endure for their honor? How would you know?!"

"Where the heart leads, there is no fear," Hecate's voice lowered.

He looked at the spreading pool of blood and murmured softly, "That is Krodir."

Hecate didn't continue, but his gaze fell on Bloodshot, looking at his cold expression, his lonely back, and sighed softly.

"The burden itself… is cruel…"

In the starry sky, the battlefield had advanced a lot, even with the naked eye, the ring was within reach.

And looking at the big picture, except for the three stubborn 'World Blockades', humanity had almost seized all the initiative on the battlefield.

But Bloodshot on Ragnarok didn't move, just silently watched the distance, his eyes calm.

His vision was different from others, in addition to the normal data, there were many more humanoid color blocks.

Some of these humanoids were still green, but some had turned yellow or deep red.

Every color block that turned deep red would disappear in a few seconds, and then be replaced by a new green block.

"It's already, impossible to turn back…" he murmured, his voice only audible to himself.

"I'm sorry, my subjects, but my power can only reach this far. I brought you here, but I can't take you back."

Bloodshot's power was not unlimited, although he had become the Lord of the Blood Sea, and used strengthened cell carriers and psionic collection and other means.

But he was not a god after all, and could not defy the laws of nature.

Birth, aging, illness, and death were the cycle of all life in the universe, and even the God-domain level had to embed themselves in the rules to maintain the so-called 'immortal divine will'.

How could he revive the Krodir of ten thousand years ago?

What he relied on was nothing more than the massive amount of vitality obtained in the relic event, and his own Blood Sea.

Carrier, soul, vitality, are the three elements of all life.

Bloodshot might be able to complete two of these elements by external force, but the last, and most important element, 'vitality', was not much in stock.

Therefore, the Krodir Legion he had summoned, no matter how glorious and great, was destined to end in this way. (Note: Little Knife has repeatedly elaborated on the value of so-called vitality in this book, so I won't nag here.)

This is the fairness of the universe.

In the starry sky, the black figures of the Krodir were still shuttling, constantly crushing one resistant after another.

At this point, the remaining Boka and Sasha powerhouses had no will to fight, but they still did not give up the pursuit.

Perhaps for these 'heroic spirits' who had accumulated ten thousand years of resentment in the Blood Sea, only killing could liberate them.

However, some Krodir abandoned the battle.

They floated in a corner of the starry sky, relaxing, either standing or sitting, enjoying their own peace.

These people refused to be approached by others, and were unwilling to share their feelings with anyone.

They just sat there quietly, looking at the distant starry sky, this, was once the place where they fought.

Also, the place where they belonged.

Silently, a Krodir Conqueror disappeared, then the next, and the next.

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None of them spoke, just calmly accepted their fate.

Perhaps… this was the rest they had longed for.

Not to sleep in that dark River Styx, but to end in this chaotic battlefield.

Born on the battlefield, died on the battlefield.

On Ragnarok, Bloodshot sighed softly.

He knew it was all over.

Although he didn't want these excellent warriors to disappear either, the laws of nature could not be reversed.

The only thing he could do was to let these warriors fulfill their last wishes.

Thinking of this, Bloodshot raised his head and looked at the three special spaces in the starry sky.

There, they were completely isolated from the normal starry sky, forming self-sufficient 'worlds'.

Hecate came behind him at some point and asked softly, "What are you planning to do?"

"Nothing," Bloodshot replied, his voice still as cold as ever.

"That is their battle, if they can't even solve this little difficulty, then… I don't think they are worthy of your trust and reliance."

"Wait…"

Bloodshot said, then closed his eyes… (To be continued)