Colonial Suit

Bang!!

A beam of light descended from the sky, nailing a mercenary to the ground, killing him instantly.

Then, a nimble fighter landed, transforming into a burly Sajester.

It raised its arms, ready to unleash more missiles, when a crescent-shaped light flashed, cutting it in half at the waist.

With a clang, the heavy axe blade slammed into the ground, and Bas knelt on one knee.

He gasped for breath, the axe handle slipping from his mouth.

That last strike had exhausted all his strength.

He felt weak all over, wanting nothing more than to sleep.

It was difficult for him to absorb energy within the Void Aggregate.

The high-intensity battle had only exacerbated his depletion.

Now, he was running on fumes.

Perhaps in the next moment, perhaps in just a few seconds, he would be finished.

But, it was time to die anyway…

Bas struggled to lift his head, letting blood flow down his cheeks.

His vision blurred, and he vaguely felt countless missiles flying towards him.

But Bas didn't want to move.

He didn't want to move at all.

At this moment, he thought of Fatty Rector, and the bespectacled Senya.

He remembered when they first came to the Second World.

Everything was new, everything was interesting.

But the indifference and exclusion of the Second World made them realize that a race without a home would never be recognized.

Even if they entered the Second World, they were just vagrants.

So they worked hard, they fought desperately, to find a home for themselves.

To find a home for humanity.

Now… the home had been found… but they, and he himself, could not return?

Bas felt a little bitter, and a little ridiculous.

He grinned, as if trying to force a smile.

But before his smile could bloom, countless missiles engulfed him.

The intense explosion lifted him and the surrounding hundreds of meters of ground layer by layer.

Smoke and dust filled the air.

"Your Highness Bas!"

The mercenaries roared anxiously, hardly daring to believe that their leader had died like this.

But none of them could break free.

For some reason, at this moment, all the Sajesters seemed to have gone mad, and the intensity of their attacks increased tenfold.

In the center of the battlefield, the smoke and dust gradually dissipated, revealing a gaunt figure.

Brute…

At this moment, he was hunched over, coughing violently, as if trying to cough his lungs out.

A large amount of blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, but it directly dissipated into particles.

In everyone's sight, he slowly collapsed, leaning against Bas at his feet.

"Why did you save me?" Bas laughed. "Wouldn't it be better to just let me die like this?"

"My comrades are all dead, there's no point in leaving me alive.

To die in this glorious battlefield is my deserved end."

"Cough… cough cough…" Brute coughed violently, squeezing out a few words from between his teeth while spitting blood.

"You… still… can't die…"

"There's still…"

"Meaning…"

"If you can't talk, then don't," Bas raised his broken arm, wanting to pat Brute on the back, but then let it fall weakly.

He smiled bitterly and looked at his body.

"I can't move anymore.

If you can run, then hurry up and do it.

It's not worth wasting energy on me."

"Still… cough cough… can hold on," Brute's body flickered between reality and illusion, but his eyes were incredibly bright.

He said firmly, one word at a time.

"Blood Eyes… will definitely… be able to do it."

"You have confidence in him," Bas grinned. He stopped talking.

Of course, he wouldn't deny Brute's words, but he knew what was behind that gate.

He also knew the threat that thing posed to humanity.

That wasn't something a carbon-based life form could control.

Even a cosmic warrior would have to pay the price of their life to approach it.

Blood Eyes might be an exception, but he would definitely need time.

But what they lacked most right now was time.

The Sajesters' offensive was too frantic.

They no longer cared about losses, as long as they could keep them here.

Bas could understand their mentality, because they had lost their kingdom, but they didn't want to let go of the people who hammered the final nail into their coffin.

The mercenaries beside him were still fighting desperately, but their numbers were dwindling.

Just as the Sajesters were about to break through the defense line, suddenly, a mercenary rushed forward, punching a Sajester through the chest and tearing him into pieces.

Then, he roared, and his whole body instantly turned into a ball of intense white light.

The next moment, he exploded with a loud bang, destroying all the Sajesters around him.

"Your Highness Bas, you must live on!"

Another mercenary shouted, then pounced forward.

"Live on!"

"You must live on!"

"Carry our share too!"

"Take us home!"

One expectation after another, one farewell after another.

One ball of white light after another, one pile of corpses after another.

Facing the sea of surging Sajesters, the mercenaries rushed forward one after another, leaving only a short sentence, a smile, or even just a look.

Bas couldn't see anything anymore, but he was still smiling, smiling hideously, smiling terrifyingly.

His blood-stained teeth glittered in the flames.

He nodded, agreeing to each and every mercenary.

"Okay."

"Live on."

"It will definitely happen."

"We must go back."

He answered, echoed, as if unaware that there were fewer and fewer mercenaries beside him, as if unaware of what they were doing.

Finally, when there were only two digits of mercenaries left beside him, his voice gradually disappeared.

It was time…

No matter how desperately the mercenaries fought, time ultimately wasn't on their side.

Perhaps… they were destined not to see the dawn of victory.

Bas wriggled his body, as if trying to bite the giant axe again, but he couldn't do it no matter what.

Seeing his actions, a mercenary picked up the axe for him and put it to his mouth.

"Thank you…" Bas grinned and smiled at the mercenary.

"How many are left?"

"Twelve," the mercenary replied, short and forceful.

"Out of energy, all cripples."

"Men don't have cripples," Bas shook his head.

He bit the axe handle from the mercenary's hand, then stood up relying on him.

"As long as we can still fight, still breathe, we will never be considered cripples."

"Because scars are a man's badge of honor."

"Come on! Lads!" He raised his head, facing the enemy's direction as he had countless times in the past.

"Let's do something big!"

"Aww!!"

The remaining mercenaries shouted, rolling or crawling to Bas's side.

The Sajesters in the distance were about to press on again.

They could all see the fire of hatred in each other's eyes.

But that didn't matter, as long as they could fight, as long as they could breathe, weren't they all pursuing glory?

This was the life of a mercenary, the pride of a mercenary…

They leaned on each other, waiting for the final moment to arrive.

Then, they heard a roar that resounded throughout the universe.

The Void Aggregate disintegrated and separated before their eyes, and a large number of modules fell from above, like the end of the world.

The Sajesters, who had been incredibly frantic just now, scattered and fled as if they had encountered the most terrible thing, leaving only them with their bodies covered in wounds.

The mercenaries looked at each other, hardly daring to believe that they had won like this… They stared blankly at each other, and after a long time, they suddenly laughed loudly…

Laughing madly, laughing until tears came out.

In every second of facing death, we can be immortal, like God. (To be continued.

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