The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"It's here again! Let's retreat first!"

Hearing this laughter, the hair on the back of Bachram's neck stood up, and he urged Sablin and Li Lin to speed up, while he was holding a gun alone.

They quickly crossed the street full of corpses and entered the fortified outpost.

The gate of the outpost was open, and Bahram walked in the last one, and he closed the door with his backhand for the first time.

But the moment he closed it, he realized that something was amiss.

What a strong smell of blood!

"Sablin—"

He turned his head, but saw Sablin take off his helmet, his dark pupils looked around, and he put his fingers in front of his lips at the same time.

"Hush, look."

Bachram looked up and saw blood everywhere, staining the oxidized steel into a deep red.

The more you go up, the more and more blood will eventually become ubiquitous.

The blood is disturbing, but it is nowhere near as terrible as the source of the blood.

On a sturdy platform at the top of the outpost, Bahram was furious with the atrocities that took place.

Three people were placed around the central column of the **** stage. Bahram was only a brief glimpse, but it was enough to imprint the image in his soul forever.

Husband, wife, and a newly grown daughter were brutally tortured and killed. He also noticed a tiny but terrifying detail: the man had his eyelids cut off, and his eyes remained in his eye sockets. Then he realized that he must be his father, and was forced to watch the death of the other two.

Sablin was not affected by this scene, he investigated the scene with a serious curiosity.

"This is crazy."

"No sane person would do such a thing."

Bachram gasped and gritted his teeth:

"That's why the traitors must be driven out! They have long become monsters that exterminate humanity!"

"here!"

Suddenly, Li Lin pointed to a wall, and the other two raised their heads at the same time.

I saw a "corpse" hanging there.

He used to be a missionary, judging by the few clothes she had left: a white robe with twine, a sacred chest slung over her shoulder, and golden scripture embroidered on it.

The reason this kind of person came to a savage planet was basically to spread the light of the emperor. In a sense, he was undoubtedly a brave and selfless person.

But what happened to him seems unfair.

The robe was torn apart, and the twine creaked around his neck as he twisted it on the wall.

A wooden box shattered at his feet, and there were some burnt fragments inside—maybe some important scriptures, but they had been ground to ashes.

"The emperor bless us..."

Bachram's voice became low, and it was hard for him to see such a person's martyrdom.

But the pastor did not die here—it was clear.

Of course, signs of murder were everywhere—blood splashed on the walls and ceiling.

This is not so much an exhibition as a business card, but more like a crazy scene: concise, orderly, and neatly arranged.

The priest's hands were gone, his eyes were covered, and one foot was hung on a piece of cartilage. It was obvious that the amputation was deliberately interrupted, and his internal organs had overflowed, resting on the looming wound that penetrated the abdomen.

All over his body, along every part of the worm-like pale body, were drawn lazy lines: flowing ripples and scarlet lightning.

At first, Bachram mistook the lines for red ink and scribbled them on the skin.

But then he realized that he was wrong.

Each thread is an incision, handled so delicately and so perfectly that no drop of blood oozes out.

This is not crazy, this is art.

The artist did not shy away from signing his work.

Above the corpse, there was a line written in blood that attracted his attention.

But this kind of text is not high Gothic, and Bachram can't recognize it.

Sablin stood behind him with a strange expression, while Li Lin on the side didn't think much about it, and said directly:

"This kind of text, I seem to see it at the company commander--"

"Shut up!"

Sablin turned his head and glared at the other person. Li Lin then shrank his neck and realized that he had said something incredible.

Bahram just remembered that he had indeed seen this kind of writing in Talos. The company commander of the eleventh company would occasionally stay alone in the art museum to perform solitary carvings when no one was around. The carvings are all strange faces. Every time he finishes carving, he will carve a line of words on them, and then break them.

Thinking of this, Bachram looked at Sablin. He felt that the person who was most respected by Talos should have learned a lot from the other person.

Including this kind of text?

Noting Bachram's gaze, Sablin sighed helplessly, then cleared his throat.

"it says--"

Sablin turned to these words, and in his eyes, they writhed viciously.

In fact, the moment he saw these words, he was also shocked, and immediately decided to some familiar concept-he is not stupid, the many signs of Talos after years of observation, the conclusion he reached is very simple.

Talos is by no means a member of the astral knights, and may not even be a warrior of the empire in the past—

Thinking of this, he read the words aloud, and each word was clear and powerful.

"The false emperor's running dog just die like this—"

He could feel Bachram staring at him, looking very anxious.

"Hurrah, Lord of the Night."

At this moment, a huge darkness fell from the sky--

"Be careful!!"

Bahram was the first to react and swooped to the left.

He perceives ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ instead of hearing the hiss of claws cutting through the air, just where he was just now.

It's so silent, it can be killed by one blow.

He turned over and drew the sword as fast as he could to block the next attack. The blade screamed in the dark, bursting out dim sparks.

But he could only see a shadow.

Later, Bachram twisted his hips and stuck his sword into the crackling claw blade, but his ribs were exposed. Then the opponent’s second arm protruded like a poisonous snake, and the tip of his right paw pierced in. The gap between Bahram's armpit and shoulder armor is about ten centimeters deep.

"what--"

The pain spread from his shoulders, Bachram did not hesitate, but rolled over decisively, spilling blood on the ground.

At this moment, a burst of strong light suddenly broke out, illuminating the pitch-black outpost.

Bachram turned his head and saw Sabrin threw a flare on the high platform, which also illuminated the assassin's figure.

Amon Carr, the prince of thorns, stood on a wide platform, peeled off unprocessed human skins sewn on the tattered robes, blood, some dry brown, some still bright red, flowing on the marble-smooth metal shell— —It is a set of ancient Mark IV power armor, painted in midnight blue and inlaid with bronze on the edges. The serrated spear point stands on the shoulder armor, metal gloves and breastplate. The iconic look of the Eighth Army The flying-winged skeleton embraces his own coat of arms of the prince of thorns, a black poisonous rose and evil and poisonous thorns.

The other party did not wear a helmet, showing a flawless face, with beautiful lines like a statue, but the posture was like an evil rickety wizard.

More importantly, he has the same pitch-black wings as Sablin and Li Lin, and his skin is as pale as a dead body.

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