The Emperor’s Angel of Death

Standard Terra calendar, 941.m41

　　 Amageddon planet, main continent, Invernas nest

　　Marek Gere had recorded his 58th birthday a month ago. In Invernas Nest, he is already a veritable old man at his age.

　　 The gravel in his body from the desert plains makes him feel painful when he moves, and when he does not move, he has only recovered a lot more than before.

　　 Many years in this plain will cause a person to suffer a heavy blow. They have to deal with scratches and subsequent infections, and then they have to worry about the sand and dust running into their mouth and nose to blacken their lungs.

　　 But no matter what, people who work outdoors for a long time will have their lungs failing due to exhaustion and infection, and they spend the rest of their lives coughing up **** sputum.

　　 Painful eyes are also a constant suffering-always crying, and sometimes dry.

　　 Even his hearing is not very sensitive. Only the emperor knows what decades of wind and sand have done to his ear canal.

　　 When his blood surged and his heart beat faster, everything in the world became vague and silent, as if he were underwater.

　　 But of all, his heart is the most damaged. Every time he walks for a while, it is always noisy and noisy to him.

　　 In short, he has the power to complain, but he rarely does.

Marek Gere is not a person who likes to relive the pain. Although he tried to explain the life on the desert plains to the people around him, that didn’t work very well. This is the same as Marek’s own father tried to tell him. The words are exactly the same, and then the long and short pains brought by this life.

　　 When the alarm was wailing in disharmony in the city, he was falling into these replaying memories.

"really--"

　　 He said loudly, the storm started really early this year. The last time he heard from the radio, it was at least a few weeks, or even a month away.

Not long ago, there were rumors among neighbours that the front line had lost the battle. Marek thought it was pure nonsense-those **** green leather things are just like the cockroaches in the crevices of his furniture. Apart from being disgusting, there will never be any. The second role.

　　 They will only be gently crushed to death like pests, Marek has enough confidence in this.

　　 The old man pulled himself up from the lying sofa and tasted the air through his teeth when his knees were shaking. Both knee joints regained consciousness under the acupuncture.

　　 There is no doubt that getting old is a complaint.

　　 A shadow passed through his window, and he raised his head when his fist hit the door plate

　　 "The emperor's throne."

　　 His knees protested to him again, but he had to get up and walk away anyway.

Guard officer Barack Hughes is on the other side of the door and is armed. The worn guard laser rifle is no longer in good condition after thousands of years, but as the guard of South 21 Street, he has the right to carry weapons when patrolling. .

　　 "Are you going to catch a few sand rabbits?"

　　Marek almost laughed and gestured to the gun.

　　 "It's too early to shoot the robbers, boy."

　　 "Those alerts."

　　 Barak was panting heavily, and it was obvious that he was running-through the streets filled with muddy alleys made up of pre-buried buildings.

　　 "The storm is early."

　　 The old man looked out the door, only to see that the horizon was obscured by the tooth-toothed skyline of the nest capital. People were driven out of their houses and huddled in the streets from all directions.

　　Barak shook his head.

　　 "Hurry up, you old dude, go to the underground shelter."

"never."

　　 The old man’s stubbornness is like most people in this city, and this place is not far from the military camp, there are many Chimeras in it, these armors resist the worst things in the sandstorm.

　　 "Listen to me, this is not a sandstorm. The nests are being attacked."

　　 After a short while, Marek didn't know whether to laugh or to lie back on the bed.

"…what's happenin?"

"This is not a joke. I heard that the defense chief is crazy, or...I don't know anything else, please! Look at the sky, you old stone!"

Marek has seen the panic in the faces of personnel serving outside the high wall similar to Barack’s eyes, the instinctive fear of animals lost in the plains, turning their bodies directionlessly at the beginning of the sandstorm, absolutely The inability to paint on this person's face makes it ugly and sick.

　　 He looked to the command spire far west, where a gleam of orange light illuminates the evening sky behind the city

"Who?"

　　 The old man asked in a low voice:

　　 "Who will attack us? Who will even know that we are here? Who cares about this?"

　　 No one answered him.

　　Barak had already started to run and joined the crowd. The old man saw him stretch out his cloth-wrapped hand to help a boy stand firmly and then squeezed him into the bustling line.

Marek Gere waited for a while while returning to his house with his sore knees and inflamed hands. When he appeared again, he took his own rifle-this gun worked well, thank God .

　　 He used it as a volunteer watcher, and used it to shoot the robbers in the nest after retiring from the work of detecting storms.

　　 Then he followed the edge of the crowd, and when the crowd pushed eastward, he walked to the west.

　　 If the nest is attacked, it would be meaningless to squat around and hide in Tibet. Old Marek would always know how to perform his duties.

　　 He lowered his head and simply checked his gun.

　　 At this moment, he seemed to hear the roar.

　　 Everyone in the crowd screamed, curled up, and held their heads. The giant beast screamed above, and their ears were deaf when they looked up at it.

　　 Only Marek remained the same, his bloodshot eyes staring in awe.

　　 Something darker than the gray sky, roaring in the sky, this is not a monster at all, it is a flying machine, painted in red, with a crude appearance, forming a dense formation gliding over the spire of the nest.

　　 The crowd is now screaming again, and the thinner parents hug their thinner children and cover their eyes.

　　 These trash-like warplanes leaned over their heads, and the fire tongues of the thrusters surged out like a strong wind blowing its armor.

　　 They relied on their momentum to hover in the air ~www.wuxiaspot.com~ against the raging wind. When they turned their heads and glanced at the crowd below, the thrusters once again burst into thunder, shaking the surrounding buildings trembling.

　　 Just in the blink of an eye, the formation of fighter planes crossed the sky. There is no doubt that it is definitely not a human aircraft.

　　 Marek was stunned for a moment, then suddenly ran, the joint pain had long been ignored.

"Ler me get through,"

　　 As he said, passing through the separated crowd, the fugitives in the opposite direction were slightly encouraged by his behavior.

　　 Before giving up fighting on his knees, Marek ran three streets.

　　 When he couldn't hold on anymore, he leaned on a wall and cursed the tingling in his joints, and his heart didn't feel much better. The rapid pace made blood flow through the chest cavity.

　　Marek hammered his chest, as if anger could soothe the flame spreading in his body.

　　 More clouds against the orange light, more and more places are on fire in the city.

　　 He gasped and forced his knees to obey him—they responded trembling.

　　 Old Marek staggered, this time he successfully crossed two streets before stopping to breathe.

　　 "I'm really too old to be such a fool."

　　 He coughed and leaned against a wall, but ignored some kind of screaming and roar.

　　Marek didn't hear this, even though the noise was only a few meters away from him, he still tried to catch his breath.

　　 The blood pressure rose, and the violent pounding of the heart made his ears deaf.

　　 He saw that the street was clear when people left, and then looked back at him, what seemed to be called—