The Emperor’s Angel of Death

"what did you just say?"

Jacob's breath could almost spray Herbert's face.

"Go on, you an **** idiot with a close relative, I will put your blood on my body as battle paint for the rest of the time, so everyone will know that my dagger has dug out a humble heart."

With a cold snort, Herbert disguised his resentment in a calm disguise, a lethal tenderness.

"You are just a childish thing blindly chasing honor. You think you are a mature man, but you pretend to be an experienced hunter. You can live to this day because of your good luck, Jacob, but your luck will run out. Luck will always run out."

Jacob looked at each other coldly, and suddenly, he remembered a face similar to this man.

"I see."

He lowered his throat and squeezed the sentence out almost word by word.

"That guy who is as weak as a chicken is your brother? I'm sorry to chop off his six fingers before he died."

"You are so cheap in this nest!"

Herbert finally failed to control his emotions, and with a roar, he rushed forward.

The two fell to the floor at the same time, fighting together.

The surrounding slave laborers retreated one after another. The phase of mutual threats and insults was over. Now there are only broken grunts and curses in the air, accompanied by the muffled sound of fists hitting the vital points, and from time to time I can hear who’s head banging. The thumping sound on the floor.

With the explosion like lightning splitting a tree stump, Jacob smashed Herbert's head with the handle of a dagger, and Herbert stabbed a short knife into Jacob's shoulder. His voice was sticky and smooth. It's hard to think of the corpses that were hung on the butcher's hooks sliding down.

Blood splattered, sketching the trajectory of the two men fighting each other all the way in the room.

"You **** bastard! Rubbish like you is not worthy of being an Astarte!"

Herbert suddenly grabbed Jacob by the hair, then lifted his head vigorously, and then slammed it down on the bed.

Knocking, banging a few times, blood dripped from the wound on Jacob's face, and the spreading weird traces formed a dirty and strange pattern, as if cast a crazy stare at them.

"This should be my brother's qualification! How dare you kill him!"

In the next second, Jacob's elbow hammered Herbert's throat mercilessly, almost denting the opponent's Adam's apple, which shows that the force is so violent.

And the second attack that followed can only be said to have been worse than it was. It smashed into Herbert's chin abruptly, enough to break all the teeth.

Even if Herbert released his hand, Jacob did not pull away and slid away, but attacked more and more fiercely.

I don't know when the original gasping sound turned into a roar, their weapons had long since disappeared, but by this time, no one cared anymore.

The two of you come and go, I don't know how long it lasted.

Dueling is a very common situation in the lives of the Astartes. The epics of the angels are full of stories of bare-handed fighting between brothers in the warband. period.

Those men who had thought of blasting the brains of their opponents and running blood would eventually find that even though they were almost out of breath, they laughed happily than ever, and felt that the relationship had become closer to each other.

At the same time, they will also learn valuable lessons from it.

This is not the case at this moment, only the purest and dark hatred.

Before everything was irreversible, the battle was stopped by a chair that was thrown at them.

It whizzed through the clouds and cracked rocks, and hit Herbert's back. It looked as if he hadn't had time to figure out what happened when he fell.

However, Jacob took a strong shoulder. He swayed, his whole body fell forward, his face hit the wall, then he staggered for a moment and fell to his knees.

The two boys lying on the floor panted like wild beasts, and their clothes were torn apart.

"Hmm-"

There was a grunt from Herbert's throat, and his teeth were full of blood. No matter what he wanted to say, no one could understand it anyway.

"Uh-"

Jacob's response was also vague.

At this moment, a warrior with an angry face was standing in the middle of the room. He was wearing a full set of power armor and his teeth clenched.

When his eyes fell on the two boys, even the kindly natured him reached an unprecedented level of anger in his life.

"You two **** idiots."

"I…"

Herbert spoke.

"…only…"

In the next second, the power armor boots stepped on Herbert's chest, and the complaints that had just disappeared instantly disappeared, turning into wailing like a wounded puppy.

"Be quiet."

The soldier standing in front of them was Bahram, and he said grumpily:

"Shut up all of you, **** it, this place is full of your blood."

"It's him…"

Jacob stood up swayingly, Bachram didn't say a word, and slapped his backhand.

Now Bachram's punch is strong enough to knock a mortal's head off his shoulders. In other words, even a tank that ran the enemy over has no less momentum than this.

But he controlled the power very carefully.

So Jacob fell to the floor again, groaning in pain, it felt like not a single bone in his whole body was intact.

"I said, don't speak, you are both."

Bachram walked around the trail of blood left behind. He carefully examined the damage, and then roared like a bear.

"I don't need to call up monitoring to know what's going on."

He pointed to the metal bedboard next to it, which was still smeared with dirty blood, naturally coming from the wound on Jacob's face.

"All of this tells me the same incomparably simple truth-you two are bastards! You can't understand what a brother is!"

Bahram's black eyes seemed to be condensed with thick frost.

"So what does this mean for you? You guy just pierced your brother's shoulder, but in return, he broke your brain too, didn’t you think it’s not a retelling? Is it a good time for friendship? I'm serious."

Herbert still tried to defend.

"We are only-"

"I know Jacob killed your brother."

In the airtight cabin, UU reading www.uukanshu.com's body slammed on the wall like thunder, and all the slave laborers had shrunk in the corner of the room long ago.

Herbert, who slid off the wall, curled up, and Bachram remained unmoved, but looked at the two injured boys coldly.

"Your current body can't accept transformation at all, you can only accept enhanced repair."

Bachram pressed the communicator that pressed his neckline.

"Master Balitaem, this is Bahram."

"What's wrong."

The voice of the chief pharmacist of the battle group Nassin Balitaem immediately came from the other end of the communicator.

"Two boys are experiencing physical conditions, please come over immediately."

In response, the pharmacist just snorted, indicating that he heard what Bahram said.

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