Iongra Speer, the Death Herald, commander of the Black Legion Expeditionary Fleet, was standing motionless on the command deck of the Ceaseless Wrath.
He ignored the noise of the crew on the bridge and looked out at the last bulletproof observation window that was still intact.
He straightened his back, as if he was inspecting a fleet of ships, but what he was looking at was not a fleet, it was part of the remaining fleet - the scrapped ships were piled together into a scrap pile filled with delicate gadgets. The field is floating idle in the void.
Colorful violent winds enveloped the Pandora galaxy, framing it with its tentacles, as delicate as ice sculptures on glass.
Of course, it is not impossible to treat this as a beautiful and intoxicating scenery. Anyway, he thinks it is quite beautiful, although Iengra Speer himself cannot be associated with the word "beautiful". .
Even if the opacity of the observation window was adjusted to the maximum, the dirty light generated by the subspace would still blind his eyes.
Still, he remained motionless, looking away, beyond the twisting tendrils of the storm, into the night beyond the asteroid belt.
He didn't know which goddamn retarded wizard in the Legion had created a small-scale warp storm at a critical moment in their battle. He didn't know how much damage the Empire had suffered, but he was almost fucked to death, literally.
There are very few ships that can reach here without peeling off their skin, and most of them turn in early.
He wouldn't blame them, after all he was the one who lost the war.
Since the defeat in the first naval battle, the entire situation in Pandora has changed.
Now it is crowded with the pitiful battleships of the empire and is no longer a backwater. Once the small battleships of the Black Legion enter this system and lurk in the shadows, what they see is the endless flow of spaceships traveling to and from planets and new technologies. between the rail platforms and the messy traffic lines——
Then, most of the warships belonging to the Black Legion warband would hurriedly escape back to the warp with their tails between their legs.
Those who had the guts to stay in the galaxy paid little attention to him as the commander.
Iongraspeer has been trying to reshape his authority. He and his defeated troops continued to circle the galaxy with the Empire's fleet. At first, he achieved certain results through sneak attacks, but as the strength of the Empire's fleet continued to increase—— Now that the empire has four battleships and twenty-one cruisers in the galaxy, he will basically be running around in the next few days.
Even just now, he was attacking an Imperial supply fleet, but was ambushed. In the end, he barely managed to escape with the fleet in the chaos, but ran into a subspace storm.
Now all that was left of his wretched fleet was five broken ships.
The last people left here are the hopeless ones, Iongraspeer thought reluctantly.
In these days, he spent many sleepless nights, waiting for the wailing of the enemy alarm, but the imperial fleet did not come to his door.
He grew tired of waiting for them, just as he grew tired of everything here.
For now, at least, the asteroid-shrouded region remains a safe and secluded place.
Among the five ships left behind, only the flagship Unending Wrath, the large cruiser Divine Corrosion, and the later-added strike cruiser Feral Howl showed signs of activity. The rest basically had their reactors extinguished and fell into complete darkness, with all personnel on board. Escaped.
Since all the lights are no longer active, they have become silhouettes in the starlight.
Iongraspeer wanted to know what frightening scandal happened in these cold hulls, and what kind of local snake would come to ride on the servants' masters after they ran away from the dark broken deck. superior.
Will they hoard dwindling food, water and air to maintain their short-lived dominance?
Ion Graspeer thought that would be the case, and if he had learned anything during his long career as a traitor, it was that humans tend to revert to a certain type, and that type is always unpleasant to watch.
The irony of it all amused him to a certain extent.
At the very least, it will help kill the boredom.
Due to the lack of sincere control, these damn ships are slowly sliding towards each other, their huge attraction dragging them slowly through the silent space.
There they quickly meet their end as broken masts and mangled hulls.
He didn't like the idea.
Iongraspeer has been here for half a month. He is counting in his helmet timer, doing it almost like a magician, counting the endless hours every day with more and more trouble. Time to get things done.
It's incredible.
But there is no way, they have basically lost their combat effectiveness. If they are discovered before new reinforcements arrive, there will be only a dead end.
Hiding here, at least the Imperials won't come for a while.
Iongraspeer could already construct a picture in his mind: an Imperial Admiral in a funny uniform, in a command post full of minions, furiously driving all small ships to search for them across the galaxy.
In a sense, he at least won.
Legion always wins -
Of course, when he is alone, he will also reflect on whether he is a little bit crazy because of his continuous failures.
To be honest, the situation of the Endless Wrath is only a little better than those ships stuck in the darkness. After all, it has been in the center of the battlefield, so there is really no fun here, even if Iengla Speer is A person who can find joy in things that others find terrible.
The crew had worked nonstop to cure it, it had been an unreasonably long wait, and today would be another day that proved their efforts were far from adequate.
His authority was at this moment reduced almost to that of a slave, so much so that the rest of the ship was about to abandon him.
Eingraspeer felt uneasy and thought about his fate.
When he had freed the ship from the battle with the Dark Angels, he had realized that the Warmaster would be left alone, and had proposed that the Warmaster be retrieved from the planet as a priority, regardless of everything else.
Irongraspeer cared about glory more than some of his blood relatives, but in the eyes of others, it was a kind of self-destructive glory, and others in the fleet did not want to get involved in it.
Therefore, what he saw were maintenance workers doing tedious tasks with plasma torches, not scumbag criminals lining up to be cremated.
I can only blame myself——
He thought with a wry smile.
