Talos didn't look surprised or angry when he heard Octavia mention the original body. He just smiled and shook his head.
"Maybe."
Septimus rubbed his hands uneasily, and then whispered:
"Master, I heard that the Soshiyan Chapter Leader of the Astral Knights values you very much and regards you as his right-hand man. I think... he will find a way to heal you."
"Did Valier or Dietrian tell you these words? You'd better stay away from Valier. You are by no means ignorant of his behavior on the Blood Oath, not to mention... some It's better to know less about things. I can't protect you forever and don't cause unnecessary trouble to yourself... As for me, everyone will have their own destiny to die, and no one can change this. Not even the Emperor can change it."
When the word "death" was mentioned, Octavia's body visibly trembled.
Then, she turned to Septimus and nodded, and the pilot turned and walked out the door.
Talos noticed their actions and smiled:
"You brought other people with you? It's like saying goodbye to someone else. To be honest, I'm not a person who would lie in bed waiting for death. There's no need for you to worry about me for the time being."
As he spoke, Septimus walked in, surrounded by three children, a girl and two boys. The oldest boy looked to be seven or eight years old.
They surrounded their father, looking timidly and curiously at the giant on the bed.
"...After giving birth to little Talos (the number zero that Valier mentioned before, readers who forgot can go back and read Chapter 891), Octavia had already lost her fertility, thanks to Valier's surgery We have three more children, the second son is named Ma Kushen, the third daughter is named Dasha, and the fourth son is named Selion. They are all healthy."
Talos sat up from the bed and looked at the children with strange expressions.
"Ha, Valier still has this kind of skill. If he goes to the hive to open a hospital, he will definitely make a lot of money, but then again... If Selion knew that you made him the youngest, he would definitely be furious. "
At this time, the eldest Ma Kuchen suddenly spoke in a childish voice:
"Are you...are you the angel of the God Emperor!"
A smile broke out on Talos's face.
"Yes, I am His angel, the angel representing death."
Markusen stepped forward cautiously and stretched out his hand to touch Talos's knee. Octavia quickly stretched out her hand.
"Don't be rude."
"fine."
Talos waved his hand, letting the boy come to him, and then stretched out his hand, letting the other man's delicate palm brush the scars on it.
"So big...so awesome! Uncle Angel, what about your wings? I see that the paintings in the church all have wings."
The boy's eyes widened.
"Mom said that you were sailing in the sea of stars, fighting evil dragons, and were all given a pair of wings by the God Emperor to travel among the stars. Is this true?"
Talos smiled slightly, a smile Octavia had never seen on the face of this "soul hunter", like a child.
"The wings are folded. We only open our wings when we face the enemy."
Makuchen inherited his mother's eyes, which were brown, but his hair was light gray like his father's.
Talos' gentle attitude seemed to have dispelled the fear he had when they first met. The boy blinked and asked very seriously.
"People say I'm brave. Can I be an angel like you? Is it possible?"
Talos looked down at the child. He looked so distant, not even reaching his waist.
But what did he feel -
Perhaps, this was the feeling he was looking for, and he saw his old self in this boy.
Talos then bent down and asked softly.
"Why do you want to be an angel?"
"Because...because, mother said that angels are all heroes, and I want to be a hero!"
Be a hero.
This sentence hit Talos's mind like a heavy hammer, shattering the ice wall of someone, causing those things he tried to forget to resurface from the deep sea of memory——
He has always been a slow child.
At least his mentor would use this word to describe those children who sit separately from others, and he knows that they are where he belongs.
There were four retarded children in the class. The four of them sat by the window. They usually didn't pay much attention to the teacher's words, but they were never punished for it.
The boy, the fourth and youngest of the four, sat with them and looked out the window with the others.
There are cars passing by at night, and the headlights of the cars are very dim, after all, they want to relieve eye fatigue.
The gloomy night sky was obscured by the tower tops, each spire decorated with huge illuminated signs selling all the necessities for adults.
The boy turned back to his tutor, who had listened fitfully to her lecture on language and what she taught other children—those who were not retarded.
Words are still a novelty to them.
The boy had no idea why these words were so strange to everyone. He had already read it in his mother's book no less than a dozen times.
The tutor noticed him looking at her and hesitated for a moment; normally she would have ignored him, pretending to forget his presence with that casual familiarity.
The boy didn't take his eyes off her, thinking to himself that maybe she would teach him a new word or something.
Sure enough, she did it for him, pointing to a word written on a flickering screen and asking him if he knew what it meant.
The boy didn't answer her. The boy rarely responded to his mentor, which he suspected was why adults called him slow.
When the bell rang, announcing the end of tonight's teaching, all the children stood up from their seats. Most of them packed up their writing boards, while the slow ones stuffed pieces of paper with childish drawings on them. Go aside.
The boy had nothing to pick up because he had done nothing but stare out the window all night.
The walk home took more than an hour, even longer if it rained, and the boy walked past cars stuck in traffic, listening to the drivers shouting at each other.
Only a block or two away from where he was walking, gunshots sounded like popcorn popping. It was obvious that two gangs were fighting. He was curious about who they were and how many people died.
He wasn't surprised when his friend caught up with him, but the boy had been hoping to be alone tonight.
He smiled at his friend, pretending he wasn't offended, and his friend smiled back.
His friends weren't really his friends, they called each other friends mainly because their mothers were friends, and the two families lived in living quarters right next to each other.
"The instructor asked you a question tonight."
said his friend Ciel, as if the boy hadn't noticed him.
"I know."
"But why don't you answer? Don't you know what to say?"
That was the problem, the boy never knew what to say, even if he knew the right answer.
"I don't understand why we have to go to tutoring."
He responded, the city around him moving and breathing as ever, tires whizzing by on the next road.
The voices of accusations, inquiries, and pleas were loud and loud, and exciting music sounded from nearby buildings.
"Of course it's to study."
The boy's mother once told him that his friend would grow up to "break a heart one night," but the boy didn't see that.
From the boy's perspective, his friend always looks confused, angry, or angry because of confusion.
"Our instructor was talking about stuff I already knew, so why should we study? I just couldn't figure it out."
"Because...it's natural."
His friend's look was filled with confusion that made the boy laugh.
"Every time you open your mouth, you ask some really stupid questions."
The boy didn't care, his friend just never understood such things.
