dmims Chapter 29 Iron 7's Rebellion
Chapter 29 Iron 7's Rebellion
Language can be deceptive.
Salpedon knew this well; he never believed what others said after much deliberation and reflection.
He believed more in what he saw with his own eyes and what he deduced.
So when the man in front of them, who called himself Menelaus, said those words, saying that he ate human flesh without any remorse,
Salpedon deeply despised and mocked this.
As he said, cannibalism is nothing in this dark world; even in the highly modified Troy, humans are still considered the best biomass for the bottom-nest people.
Menelaus was not as open-minded, powerful, or naive as Sarpedon had initially imagined.
Instead, there's an inexplicable sense of hypocrisy about it.
If the other party openly admits it, Salpedon will respect him.
But now, in Salpedon's eyes, the person in front of him was more like a clumsy imitation of a certain type of person, to the point that he tried to draw a tiger but ended up with a dog instead.
Looking at the exposed skeleton on the ground, which had long been covered by the soil and could only be detected by the amazing senses after Astartes' transformation, and the rough packaging of those nutrient pastes.
"Who can you fool?" Salpedon pointed a finger at the ground a step away from him.
He then took a step forward and kicked out, sending a shattered half-skull and alloy fragments flying out of the dirt.
"I am the son of a gangster, and I know what kind of marks will appear on the bones after the human body has fused together and decayed."
"I also know what kind of subtle changes should occur on the bones after the meat is removed."
Sarpedon continued forward, his tall figure obscuring Menelaus in the narrow passage. The already dim, old adaptive lighting could no longer provide Menelaus with a more effective light source.
"In this place where food is scarce, if you really are as you say, the liberator, then..." Salpedon picked up the skull, which was becoming increasingly broken from his kicks.
He pointed to the stains that coexisted with dust without saying anything.
Both sides fell into a brief silence.
"You're not one of those nobles' loyal dogs. They would never have slaves and private armies as powerful as you. Who are you?" the man asked, continuing to quietly gnaw on the nutritional paste and chunks of meat in his hand.
As Salpedon said, he did not feed on the flesh and blood of nobles as he claimed.
He will only eat people when he knows he needs to eat but there is no food around.
Furthermore, the human bodies he used were all nobles and noble slaves who had been killed by him and had been turned into jerky.
Before Salpedon could speak, the man said first, "You are the empire's loyal dog."
"No." Salpedon rejected this without hesitation, his face showing no respect for the Empire whatsoever.
Immediately, Salpedon's face showed an expression of insult. He devoutly bowed to the top of his head in a Trojan gesture and said to the man, "Although I am of the Imperial faction, I am not a loyal dog of the Empire, but a loyal dog of my lord, the Lord of the Legion."
"I will be the claw in my Lord's hand, conquering the planet."
The man looked at Salpedon, unsure of what to say.
Because nothing seems so necessary.
"You're here to kill me," he asked.
His voice trembled instinctively; people are driven by emotions, and no one can escape the survival instinct in the human heart.
But along with this trembling feeling, he also felt a sense of relief for his friend and a small amount of joy.
At least in my last moments, I died as a brave man; at least the spirit of resistance was passed on to everyone. Sado said to himself.
Kill him? Of course not.
The battle reports piqued Hector's interest in the liberator, and in his final order before the war began, Hector instructed the legion's soldiers to spare his life as much as possible, unless absolutely necessary.
Therefore, Sarpedon would certainly not kill Menelaus, but seeing that Menelaus was so different from what he had imagined, Sarpedon felt a sense of betrayal and anger.
bass--
A lightning claw, flashing with blue, lightning-like energy, shot out from Sarpedon's wrist, grazing the face of Sado, who had already resolved to die in the name of Menelaus.
Under the influence of his mind, Menelaus could vaguely sense crackling sounds that were not actually present around him.
Sarpedon bent down, and the black shadow completely enveloped Menelaus. The breath of death coiled around Menelaus's throat, tightening inch by inch like a python.
He did nothing but quietly watch and admire Menelaus's wretched face, slowly, patiently, and elegantly suffocating, and becoming obsessed with it.
This also prevented Salpedon from inflicting any form of violence or cruelty on Menelaus.
He simply used his psychic energy to compress himself as much as possible, and then compressed the aura he absorbed to the maximum extent, pressing it onto Menelaus, crushing the other's will with the pure attitude of a superior.
This is a more advanced fear tactic commonly used by underworld gangs.
This is far more effective than leaving physical wounds or killing the other person.
This will cause the other person's soul to make a sound like bones shattering under invisible pressure. Once that time comes, Menelaus will always have the option to retreat when facing him, and those with weak souls will even swear allegiance on their own.
In the chaotic, man-eating place of the underworld, in the creed of those gangs, true fear is never bloodshed or screams, nor is it loud talk or shouting.
The real fear is that the prey has died a thousand times before it is killed.
It's about making the other person subconsciously fear you whenever they face you, placing you in the position of the prey.
Salpedon's lips slowly curved into an almost imperceptible smile.
That wasn't a smile, but a confirmation. He was confirming that the prey before him had completely lost the will to resist, like a mouse being watched by a snake, waiting for the final blow.
"Tell me, Menelaus," his voice was as soft as a midnight whisper, carrying the dark greeting of the Trojan nest, kind and gentle, "you—"
"Are you really ready to die?"
The energy field on the lightning claws shone as brightly as day. Menelaus looked into Salpedon’s deep eyes, eyes that belonged to a predator, calm and precise, without any unnecessary cruelty.
He stared into those eyes, his body beneath the tattered cloak trembling uncontrollably, chilled. His mind went blank, the image of lightning claws piercing him flashing through his head countless times.
Menelaus felt his consciousness drifting away, his eyes beginning to glaze over, and the weakness of retreat resurfaced in his heart, just as it had three years ago.
Sarpedon saw all of Menelaus's emotions, and he laughed inwardly at the weakness deep in Menelaus's eyes.
When the time was right, Salpedon was finally ready to ask his question.
He needed to know, or perhaps his king needed to know the whole story of this rebellion.
He prepared to speak and guide Menelaus to reveal the answer he wanted to know.
But at that moment, Menelaus's cheek suddenly twitched inappropriately, and visible shame and anger appeared on his face.
"Menelaus!" he shouted.
Then, to Sarpedon's astonishment, Menelaus broke free from his fear, took out a hammer and an incredibly sharp stone axe from behind his back, and without hesitation leaped and cleaved at Sarpedon's skull.