Standard Terra Calendar, 941.M41
Planet Amydodon, Main Continent, Invernas Nest
Marek Kiel 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 made him feel pain even when he moved, and he didn't move. It was not until these days that he recovered much more than before.
Over the years in this plain, a person will suffer a heavy blow. They have to deal with scratches and subsequent infections, and then worry about the sand that runs into their mouths and noses that make their lungs darker.
But no matter what, those who work hard outdoors for a long time will fail in their lungs due to failure and infection, while they are busy coughing up bloody phlegm for the rest of their lives.
Painful eyes are also constant sufferings for the neck - they always shed tears, and sometimes they will dry out.
Even his hearing was not very sensitive, only the emperor knew what decades of wind and sand had done to his ear canal.
When his blood surged, his heart beat faster, everything in the world became blurred and silent, just like underwater.
But of all, his heart was most damaged, and every time he walked for a while, it was always loud and quarrel to him.
All in all, he has the power to complain, but he rarely does this.
Marik Kiel is not a person who is willing to relive pain. Although he tried to tell life on the desert plains clearly with the people around him, it did not work. It was exactly the same as when Marik's own father tried to tell him the same words, and then there were the long and short pains that brought about in his life.
He was trapped in these replayed memories as he wailed in the city with discord.
"Fake it--"
He shouted that the storm started so early this year, and the last time he heard from the radio was that there were at least a few weeks, or even a month.
Not long ago, there were rumors among neighbors that the front line suffered a defeat. Marek thought that it was purely nonsense - those bullshit green things, just like the cockroaches in the gaps in his furniture, will definitely not have a second effect except that they can disgust people.
They will only be gently crushed like pests, and Marek has enough confidence in this.
The old man pulled himself up from the sofa lying down, and tasted the air through his teeth as his knees trembled, and both knee joints recovered their perception under the needle.
There is no doubt that getting old is a complaint.
A shadow passed through his window, and he raised his head as his fist hit the board that acted as the door
"The Emperor's Throne."
His knees protested to him again, but he had to stand up and walk away anyway.
Guardian Barack Hughes was on the other side of the door and was already armed. The worn guardian laser rifle was no longer intact after a thousand years, but as a watchman of South 21st Street, he had the right to carry weapons while patrolling.
"Do you want to catch a few sand rabbits?"
Marek almost laughed and gestured at the gun.
"It's too early to shoot at the robbers, boy."
“Those alerts.”
Barack gasped, and it was obvious that he was running—traveling through the muddy alleys made of built buildings.
“The storm is early.”
The old man looked out the door and saw only the horizon being blocked by the broken skyline of the nest. People were driven out of their own rooms and mixed up on the streets from all directions.
Barack shook his head.
"Hurry up, you old guy with your ears, go to the underground shelter."
"No."
The old man's stubbornness is like most people in this city, and this place is not far from the military camp, where there are many chimeras, these armors resist the worst things in the sandstorm.
"Listen to me, this is not a sandstorm, the nests are being attacked."
After a while, Marik didn't know whether to laugh or lie back on the bed.
"…What's wrong?"
"This is no joke. I heard that the Chief of Defense is crazy, or...I don't know anything else. Please! Look at the sky, you old stone!"
Marek had seen the panic similar to the eyes of Barack in the faces of those serving outside the high walls, the instinct of animals lost on the plains, turning their bodies without direction at the beginning of the sandstorm, absolutely powerlessly depicting the person's face, making it ugly and morbid.
He looked at the command spire far west, where a shimmer of orange illuminated the evening sky behind the city.
"who?"
The old man asked in a low voice:
"Who will attack us? Even say who will know we are here? Who will care about this?"
No one answered him.
Barack had already started running and joined the crowded crowd. The old man saw him reaching out his hand wrapped in cloth to help a boy stand firm and stuff him into the bustling team.
Marek Kiel waited for a while while carrying his sore knees and inflamed hands back to his house, and when he appeared again, he took his own rifle—the gun was running well, thankfully.
He used it while acting as a volunteer watchman, and shot the nest robbers after retirement from his work to detect storms.
Then he followed the edge of the crowd, and as the crowd advanced eastward, he walked to the west.
If the nests are attacked, then running away with a head and hiding from the east is meaningless. Old Marek will 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, screaming, curling up, holding their heads, the giant beast roared above, their ears were deafened when they looked up at it.
Only Marek remained the same, his bloodshot eyes stared in awe.
Something darker than the gray sky was roaring over the sky. It was not a monster at all, but a fleet of aircraft, painted red and rough in appearance, forming a dense formation to glide past the spire of the nest.
The crowd is now screaming again, and the thin parents hold their thinner children and cover their eyes.
This chapter is not over, please click on the next page to continue reading! These fighter jets, like pieces of garbage, are tilted on their heads, and the tongues of thrusters are surging, like the strong wind blowing its armor.
With their momentum, they hovered in the air, fighting against the roaring wind, turned to the opportunity to glance at the crowd below, and the thrust burst out again, shaking the surrounding buildings.
Just in the blink of an eye, the fighter plane formation crossed the sky, and there was no doubt that it was definitely not a human aircraft.
After a moment of silence, Marek suddenly ran and the pain in his joints had long been ignored.
"Let me pass,"
He said, passing through the separated crowd, the fugitives opposite him were slightly inspired by his actions.
Before knees give up the fight, Marek ran three streets.
When he could no longer hold on, he held a wall, cursing the stinging pain in his joints, and his heart was not very comfortable, and he quickly paved to get the blood through his chest.
Marek hammered his chest, as if anger could soothe the flames spreading inside his body.
More orange lights contrast with clouds, more and more places are catching fire in the city.
He gasped and forced his knees to obey him-they responded tremblingly.
Old Marek staggered and walked, and this time he stopped to calm his breath and successfully crossed two streets before he successfully stopped.
"I'm so old and foolish."
He leaned against a wall while coughing, but ignored some kind of screaming and roar.
Marik didn't hear this. Although the sound was only a few meters away from him, he still tried hard to breathe.
Blood pressure increased, and the violent drumming of the heart made his ears deaf.
Chapter completed!