And now, He was preparing to retreat with the more than ten billion plundered population and swarms.
Because if it drags on any longer, they might not be able to withstand the ongoing battles of the Interstellar Corps, and His swarms might just be pure consumption and Death.
Even though losing billions of swarms meant little to Him after gaining more than ten billion pseudo-insects, it's better to save where possible. As long as it can ensure no loss at the moment, it's a gain.
"It seems the battle ends here," He said.
Opposite the Ninth Apostle stood a man holding a Greatsword. He was the deputy leader of the fifth squadron of the Interstellar Corps and also the master of Uncle Brave.
If ranking by seniority, Fafnir would have to call him "Grandfather."
And now the old man stared intently at the Ninth Apostle, slowly lowering his Greatsword, seemingly unable to endure such high-intensity combat anymore.
