Dark jokes never go out of style.
To offend a Combat Priest, a Technician Soldier, and an Imperial Knight all in a single sentence.
Besides Seventy-Six, with his belly full of black humor, you probably couldn't find another soul in the entire Imperial Administrative Region with such audacious nerve.
'The God of All Machines is just the Emperor himself putting on an act?'
If the Judgment Court ever found out about such heretical ideas, they would, at the very least, tie him to a pyre and burn him with white phosphorus for three days and three nights.
'And… what's this about growing four arms?'
'What are you trying to imply?'
Raphael, who had been peacefully immersed in compiling the Angel Holy Scripture, felt a vein throb on his forehead. He gripped the pen in his hand so tightly that it snapped on the spot.
"Seventy-Six! If you don't take back that damn joke, I swear, when we get back to the Iberian World, I will personally hand you over to the Judgment Court!"
