40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 107 10. Containment

Roboute Guilliman clenched his anger and remained silent.

His reason was being swallowed up bit by bit by this emotion. In the end, the long tug-of-war between the two parties finally gave way to anger. Reason sighed and huddled up in the corner, leaving only anger.

He stood behind the bulletproof glass, staring at the giant lying on the medical table, without saying a word, just silent. Marius Gage stood beside his primarch, feeling a cold solemnity.

He knew that his primarch was angry, and Gage regretted that he could not fully empathize with him.

He knew that there was no true empathy in the world, not even among the Astartes and their original bodies, but this did not prevent him from trying to go further.

He wanted to be as close to his primarch as possible, in every way.

So Marius Gage spoke, and began to explore in a way that his primarch allowed: "The medical officers said he refused the use of anesthetics."

"I can see that," Guilliman responded in a very soft voice. "Pain is something we cannot avoid, Marius, so I can see what's going on in his trembling."

Gage was silent for a moment, a question swirling in his mind. Doubts are like nodding an arrow to a bow. It is impossible to expect the arrow not to be fired.

Half a minute later, he shot the arrow.

"Are you angry?"

"Of course." Guilliman did not hide his emotion. "Second Captain Milo reported to me what happened in the laboratory in Daishea City. Combined with some texts in it, and through the translation of the Thinker, I can roughly guess what kind of misfortune my brother suffered."

He turned his head, and there was an emotion brewing in his blue eyes that Gage couldn't understand.

"That thing is called the Butcher's Nail." Guilliman said calmly. "A psychic surgical implant that passes through the skull and reaches the brain, replacing some of the functions provided by the nerves and cerebral cortex."

"It amplifies the victim's negative emotions, such as anger or madness. Ordinary people who undergo this surgery will quickly become completely mad men who only thirst for blood, and eventually die in battle or nails to their brains. Damage, this time ranges from three to five months. But my brother is different. He is a primarch. The recovery ability of the primarch is far beyond that of ordinary people. His brain is damaged by the nail every second. But he’s also healing.”

Guilliman lowered his head and let out something that didn't quite sound like a laugh from the back of his throat. Then he asked, "Do you know what this means?"

Gage felt a dryness in his throat. After more than ten seconds, he answered: "...Does this mean that he is gradually merging with that thing?"

"No, it means that the nail is slowly eating and replacing him," Guilliman said seriously. "Those things will burrow deeper and deeper, and they'll crave more. They'll have an irreversible effect on his brain in the process."

"I don't know much about medicine, Gage, but I know what the brain means to a human being."

Gage turned his head and looked at the giant who was roaring on the operating table and undergoing wound suture surgery. Medical staff were coming and going around him, and their mortal hands were trembling. They can't help but be afraid.

But

"But he seems to be able to control himself, my lord," Gage said. "At least he doesn't crave killing like the people in those materials."

Guilliman did not answer this question. He could vaguely guess who this incident was because of, but he had to explain to his Chapter Master what Khalil Roharus did to his brother in the cave. What, is very difficult.

In fact, Guilliman himself didn't quite understand it.

When he got there, what he saw were two giants covered in bruises.

His brother Angron growled, guarding the instructors invited by Guilliman behind him, vigilantly refusing anyone's approach, even temporarily incapacitating the four Ultramarines in the process.

If it weren't for the gladiators who arrived ten minutes later and called out Angron's name.

"Sir, instructor Khalil is awake."

A voice came from behind him. Guilliman didn't need to turn around to know whose voice it was. There were three medical halls on the Macragge's Glory, and only one person in charge of them.

He turned around, greeted, and maintained the most basic demeanor: "Thank you for the notice, Dorlo."

"This is my duty." Valentus Dorlo nodded calmly. "In addition, he also wants to invite you to come over. He has something important to tell you."

——

Guilliman walked into the ward, but the owner of the ward had already stood up with his upper body naked, and was looking at the new scars on his body thoughtfully in front of a mirror.

"How is he doing?" Khalil asked, looking at Guilliman's face through the reflection of the mirror.

"Quite calm," Guilliman said. "But he refused to take narcotics and other injectable drugs that were good for him. My medical team had to move a meditator in to interpret him on the spot."

"Are you still calm?"

Khalil smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry I acted on my own, Robert."

"No." Guilliman denied his apology, refusing to accept it. "You saved four Ultramarines. Sergeant Tampavers and the other three survivors of his squad would like to express their gratitude to you in person."

"I just did what a normal person would do."

"I'll arrange a meeting."

Khalil smiled helplessly. Guilliman now knew how to deal with him.

"So, what about the six victims?"

"They have been buried," Guilliman said solemnly. "The gene seeds have also been taken out by the pharmacist. As long as they return to Macragge, their will will continue."

Khalil sighed slowly.

"That explosion." He narrowed his eyes. "It happened very suddenly, Robert. It didn't even take more than two minutes from the explosion to the fire of that magnitude."

"My legion is already investigating this matter. However, according to Sergeant Tampafus, one minute before the explosion started, he felt a kind of coldness that could only belong to psychic energy. I sent the think tank to investigate, and they The report sent back clearly mentioned that there were traces of psychic spells at the scene, and the caster deliberately covered it up, but his level was not enough to completely cover up the evidence."

Khalil nodded thoughtfully, turned around, and gradually put on the white top provided by the Ultramarines. Looking at his relaxed look, it was difficult for Guilliman to connect the bloody man leaning against the rock wall with him at this moment.

"What happened?" Robert Guilliman asked.

His tone was clear and firm, obviously expecting Khalil to tell him riddle after riddle again, and he wanted to use this attitude to illustrate his desire for the truth.

However, Khalil didn't beat around the bush, at least not this time.

"Your brother is crazy," Khalil said quietly. "He tried to fight the thing, and I tried to help him, but it had the opposite effect."

"But you are injured." Guilliman frowned. "Apart from him, there are the personal guards at the scene. I don't think they can hurt you."

"You are making a subtle accusation against your brother." Khalil laughed dumbly. "That's true, though. But he's not entirely responsible for these scars."

"What's the meaning?"

Khalil thought in silence for a while.

His performance made Robert Guilliman feel briefly uneasy - what could possibly make Khalil Lohars so cautious?

His eyebrows began to frown more and more, and the emotions in his heart also surged, until they became a torrent that was so strong that it almost broke through his reason again.

"People sometimes lose control." After a while, Khalil said in a soft voice. "While in the cave, your brother completely lost control for a moment. But it was not like ordinary people, where rising emotions temporarily controlled their ability to think. In fact, I think"

He paused thoughtfully for a moment.

"In that moment, he became anger itself," he said lowly. "It's not that I was mastered, but that I was replaced. From this point of view, I'm pretty lucky."

"Good luck?" Guilliman felt ridiculous. "You were almost killed by him."

Khalil shook his head.

"That's it," he said. "He won't do such a thing. You didn't see him trying to kill himself because he refused to harm others. Robert, forget it, let's not mention it. I will write you a report on the specific situation afterwards."

He smiled.

Guilliman looked at him seriously - glared at him, to be precise.

"A report can't solve my problem. Besides, how can I write a report on this kind of thing?" He folded his hands and shook his head.

"Skip this matter, since you, as one of the parties involved, have no objection. As for the thing behind his head, I have found out clearly. That thing is called the Butcher's Nail. It is a psychic surgical implant, specially designed for It was used by slave owners to torture slave gladiators, and Angron's model was specially made and more brutal than the ordinary version."

"Can it be removed surgically?" Khalil asked briefly.

"...If you want to guarantee his life, it is almost impossible." Robert Guilliman shook his head in pain. This was one of the reasons why he was so angry before.

"According to a gladiator named Karelian, the nail has been on his body for seven months. The instrument scan results also confirmed his statement. Angron's entire cerebral cortex was almost extended by that thing. The sharp cables pierced him, and part of them even extended into his spine."

Khalil nodded thoughtfully and slowly.

"I understand," he said. "Then, let's go meet him together, Robert. It just so happens that I can also be a translator for you."

He chuckled, appearing relaxed, which puzzled Guilliman but agreed to his proposal.

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