40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 113 16. Red Sand (4)

Robert Guilliman slowly walked out of his study.

This is quite rare. If it had been in the past, he would have handled the work without hesitation. Although the paperwork is boring, the meaning behind it is irreplaceable. He is the Lord of Macragge and is naturally responsible for everyone on Macragge.

In a sense, you can indeed say that he is paranoid to a certain extent - but who doesn't?

However, the reason he walked out of the study today was not because he ended his work early and ended his paranoia, but because he wanted to leave the place to others.

Guilliman came solemnly to the porthole in the corridor.

The U-shaped emblem of the Ultramarines shone quietly on the upper edge of the porthole, the metal floor was smooth and clean, and the servitors had quietly cleaned the entire ship four hours ago. He didn't look or observe, he just caught them all while walking.

All these details came together in his mind, and even the slight smell wafting in the air could let him know something. For example, the armor of the two victorious soldiers who had previously stood guard at the door was waxed. .

He stared at the planet below the orbit, and countless noisy voices roared through his heart.

noble.

The way his brother pronounced the word struck a deep chord in Robert Guilliman for a moment.

He regarded himself as an aristocrat, starting from a very early age. To him, the nobility represents protectors, honor, and heavy responsibility.

He naturally knew that there were some unscrupulous people who would waste the people's trust in their positions, but, at least on Macragge, such people were in the minority.

But it seems that they are only in the minority on Macragge.

He raised his head and looked out the window at the boundless sea of ​​stars. Ten million stars stared back at him quietly, disappearing, reborn, and spinning quietly. And all of this actually has nothing to do with him.

What can I do?

Robert Guilliman asked himself, and a heavy answer surfaced in his heart, and was then read out in a low voice from his mouth.

"Sacrifice," he said to himself. "That's all."

——

"Four hundred and seventy-one," Angron said.

He said the word, and then fell into silence.

The gladiator's silence was appalling.

It was obvious that he was thinking, so his face turned into a twisted mixture of ferocious and calm.

His skin was a rough bronze color, with a rough surface and many minor wounds that had not yet healed. The light blue eyes looked thoughtfully at a certain corner in the air, without focus, just staring calmly. The muscles under the cheekbones twitched continuously, forcing him to raise his lips, exposing his sharp canine teeth, as if he was about to pounce and bite someone's throat in the next second.

As the person standing opposite him, Khalil should have been wary of such a giant, but he didn't. He just waited quietly.

"You know, don't you?" the gladiator said after a long time.

Moving his gaze upward, he looked into the pair of completely dark eyes, trying to get an answer. His eyes were heavy and contained many complex emotions.

"Know what?" Khalil asked softly.

"Why do these nails stop?" said the gladiator firmly. "You must know about this."

"Yes, I know." Khalil nodded. "How did you feel about that battle?"

The gladiator smiled. He clenched his right fist and used his strength to force himself to ignore the trembling caused by the pain, so the impact of the nails on him was reduced to the minimum. As a result, there was finally no pain mixed in his smile at this moment.

There is only a transcendent calm.

"For the first time in my life, I'm not alone," he said. "I don't know how to thank you, in fact, it still feels like it's not real."

"In just one day, I suddenly became one of the sons of an emperor, and gained great power in these stars - I don't believe in these things and the identity they attach to me, unless I can see it with my own eyes. Their appearance. But I believe you, Khalil Lohars."

"Such a huge contrast and trust, I'm afraid I can't accept it easily." Khalil shook his head. "What's more, your brother didn't lie to you."

"I know he didn't," Angron said. "But what if he was deceived?"

Khalil narrowed his eyes, but Angron continued.

"Although I am just a gladiator without much experience, and I am not as good as someone like him who can freely come and go among the stars, but I know how fragile people's will is. In many cases, slave owners don't even need to If you torture, you will gain countless lackeys.”

"You are making a very subtle but dangerous accusation," Khalil said thoughtfully. “But I think people should have the attitude of maintaining their own opinions.”

"what does that mean?"

"It means, I don't intend to convince you." Khalil smiled slightly. "The stars are vast, Angron. In fact, it is vast beyond your imagination. The emotion felt by the first human to stand under the stars and look up at it will definitely not be yearning, but fear of the unknown world and the stars. of worship.”

"Nowadays, we can sail among the stars, build huge ships, and even change the landscape of the planet. But we still can't empathize with you. You have a huge impact on things like nobility and power because of your past experiences. I understand this. In fact, I have similar feelings to you, but these feelings are only similar."

"After all, I can't fully understand you, Angron, just like you can't understand why I can be so calm, right?"

"Yes." Angron said angrily. "But I don't even understand why you wanted to save me at that time."

"Why not?" Khalil asked.

"If I were just an ordinary person, not the Primarch as Robert mentioned, would you still save me?"

"I will," Khalil said quietly.

Angron stared at him closely, his face trembling, and his lips moving, as if he wanted to say something. However, after opening and closing several times, it finally returned to calm.

He was silent, and then stared, while Khalil had a completely open attitude. He stood calmly, his pale face completely exposed to the light.

".Why?"

After a long time, Angron asked.

He didn't understand, he really didn't understand.

Khalil smiled.

"No reason," he said softly. "I no longer use pure morality to consider the world in my eyes, so whether it is worth it or not has become an irrelevant question. When I see it, I want to save it. What reason do I need?"

"You can't save everyone. Besides, you sound arrogant." Angron frowned. "I've seen many proud people, but I've never seen anyone like you."

"You are right. From a certain perspective, I am indeed terribly arrogant. And, yes, it is indeed impossible for me to save everyone." Khalil nodded thoughtfully. "But I'm still going to give it a try."

"."

Angron was silent.

He was the Primarch, that was true, the real thing. The extraordinaryness of the Primarch is obvious in him. He has been a gladiator for more than ten years, but he can still appear to have extraordinary conversation. He can even defeat his brother in a conversation with Robert Guilliman, but he has no way. Understanding things beyond his ken.

In the arena, slaves huddle together for warmth. They help each other because they have to. They are each other's relatives, in fact, they only have each other to rely on.

But what about this person? What's going on with this taller and thinner man standing opposite him?

Angron couldn't understand it, but

"I believe you," he said shortly. "I don't understand you, but I respect you, Khalil Lohars."

Khalil did not answer this sentence, he just smiled slightly and shook his head.

"You'll understand later," he said softly. "Because this is the only path humans can take. However, since you said you believe me, can I ask you a favor, Angron?"

"Of course," the gladiator said firmly.

"I would like to ask you to put aside your prejudices."

".What?"

"How you feel about your Legion," Khalil said. "You haven't met them yet, but you already imagine them as a group of slaves. This attitude will be detrimental to your communication."

"But."

Angron frowned hesitantly and did not say the second half of the sentence, but this little hesitation was enough for Khalil to know what he wanted to say.

"You don't understand it yet, but you will," Khalil said. "Trust me, how about that?"

"."

Angron pursed his lips tightly, thinking quickly, but that was not all, he was also doing something beyond the scope of thinking.

During this period, the steel cable behind his head began to dance slightly, making a slight friction sound inside his skull as if it came to life. Visible pain appeared on Angron's face. He gritted his teeth tightly and groaned from his throat.

Khalil stared at him calmly. Of course he knew what Angron was doing, but he didn't stop it.

In fact, quite the opposite.

He even allowed his snooping.

Why should he refuse? He is asking a person who has been tortured by slave owners for half his life to try to become a 'slave owner'. This thing itself is absurd enough, so why should he refuse?

After a long time, Angron's face returned to calm. He raised his trembling hand, wiped away the blood that overflowed from his nose, slowly took two steps back, and sat on the sofa.

He raised his head.

"I believe you," the gladiator said. "But what if they really are a bunch of slaves."

"Then we'll see when the time comes." Khalil smiled gently.

Also, I'm stuck today, sorry.