40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 122 25. Burnout (IV)

After holding on to the burning pain, Kahn decided to face death.

He had done this many times before, but this time was different. This time, the death he faced was his brother.

He held the chain axe tightly and rushed into the burning gun deck along the dark corridor. His brothers fought with the enemies, turning the world into a bloody mud.

Kahn immediately joined in, but he would never let himself get stained with bloody mud. In fact, on the contrary, his goal was to let all his brothers walk out of it.

He rushed into the war, and the chain axe chopped an enemy's neck from the side. He howled and fell to the ground, still trying to attack, but he would not have this chance again. Kahn stepped on his chest, picked up the grenade launcher on the ground and aimed it at the enemy's chest. He pulled the trigger and fired three shots in a row. The bombs completely destroyed his heart and other flesh and blood.

In just a moment, the dirty phantom disappeared, and the dead of the war dog fell to the ground, his eyes wide open, staring at the brother who killed him with his own hands.

Kahn remembered his face and continued to charge.

The burning pain still protected his reason, so that Kahn could ignore everything and continue to move forward. Five minutes later, he killed the last enemy with an axe, and the latter's body fell to the ground, changing back to its previous appearance in the constant flashing.

Kahn panted, turned around, and shouted to his bruised brothers: "I am Kahn from the Eighth Company! Come to me!"

"Kahn?"

A man came forward, he was Barron Benson from the First Company. He nodded to Kahn expressionlessly: "The First Company has now elected me as the company commander, Kahn, what are you doing back? We worked hard to get you out of here, how did you come back?"

"I don't know." Kahn answered in a roaring voice. "But I'm going to the bridge. Are you coming?"

"That's where we retreated from," said another man. He was from the Third Company. Kahn could identify him from the logo on his shoulder armor, but he couldn't recognize who he was.

The mutilated face didn't match anyone Kahn remembered. His nose and most of the flesh on his face were gone. The only remaining eye was swollen, and the last remnants of his helmet gleamed on his neck guard.

The man noticed his gaze, nodded, and made a brief self-introduction: "Harlan Kosen."

"What's wrong with your face?" Kahn knew who he was now.

"I was ambushed." Harlan Kosen said vaguely.

He couldn't speak clearly. His broken jaw was shaking. The fact that he was still alive was a miracle. "But I killed that bastard."

"Why go to the bridge?" asked Baron Benson, the captain of the First Company.

He stared at Kahn closely. His left hand had completely disappeared from the elbow down, leaving only the twisted armor wreckage. Fiber cables, ceramic bones, and broken artificial muscles drooped on the charred wounds, as if it was some kind of terrible joke.

Kahn pursed his lips.

"I can't tell you the reason." He whispered. "Because I don't know the reason myself. I don't know who he is, and I don't know why I can come back, but I'm going to the bridge."

"You have to give a reason that is enough to convince us, Kahn." Baron Benson said.

The other war dogs walked over slowly, everyone was injured, and the most common expression on their faces was not serious, but a terrible blankness. There were corpses all around, but they were all war dogs. They killed the enemy, but the ones who fell were war dogs, their brothers.

"I have no reason to give!" Kahn said angrily. "I don't know what happened, but I stand here, Captain Baron, I'm going to the bridge!"

"There are all their people there." Harlan Cosen said thoughtfully in a voice that sounded uncomfortable. "My captain died there. And three squads of the fifth company."

"Why?" Baron Benson took a step forward aggressively. "You don't explain why you came back, nor do you tell us what you are going to do on the bridge. Why should we trust you and go to the bridge with you?"

Kahn was silent. He didn't know how to explain the short nightmare journey to his brothers, nor how to describe the man from the Eighth Legion he met and his final appearance.

That bone-like appearance.

Kahn slowly clenched his right fist, and the burning pain came again, rolling in his heart, becoming a kind of power that supported him to accept the gaze of the war dogs.

Kahn of the Eighth Company of War Hounds raised his head and spoke in a very soft voice that did not belong to him.

"Because I want to fight." He said calmly. "The Emperor saw us fighting bloody battles on the Cyphus Plateau. After the war, he named us after the white hounds raised by the Yeshik people. We are the Emperor's hounds, so I will go back to fight. War hounds never surrender and never retreat."

"How are you going to win?" Baron Benson stared at him closely. "Tell me, Kahn, how are you going to win?"

"We don't need to win." Kahn said. "We just have to fight back."

"Fight against who?"

"Something that's trying to make us its slaves," Kahn said.

He seemed to have entered a door. Behind the door was endless courage and calmness. He stared at each of his brothers and saw the red collar that was about to take shape around their necks.

"But He will not succeed, because we are war hounds, and our Primarch was a gladiator. He was also a slave, but he always resisted, and he never surrendered. So we must resist too, and neither do we." Will give in."

"How do you know?" Barron Benson asked. He didn't laugh, but he wanted to laugh because he thought Kahn's words were ridiculous. But he didn't, he didn't smile, because he wanted to believe Kahn.

His eyes sparkled.

"Because I saw him, he was very tall, a company commander."

Kahn nodded to him and told a lie, a lie that he was really willing to believe. He was calm and calm, and his heart was full of determination.

"Are you coming? Go to the bridge and we will fight together."

He looked at his brothers and saw that the terrible daze had subsided.

Barron Benson finally smiled, a low laugh.

"Okay." He said. "Then come on, let's go, Kahn, lead us to start the resistance."

The first company commander roared angrily.

"Hounds of war! Rush to death!"

——

Eight minutes ago, Robert Guilliman and Angron, despite the opposition of everyone on the ship, used boarding torpedoes to crash into the cursed front half of the Unwavering Resolve.

Marius Gage even threatened his primarch as they entered the torpedo boarding bay, swearing that if Guilliman did not allow them to join the gang, he would report the matter to Thalasa. · Eudon.

Guilliman ignored it.

He felt sorry for his legion, but he had to fight alongside his brothers. This was a battle that would leave him with uneasy conscience for the rest of his life if he missed it, and he knew very well that what Khalil Lohars said was absolutely not false.

If he said that only two people could participate in this gang-hopping event, then there must be only two people participating.

Now they walked in silence between the corpses of war dogs and the dark corridors. Guilliman was fully armed, while Angron only held a two-handed giant sword, breaking down and jumping dangerously on the sword.

As he walked in silence, Guilliman felt that his brother might be bleeding. Angron was not actually injured, but that was what Guilliman thought.

He could see the transformation in his brother.

From the moment Angron saw the chopped-up body of the first warhound with his own eyes, a tough and cold concentration appeared on his face. The Butcher's Nail was still trying to influence Angron, while his brother Ignoring it with some terrible determination.

They continued to move forward, stepping through the corridors filled with black dust, passing the corpses of the war dogs. Angron never showed any anger on his face, but he stared at every face, every corpse that still had a head. .

He would stop between walks, turn over the corpses whose faces he could not see, and then gently put them down.

A deep sadness welled up in Guilliman's heart. He did not expect that his brother would pick up the connection between him and his heir at this time. The first meeting between a Primarch and his offspring should have been a beautiful sight.

But what is this?

Robert Guilliman gritted his teeth silently and silently, his hand of dominion buzzed, and the dagger of sincerity reflected the light in his right hand.

The corridor was quiet, perhaps even too quiet. They heard no sound of battle, and the whole ship was dead silent. Guilliman and his brothers passed through long corridors one after another and saw countless skull decorations along the way. Angron's expression began to become calmer and calmer until he reached a certain critical point.

Then, he spoke slowly.

"Do you think it's a good idea to use my gifts here, Robert?"

"...I will not advise you," Guilliman said. "As much as I want to, I won't."

Angron smiled, closed his eyes, and his body began to tremble violently. Guilliman stared at his brother without saying a word. He protected him, standing beside him, alertly sensing every corner of the darkness.

Blood began to ooze from Angron's mouth, nose, eyes and ears, and he once again let out that broken groan, which sent shivers down the spines of those who heard it. After a full minute, he opened his eyes.

"Follow me," he told his brother, wiping the blood from his face, and started running. Robert Guilliman did not ask him why, but ran with him.

——

Somewhere, in a dark place, beyond the reach of the flames, there was a flash of golden light.

There was a skeleton inside, and his chest was filled with burning embers, and his flesh and blood were blurred. Power and authority surged between the bones, and the empty eye sockets lit up with a cold blue light.

He did not go behind the curtain. He drifted away according to the anchor left by an authority.

+Live, Khalil Lohars, the covenant between you and me has not yet been burned. +

The skeleton did not answer. He could no longer answer.

There is one more chapter.