40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 125 28. Bleeding

forever.

Angron thought.

forever.

I can never forget what happened today.

His mind was screaming, a whirlpool of pain building. This pain comes from his talent, one of his instincts - the emotions of the dead fill the air, and are eventually possessed by him.

Every corpse, every bit of pain, the struggle and repentance before death, the unwillingness to be forced to become a slave, all of this gathered in his mind.

The mountain-like body of the original body was trembling slightly at this moment, his face was distorted, and the nails creaked. They did not drill, but just squeezed his skull, sending terrible tremors in the cerebral cortex and spine.

He dropped the power sword, now stained with dried blood, a precious weapon that would have attracted many warriors, traveling through many worlds to reach Robert Guilliman's personal arsenal. In the end, it completed its mission in Angron's hands.

Leaning against the cold wall, Angron slowly closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of heavier footsteps. He didn't need to observe to know that it was his brother.

Angron had left him no part in the killing.

You don't have to be stained with this blood. he said then. it is my responsibility.

Robert Guilliman fell silent.

He didn't participate, he just watched.

Angron opened his eyes and saw a calm face. Guilliman stared at him and spoke slowly, his tone very calm, even sounding a bit close to a strange provocation: "Are you okay, brother?"

The gladiator shook his head slowly.

He could sense the turbulent emotions beneath Robert Guilliman's calm exterior. Guilliman was forcing himself to calm down, and the realization gave Angron the urge to smile and comfort him.

He twitched the corners of his mouth, but failed to smile. His canine teeth poked out of his lips, looking very strange on the face covered with blood and black dust.

He failed.

"I hope I'm okay," Angron said, accepting his small defeat. "I sincerely hope."

He looked beyond Guilliman towards the darkness not far from the corridor. Broken light reflected from the blood-covered porthole, ashes floated, and blue-white armor loomed in the darkness. Forty-seven breaths wait there quietly.

Angron smiled.

"How long are you going to stand there?" He suppressed the pain and made his terrible voice deliberately rougher, with a little deliberate humor, just like Oinomouth comforted others.

A few seconds later, there was a sound of footsteps in the darkness. A group of warriors emerged from the darkness, all wounded and no one's armor even remotely intact. Blood, dust, and mutilated limbs, but their eyes were not blank.

They stared closely at Angron.

Roboute Guilliman backed away slowly, unwilling to intrude on the moment - but if asked, he would admit it.

He would admit that he felt overwhelmed by witnessing this moment, but he couldn't help but feel sad.

This is not how it should be.

How cruel it was to meet my father among his brother's corpses.

"Isn't anyone going to introduce himself to me?" Angron asked hoarsely, with the forced smile still in his voice.

His pale blue eyes sparkled in the darkness, and the sound of his skull squeezing was still evident to the superhumans present. The war dogs didn't understand what the sound was, but they could see the pain their genetic father was hiding at this moment.

From the tremors of the body, the spasms of the muscles, and the forced smile that comforted them. They can tell.

Why can't they see it?

So Barron Benson stepped forward.

"I am the first company commander of your legion." He raised his head and said. His mutilated left hand and blackened armor looked so miserable, but his expression still held pride. "My name is Baron Benson, Primarch."

"What happened to your hand?"

"Just a small injury."

‘Regret’, ‘Sadness’, ‘Shame’, ‘I will become disabled and can no longer hold a sword with both hands’, ‘Will the Mechanicum be willing to cure me? Our relations with them have always been bad', 'I hope you will not look down upon me, Primarch'

Angron lowered his head and exhaled a breath of cold air from his throat.

His talent was working extraordinarily, and such specific perceptions had never occurred before. He thought that this might be because of some kind of blood connection, or because the war dogs were completely defenseless against him.

Either way, Angron was saddened.

"Okay, Barron Benson, I remember you, Captain." Angron chuckled from his throat. "Tough warrior."

Benson raised his head and returned to the team.

"Next?" Angron stared inquiringly.

"I am Karn of the Eighth Company, Primarch."

"Kahn - I have an impression of you. You left your brothers and rushed into the enemy group." Angron said softly. "Reckless, but brave."

Guilliman saw that the young man's face was rapidly turning red.

"I was carried away, Primarch." He lowered his head, his unease evident. "I violated military discipline."

"What military discipline?"

"The first article of military discipline, the original body." A man with half his face disappeared answered Angron in an unclear voice. "It is also the most important one. We call it the law of death. You are not allowed to leave the large army without permission and enter the enemy group to fight alone."

Angron looked at him: "What is your name, soldier?"

‘He’s looking at me’, ‘I wish I had a helmet’, ‘Lord, I beg you to look away’

Angron did not look away. He stared at the warrior with only one eye with gentle eyes and waited for his answer.

"My name is Harlan Corson." The mutilated man said vaguely, his lower jaw shaking. "I'm from the Third Company."

"Thank you for explaining it to me."

Angron looked back at Karn, and the young man he stared at nodded shamefully. "Yes, I broke the rules."

"We can talk about the punishment for your violation of discipline later, Kahn of the 8th Company. The focus now is to tell me what happened." Angron turned his attention to all of them and repeated it. "everything."

"Before that, there is one thing I would like to report to you in advance, the original body." Kahn said.

Angron frowned slowly. This was the first time he had shown such an expression in front of the war dogs. Barron Benson thought he was blaming Kahn. Even though he wanted to pull Kahn back into the team, Angron raised his right hand to indicate that he did not have to do this.

The Warhounds would not know that their primarch frowned just because of a name that flashed through Karn's heart, and a cold term.

‘Khalil Lohars’

'die'

——

Two and a half Terra hours later, Robert Guilliman returned to Macragge's Flare alone. There was no blood on his armor, only black dust.

Marius Gage met his primarch in the study fifteen minutes later in a panic. He originally wanted to question him - at least to mock his primarch for such a dangerous act - —but he failed.

Because there was an indescribable heaviness on Robert Guilliman's face.

At this moment, the Lord of Macragge was turning his head to stare at the parked ship, stagnant in the vacuum, silent.

After a while, he spoke.

"Send medical assistance, Marius. The War Dogs have suffered heavy casualties. In addition, dispatch some maintenance technicians and technical sergeants. We must repair the Unwavering Resolve in the shortest possible time."

"Primarch?" Gage looked at Guilliman blankly.

"Just do as I say, Marius."

His primarch lay back, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, speaking in a tired tone. He had taken off his armor, his uniform was in disarray, and he didn't even wear a laurel wreath.

"It has been restored to its original state, can't you see? A glorious queen ship belonging to the empire should of course continue to serve. As for today's matter, I will draft a notice later. This matter will be treated as top secret, No disclosure or mention of any kind is allowed.”

"But, Primarch, why? No, Lord Angron?"

"He is spending time with his Legion," Guilliman said. "Less than half the legion, to be precise. The irony of this, Marius. The Warhounds emptied their ships and laid down the mortals, and the whole army came to meet their genetic father, but What I actually saw with my own eyes was not even half of it.”

".May I know what happened aboard the Resolute, Primarch?"

"No, you can't." Guilliman opened his eyes. "This matter should never be mentioned again by anyone. Listen to me, Marius, this matter."

The Lord of Macragge fell silent, and then sighed heavily, a deep sadness flashing on his face.

"This should never be known to anyone again," he said slowly. "That's it, Marius, that's all I can say."

The First Chapter Master looked at his primarch almost at a loss. Robert Guilliman had never spoken in this tone in his memory. Today, this was the first time.

He didn't understand why and felt it was almost hard to breathe.

"Also, there is one more thing." Guilliman sat up straight and put his hands on the table. Marius Gage saw that his hands were clenched and trembling slightly.

"Anything, Primarch," Gage replied quickly.

"I also want to draft an apology and repentance to the Eighth Legion and Konrad Curze. I-"

"——Primarch?"

"Caril Roharus is dead." After five minutes of dead silence, Robert Guilliman spoke slowly.

He concealed his emotions with extreme restraint, and did not let Gage see any clues. His false face of a politician covered his real face. Gage could not see that he was bleeding, but he could Smell it out.

"Kahn of the 8th Company of War Hounds saw with his own eyes that there was no trace of his body. I have already discussed with Angron that we will rush to Nostra as quickly as possible after dealing with Nuceria. Mo, personally apologize to our brother Conrad Coates."

Marius Gage did not answer. He did not know how to answer. Half a minute later, he left Robert Guilliman's study and office in silence. The door slowly closed.

It seems like everything is business as usual.

There is one more chapter.