40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 139 1. The Emperor and His Sons (1)

From a long time ago, Van Cleef has understood one thing - killing someone with your own hands is always a hundred times more difficult than pulling the trigger.

The latter does not require any psychological construction or preparation, it only requires abrupt or forceful pulling of the trigger. A child can kill ruthlessly with a firearm.

Killing someone with your own hands is another matter entirely.

Whether you choose to strangle the victim with your hands or insert a knife into the victim's vitals, you will inevitably feel the struggle of the dying person and feel every tremor of the victim, every breath hidden in the breath. pleading.

However, this is limited to the first kill. As soon as you start walking down this path, the feeling of the dead becomes more and more a feeling of nothingness. No need to pity, no need to say anything, no need to do anything else, just kill.

This is our duty. Van Cleef leaned against the cold wall of the training ground, thinking this way.

We are the killing blade, the final punishment given to sinners, the shadow they see before they die, we are——

"—I, Siani from Terra, want to fight you!"

"."

Van Cleef covered his forehead with a headache and sighed silently. Siani's voice echoed endlessly in the training ground of the Eighth Army. He was currently staring at Richtnar of the Eighth Company with a provocative look on his face.

"I only spar with those who use swords." Richter replied lightly. "And you obviously don't use a sword, Siani. Your favorite tactic is to jump between your enemies and tear them to pieces with your power claws."

"Whatever can kill the enemy is a good move."

"But if you fight like a beast, no matter how good your moves are, it means nothing."

"Between life and death, do you still care about your appearance?"

"No, but my swordsmanship is like this. I like to study the angle, strength, and even speed of swinging the sword. I need to ensure that every sword I make can cause damage to the enemy. Therefore, I will only practice with the instructor in the future. ”

Siani sneered: "Say it as if you can beat him once."

Richter glanced at him and suddenly smiled: "Actually, I did win once."

".What?"

"I beat the instructor once." Richter said, but his expression did not look very proud when he said this. Van Cleef glanced at him, and with just one glance, he vaguely realized the truth of the matter. The first company commander nodded secretly.

This seems like what their instructors would do.

"How is that possible?!" Siani shouted unbearably. "I thought I was the first person to win this honor!"

"It's a pity that you came back too late." Richter smiled slightly. "And I have many witnesses who can attest to this for me."

".never mind."

Siani from Terra sighed, disappointment flashing across his face, but it didn't last long. He soon smiled and patted Richter on the shoulder, just like everyone else.

"Well done, Richtnar," Siani said sincerely. "We are finally closer to the instructor. Although this distance is probably reduced by his own step, it can still be regarded as progress."

"Yes." Richter agreed softly and nodded.

Van Cleef saw all this and felt a subtle change that was being born within the Legion and changing them all.

In the past, the Emperor's judges were ruthless and taciturn, and not even Siani was so energetic. There is always silence and darkness on the Night Veil. Corridors and pipes in disrepair are everywhere, and dust invades them wantonly, making the ship almost the same as a cemetery.

And all of this has undergone tremendous changes after the original body returned.

The dust was swept away, the broken pipes were recast, and a different atmosphere began to spread in the dissipating mist. Everyone in the Eighth Legion could detect this change, and not everyone could adapt to it. , however, Van Cleef is certain of one thing.

Everyone welcomes its arrival.

He gave a rare smile, turned around, and left the training ground through the newly added second exit.

He returned to the station, put on his only set of decent clothes, and then went straight to the legion instructor's office.

It's located on the lower deck, and the door is completely dark, which means it used to be an old warehouse. It was transformed into Khalil's office and room at his request. Although the Eighth Legion had many opinions on this, they were helpless with his decision.

He came to the door and walked straight in without knocking - he was already used to some of their instructors' habits, such as not having to knock on the door.

The decoration in the office is actually not simple. Eight consecutive flags are hung on the iron-gray walls. These flags were specially ordered by Khalil. Apart from them, there were only three chairs of different sizes and an iron table left in his office.

The chairs, ranging in size from mortal to original, were leaned against an inconspicuous corner. They were black armchairs that looked very comfortable, and the edges of the chairs shone with gold. As for the table, it looked much weirder.

It is a heavy iron table completely welded to the ground, with lightning-like lines flashing on its surface. They flickered on and off like breathing, quietly surging under the iron-green surface. The documents were spread out on them, and a pale giant sat behind them, quietly correcting the documents.

"Instructor."

The door closed and Van Cleef greeted quietly.

"Ah, Van Cleef. What's the matter?" Khalil raised his head and asked. "Are you here to come to the training ground with me? Unfortunately, I'm afraid I will be absent from work today."

"No, you will be absent from work today?"

Khalil smiled silently: "Yes, if you want to know the reason, I can reveal it in advance. How about it, do you want to know?"

Van Cleef frowned. His serious character made him instinctively not want to speculate like this, but he did want to know the reason.

"I want to know." The company commander nodded solemnly. "After all, this is the first time I've allowed you to miss work from the training ground."

Khalil turned his head and looked at the porthole in his office - the porthole on the lower deck was made of thick six-layer glass, which did not have the ability to allow viewers to see the stars clearly. However, he doesn't actually need to see the stars.

That golden brilliance is too conspicuous.

After a moment, he shook his head regretfully: "It seems I don't need to say anything more about Van Cleef?"

The first company commander looked out the window blankly and did not answer his words.

"Uh Van Cleef?"

"-Ah! Yes. I'm here!"

"Looks like you know what that is." Khalil smiled. "Then get ready, Van Cleef."

The pale giant stood up slowly and straightened his collar. It was only then that Van Cleef discovered that their instructor was wearing very formal clothes today.

"After all, this is the Emperor's visit," he said softly.

——

Conrad Coates felt nervous for no reason - he shouldn't be, after all, this was not the first time he had met his father.

But he just couldn't help but feel it.

It started from the tips of his fingers and continued all the way down his spine, making him feel a certain kind of ongoing complexity. However, his brothers seemed more nervous than him. At least Konrad Coates could maintain a semblance of calm.

Robert Guilliman was different.

His ceremonial armor is gorgeous and complicated, with many emblems displayed on the breastplate and shoulder plates. All the honors achieved by the Ultramarines in the past are displayed on this armor, making it look dazzling. He was not wearing a helmet, and the laurel wreath appeared between his short golden hair and his strong, full forehead, giving him a clear hint of divinity.

But in those eyes that were as blue as azure lakes, there was no wisdom that belonged to politicians in the past, only a kind of nervousness that was extremely rare for the Lord of Macragge.

As for Angron.

The Nucerians, like the Lord of the Eighth Legion, did not have the ornate armor of Robert Guilliman, but they also wore the most dignified clothing they had.

The contrast made Guilliman look very embarrassed. His embarrassment made Curze smile quietly. Angron caught the smile and silently nudged Curze with his elbow. Looking at each other, the two of them looked at each other and smiled without saying a word.

".Cough." Half a minute later, Robert Guilliman started their conversation with this embarrassing cough. "I'm sorry, guys."

"Why are you apologizing?" Conrad Coates asked quietly, still remaining calm and not letting his emotions leak out. "Why is the glittering Lord of Macragge apologizing to us?"

Guilliman's face quickly turned red, and Angron cast a disapproving look at Curze, but he couldn't hold back his smile. His laughter was so obvious that Guilliman's expression became a bit incredulous. However, Angron soon stopped laughing.

"Yeah." He turned his head sideways, covering up the fact that he had smiled with deep thought. "Conrad, what you just said, was that a sarcasm?"

"I don't think so," Curze said airily. "I'm just stating a fact."

"You guys, okay!"

Guilliman finally realized what trick they were playing. The Lord of Macragge was not angry, but laughed. This smile contained helplessness and a rare sincere smile.

The tense atmosphere was diluted in this way.

Guilliman spread his hands and shook his head: "But, to be honest, this armor is not comfortable. There is no power system in it. I have to move it by myself, and I have to maintain my posture."

"It's already so gorgeous, what more do you ask for?" Coates asked.

"I want it to look like a real piece of armor." Guilliman sighed. "This was a 'surprise' given to me by the skilled craftsmen of Macragge and my Chapter Masters. To be honest, I wasn't happy when I received it. But I couldn't help but Take it because it makes them sad.”

"Do you think it's bad?" Angron asked.

"No, it's good, it just doesn't suit me," Guilliman said. “I think I’ll make some of my own changes to it later, like adding servos.”

"Do you still understand this?" Coz raised his eyebrows.

"There are many books on Macragge, of all kinds, and I read them whenever I have free time. Books are memories that never die, and it is always good for us to read the memories of others. "

"When you said this, you sounded like a guy with some terrible hobby." Angron commented unceremoniously. "Reading does relax me, though."

Guilliman nodded, his eyes flicking over the nails on his forehead - he had made up his mind that he would ask their father something during this meeting.

Guilliman believed that his request was absolutely legitimate and reasonable. How could a father prefer to see his son suffer?

but

"This meeting was too unexpected," Robert Guilliman said. "The Astropath aboard the Macragge's Glory did not receive any orders before his arrival. After his arrival, he only informed us through ship communications that there was no need to hold a military parade."

"Is this weird?" Conrad Coates asked.

Guilliman nodded, and his thoughts continued: "It's a little strange. He would ask for these things in the past. I heard Leon and Horus say that he would review every unit of their legion with satisfaction."

"Maybe it's because they like it." Angron said calmly. The Nucerian's expression was very intriguing at the moment. "And he's just playing along."

".This is a direction I haven't thought about." Guilliman nodded slightly blankly. "But it seems reasonable. What about you, Conrad? What do you think?"

I?

The Lord of the Eighth Legion smiled silently: "I don't have any special opinion about him. He is the emperor, my father, and the ruler of the empire. But I actually don't know what kind of person he is."

"But haven't you seen him?" Guilliman asked in surprise.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean that I know him better than you do." Konrad Coates replied quietly. "Hopefully this time it will be different."

He shook his head and said no more. The three primarchs stood on the boarding deck of Macragge's Glory and waited quietly. The Emperor seemed not to want to have this meeting on his ship, and Macragge's Glory became the only one. choose.

The current banquet hall of the Resolute is still in tatters, not to mention the Nightfall. Only the banquet hall of Macragge's Glory can take on this important task.

However, although the Emperor did not request a military parade, the Eighth Legion and the War Hounds each sent a team of a thousand men aboard the Ultramarines' flagship, striving to showcase themselves to the Emperor at his whim.

These warriors are undoubtedly proud, but at this moment they are waiting with anticipation and nervousness, just like their primarch.

——If we had to make a hard calculation, maybe only one person would not be nervous.

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