40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 143 5. The Emperor and His Sons (End)

The pen is sharper than the blade - Roboute Guilliman knew this saying long ago, and now he has a new appreciation for it.

Speech, writing, and all possible carriers of 'communication' will be a hundred times sharper than the edge of a knife to a certain extent, as long as you know how to hurt the person you are talking to.

He had just witnessed Conrad Coates's outstanding ability in this area and was greatly surprised. In his memories and feelings, there was only one person who might have had an impact on this aspect.

And Khalil Lohars is obviously not a person who can use words to destroy others.

In other words, this is some kind of talent of Conrad Coates himself?

Guilliman put this speculation aside and followed the footsteps of his father and brothers into a room.

There are countless rooms on the Emperor's Dream, but this one is special to the naked eye. There is no gold in it, just pure gray. Not the gray that belongs to building materials, but a dead gray.

There were no seats or tables. The room was silent and cold and frosty spread on the ground. The thing that surprised Robert Guilliman the most was that there was already another person waiting here.

A pale giant.

Konrad Curze opened his mouth in surprise. There was no doubt that he was speaking, but no sound came out.

He frowned suspiciously, as did Guilliman, and Angron narrowed his eyes - they all had a considerable degree of doubt about the current situation, until the voice belonging to the Lord of Men sounded behind them.

"You don't need to say anything next," he said slowly. "Just be silent, your thoughts will be presented to me and him in a way different from words in your hearts. This method of communication will not improve efficiency, but it is necessary if we want to talk about the next thing ”

A gust of icy wind blew, and Angron felt a chill. It took him half a second to realize that this was not some natural phenomenon, but because Khalil Lohars was speaking.

"Because the next thing we're going to talk about is the Warp."

He raised his right hand.

The long, strong, calloused fingers slowly close to the palm of the hand - Conrad Coates captured this detail.

At this moment, he realized that Khalil Lohars' "self-healing" might actually be different from what they imagined, because he saw a bleeding tattoo on that wrist.

A person whose flesh and blood has been burned will grow new flesh and blood after recovery, but what does this count?

He looked seriously at Khalil, who noticed his gaze, but did not respond. He just clenched his fingers slowly like holding a knife.

After a brief exertion of force, there was a flash of cold light - it was definitely not a shadow created by a weapon. Robert Guilliman was very sure of this. He did not see any weapons in Khalil's hands, but it was There is an extreme sharpness slowly approaching from the other side of the air.

Immediately afterwards, the frost began to spread rapidly. They followed someone's will and spread from the ground to the entire room, leaving it completely frozen.

Then, the Lord of Humanity also raised his right hand. He slowly pressed against the wall, and just like that, the dead gray began to change, golden light danced, and it began to appear within the frost like a flame.

"But it won't stop in the Warp," the Emperor said solemnly. "There are still not many things we can disclose, because they are poisonous, and even you cannot bear too much. However, within the allowed range, we will tell everything we know."

He looked at them - his eyes were so heavy that they began to sink the shoulders of the Primarchs unconsciously like heavy cargo weighing on the porters.

Angron frowned, his muscles twitched, and he began to resist. Robert Guilliman used his rationality to force himself to ignore the pain and gritted his teeth and persisted. Conrad Coates quietly changed his posture, stretched his back, and slowly adapted to it.

Then, the Lord of Mankind spoke slowly: "Who is the first to ask?"

I come.

Robert Guilliman spoke in his mind. He could hear his own voice—not the silent voice he had in the past when he talked to himself in his mind, but the real voice that came from him.

And he knew very well that he didn't speak.

"What do you want to ask, Robert?"

Imperial truth, father, I want to know its truth.

I trust you, and I know you will not design and promote it for no reason, but it is obviously a lie. Both Conrad and Angron will agree with me. We have seen too many things that cannot be explained by the imperial truth. .

"Good question." The emperor nodded to him, his expression still serious. He was silent for a while before speaking. Guilliman still persisted in pain. His rationality was not damaged, but a trancelike scene suddenly appeared in front of him.

He actually saw a gaping abyss.

"There are many regulations and words in the Imperial Truth. For example, rationality, atheism, and requiring people to learn a scientific worldview and use it to analyze the world in front of them. Put an end to superstition and spurn irrational so-called supernatural phenomena."

"I hope that within the borders of the Imperium there will no longer be any so-called wizarding practices, speculations about the afterlife, the study of spirituality or the worship of primitive gods. But yes, this is a lie, Robert Guilliman."

"It is a big lie, designed and carried out by myself, that will eventually be discovered by humanity itself, but by then it will no longer be needed. You can call it a lie, Robert, and it is. "

"However, everything has two sides. It is both a lie and a shield. It is a false but true shield that can protect everyone's soul in some aspects."

Guilliman was silent for a long time.

Father.

"I'm here, Robert."

So what happened to Luo Jia? He treats you like a god.

"He is a special case, the most obvious loophole in my lies. I tolerate him because he is my son, and he himself has been completely obscured by the power of religion. He cannot see the truth and what people need. But he has a good nature, so I hope he can get out of this situation on his own."

You say protection, who does Imperial Truth protect?

"Humanity."

Their soul?

"Yes."

If protection is needed, that means there are indeed enemies. Those enemies—where do they come from?

The Emperor looked calmly at his son, and with just his gaze, Robert Guilliman began to gasp for breath.

His reason was warning, screaming at him to stop, to stop listening. To be fair, the Emperor had nothing to hide this time. He explained Guilliman's problem patiently and carefully, but it was this meticulousness that made him feel overwhelmed.

The pain of gritting his teeth and persisting was spreading until it became a huge wave that crossed the dam of his rationality. It jumped up, then crashed down.

Guilliman opened his mouth, his pupils dilated, and the pain overwhelmed him beyond reason.

"You cannot bear the truth yet, Robert," the Emperor sighed.

He took two steps forward and caught Guilliman before he fell to the ground. The golden light gathered, and a chair appeared, which later became Robert Guilliman's temporary support.

Angron looked back silently. His vision was blurry at the moment. The blood spread downwards along the dark red lines on his face and dripped, shattering on the frost.

He fought against the impact of the truth, veins popping up on his forehead and on his neck. The nails kept rising and falling in his mind, and the two kinds of pain were superimposed, which made the gladiator smile involuntarily.

"Who's coming next?" the emperor asked simply.

I come. Angron said.

The Emperor looked at him, and deep lines appeared between his eyebrows, like wood chopped by a lumberjack. Deep cracks appeared between his eyebrows. Angron felt a pure concern, without any pretense.

Don't worry about me. The gladiator gasped in reply. It's still holding up, and I don't have many problems.

"Then ask." The father, who was not yet recognized, replied, without mercy in his voice.

And that's enough.

Angron smiled, his lips and teeth a scarlet red color, which was terrifying.

Who harmed them?

"A monster," said the Emperor. "The monster hiding in the darkness, devouring blood and life to maintain the eternal war. He is the blade, armor, battle, and death. He is the roar of the warriors and the desire for victory. He is also a symbol of honor but he is evil. ”

I know.

The gladiator panted silently, his head lowered, but his back always held high. He smiled cruelly, his face twisted, but his light blue eyes were never covered by bloodshot eyes.

Can He be killed?

"Not now," the Emperor replied sternly.

So, can it be done in the future?

"Maybe one day."

good.

Angron relaxed silently, no longer resisting the pain, and just passed out.

Konrad Curze was the first to hold him up. Robert Guilliman's fall was unexpected by him, but this time, Curze was ready. He would not watch his brother helplessly. Falling down but doing nothing.

However, although he supported Angron, he himself felt difficulty breathing due to the change in posture. The golden light flashed again, and another chair appeared, with the Nucerian sitting on it, blood flowing freely on his face.

The Emperor looked at him, wiped away the blood with his hand, and looked at the nails with hatred. They were so entangled with Angron that they could still be physically removed, but the gladiator himself no longer wanted to.

They symbolize his past, and they are another kind of rope of triumph - this is what Angron told his father in a private conversation that day.

"It's just you, Konrad," the Emperor said slowly. "And what do you want to ask?"

Conrad Curze looked at his father—and his other father.

Then, he shook his head.

I already have the answer. He said. I don't have any questions to ask.

There is one more chapter.

My hand hurts a bit, so I write a little slowly. Sorry, please vote for me.