40k: Midnight Blade

Written at the front: This extra chapter has nothing to do with the main text. It is just a dream. In addition, please ensure that you have a basic understanding of Konrad Coates before reading, or have read his biography to get more information. Good reading experience.

——

Death, death, death.

kill.

The torturer seized a piece of flesh with his pale hands and stared at it blankly. He didn't seem to know where he was. He was indifferent to everything in the world around him. He just clenched the piece of flesh and blood with his fingers and squeezed out the sweet juice.

Then he smiled.

He knew which piece of flesh it was. It was the left side of a person's cheek.

But why was it under him?

The torturer's expression returned to confusion, and his fingers began to exert force again, grasping the piece of flesh.

It has lost its vitality, but it still retains a certain tenacity that it should have, and this tenacity is being rapidly erased. There was a crunching sound, and blood dripped smoothly between the fingers.

The torturer smiled foolishly - the stench of death rushed into his nose at this moment, and the pungent smell finally reminded him of who he was.

Conrad Coates.

One of the Primarchs of the Imperium of Man, one of the sons of the Great Emperor, and one of the demigods who walked the earth.

The only ugly monster in the world.

He made a growl of disgust in the back of his throat and began to wait for the vision to come.

He had become accustomed to its presence, and every time he woke up with a headache, it would rush out from somewhere. Devouring his reason, memory, and emotions. Immediately afterwards, everything will dim and turn into the darkness he is most familiar with.

The illusion has been waiting in this darkness for a long time. It will stretch out its sharp claws and pierce into his flesh, tasting his blood and pain.

but none.

No illusions, no darkness, no pain, just the stench of peace and death.

Conrad Coates was incredibly aware of this. He let out a roar from his throat, his face twisted, and the dried blood on his face was peeled off. A slight sting came, and his dirty hair stuck to It pierced his eyes, causing another burst of pain, but he didn't care.

He stood up, braced himself against the wall with his hands, his dark eyes gleaming in the darkness, and then he started roaring again.

"Sai!" he shouted inarticulately. "Savitarion!"

There was no reply in the darkness, and then he began to read other people's names, names that he could still remember and didn't hate - "Shen! Talos! Fandrode!"

Still no one answered.

And Konrad Coze was still calling, and he could do nothing else. His thoughts were torn to pieces by the disappearance of the illusion, crushed into pieces that could not be glued together.

He didn't understand what the disappearance of the illusion meant, and just let his thoughts wander wildly: it wanted to torture me, and its brief disappearance was just to make me fall into deeper pain, as it always has.

It is as much my murderer as my father who threw me into hell.

His mind was involved in this speculation, and Conrad Coates sobbed convulsively. The ribs protruding from his changing eating habits undulated with his movements. There was nothing on his skinny body except a few rags. It was something else, with blood and scars all over his body, making him look like an abandoned, broken toy.

He fell to his knees, still not looking into the darkness with his eyes, still indifferent to everything around him. He held the piece of flesh and blood in his right hand, crying and scratching terrible wounds on his body with his sharp nails.

The flesh turned over and blood gushed out. He roared in pain, but continued to insert his fingers into it, trying to evoke the illusion with pain - he would rather be whipped with pain now than suffer greater torture later.

Vaguely, he remembered the words of one of his brothers, and the sound of his voice.

"You think I didn't hear those whispers?" Leon El'Jonson growled at him angrily. "But I don't care about those things at all, you're just weak!"

"No!"

Konrad Curze growled, his kneeling position turning into a heavier fall, and he lay twitching on the cold deck.

"Shut up, shut up! You don't even understand what I've been through!"

His eyelids were trembling, and he could barely raise his head. Saliva mixed with bloodshot splattered from his mouth that smelled of rust.

His muscles spasmed, tightening and relaxing, causing more blood to spurt out of the wound he'd just made on himself. The mist cleared, and he laughed in horror on the cold metal deck, calling wildly, his limbs stained bright red in the pool of blood he had created.

This horrific state lasted for a full two hours. When he stood up from the pool of blood he had created, he had become a skinny zombie covered in blood.

He shook his head unsteadily and looked around, easily seeing through the darkness. The pain remained, but his own thoughts were indifferent to the point of being callous. This state of opposition made him particularly happy.

With doubts, he began to look at the room - he saw eight flags clinging to the wall, a huge iron table with flashing lightning flashing on the table, and three chairs of different sizes.

The ground was covered with blood, presumably from his own doing, but in fact, more than that, the ground was littered with terrible marks left by his fingers, as messy as a field that had been raked.

The smell of blood was everywhere. Conrad Coates lowered his head thoughtfully and glanced at his hands. Unsurprisingly, he saw nails that had been torn off or turned over.

He grunted, sitting down and starting to pull out the nails that were still on his fingers. As for the scabbed ones, he stopped caring about them.

They will always get better on their own, but he won't.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but smile. The smile was very scary, like the livid smile on the face of the deceased who was suffocated by laughter.

After doing this, he stood up again, his thoughts finally calming down. He no longer felt pain, and his mind returned to his body.

Conrad Coates began to observe the room again. After half a minute, he searched his memory and fell into silence completely.

This was not a place he was familiar with, no doubt about it. No one on the Nightfall would dare to hang such an early company flag in their room, and even if they dared, it would be impossible for those criminals and scum to face these eight flags with a positive attitude.

There are no good people in my legion - Konrad Curze laughed again - yes, there are no good people, my legion is full of criminals, all scum, all

No, no, wait.

Where is this place?

The pale and dirty monster frowned: Where was I before?

He began to think back, and some consecutive fragments flashed through his mind, but they were not his hallucinations. They are real things that once existed.

He saw a statue of flesh and blood, its eyes weeping blood, and the blood slid down the white bones and the broken pieces of flesh attached to it. The statue is covered in chewing and tearing marks, which is normal since it was the work of Conrad Coates himself.

With his hands and his teeth he made this statue, the statue of the Emperor. Somewhere he spoke to this statue, made his final confession, his final justification

Then what?

He covered his forehead in confusion - then what? What happened then?

He began to continue thinking about it, and the tearing pain surged into his brain at this moment, making him unable to help but roar. In the pain, he even wanted to ignore the extremely obvious sound of the door sliding open.

Konrad Coates maintained the pain and tried to ignore it, but his instinct did not allow it - his monster instinct urged him to turn around fiercely and look at the person who dared to disturb him at this time .

He swore that if this were one of his criminal sons, he would break the audacious man's bones.

But he didn't, he froze.

The person who walked in was not anyone he knew that might disturb him at this time.

Not Sevatar, not Shen, not Talos, not these people who still managed to survive and have faith, nor those outright scum.

The man who walked in was a giant, with dark eyes and pale skin, like all Nostramos. But here's the problem, no one of his descendants can be so tall.

And he didn't even know this person.

"Who are you?" Konrad Curze hissed, the threat in his words clear.

He had adjusted his posture and stayed hunched in place - yes, he was injured, but this did not prevent him from disembowelling this unarmored opponent.

When the time comes, he will claw at the latter's entrails, savor his pain, and torture every word into his blood. Coates had even thought about what he was going to ask as his first question.

Why are you so tall?

"For some special reason."

said the giant calmly, his voice also hissing with such proficiency in Nostramo. "But who are you?"

"I asked the question first!"

Curze chuckled and rushed toward him, not caring why his unspoken question was answered. He closed his right hand into a claw and swung towards the defenseless abdomen. A sneer appeared on his face, he waved his claws, and the next moment he was thrown heavily to the ground.

The world was spinning, and his back seemed to be completely torn apart. What followed was two merciless kicks, one to the chest that made him breathless, and one to the forehead that made him dizzy.

His opponent's strength was so great that even the original body's constitution could not recover quickly from it, and that speed

Is he faster than me? Who is he? No, what is he? Conrad Coates whispered in his mind, asking questions, wanting to know the answer.

Then he got his answer.

"My name is Khalil Lohars."

The man's voice came from his ear, and his tone even seemed gentle.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself to me?"

Curze reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the murderer with hateful eyes. He spat out a Nostramo curse word intermittently. And the man who called himself Khalil smiled after that.

The laughter remains gentle.

"How interesting," he said in a soft voice. "I almost never have a dream, especially one that feels so real."

What dream? You crazy man who talks nonsense!

"I don't deny your accusation, but compared to what the two of us look like at the moment, maybe you are the one who is more crazy." The man who calls himself Khalil Lohars said with a smile.

And Konrad Coates still looked at him with hatred, the hatred was so obvious that it even made his pain lessened.

His vision began to focus again - Curze stared, trying to memorize the man's face so that he could have a complete shape when he peeled off his face. He saw a pair of dark eyes and a face as handsome as most Nostramo nobles.

Hatred boiling over, Curze sneered and said nothing, just silently making a plan to kill.

He hasn't realized how abnormal his current thinking is.

His memory was confused and he came to a strange place. He saw a giant who was as tall as the Primarch and was a Nostramo. There were so many mysteries, but he forgot them all and only thought about killing them. the other party.

why?

The answer is actually obvious, because of Khalil Lohars' unabashed compassion.

"This is indeed a dream, Conrad." Khalil said softly. "Take a look at the porthole. Didn't you find that the scenery outside the window is confusing and illogical? The scenery in the universe is not like that, unless we are in the filthy and vast ocean. But you and I both know that this is not Asia. space."

Yes. Konrad Curze knew he was right - this was not the Warp.

But it doesn't matter.

"I'll kill you," he growled. "I'll make you cry in a pool of your own blood and plead with me—!"

"But you have to get up first." Khalil said, and the smile finally disappeared at this moment, but the pity was still there, and there was an unfamiliar emotion that Conrad Coates didn't recognize at all.

He looked at the man with hatred, not understanding where this hatred came from, but he accepted it easily. He squirmed his muscles, pushed himself up, barely stood up, howled and rushed towards his enemy.

This can no longer be called an attack. He has lost too much physical strength, and the pain just now was too great - now, the way he rushes towards Khalil Lohars is simply ridiculous. Not at all as ferocious as it should be.

Coupled with his appearance at this moment, he looked like a corpse that had recently been resurrected and was about to return to death again, seeking support from the tombstone.

In return, his enemies opened their hands.

It's hard to tell whether Conrad Coates had the urge to die in his chaotic brain when he saw this gesture.

He had always wanted to die, there was no doubt about it, but he had to die in the right place, in the hands of the right person. He has seen his own death countless times, but maybe it would be good if everything ended here?

He sneered and ran into a cage. His enemy gently wrapped his arms around him, one on the back of his head and the other on his right shoulder. There was no restraint, no force was exerted, but it made Konrad Coates stop his thoughts.

The pain he expected and the sweet death that followed did not come. He only felt a tremor, welling up from deep in his bones.

".What are you doing?"

"Hospice," Khalil Lohars whispered. "I'm not sure if this is a dream, Conrad, but I know you are real. Even though you are the opposite of the person I remember. He is not crazy like you, not covered with scars like you." , so broken.”

"who are you?"

Conrad Curze asked shakily.

Then he got his answer.

A force surged out of the void and hit his brain accurately. Thinking is stopped, pictures pour in, one picture after another.

The same childhood, the same mine, the same dirty acid rain. The sky in Nostramo is always dark, people howl in the night, and gangs and nobles laugh silently. But this time was different, this time, he wasn't alone.

He did not bear the pain to pull out the bullets on the top of the church, nor did he devour the corpses of the dead because he needed food. He did not even suffer from the illusion. His pain was driven away by a person.

What was waiting for Konrad Coates in the darkness was driven away by a man.

He's not in pain, never.

He is not a monster, Conrad Coates is not a monster.

Conrad Coze began to tremble, tears rushed over, sliding down his dirty face, and sorrow swept over him, destroying all corruption like a tsunami. His pure white skin shone beneath the tears, and his lost nobility was as evident as his sadness.

He glimpsed the truth, and the truth was more than he could bear. Conrad Curze, the monster he was, couldn't take it, he was still breathing, he was still alive.

And every minute and second he lived, those truths screamed in his mind, and his own memory shrank into another corner in shame, not daring to compare with that other person. He was a monster, and that Conrad Coates was someone he could not even imagine in his imagination.

He is who he once tried to be.

The monster broke free from the embrace, fell to his knees, cried uncontrollably, shouted and twitched uncontrollably. His bones seemed to be broken by the overwhelming grief - and then he screamed, howled and sobbed.

"Why? Why? Why do you want me to see this?"

"Because I peeked into your memory." Khalil replied calmly. "Although only partially, I still need to make amends. Furthermore, I will not lie to Konrad Curze. So if you desire the truth, know it."

"Shut up!" Curze ordered wailing. "Stop talking! Don't talk to me in that voice again! You already know what a monster I am!"

"yes."

Khalil Lohars sighed and half-knelt on the ground: "I already know."

He stared quietly, with mourning condensed in his eyes, like a cemetery guard.

"I" Konrad Coates buried his head in tears, and his voice suddenly turned calm at this moment. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Khalil didn't answer the question.

"You know what I crave."

The pale monster knelt on his knees, lowered his head, put his hands together, and put his fingers on his chin. He trembled as he awaited the verdict, in fact, begged for it to come.

"You know that, right?" he asked softly, hopefully.

"I only know that you have boundless self-loathing and guilt in your heart. I have only seen part of your memory. I know what happened to you on Nostramo, and I know your ending. Other than that, I know nothing about it. I don’t know. I don’t know why you are like this. In fact, I still doubt whether this dream is real.”

"But I'm real!"

Konrad Coates suddenly raised his head, urging himself to move with his knees. He fell to the ground awkwardly, but without hesitation, he grabbed the hands of Khalil Lohars and pushed them to his neck. Bring it up.

His eyes flashed with the desire and pleading for death: "I am real! You can feel it! Kill me!"

Khalil Lohars still didn't answer.

"Kill me——!" Konrad Curze screamed again. "Don't let my filth extinguish his light! I am a monster in the darkness. I shouldn't live, I shouldn't exist!"

The hunchbacked, fallen beast whined and pleaded, weeping, agonizing to witness the alternative.

What made him even more painful was that he discovered that he had begun to covet this kind of warmth that shouldn't exist. He longed to be protected, to stay away from the darkness - but he couldn't.

Because he is the monster in the dark.

He must reject this precious, shining emotion, he cannot accept it, otherwise he will usher in an ending more terrifying than death.

The monster clenched its fingers and used its own strength to close Khalil Lohars's fingers. He gasped, and the desire for death took over everything: "Hurry up, kill me quickly."

And his judges remain motionless.

"Don't you understand?"

cried the monster.

"I must die. I have done too many wrong things. I am self-righteous and insistent on going my own way in the darkness, running wildly on the road of depravity. I am a cruel and violent monster. I am not the person you know. I must be found guilty!" "

His eyes widened——

"Yes, and not only that, you must destroy me completely, otherwise they will definitely find out. You have to use fire to burn me to ashes. You must do this so that no one can discover my existence. The Night Lord should be the night A judge among us, not a bunch of horrible killers made up of scum.”

"This is just a dream," said Khalil Lohars. "And you are actually dead, Conrad. Think about it carefully. Did you wear the forged armor and wait for the kill? Did you confess to your father before that? So I don't have to kill you anymore-"

"--you must!"

The monster suddenly raised its head, its dark eyes full of fear. He shouted in confusion, a stupid smile appeared on his face, and deep in his eyes, there was still a last trace of pleading.

"Kill me." He lowered his head and calmly declared his guilt, without any trace of madness. "It may be a dream or not, but I long for death and destruction, and I ask you to satisfy me."

"This is my first wish." He said carefully. "Is that okay, Father?"

Silence, as silent as a cemetery, tears fell, the monster had never shed so many tears in his life as he did today.

Two minutes later, he heard a sigh.

"good."

The cold light disappeared in a flash, followed by the dark and angry flames.

——

Khalil woke up from his desk, his brief slumber not making him feel any better. The exhaustion caused by correcting official documents is still there, but besides that, there seems to be something more.

It was a deep sadness that lingered.

He raised his hand thoughtfully. The fragments of the dream had completely disappeared, but a tear slowly dripped from the corner of his eye. Khalil took it off with his hands and stared at it for a moment, silent.

These are not his tears.

This chapter is 6k. I’ll take a break and have another chapter tonight, which is the main text.