40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 147 8. War Prelude (2)

Khalil tapped his fingers on the surface of the conference table with a calm expression. Only those who knew him well could realize what he was thinking at this moment.

And for those who are not familiar with him, or have only seen him a few times, his expression at this moment is still very intimidating.

At least, Marius Gage and Barron Benson had no idea what the eighth legion instructor was really thinking at this moment.

The First Chapter Commander of the Ultramarines and the current First Company Commander of the War Dogs were sitting safely on their chairs, doing the boring and boring work of 'waiting' with Khalil.

Gage was very good at this, and it probably had something to do with the many paperwork of the Ultramarines. It was impossible for someone who was impatient and unable to enter a state of concentration to continue doing this job. The Chapter Leader looked calm, as if he had entered another dimension.

Barron Benson was different. The War Hound Captain, whose arm had been mechanically replaced, looked a little depressed.

War dogs have never been good at waiting. Rather than this, they are more accustomed to blood, smoke and the faces of dead people. They are not very quiet people, never have been.

The war dogs are well-known in the empire for this, which even forces them to use extremely strict military discipline to restrain each other during wartime. However, even so, it is inevitable that some young brothers will become angry because of their desire to kill. A situation where you rush into the enemy group and die in vain.

Moreover, if the only person sitting here was Marius Gage, or if Carrier was replaced by the first company commander of the Eighth Army, maybe Barron Benson wouldn't seem a little restless.

but

The Captain of the War Dogs lowered his head, stared at the conference table, and began to mutter a name in his heart. The Eighth Company Commander of War Hounds who was far away on the Unwavering Resolve was naturally unable to hear him, but this did not prevent Barron Benson from finding a channel to vent his embarrassment at the moment.

He would also like to speak directly to Khalil Lohars and apologize for the misunderstanding they caused - but how should he say it?

Furthermore, Barron Benson is not stupid. He knows how terrible the experience of the war dogs is, and he can roughly guess the role played by Khalil Lohars in it.

He knew that this entire matter must not be publicized. Marius Gage and he had reached a consensus, and only needed to be reported to the original body to completely characterize the matter.

He was relieved of these thoughts five minutes later when the door slid open and three giants entered.

The first company commander of the Eighth Legion followed them and silently exchanged glances with the three people who had stood up in the conference room. Then the greeting sounded, which seemed normal but was somewhat strange. After the pleasantries were over, they took their seats.

Conrad Curze sat next to Khalil, and Van Cleef sat between the two captains at the end of the long table. Angron and Robert Guilliman sat opposite Konrad Curze.

"Long time no see, instructor Khalil."

Robert Guilliman spoke first, greeting with a smile, completely obliterating what had happened in that room on the Emperor's Dream yesterday.

"Is everything business as usual?"

"That is natural, Lord Guilliman." Khalil nodded, raised his hand impeccably and made a gesture.

Conrad Coates looked at him with a strange expression and did not speak immediately. After making sure that no one would speak again, he just asked the question he had been holding back.

"You didn't discuss this meeting with me," Conrad Coates said. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I didn't inform you, Legion Master, but this was not my idea, but the Emperor's request." Khalil replied.

Guilliman's eyes narrowed, and he exchanged opinions with Angron's eyes, and the latter expressed his doubts with a slight nod. But after all, the Nucerians never bury questions, so he spoke directly after that.

"Do you usually communicate like this?" Angron asked. "Excuse me, but it sounds really weird for you guys to talk like that."

"It's working time now, and I usually don't get off work." Khalil replied, and Kurtz sighed, not loudly, but ensuring that his sigh could be heard by everyone.

Van Cleef blinked calmly and lowered his guess about the original body's age. Some things cannot be hidden. Conrad Coates is indeed very mature, even mature enough to make people instinctively trust him, but some of his habits are too obvious.

It is obvious that the Eighth Legion has now been divided into two groups.

One group is the emotional group who firmly believe that the Primarch is older than them all, while the other group is the rational group who use countless evidences to try to guess Konrad Curze's true age.

As for Van Cleef, he was occasionally the former and occasionally the latter.

Well, he is now the latter.

"What's wrong, legion commander?" Khalil looked sideways. "Do you have any questions? If not, I'd like to get to the point as quickly as possible."

"Of course I--I didn't."

"Okay." Khalil nodded and pressed an instrument on the table with his hand.

The wall in front of them suddenly cracked, the sound of mechanical operation could be heard, exposed cables were wrapped around the pipes, and there was a roar in the pipes. The mist lifted again and began to reach even the Primarchs' ankles.

"This conference room has not been used for a long time and is in disrepair. I'm sorry." Khalil said without changing his face. The corners of Van Cleef's eyes began to twitch, and Barron Benson gave him a sympathetic look.

War Dog does feel the same way, after all, their ship is not much better now.

After a brief buzzing sound, a light blue projection rose. Guilliman used his knowledge to discern the truth of the projection. It was a pre-recorded image, not a real-time conversation. The image blurred and fluctuated for a moment, and soon the true appearance was revealed.

That was the Lord of Mankind, the Emperor.

"No need to get up," he said to them prophetically. "Just sit down and listen to what I have to say."

The Emperor paused for a moment, deliberately giving them time to react. In the picture, he is wearing a white robe, with a laurel crown shining on his head. He put his hands behind his back and then spoke slowly.

"."

——

"Harcosus"

The Emperor said the name with a serious expression. He was thinking, obviously.

Khalil didn't interrupt him, just waited silently. He waved his arms, and a blue glow immediately responded from the gaps in the armor. A target made of solid alloy was beaten into twisted scrap metal.

Two Custodes stepped forward and took it away. One of them was recognized by Khalil. He was La Endymion.

Is it really okay to let the Imperial Guards do this kind of thing? Khalil shook his head, but after all, he still did not ask the question, interrupting the emperor's thinking.

The emperor also continued to speak after a full three minutes.

"Destruction." He said with a frown. "No, not just destruction - there's more hidden within this planet."

"Can't you see clearly?"

"I have never been able to see the future clearly." The Emperor shook his head. "It was obscured, obscured by the thing's skinny claws and rancid feathers, and I could only glimpse a glimmer of light. And that's the problem."

"You're not sure if what you saw was fabricated, are you?"

"Yes." The Lord of Humanity narrowed his eyes. "But it doesn't matter. I'm used to illusions and the lies he spun. I just need to cut them off with a sharp sword. Moreover, now that three Primarchs are gathering, this world can be a gift to witness."

Khalil sighed: "Every time I hear your tone, I find it hard to get used to it."

"You'll get used to it." The Emperor said in a low voice, with a golden light in his eyes. "We'll all get used to it."

There are a little few updates, I know, there will be three updates tomorrow.

Let me take a nap to replenish my energy first.