40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 149 10. War Prelude (End)

Jairzinho Guzman’s theological remarks may have been an unintentional joke, but Khalil can assure you that the death of senior trader Tracy had nothing to do with the gods.

Although bizarre, her death was indeed a purely physical and natural phenomenon and had nothing to do with psychic powers.

However, if you throw away these things and look at this matter, there are indeed enough reasons to doubt her death. A person dies of suffocation in five seconds, as if her body thought she should die from it after saying those words.

This is quite interesting.

"So, this Federation of Harkossus may have some kind of power that we don't understand yet?" Robert Guilliman asked.

He asked Khalil this question through holographic projection. After yesterday's meeting, Angron and he both returned to their ships to prepare for the next war.

The Gladiator showed no resistance to what he was about to do, but don't expect him to take a positive attitude toward it.

Robert Guilliman was quite pleased - the Emperor's pre-recorded speech was filled with words he couldn't refuse.

For example, 'This conquest will become a new anchor point and a symbol of your brotherhood', 'I believe this will also give birth to new cultural exchanges between your legions' and so on.

However, at the end of the meeting, the Emperor bluntly told his sons over the ship's communications that he was leaving.

He wasn't kidding. Five minutes after the news was sent, the Emperor's Dream left Nostramo's orbit.

"Maybe," Khalil said noncommittally. "It's too early to draw a conclusion. In short, we need more relevant evidence. The inquiry is still ongoing, and matters related to the Burning Chamber of Commerce have been excluded."

"So, when do we set off, brother? It was you who discovered Harkossus after all." Guilliman asked.

The person he asked was of course not Khalil, but Conrad Coates who was standing beside Khalil. The leader of the Eighth Legion folded his hands and tapped his arms with his fingers, frowning.

"It will be fine tomorrow." After a moment of silence, he replied.

——

Entering a new war is nothing unusual for any Astartes; it is just how they live. They live for war and die for war. During this period, they will rush to new battlefields countless times.

The same was true for the Eighth Legion, but not for the Primarch of the Eighth Legion. Konrad Curze calmly moved his arms so that the Mechanicus Priest could make some minor adjustments to his masterwork power armor.

The Emperor gave him this set of power armor before leaving, and Angron also received a set of armor. He should have been delighted by the gift, but he was not, for he knew its purpose.

For this reason, even though it had been forged by the Emperor himself, he did not feel a moment's joy.

But that doesn't mean he won't accept it.

He knows who he is.

The adjustment was completely completed after five minutes. The priest lowered his head, bowed slightly, expressed respect for the son of Om Messiah, and then left here.

It showed extreme restraint on this set of exquisitely crafted power armor that clearly contained a special design. Coze watched it go away, not seeing any possible gender characteristics in the stooped red-robed figure.

He couldn't help but start to wonder - are all mechanical priests so cold?

He didn't have an answer, after all, he hadn't seen many at all.

A servitor brought a huge mirror and placed it in front of him so that he could observe what he looked like at the moment. The servitor's arms are smooth and powerful, with mechanically implanted joints replacing fragile flesh and blood, and gears and steel replacing the muscles themselves.

It does its job without complaint.

The armor itself is composed of gold, blue and red. The gloomy blue is the most dominant, followed by gold. It is only decorated on the edges of the shoulder armor or arm armor. There is a huge and scarlet winged skull on the chest. It is A variant of the Imperial Skyhawk.

The same scarlet cloak was placed behind him. The lightning-like lines stay brightly on the surface of the armor, which is the special effect of Nostramo's fine gold mine. However, the Emperor could not forge this exquisite power armor in just one day, not to mention that he did not ask for any adamantine mines from Nostramo.

Konrad Curze didn't know how the Emperor obtained them, but he didn't care that much.

Some questions don't need answers.

At this moment, he stared at the giant in the mirror, and a cold feeling suddenly surged deep in his heart. The pale complexion of the person in the mirror is not out of place with the armor itself, and even looks perfect, as if he should be wearing it.

He frowned, once again realizing his true identity from this detail.

A weapon.

A cold weapon, used to kill and execute punishment, and spread justice.

He took a deep breath and put on his helmet, feeling neither sad nor happy about the coming war, not even looking forward to it. He only looks forward to peace after the war.

Through the scarlet eyepiece, he observed the appearance of the helmet. It has a sinister shape, and to enhance the frightening effect, the visor is even painted with a white skull paint.

The eyepiece was blood red, and it was bright in the eye socket of the skull for a long time. Different from the wings of the Sky Eagle, the narrower and more ferocious red wings were extended on both sides with golden lines. This set of armor was extremely gorgeous, and the increase it provided him was also extremely huge.

But

Conrad Koz lowered his head and looked at his gauntlet. He used the talent that he had actively resisted and sealed up for a long time. It happily surged from the depths of his bone marrow and began to spread, occupying every blood vessel, every muscle, and even the tips of his fingers.

The cold perception and trembling came whistling in the next second. Koz gritted his teeth and resisted the deep fear. At the same time, he waved his arm silently to let the servitor leave.

It looked at him in confusion, turned around and left. In the blink of an eye, he was the only one left in the arsenal.

He exhaled cold air, but the constant temperature system built into the power armor did not dissipate the cold, and it could even be said that it was powerless to resist it. Several wrong readings came from the eyepiece, prompting Curze that something was wrong and needed to be checked, but he could no longer care about that.

He slowly knelt on the ground, and the mirror fell to the ground, becoming a pile of broken glass. He panted, stared at them, and saw ten million possibilities for the future.

However, they were all blurry, and they had only one thing in common.

In the fragments, he had bloody hands and a pale face, smiling at the person outside the mirror. The smile was full of satisfaction caused by killing.

Conrad Curze stood up after a few minutes and returned to normal. He silently called the servitor to collect the fragments of the mirror. Outside the observation window of the armory, the stars flashed by. A huge fleet was heading towards Halcosus.

The war has already kicked off its prelude, whether it is abrupt or not, whether you accept it or not.

There is another chapter.