40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 216 41. Name

Shen leaned against the cold wall and carefully wrapped a bandage on his finger.

Cassati Nuang, one of his team members, sat next to him. The injury was not serious, but Cassati was different. He fought an Imperial Fist to the last minute in an extremely bloody bare-knuckle fight, and won miserably.

At this moment, he had just woken up from a coma. The broken wounds on his forehead were still bleeding, and he seemed to have no intention of treating himself. He was constantly licking his lips and the blood flowing down with his tongue.

Shen had no intention of commenting on his brother's behavior and preferences, but others had different opinions.

"Are you done?" Karen Ofion, a member of the first team, asked impatiently.

"Have I affected you?" Cassati smiled contemptuously. "It's funny how even the slightest smell of blood can make you nervous. Dear Karen, the way you behave sometimes reminds me of a child trying to show off his maturity."

Karen Ofion grinned and stood up slowly. His chest was covered with bruises, and his left hand was hanging crookedly on his side from his wrist.

"You can choose to shut up, or I can tell you to shut up, Cassati."

"Come on." Cassati dipped his fingers into a handful of blood, stuffed it into his mouth, and gave Karen Ofion an inarticulate reply. "Come and try it, dear Karen."

"Don't go too far." From the corner of the room, the voice belonging to Yago Savitarion came from there gloomily.

"You act as if you still have endless energy, but if that's really the case, why are you fighting so hard in the cage?" he asked reproachfully.

Shen raised his head and glanced at the first reserve officer. The latter's expression surprised him slightly. The expression on that pale, ghost-like face at this moment was called seriousness, and it was an expression that Yago Savitarion basically never used.

The frivolous smile in his eyes had completely disappeared, leaving only an unsettling coldness. For some reason, Shen felt that something had changed in him.

"That guy didn't beat me." Karen Ofion turned his head and answered his captain.

His voice was low, expressing surrender and concession to a certain extent - it seemed inappropriate to say it, but a new order was spreading among the recruits of the Night Blades.

It is different from Terrans who do not pay much attention to military rank. It is a beast habit that distinguishes status based on strength. The strange thing is that this habit does not affect the feelings between the recruits. .

Sevatar looked at his team members coldly. After this gaze that seemed familiar to others lasted for a full five seconds, Ophion lowered his head deeply.

Sevatar slowly opened his lips, completely exposing his white teeth to the air: "What's the difference between not winning and losing? Ofion?"

".No."

"That's right, so why do you act like a winner?" The first reserve officer sneered. "And you-"

He turned to look at the other eight members of his team. His expression could not be described as gloomy. This word was far from enough.

He now looked almost like a dead man who had just crawled out of the graveyard, full of rage and hatred. His voice echoed around the room like the howling cold wind blowing past the tombstones at midnight.

"——Are you gloating? Although Ophion didn't win, at least he didn't lose. What about you, Valtech?"

He walked up to a man with no hair on his head and forced him to look at him.

"Did you win?"

"No, Captain," Vartech said.

"You were beaten with an ax by that guy like a rat in the gutter. Don't argue, Valtek, I saw it all."

Valthek's face quickly changed from pale to another weak and haggard pallor - he lowered his head and clenched his fists. Savita did not force him anymore, but turned to look at Shen.

He was smiling, though there was no smile in his eyes. Shen stared at him, silently raising his guard. Whether in battle or in life, Yago Savitarion is not an easy person to deal with.

"Congratulations, Shen." The first reserve officer said with his head held high. "You win, and if Somers, who walked in a few minutes later, doesn't win, then you are one of the nine winners we have here. You played well, played wonderfully, and I have to say something to you express my respect."

"Then I'm really flattered." Shen said. "But you seem to have something else to say, right?"

"Don't call me that single syllable, that's the privilege of the Primarch." Sevatar bared his teeth and replied. "But you are right, I do have something to say. In fact, I am worried about one thing."

"What?"

"What the hell else could it be?" Sevita smiled and moved his neck slightly nervously. "Our name——!"

His eyes widened.

"Have you forgotten the name of the team? This mission was supposed to be our chance to get a name. We followed the original body and the instructor to Holy Terra. What a shame it would be if we failed to get a name?"

"I don't think the instructors and the original body will care about this." Shen replied calmly.

"Yes, they won't. But those bastards will, and they will talk about it over and over again -"

Sevatar's smile grew wider.

"——Maybe Captain Van Cleef won't, and maybe those think tanks won't. But what about the others? Let me think about it, the chief medical officer! Yes, he will definitely laugh at us. And Siani, he will definitely He would bring it up endlessly in the training ground and during our sparring sessions. We risked being laughed at by everyone.”

He looked towards the door, stared closely at the black iron door, and slowly shook his head.

"If Somers doesn't win, our winning percentage is less than half, so how are we going to get a name?"

"That won't help matters, Sevatar."

Shen still maintained his calmness, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

"You just said that there is no difference between not winning and losing. So, even if Somers wins, what if there are ten winners among the twenty of us? There is no difference between a draw and a miserable defeat."

"Of course I know this." Sevita looked away, tilted his head and closed his eyes.

"I just want to tell you that it is best to consider yourself a loser from now on. Throw away the pride of being chosen by the Primarch and the instructors. We are nothing."

Shen pursed his lips.

"Perhaps some of you are beginning to refute me in your heart now, thinking that this result is not bad. Yes, it is indeed good for those mediocre people and mediocre Astartes. But we are the Midnight Blades, We all made an oath."

Sevatar finally opened his eyes and raised his right fist with a ferocious expression: "And for this oath, any self-satisfaction of self-destruction is shameful!"

Shen clapped silently.

The first reserve officer was stunned. After a few seconds, his pale cheeks quickly turned red——

"Are you laughing at me, Shen?"

he asked in a very soft tone.

"No." Shen replied seriously. "I was just expressing my agreement, and what you said is absolutely correct."

Sevatar took a deep breath, the serious atmosphere broken. He raised his head, as if he wanted to say something, but failed.

The black iron door was pushed open at this moment, and Conrad Coates and Khalil Lohars walked in with a bruised and bruised Somers. Somers' limbs were stiff, and the way he walked was completely different from his usual swagger.

"Go in and show off with them, Somers." Conrad Coates said softly with a smile.

"Primarch——!"

"Instructor!"

Conrad Coates smiled with satisfaction and pushed Somers back to his brothers.

Khalil nodded silently. He stood behind the primarch, folding his hands, as silent as a ghost.

However, because of their arrival, the atmosphere in the room changed slightly. Shen, who had remained calm before, was now taking deep breaths, while Sevita's eyes simply started to wander.

"Why do you all look so downcast?" Coz asked with a smile. "Is it possible that you feel that your performance is not enough to earn a name for your team?"

He easily guessed what the new recruits were thinking, but the atmosphere did not improve, but instead became even lower.

The reservists were not sure what their Primarch was thinking at this moment. This mystery came from the polite smile that Konrad Curze often wore on his face, which became almost his habitual expression.

While he seemed to be full of kindness, his soft tone and unique tone formed a contrast. In other words, if he feels unhappy or has other emotions, the recruits will basically not be able to tell.

Unless you are particularly familiar with him.

"Why is no one talking?" Conrad Coates raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Shen. The latter shuddered and straightened his back immediately. "Shen, would you mind explaining to me and Khalil why you are so frustrated?"

"We-" Shen took a deep breath. "-We are indeed, as you said, worried about whether we can earn a name."

"Is it just for this?" The Lord of Midnight couldn't help but shook his head. "Just because of this, all of them are crying? Don't underestimate yourself, reserves. Ten of the twenty people won, and four of them drew with their opponents. What's wrong with such results?"

"We." Shen blinked, showing a rare hesitation. "But, Primarch, is such an achievement worth being proud of?"

"To me, yes," Conrad Coates said softly. "For me, it is enough for me to be proud that you, a group of recruits who have just joined the army for two or three years, can achieve such results in your interactions with the Imperial Fists."

"But-" Saiweita said anxiously. "——We.We"

"What's wrong with you?" Coz frowned and looked at his first reserve. "Sai, why are you stuttering suddenly? The battle with Sigismund also damaged your language module?"

"What? No, of course not!"

"Then what's wrong with you?"

"I just" Seveta gritted her teeth. "I just don't think our performance was good enough. It might have been good, but it was still far from where we imagined ourselves to be."

Konrad Curze frowned and scanned the room. The gloomy atmosphere and the twenty pairs of eyes that dared not meet his eyes made him feel a little depressed. He narrowed his eyes and sneered.

"Look at you guys who don't even dare to look at people straight in the eye." He sneered and folded his hands, and his posture suddenly became exactly the same as someone behind him.

"Is it shameful? Is it hard to accept? Understand that you are fighting against the Imperial Fists! They are a legion with many honors, and their Primarch is Rogal Dorn! Moreover, how could they not send out elite troops to respond to the duel proposed by another legion?"

"Or is it my fault? Ah, maybe. I shouldn't have had any intellectual expectations of you. This matter really makes me desperate. The twenty reservists I personally selected and brought are all brainless idiots--!"

Sevatar opened his mouth speechlessly and looked at Khalil with a look of help, but all he got was a slight shrug.

And Konrad Curze continued.

At first, maybe he just wanted to try to use provocation. This method worked for the reservists, but it also worked for him - he was really angry because no one dared to pay attention to his words.

"No one is talking? No one is going to refute me?" He looked around, his eyes gradually becoming contemptuous.

He nodded knowingly. His completely dark eyes reflected the light in the room, and a few strands of hair on his forehead began to shake with his movements.

"Very good, I apologize for my inappropriate words. You are not brainless idiots, you are not stupid, but simply have limited intelligence and understanding. An Ogryn with brain damage may be more sensible than you. Ogryn still understands that it is not shameful to retreat if you can't win, but you-"

He sneered again, this time with a large amplitude, his white and sharp teeth bit together neatly, his canine teeth gleaming, and the sharp arc was frightening.

"- Forget it."

He suddenly stopped talking, turned around and walked away, leaving only one sentence.

"I forgive you."

He left without hesitation, not even looking back. But Khalil didn't, so the reservists' eyes fell on him in unison.

"Why are you looking at me?" Khalil smiled slightly. "Don't worry, he's not really angry."

"But we've never seen the Primarch get so angry." Somers whispered. "Are you sure?"

As soon as he asked this, Kasati Nuang on the side suddenly pulled him with his hand, his eyes almost collapsed.

"Of course I'm sure." Khalil nodded and answered softly. "Like he said, he is very satisfied with your performance. The reason he is angry is not because you didn't fight this battle well, but because you didn't show opposition to his deliberate insult."

Twenty people looked at him blankly.

Khalil narrowed his eyes.

"Okay." He said. "In fact, this question can be condensed into one sentence. What is the name of our legion, Sevitar?"

"Midnight Blade." Yago Sevitarion whispered, his voice hissing.

"Yes, we are the blade, the blade held in the hand. But the person holding the sword will also be you."

Khalil turned around and left the room steadily, and his last words, beyond the distance, rang clearly in the ears of everyone in the room.

"In other words, he hopes that the person holding the sword is a person, not a ruthless machine or something worse."

I had a fever in the afternoon and woke up at 10 o'clock. Sorry for the late update. This chapter is 4.5k, I will write another chapter of 5.5k.