40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 230 1. Goodbye War Dog

Sevatar pulled his hand out of an orc's belly.

The thing's body twitched due to his movements. He ignored its behavior as if it were pretending to be a corpse, and just crushed the thing's head with his feet. Then he began to fight with his left and right hands.

The twelve hours of fighting caused the muscles in his right hand to be instinctively locked. Each finger seemed to be integrated into the handle of the chain saw. He moved his fingers and heard a faint and thin squeaking sound.

It's almost like my bones are rusty.

He was amused by this idea, and his slightly cold smile echoed on the battlefield. However, not everyone liked hearing this kind of laughter - a head flew from not far away and fell right at his feet.

Sevatar looked down and saw an orc head missing its jaw and half of its face.

He raised his foot, crushed it, and then shrugged: "Are you a naughty boy, Karen? You would throw such a thing at me?"

"Dear Captain, I'm not throwing it at you, I'm using its big, ugly, green head to remind you that we should go back." A hoarse voice said in the communication channel. "Honestly, don't you think it looks a bit like you?"

"You will be punished for verbally attacking your superiors," Savita responded with a smile. "And of course I know we should go back. You big-headed orc."

Karen Ofion couldn't help but curse Nostramo.

Two hours later, they returned to the so-called 'camp' in a truck. But if given the choice, Sevatar would rather stay on the battlefield overnight.

The feeling and comfort of sitting in a truck are completely irrelevant. Everyone has to fold their knees and weapons and endure the bumps for up to two hours in a ridiculous sitting position to reach their destination.

Shaking his neck, Sevatar jumped out of the truck. This car was provided by a local, and its body still bears the slogan once graffitied by the resistance group - "Kill the orcs! The green bastards only deserve to eat Glocks shit!"

Vulgar, but imaginative.

He smiled again and took off his helmet. A patrol of local soldiers passed by him and saluted them with attention.

There were several children in the refugee camp not far away who were peeking in this direction. Sevita made a ferocious face at them and received a scream of satisfaction. The children ran away, and he twitched the tip of his nose and inadvertently smelled the aroma of food.

The setting sun was gradually setting above our heads, the sky was an ambiguous pink, and the last bit of orange light shone in the clouds. Sevatar stared at these lights, moved her lips slightly, and said goodbye to the sun silently.

He held his helmet between his legs and held his chain halberd in his other hand. He stepped on the muddy ground and walked deep into the camp. Clicking instruments and cables were strewn about, ringing in the makeshift tent.

Auxiliary soldiers in uniforms were busy shuttling between the instruments holding cans. They need to eat, but they also need to take care of these precious communications instruments.

Savita carefully avoided them and entered another tent. There are not many instruments here, but they are quite large. In fact, they are surprisingly large for communications equipment.

"Instructor——" Savita raised his helmet and saluted with a perfunctory gesture. "——The orc elimination work against the third position has been completed."

There are many instructors in the Midnight Blade, and the new blood can put this title after the name of many people. However, if you only use this word, then it can only represent one person in Night Blade.

Khalil Lohars.

The pale giant nodded slightly in response.

His ferocious skeleton-like armor was covered with mottled bloodstains, and the white and black were almost completely covered by them. Savita glanced at the dark cloak behind the instructor without any trace. It lifted a corner silently, as if to say hello to him.

"Don't look, Savita." Khalil smiled slightly. "It's a picky eater and doesn't eat the blood of orcs. It's not the first day you've known this."

The raised corner of the cloak fell limply.

"Did you just come back too?" Savita asked, forcing himself to focus on the instruments - he didn't want to attract the cloak's attention anymore.

Compared to others, he was often provoked by the cloak for no reason, and every time it was weird. Seeing it express its emotions like a living creature, Sevata always felt itching on her back.

"Absolutely, I came back ten minutes earlier than you did." Khalil said. "However, we don't have much time left."

Savita curled her lips.

The Primarch was eight years old - no, three years had passed since the Eighth Legion officially joined the Great Crusade.

Three years is enough time to change many things. It will allow the new Eighth Legion to stand out in the empire, and it will also allow the total number of legions to rise to more than 56,000. This is not a huge number, but for the Night Blades, it is enough.

In the past three years, they have regained one planet after another at a speed that made officials from the Ministry of Government and the Ministry of Military Affairs lose their hair like crazy.

The Night Blades don't need to think about too many things. They don't crave complete recovery like the Ultramarines, nor do they pursue battle-loss ratio like the changed Iron Warriors. They just want efficiency.

Coincidentally, the night blades' best tactics are inseparable from efficiency. No planet can resist their terrifying style of doing things.

Now, the entire legion has been divided into three expedition fleets.

One is led by Khalil Lohars and consists of recruits or individual hunting parties.

One is led by the original body himself. Its members are all veterans and have the best weapons and equipment. They are responsible for some of the more difficult bones to crack.

The last one was led by Captain Van Cleef, with half veterans and half recruits. The company was mixed with the hunting team, and they often fought side by side with other legions. There are rumors that Van Cleef is currently preparing a book, which details his experience in cooperating with various legions.

Warfare comes in many forms, and sometimes, it is counterinsurgency. Sometimes, it's a swarm invasion, artificially creating nightmares to terrorize some world's biggest figures. Now, it is fighting the orcs on a planet that has sent out a distress signal.

This planet is called Blasius 1. It is located in the Pacific Star Territory. It was once an agricultural world, but now it has become a carnival base camp for the orcs.

When the Night Blades received the distress signal and discovered it, it was already devastated. Despite this, the locals did not give up their resistance and continued to resist tenaciously.

This was rare, and it made Sevatar full of respect for these people - yes, the way he showed his respect was to scare the local children.

But of course not only their legion could receive the distress signal.

"Don't make that face." Khalil shook his head in amusement. "Our strength is not fighting aliens, and it is naturally impossible for a force of 13,000 people to completely kill them. Transferring this place to a legion that is better at frontal combat will be a benefit for both of us."

"I just think it feels weird that we keep running around like this, coming and going." Saiweita couldn't help but complain. "Is this what the Great Expedition was like? Getting on a ship, getting off a ship, going from one planet to another?"

"Otherwise?" A hoarse voice suddenly came from among the huge instruments, almost sounding like two pieces of broken glass rubbing against each other.

"Iago Severtarion, what else do you think the Great Crusade is?"

Savita remained cautiously silent and looked at their instructor. The latter's expression at this moment seemed somewhat helpless: "Angron, I didn't introduce him to you in advance just to let you scare him."

"I didn't think he was scared by me." The voice laughed, and then, a figure lit up between the instruments, consisting of faint blue light spots.

Although the descriptions are abstract, the images of himself are as clear as superhuman imagination. Every detail was so real, and Sevita tried hard to suppress her shock to keep her voice calm.

He made an eagle salute to the holographic projection, lowered his head, and greeted: "Nice to meet you, Lord Angron."

"."

The holographic image was silent for a while, then he turned his head, his steel-like braids dancing in the air. This giant among giants looked at Khalil with a complaining look: "Haven't you introduced me to him yet?"

Khalil smiled and shook his head.

"Okay. Hey, look here, Yago Savitarion."

Sevatar did as he was told, and the giant looked at him seriously and pointed his finger at him. A little vulgar and rude, but with a strange affinity.

"I don't like others calling me Sir, or adding any form of honorific to my name. Remember this, okay? I hope our cooperation can go smoothly."

cooperate?

Sevatar's expression quickly became strange. He looked at Khalil again, only to find that the cloak began to greet him again - this time, the way it chose was to surge like a wave.

The corner of the captain of the first team's mouth twitched involuntarily, while his instructor sighed.

"Yes, the Midnight Blade's Second Expedition will launch a collaboration with the War Hounds."

Khalil shook his head as he tapped his finger on his shoulder to silence the cloak.

"But it's not a common type of cooperation in form. Let's leave the details until the war dogs arrive."

"I heard that you had a tie with Sigismund of the Imperial Fists, Yago Savitarion." The holographic image looked at Savitar and smiled with interest. "I have someone here who is interested in you."

For some reason, Savita suddenly felt a chill.

There is one more chapter.