40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 235 6. The truth of the war (2)

Frontline - this word is cold, precise and ruthless.

What it represents is inseparable from death, and now, Sevatar is walking here with their only chronicler. With the city's foundry as the junction, the rebels retreated steadily.

They tried to organize a counterattack, but they couldn't do it without the cover of heavy vehicles.

The armories and military camps in the city were key tactical targets from the beginning. The Night Blades who landed from the first wave of airborne pods directly blew up or paralyzed all these treasures of the rebels after landing.

Without their cover, engaging in street fighting with the Astartes in the city would be akin to seeking death.

After that, it's a simple and direct step-by-step encroachment. Like bloody beasts chasing injured prey, the Night Blades will not stop until their throats are completely bitten.

"How?" Savita asked in a normal tone.

He had turned off the voice-changing function of the breathing grille, but despite the continuous gunfire, his voice still reached Bellos's ears clearly.

Frankly speaking, the sound was too low to sound human, more like thunder. The voices of the Astartes are like this, and you will know as soon as you hear them that they are not sounds that humans can make.

But they are just people.

"Allow me to offend you a little." The reporter scratched his head with his fingers while taking pictures.

Although he looked a little hesitant, he didn't hesitate at all when he spoke.

"Although, I think the rebels in Cappadocia would rather die in the bombing and artillery fire than face you again. However, is it too inefficient to carry out urban street fighting like this? There should be more than one city on this planet, right?"

After saying this, he put down the heavy camera, raised his head and looked at his guide, trying to observe Sevatar's current emotions through the obstacles of the armor and eyepieces, but he got nothing.

Apart from the calm and almost indifferent breathing of Yago Severtalion, Belros was empty-handed and found nothing.

"Indeed." After a period of silence, Savita spoke. He sounded like he agreed, and Bellows knew that such agreement must be followed by a 'but'.

"But efficiency is not the first priority"

really. the narrator thought.

"Look, Mr. Bellos, there are many kinds of people in this world. There are fools like you who follow me to the front line waiting to take bullets, and there are pure incompetent idiots like the Governor of Cappadocia."

As Savita spoke, her voice became softer, as soft as a whisper in the night wind. The brutal sound of bolter fire still lingered in their ears, like an accompaniment or the background noise of the comm channel.

Listening to this voice, Bellos was reminded of a rainy night on Terra many years ago for no reason.

At that time, there was lightning and thunder, the storm was raging, and manic raindrops fell from the sky. But the voice of the man in golden armor could be heard clearly in all their ears, and he stood with them.

side by side.

The narrator smiled nostalgically. Savita took in the entire scene, but did not make any comments. He just continued to narrate.

"He sent us a surrender request not long ago. After being rejected, he actually got angry on the call channel. He thought that our failure to accept his surrender was an insult to his surname and family."

"He's just an imbecile," Seveta said, not sparing his insult. "However, such a person can easily incite countless civilians who live peacefully and soldiers who perform their duties loyally to become traitors in just a few years. Isn't this ridiculous?"

Belros's smile gradually changed from nostalgia to appreciation.

"Captain Savita Lyon, what exactly do you want to say?" he asked, his eyes behind the gold-rimmed glasses were straight and sharp, with something that Savita had wanted to see all morning.

"After his request was denied, we broadcast a message to the rebels. We broadcast the message only once, amid the screams and wails of their comrades. It contained a simple one sentence ”

Under his helmet, the Nostramo smiled cruelly.

"The governor of Cappadocia, Tors Rasbaya, spent several years trying to win over people and weave lies. He used threats, bribes and incitement to indelibly burden the Cappadocia people. stain."

"I'm wondering if his hard work over the past few years and his stupid ambitions, which he spent his life and property trying to realize, can compare to our understatement? You say we are kind, but that's not the case. , Mr. Bellows. Everyone has a natural tendency to exercise violence, and we—"

He raised his hand and tapped his scarlet eyepiece: "——Be able to control it and release it to some things that are not human. In other words, you will soon see our cruelty. "

"I'll wait and see." Belros said expectantly.

He gripped his camera as if he was about to pull the trigger.

——

Khalil slowly tightened his right hand, and an iron chain extended from his arm armor and spread dozens of meters forward.

It hung in mid-air, one end was held in his hand, and the other end was firmly tied around someone's neck. One of this man's knees was smashed, and his arms were folded and tied behind his back.

He reluctantly walked through the darkness, sobbing and whimpering from time to time. Only then will the iron chain around his neck be slightly loosened, saving him from the pain of suffocation at any time.

Sometimes, with a little hope, he would call to his companions in the dark, hoping that they would help him. But his companions were indifferent. They did not help him, and they did not dare to help him anymore.

In fact, they only dare to do one thing now - to cover their mouths tightly in the dark and not make any sound.

In the dark power plant, Khalil laughed silently.

Have you finally learned to be smart? Finally understand that making a sound can lead to death?

He hummed softly and began to walk without masking the sound. The sound of the second man's footsteps sounded in the silent power plant, heavy and ruthless, with the sound of the collision of steel.

He hummed a song and strolled through the corridors covered with blood, the power generation workshop where broken limbs were hung, and finally arrived in the basement.

The darkness could not stop his perception. Khalil could clearly 'see' that just behind the basement door, forty-three rebels were waiting desperately with weapons in hand.

And what about the poor sufferer?

He turned his head quietly, raised his right index finger gently, and tapped on the chain.

A muffled sound of pain immediately came from not far away, and the victim fell down due to a knock. But Khalil did not let him go. Six people had been tied up by this chain before him, so why should he escape?

In the darkness, the skeleton casually pulled his right hand and began to make the crying victim crawl towards him - or, in other words, pull him.

He was getting closer, and so were his cries. And all of this is clearly visible to the rebels behind the basement door.

After all, apart from them, where else are there any living people in the power plant?

Khalil gently took a breath of air and found the smell of fear, which was getting stronger and stronger.

He smiled and lowered his head, his eyes lit up with a cold blue light just right.

The victim was dragged all the way by the irresistible force, bumped into countless debris along the way, and suffered bruises all over his body. His original injuries were also tormenting him. Logically speaking, he no longer had the strength to scream any more.

Yes, it stands to reason.

But 'reason' does not include a skeleton who killed almost all the soldiers stationed in the power plant in just twenty-five minutes.

Nor does it include the skeleton’s icy gaze.

The victim screamed, and the next second, his head exploded, blood splashed, and the chains fell to the ground. Khalil pulled his arm again, causing it to snake and crawl on the ground like a poisonous snake.

It swayed, crawled and slowly reached the basement door. It's a metal gate, dark and heavy, with a biometric lock.

But what does this have to do with an iron chain?

Khalil walked silently to the door, and the chains began to tremble. Its material began to become soft and weird, like mud.

Seconds later, it silently arrived behind the door. The person controlling it chuckled very obviously, raised his left hand, and knocked on the door politely twice.

Naturally, no one responded inside the door—except for the iron chain.

Somehow it slowly passed, allowing the door to rise. The rebels looked at this scene blankly, not understanding why the door suddenly opened on its own. The screams and knocks just now were still close at hand, lingering in my ears.

They clenched the guns in their hands, their nerves stretched to the limit. And at this moment, in the darkness, two points of blue light suddenly lit up, illuminating the face of a skull.

"Hi." Khalil said. "good afternoon."

Gunfire rang out.

Five minutes later, he walked out of the power plant wearing armor without any trace of blood. Shen had been waiting for a long time. He was not wearing a helmet and his expression looked a little complicated.

"What's wrong?" Khalil asked knowingly.

"You are right again." Shen pursed his lips and said. "We investigated the civilians near the power plant. With the help of a little conversation skills, they confessed that the rebels in the power plant have indeed been doing shameful things. They cover almost everything from organs to people to addictive substances. , and also thoughtfully started the loan business.”

Khalil smiled as expected: "It's really a familiar technique and style. It seems that people are all connected to some extent."

Shen sighed.

"I want to know why you can guess it right every time?" Young Ye Ren asked with a little complaint. "You didn't even do any prior research."

"It's just a little experience," Khalil said calmly.

He raised his head and looked thoughtfully at the blood-red sky.

Publish regularly, and update the second chapter after waking up.