40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 255 26. Crow’s Visit (1)

The blade itself has no mind. It is a murder weapon, one of the symbols of killing and violence. It is made for the purpose of committing murder, but it has no thought in itself. The blade is always just a tool held in someone's hand.

The man is the murderer, the knife is not.

"Executioner!" The man tied to the ground roared in despair. "You're all going to hell!"

A hoarse laugh answered his words, and then the voice of Yago Savitarion sounded: "Open your eyes and take a good look around, sir, aren't we already in hell together?"

With a chuckle, Sevatar pulled out his chain halberd from the mud with a very rough movement. Yes, once again he thrust his chainsaw headfirst into places no Techmarine would ever recommend.

No doubt he would be lambasted by them again and again afterwards. But that was after the war, and now, Sevita just wants to say a few words to the man in front of him.

And kill him after that.

"Can't you see the color of the sky?"

Sevatar put his fingers on the chain halberd and slowly tapped its metal handle with his index finger. A monotonous sound followed, echoing their voices in the reverberating gunshots, forming a deathly tune.

His tone was thoughtful, and it should have been soft, but it was changed by the breathing grille into a dull and ugly cry, distorted like a monster.

"Raise your head and look, sir, look at the blood-red sky. Look at the executed soldiers and the burning city. How can you say that we are not already in hell at this moment?"

The man's lips trembled, and he tried to retort, but he couldn't do it. His anger dissipated quickly, and Sevatar fell silent, staring at him quietly through the eyepiece, and slowly raised the chain halberd.

The man's head fell to the ground, and the recovery of this planet reached a certain point.

War is usually divided into two parts, the first part is when it is ongoing and the second part is after it is over. For Sevatar, he would be more willing to use this person's death as a node.

Staring at the frightened head, Savita bent down and picked it up. Scarlet blood was still gushing out from the arteries of the headless corpse, winding freely on the muddy ground.

Sevatar plunged the chain saw head down into the mud again, and took off his helmet. He carefully observed the man's face with unobstructed eyes, and finally came to a conclusion.

"He could have surrendered," Sevita said. "But he didn't want to."

"Not everyone will choose to surrender immediately after hearing our name. There are always some people who are willing to sacrifice their lives for their ideals or other things." A voice said behind him.

"Don't you think this is stupid, Shen?"

"Don't you think this is stupid, Cy?"

Savita sighed rarely, he bent down and placed the head next to the man's body.

"Don't call me that," he said coldly. "You know I don't like being called that by other people."

Shen smiled slightly happily, his laughter obvious. Sevatar narrowed his eyes and turned his head slightly unhappy.

Shen's armor has undergone a major change. He is wearing a MK4 power armor. Midnight blue is the main body, gold is not common, only the shoulder armor on both sides is decorated with gold lines, and scarlet becomes the second main color after blue. It can be seen everywhere, much darker than blood.

There is a special engraved pattern on his right shoulder armor, which is two criss-crossing cold-light blades. This means that he has been promoted to the fourth company and is no longer a member of the hunting team.

But this is not a promotion. To a certain extent, the leader of the hunting team enjoys no less power than a company commander, and naturally assumes the same responsibilities.

Savita understood the reason why Shen did this, but naturally he would not have any similar expression verbally. He was like that, and no Nightblade could ever expect to hear a compliment or a kind word from Sevatar.

So, of course, he started taunting.

"You abandoned your team, abandoned Cassati Nuang, abandoned Somers, abandoned Corentine. How can you still laugh, Shen? Don't you have a heart?"

Shen immediately stopped smiling and frowned.

"You're always good at poking scars." The sergeant of the Fourth Company said with narrowed eyes. "How many times do I have to explain to you that I was thrown in together by them. Do you think I want to leave my team members and become a non-commissioned officer in the fourth company?"

Sevita sneered: "If you don't want to, you can refuse."

"Yes, rejecting the 'agreed' military rank promotion and position change letter signed by the original body and the instructor?" Shen shook his head expressionlessly. "You are still the same as before, Savita. In order to gain some upper hand in words, you even ignore some common sense and even confuse right and wrong."

"Then why did I refuse?" Savita spread his hands and shrugged. "Why can I reject the job change letter?"

"You didn't refuse, you just put it away and refused to report to Captain Van Cleef, that's all."

Shen smiled coldly, a smile that seemed like it shouldn't appear on his face. It was so ruthless and horrific that it made him look like a brutal serial killer.

Is he? Maybe, from a certain perspective, Shen is indeed a serial killer, but he is not cruel.

Although he continues.

"The Primarch, the instructors and even Captain VanCleef have tolerated your little willfulness, but how long can this tolerance last, Sevatar? You have postponed your report for eleven Terran months, and it will soon be over. It’s been a whole year.”

Savita did not answer Shen's words, but the corners of his eyes twitched slightly.

"It seems like you want to say something to refute me. Well, in order to prevent you from bringing up this topic again, I will say what I need to say."

Shen's smile gradually became cheerful: "One year is enough for us to recover many planets and quell how many wars? Time will pass, Sevita."

"Macragge has been turned into the center of a galaxy alliance by the Ultramarines over the years. The War Hounds have also passed through the Ghoul Sector several times, and we have gradually become the center of the Galaxy Alliance in those rumors. How long do you think you can escape from the monster that appears from the shadows, tearing people alive and drinking their blood?"

"You'd better take those two words back." Sevatar squeezed out a sentence through his teeth. "This is not an escape, I'm just not as cold-blooded as you. I won't leave my team alone."

"Do you really think they still need you now?" Shen asked softly.

Sevatar didn't answer, just put on his helmet. An hour later, Midnight Blade left the planet. The Second Expeditionary Fleet, headed by the Tridesia, set sail again and headed for Nostramo. They will come home again.

How many more times can it happen?

——

Khalil closed his eyes and removed the blade. Just with a thought, it instantly fell over and returned to the shadows. In the blink of an eye, the pale skeleton with twisted bones transformed into a human form.

He opened his eyes again and saw a pale man in a mirror, everything was as usual. The body itself has not changed, it is not weak, but it has not become stronger either.

Khalil stared at it expressionlessly, his eyes lit up with blue light. His vision was changed at this moment, the limit of the ordinary human eye was instantly crossed, and something extraordinary came quietly, as promised.

At this moment, the person in the mirror has a broken crown on top of his head.

It has a ferocious shape, surrounded by a surging scarlet light in the darkness. It is still broken, with several floating fragments forming its current appearance, with blood-like filaments connecting them and providing traction.

Khalil frowned and removed the psychic energy. He didn't like the crown, but it didn't matter whether he liked it or not. Some things will not change just because you like them or not.

In silence, the instructor of the Night Blades slowly stood up, left his room, and went to the bridge.

Old Captain Gisbier Hasil was still working here, it was already three twenty-four in the morning on Terra, but he had to be here, just like the rest of the crew.

Unlike the defense forces stationed on the surface of the planet, the schedule of the imperial troops on the ship is much contrary to ordinary people's understanding. Working three or even four shifts is common.

As so many times before, the old man was the first to notice Khalil's arrival, but he did not shout a greeting or notify the others of Khalil's arrival. He did nothing but send a greeting with his eyes.

These years of war experience have given Gisbier a good understanding of the night blades. In fact, he knows every night blade on the Tridesia.

This kind of memory is simply extraordinary for ordinary people, and the old captain is not a person with a very good memory. Khalil could only attribute this incident to Gisbier Hasil's stubbornness.

He guessed that the captain probably had a notebook with names recorded, just like the chronicler who was still on their ship. Old-school people always preferred to write things with pen and paper.

Khalil walked towards him - he wanted someone to talk to at the moment, and Gisbier Hasil was the perfect person.

"Good evening, or rather good morning, Captain Gisbeer."

The old captain who was greeted raised his head and glanced at Khalil in slight surprise.

"You seem a little different today." He said slightly tactfully. "What's the matter, instructor Khalil?"

"It would be disingenuous of me to say no," Khalil said. "But I can't explain to you what happened."

Gisbier Hasil nodded calmly: "I see, so you came to me, an old man, just to chat and relax. I am honored, but I must tell you one thing in advance, I am not good at talking."

"Don't I seem to be good at the art of using words?" Khalil winked at him and made a joke that was neither painful nor very funny.

He was silent for a while, and Gisbeer patiently joined him in silence.

The old captain's workbench was located on the side of the bridge, far away from all the crew members, but he could observe them all from a superior angle, as well as the Tridesia's six huge observation windows.

The starry corner of the Milky Way was divided by the porthole, and the straight back and turret of the Tridesia were vaguely undulating at a slightly lower angle. The scene is always charming, but also always monotonous.

The six destroyers of the escort fleet are sailing ahead, and every two hours, they will send a radar exploration report. This information and data will be aggregated and uploaded to the Tridesia's cogitator array.

The Mechanicus Priests from Mars replaced it and made it the latest model. Data aggregation that used to take a long time to get results can now be completed in just two to five minutes, which is far more than twice as fast.

Everything has changed.

"Anyway." After a long time, Khalil spoke again. "I did want to say something, Captain Gisbeer. But the words were on my lips and I couldn't get them out. They became a little ridiculous, do you understand, Captain?"

"I don't understand." the old man replied seriously. "My thinking ability is not excellent. In fact, my colleagues often ridicule me as an 'iron head'. So I don't understand what you are alluding to, but I can somewhat understand your emotions at the moment."

Khalil looked at him, waiting for his answer. The old captain shrugged, and the thick scar on his face twisted at this moment. It was scary, but it also looked a little funny.

"If you ask me, you just fought too many wars. I have seen many such soldiers. Years of war have completely changed their bodies and minds. Only in war do they look like human beings. In their spare time, they even Not much to say.”

"You don't even have much to say?"

"Yes," Gisbeer said. "He just devoted himself endlessly to various pre-war preparations, such as sharpening knives, maintaining guns, and daily training. He was no different from a madman."

Khalil laughed. It was difficult for him not to compare the old captain's description to the Astartes - so was Gisbier deliberately making a slightly offensive joke?

Khalil didn't get the answer from the scarred face, and he didn't want to dig deeper, so he just silently memorized the joke.

"I really think it's time for you to rest for a while. This return may be an opportunity. You can stay on Nostramo for a while, or you can visit Macragge. I heard that the Ultramarines have developed There is a tourism project, but it’s a pity that I’m too old, otherwise I really want to see it.”

"Thank you for your advice, Gisbeer," said Khalil. "I will seriously consider it."

He turned and left. The old captain watched his back disappear completely, then lowered his head and continued to devote himself to his work. He didn't speak, but concentrated on and never-endingly handled various affairs on the Tridesia.

The people who were changed by the war were far more than the soldiers he mentioned.

4k for this chapter, one more chapter to go.