40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 266 37. Judgment Day (6)

Macha is old.

When he saw the person with the palm seal in reality, at that moment, this idea suddenly emerged in Khalil's mind.

Malcador was holding his scepter as always, and his figure looked very thin under the dark robe. Khalil could see his bony shoulders through the traces of his robe, and his white hair had changed color. It is no longer the kind of aging white, but an extremely pale white that is almost faded.

The combination of these details caused the smile on Khalil's face to disappear. The palmer raised his head and glanced at him. His eyes under the hood were still very energetic, but his expression contained a warning.

+I will explain later, don’t mention it at this time, I don’t want to waste more words on them. +Through psychic energy, the declining old man said this.

Khalil agreed to the proposal, carefully keeping his existing emotions hidden. Konrad Curze is sharper than before, not to mention that the Lord of the Night has always focused his attention on him. He didn't want Curze to discover these emotions at this time.

At least not now.

"Now that you are here, does this mean that my father's will cannot be changed?" Robert Guilliman asked.

The expression of the leader of the Thirteenth Legion cannot be called happy. He was happy when talking to Konrad Coze before, but now he looks like a prisoner in a cage. He looked at Malcador longingly, as if expecting an announcement of acquittal.

But Machado didn't say that. As a jailer, the only declaration he could give was one sentence.

"Yes."

The Seal Bearer replied majestically, his eyes shining brightly, with a strong and unchangeable will boiling in them: "The Perfect City must be destroyed."

"So, where are the believers? Where are the residents?" Conrad Coates took over, frowning, and his eyes were so sharp that they were almost unfamiliar. Kalil was slightly startled. At this time, the passage of eighteen years had just begun to feel a little more real.

In his perception, he was only gone for a few minutes. But what about others?

"Execute them all, leaving no one alive."

The imprinter's cold reply stirred up a silent echo in the room. The room was not large, and like most rooms on the Night Vessel, it had a quiet dark atmosphere. Now, this atmosphere has been broken.

Robert Guilliman's eyes widened unbearably.

"This is a naked atrocity, Malcador." The Macragge's body movements fully demonstrated his resistance at this moment, and his expression was even more complicated to describe.

"I can't believe what Luo Jia will think after hearing this."

"His thoughts are none of your business." The Markbearer maintained his coolness, ignoring Guilliman's protests.

"The veil that was placed before your eyes was torn off long ago, Roboute Guilliman. You know what lies in the darkness, and your actions over the years have proven it. So, am I still needed? Can I explain to you why your father gave such an order?"

"."

Guilliman was silent.

Yes, he doesn't need to explain - he knows what's hidden in the darkness, otherwise he wouldn't have been actively communicating with the untouchables over the years, and even silently pushed behind the scenes to support the Astragalus to form an anti-psionic force. proposal

However, the current situation is another matter.

"You must tell me and Conrad the full story, Malcador."

The Lord of Ultramar's blue eyes were extremely depressed at this moment, his voice was as low as thunder, and his eyes were like the sea before the storm. Calm, yet terrifyingly profound.

"If my father asked the Ultramarines and the Midnight Blade to commit such atrocities, we have the right to know the truth."

Malcador moved his neck calmly, keeping his eyeballs stagnant like some kind of machine, and looked at Conrad Coze in this posture.

"What about you, the Lord of Blades?" the palm-printer asked, his tone quite calm. "Do you think the same thing as your brother?"

"Slaughtering enemies and killing a city that is completely loyal to the empire are two completely different concepts, Malcador." The Lord of Night shook his head slowly.

"I don't care how many evil deeds we committed in the Great Crusade, nor how many rumors people will spread because of it. In any case, there are people like Belros among them who know the truth. But this matter is different, completely different. Midnight The sword can bear the name of executioner, but it can never kill the people of the empire without any psychological burden. "

".All right."

After a long silence, Malcador finally relaxed. His reaction caused Robert Guilliman to inevitably relax - he knew exactly what would happen if Malcador refused to let go.

At that time, they can only ask Khalil to communicate with the Printer. However, Khalil may not necessarily side with them, although he still remains silent.

"You want the truth, don't you?" Malcador asked slowly, his fingers moving little by little on the scepter, and the golden double-headed eagle on the top suddenly lit up with a cold blue light.

A cold will began to spread in the room. Whether it was Robert Guilliman or Konrad Curze, they all felt a huge pressure at this moment.

Khalil squinted his eyes, raised his head and glanced at the ceiling with awareness, and there was also a flash of psychic light in his eyes.

A few seconds later, after the room was completely covered by the pressure, Malcador finally spoke again.

"Lorgar Aurelion is a fanatical believer." The bearer spoke calmly and without any derogatory meaning.

"He was kneeling and crying when he first saw his father. He had seen his father in a dream a long time ago and even foresaw the birth at that moment."

"His faith in his father is pure and flawless. Even if the foundation is dirty, his own spirit is never dirty. But the perfect city is different. This exemplary symbol built by him and his legions has been from the beginning. A complete lie."

"Someone used his bloody hands to muddy its clarity. There was something wrong with its faith, and so did those residents. Therefore, it had to be destroyed, and so did they."

Robert Guilliman is explained. The explanation he wanted, the complete explanation, were his questions answered?

No.

His worries have not diminished at all, and can even be said to be increasing. He began to think in silence. Conrad Coates stood beside him, and the five fingers of his right hand rubbed the palm of his hand habitually.

After a long moment, Khalil broke the silence.

"Where is Lorgar Aurelion now?" he asked softly.

"At the other end of the galaxy, it will take at least nine weeks for him to come back." Malcador replied coldly. "Absolutely enough for you to do anything to this city."

Roboute Guilliman clenched his fists unbearably at his description, and even Konrad Curze showed a hint of dissatisfaction. Khalil laughed.

"The way you talk sometimes makes me wonder whether he influenced you or you influenced him? Or are you influencing each other and imitating each other?"

Malcador didn't answer, just looked at him disapprovingly.

"Don't look at me like that, old friend. You know very well that I don't like your description either," Khalil said. "Where is the Word Bearers' fleet? Isn't it here too?"

"They were transferred four months ago."

"In other words, this matter was premeditated?" Khalil sighed regretfully.

"You should know that these things will eventually be connected by Lorgar Aurelion? Whether he thinks about it or not, his primarch-level mind will piece together the truth for himself. When the time comes, how will we face a man who has gone crazy? The original body?"

"By then, you will have left."

"And then never see him again for the rest of your life? No, forget it." Khalil smiled softly.

Coz looked at him and suddenly felt a strange familiarity.

Strange because he has not seen Khalil like this for a long time, familiar because he has seen him many times before.

Khalil stood relaxed, with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. There was nothing on his pale face except this soft and cold smile, and unconsciously, Konrad Coates arched his back.

"He will find out, and then he will go crazy. Whether he is a false believer or a fanatic, when he sees the proof of his faith being burned before his own eyes. So, tell me directly, Malcador, what is he going to ask you to do? "

The Sigil Bearer stroked his staff in silence.

"Don't tell me you came all the way from Terra just to deliver a message from him face to face." Khalil continued with a smile.

Now, even Robert Guilliman, who had never seen him like this, noticed something was wrong.

"What else is he going to ask you to do?"

"I will control Lorgar Aurelion when he goes berserk, and I will take action."

"Then what?"

"Convey to him his father's message. And, punish him for his laxity in the Great Crusade."

"Isn't it more than that?"

Malcador finally frowned.

+You know what will happen. His tolerance for Luo Jia has reached its limit. He could let Luojia preach, ignore the truth of the empire, or even play a stupid religious game with him. But now it is no longer the so-called father-son game time. +

+ Lorgar Aurelion contributed to the destruction of the Perfect City through his foolishness. If he had a full understanding of his beliefs instead of being kept in the dark and being a puppet on strings, this would never have happened. +

+In the final analysis, it was his own stupidity and laxity that forced his father to make this decision, and he must accept punishment for it, as does his legion. +

+I won’t judge your defense of him. According to your words, after the Word Bearers rushed back to see the ruins of the Perfect City, they would be publicly humiliated again by the Emperor they believed in? +

+What they believe in is not the Emperor. +

Khalil narrowed his eyes.

"Let's end the conversation here." He turned around and walked to the door of the room. "How long do we have to prepare?"

"Three hours." Malcador said as he held his scepter tightly.

——

Konrad Curze wears his armor. Usually, this is done by dozens of servants with the help of mechanical arms, who will methodically cover the Night Lord's body with midnight blue armor. But this time, he chose to do it himself.

He squinted his eyes, stood under the stars and moved his right hand. The fine gold gauntlet decorated with gold and scarlet was slightly opened. Those sharp five fingers cut through the air, as sharp as the nails of the original body himself.

The place where he wore the armor was a viewing platform similar to an observatory. Fifteen huge stained glass portholes formed the ceiling and walls. The mechanical arm moved under the viewing platform, transporting other parts of the armor one by one. .

The air was so cold that it seemed to freeze, and the light was brilliant, refracted by the stained glass to a point that almost shouldn't be there. He had long been accustomed to this place. Before every war, he was used to staying here alone for a while.

Gaze at the stars or examine those stained glass windows. Thinking of nothing, just waiting for the armor to be put on. There was a low and melodious singing sound all around. It was a work by Terran artist Taloni, Night, that's what it's called.

Conrad Coates loved it and played it often. In the past, he would have even hummed softly at this time, but not today.

Not today.

"You've grown a lot, Conrad," Khalil said.

"What? You're not happy for me?" Kurtz said without looking back.

"I don't know if I'm happy or sorry right now. What happened to Corax and his legions?"

The Lord of Night paused for a moment.

"Why do you ask this suddenly?" He asked back in a normal tone.

"I have to know whether my lost eighteen years have produced a good result." Khalil smiled bitterly.

"It's very good. There is a very good chemical reaction between the rescued Starborn and the Terran who stayed behind. The Raven Guard often cooperates with us, and their tactics and operational style fit well with ours."

Conrad Curze turned around, and the power armor's servos came to life, and it began to hum. Now, all he was missing was his helmet. What looked like a smile was blooming on that pale face.

Khalil sighed: "Don't do that, Conrad."

"He blamed himself, after I explained it to him," Konrad Coates continued, ignoring Khalil's words. "He thought it was his relationship that made you, um, change your appearance. I told him that he didn't need to care about such things."

"My father, Khalil Lohars, was a man who would help others without ever mentioning the cost to himself. Always willing to put himself in danger, always willing to hurt me with his absence."

"I'm not one to use my absence to make my presence felt, Conrad."

"You are indeed not." Conrad Coates nodded. "Your presence doesn't need to be gained by absence."

".I apologize for that, Conrad," Khalil said. "I lost my caution and abused my power. I'm sorry, I didn't expect its backlash would come so quickly."

Conrad Coates stood there, looked at him steadily for a while, and suddenly chuckled.

"As you wish," the Night Lord said listlessly. He was smiling, and it was genuine, but Khalil saw something deeper.

He saw some tears as red as blood, hidden tears.

"You will apologize, you will comfort me, and you will sincerely feel sad and remorseful for this. But you will not change. If next time, you see injustice and hear the call of a group of people who died in vain, you will still use you without hesitation. the power of."

"Just like what we are going to do next, Father. We will kill hundreds of millions of Imperial people with our own hands. They will also die in vain, and they will call for you."

"This time, I won't use it." Khalil replied in an extremely soft voice.

"Yes, you won't." Conrad Coates nodded, echoing Khalil's words quite firmly. In the soft melody of "Night" and the singer's soft humming, his smile gradually became real.

"The power of prophecy is supposed to be a curse, father." Midnight Ghost hissed. "Landing down on Nostramo is the curse of curses. I don't believe in fate, but if it does exist, then the path it has prepared for me is to become a monster. I am absolutely convinced."

"In these eighteen years, I have thought about this many times. Sometimes, I can even smell a stench. It comes from Quintus back then, from another me."

"He is ragged and skinny. He lives in the city's sewers and feeds on rotten and diseased corpses. He is a cruel and ruthless monster, a schizophrenic serial killer. Without you, he is me. Or, he is what I should be. Becoming.”

Midnight Haunter opened his arms.

"But look at me now," he said, smiling. "You kept the curse at bay, Father, and you taught me how to use it."

Khalil's expression gradually became complicated. At the same time, in another place, a land of broken glaciers. The dark water is condensing into ice.

"I did not let you down, I used it well. I have seen many futures, many one-sided things. They should have hindered my steps and made me spend the rest of my life in fear and fall into madness all day long, but I didn't. "

He raised his left hand, and a sharp blade popped out of the armor's wrist and was held in his hand. Blue light suddenly rose and spread in the air like a trailing shadow. A long and narrow blade was held in Conrad Coates' hand.

He lifted it and held it close to his forehead.

"Look at me, father." The Lord of Night spoke softly. "What did you see?"

Khalil didn't answer, he didn't know how to answer.

"You know what people call me? Hero, Lord of Blades, Savior, Judge, the Incarnation of Justice."

"Listening to them, I sometimes wonder if I'm dreaming. I feel like it's not real, until I see you now, and I realize it's so real. You've paved a path for me, a path I can walk down with my head held high without looking back."

"You turned the monster into a hero, and it's your every stupid act that made me who I am today, and everything that's happened today. So go ahead, father. Do whatever you want to do. Be Caril Rohals."

The Lord of the Night chuckled, put down the blade, and put on his helmet.

This chapter is 5k, plus 3k at 1am, a total of 8k. I owe 2k, to be paid tomorrow.