40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 289 9. The Scarlet Sons

Angel Tai had never felt so at a loss in his life. Anxiety, anxiety, and uncertainty about the future mixed together, almost turning into a bone-eroding poison that was about to engulf him completely.

However, I don't know why, maybe it's a miracle, but he still retains a little sense. And Angel Tai ironically understood that this reason actually came from another stronger emotion in his heart.

Hatred.

"Will he meet us?" he heard one of his brothers ask, his voice rough and worried. His name was Hermot La Cruz, a native of Colchis and an experienced priest.

"Maybe, maybe not, why do you care?" Another person he brought, Battusa Narek, asked in a calm voice.

It was obvious that he was looking for trouble.

"Because I obviously care about more than you do, Bartusa!" the priest retorted with a low growl.

His rage was so palpable that it almost contrasted with the blackness of his armor - of the three Word Bearers, only his power armor was painted black.

This commemorates the destruction of the Perfect City, a day in which what they experienced has left a mark on them forever.

"Really? Then please give me an example." Bartusa said, and reached out to pat Hemot on the shoulder. He seemed friendly and not provocative, but Angel Tai knew exactly what he was doing. .

This is not provocation, it is far better than provocation.

For a moment, he almost thought he would see them fighting each other. But they didn't—and once again, a miracle happened.

Hemot suppressed his temper and even just snorted: "There is no point in arguing, Bartusa, you stone head."

"Everyone, please be quiet," Angel Tai said. "Arguing here will accomplish nothing. Whether he sees us or not is up to him. Who in the galaxy can force Khalil Lohars?"

"Lord of Blades?" The old priest said this word, his voice suddenly filled with conviction. "He should be able to. He is the Son of God after all."

Angel Tai closed his eyes in pain.

"Sometimes I really don't understand how you can continue to believe in the Emperor, Hermott," he murmured softly. "You're such a lunatic."

"How many of the 1,300 people who came with us are not crazy?" Hemot immediately retorted. "In other words, from the perspective of our own legion, how many so-called 'normal people' are there among the thirteen hundred of us?"

"None." Battusa spat out coldly. "We are traitors, madmen, fools, traitors. The only bridge between the Legion's weapons and our bodies is Lorgar Aurelion."

"Lorgar Aurelion when he is awake." Helmut corrected again. This time, his voice was far closer to a whisper than Angel Tai's.

Yes, Lorgar Aurelion when he was awake, but how long could he stay awake?

As this question surfaced, Angel Tai lowered his head in silence. A golden-skinned giant appeared before his eyes. The giant's face was sometimes distorted and sometimes calm, like an unpredictable cloud.

However, he could only have a moment of peace on rare nights, and the frenzy that could distort his facial features was the norm most of the time.

In this state, he would walk barefoot from one end of the ship to the other, waving his arms, with his followers following closely behind him and listening to him loudly preach the ancient faith of Colchis.

This change began after the destruction of the Perfect City. At first, the Word Bearers were frightened and panicked by this. Everyone could see that the original body's mental state was abnormal, but with the assurances of Erebus and Cole Phaeron, this fear gradually changed.

Later, Lorgar Aurelion also proved himself normal in many wars. As always, the mantra bearer loudly rebukes the enemies of the god, wields his scepter, walks at the forefront of the battle line, and kills in the name of the god.

Only a few people noticed the strange changes in the atmosphere within the legion, and they were always vigilant. Only a few people can see Lorgar Aurelion when he is awake.

Don't think this is luck, there is nothing more unfortunate than this in the world.

"Go to Khalil Lohars, go to him with someone you trust, and go to the triumphal ceremony."

At that time, that night, Lorgar Aurelion stood in his house full of scriptures and growled at Angel Tai, clenching his fists.

"Go to him, tell him I can't be trusted, tell him—"

The original body suddenly stopped speaking, and the golden characters began to twist on his skin, and a creepy golden light penetrated from beneath the skin. The next second, Lorgar Aurelion's face once again took on that twisted fanaticism.

He looked at Angel Tai with a smile and began to recite scriptures. He was so friendly, so charming, that his eyes almost turned into two radiating whirlpools, trying to swallow up a person's soul.

Angel Tai didn't know how he left after that. He only felt fear and pain. He has recalled this scene tens of millions of times, and experienced fear and pain tens of millions of times. He had to do this to make sure that he had seen correctly and that there was no mental problem.

Logically speaking, he should be numb, but he wasn't. The sufferings suffered by the Primarch were far greater than his own, and Angel Tai would rather suffer and perish than see Lorgar Aurelion suffer such a change.

Yes, his original body has indeed undergone a certain degree of change, and this change is something that he cannot understand and cannot understand.

If one-sided words are not credible, then the other two people standing here, Hemot La Cruz and Bartusa Narek, can also prove this.

They were also the unfortunate ones who witnessed the Primarch transform back and forth between madness and peace. Angel Techai, this is probably one of the reasons why the hot-tempered Hemot can tolerate Batusa.

They all only have each other to trust.

In the gloomy reception room of the Nightfall, three Word Bearers waited with their bare hands. They don't know what kind of verdict Khalil Lohars will give, they just hope that he can at least meet them.

A man pushed open the door of the reception room and walked in.

"Please wait a few more minutes, cousins. Our instructors are busy instructing the new blood." He said softly, with a strange accent in Gothic, with a very obvious breathy sound.

This meant that he was a Nostramo, and it was easy for the Astartes to change their accent. Deliberately retaining the accent of his hometown language, in Angel Tai's perception, this is an external manifestation of pride.

Like all the Midnight Blades in Imperial legends, he wore gloomy dark blue armor and looked as pale as a ghost or a corpse, but Angel Tai also noticed some other details.

For example, this person's shoulder armor is decorated with gold trim, and his hands are dyed scarlet. The color was far more intense than blood. Two criss-crossing sharp blades gleamed on his right shoulder armor.

"Who is your Excellency?" the old pastor asked immediately - of course he had to ask, he has always been impatient. What's more, this person was the first person they saw after sitting in the reception room for seventeen minutes.

If you don’t ask him, who should you ask?

"Shen." The man replied politely. "Adjutant of the Fourth Company. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but determining your identity code is really not an easy task."

Angel Tai knew what he was alluding to, he could hear the lieutenant's metaphor. The Word Bearer smiled bitterly, stood up from the sofa in the reception room, walked forward and shook hands with Shen: "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Shen narrowed his eyes, grinned, and then took the initiative to let go of Angel Tai's hand. "It's just a small matter, so please wait a moment."

He looked around politely, nodded to them, then turned and left the reception room. Angel Tai remained standing, watching him leave, and his mood calmed down unexpectedly.

He took a deep breath and simply sat back on the sofa. He thought, we have already come this far, what is there to be anxious about?

The Word Bearer simply closed his eyes and let Lorgar Aurelion's face appear before his eyes again.

He began to silently recite the past words of the Primarch. Those pious words full of sincerity had driven away the dust that had covered his eyes in countless days after the war. Angel Tai is used to war, but he doesn't like war.

However, during this period of thinking, he suddenly felt a chill. He never knew where this feeling came from, but it was so real that it felt like someone was placing a knife blade across his neck.

The Word Bearer opened his eyes suddenly, stood up, and instinctively touched his waist with his right hand.

Unfortunately, it wasn't until his fingers touched the empty armed belt that he realized that his weapons had been handed over voluntarily when he boarded the Nightfall with his two companions - and now, he was using his bare hands , standing awkwardly in front of a giant.

The latter looked at them calmly, with surging shadows twisting like living creatures between the pale bones in armor. The malice is unabashed, it roars silently.

Khalil Lohars.

The ‘Blade’ of the Eighth Legion, the legendary ghost, a monster that makes people feel cold just by mentioning its name.

Angel Tai gritted his teeth and forcefully stretched out his right hand trying to hold the weapon in a twisted manner, turning it into a weird handshake gesture.

"Hello." He said in a low voice. "I am Angel Tai, a member of the Word Bearers. I have something to tell you."

Khalil looked at him calmly, tilted his head, and did not answer or shake hands. Half a second later, a cold blue light flashed away in his eyes.

update completed.

Yes, I'm going to start shooting, right? To advance the plot.