40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 321 41. Interlude: The first demon ascender

Van Cleef raised his head and stared at the Fel Zalost he knew well, silently.

There was no light all around, almost a completely enclosed space. Ashes overflowed and hung upside down, floating slowly but realistically. Five iron chains made by Fehr tightly trapped him on a pale stone pillar. The ground was dark, not like metal, and there was a hint of fire.

"I didn't expect them to actually work." After a long silence, Van Cleef said, breaking the silence.

Feir slowly raised his head, nothing lit up in his empty eyes. It took him a while to respond to Van Cleef's words, which seemed very slow.

"They work, just because I haven't really crossed that line yet."

"But you don't look human anymore, Fell," Van Cleef said seriously.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. Intellectually I know that you are still Fel Zalost, but my instinct tells me that you have become something else. It is as if the person I am talking to is just the skin named Fel Zalost, and the skin That thing that fell”

"It won't come out just yet," Fair said.

He looked down at the five chains on his body and exhaled a breath of cold air as if sighing.

"The Chain of Hatred can help me maintain my personality to a certain extent. The most important thing is that I don't have to hear those whispers for the time being."

"You call it the chain of hatred?"

"My naming skills have never been very good."

"No, I think it's a very fitting name," Van Cleef said. He stared at the chains and heard a faint cry in his ears.

The never-ending hatred of the people who died in vain transcended the shackles of the curtain at this moment and reached his ears. Crying blood and filled with hatred. He looked for a while and then looked away. At this time, the voice disappeared again.

"Really?" Feier asked doubtfully. "You really think so? I would be honored, Van Cleef. After all these years, you finally acknowledge my suggestion of a name to some extent."

"That's the only one."

"That's enough."

The dim room fell into silence again, with no one speaking. Feier lowered his head again, as if falling into a deep sleep.

The cracks on his skin are increasing, and the armor looks like steel that has been cooled after being burned, and they are vaguely deforming. Van Cleef knew that this was not his imagination, he could see the faint changes in the lines.

This set of MK2 power armor, which Feier has been fighting for for a long time, is about to reach the end of its lifespan. After that, will it transform and be reborn, or will it just become broken scrap metal?

VanCleef knows the answer, but he won't say it just yet.

"So, where are we now?" Fair asked.

He raised his head again, and the rags of burning embers-like hair fell from his forehead, covering his empty eye sockets.

"No, let's answer another question first. How many of us are left?"

"Twenty-three thousand, seven hundred and forty-nine people." Van Cleef spit out a number expressionlessly. "You should know better than I do, Fell. I don't believe you can't hear them."

"I can hear it. But I dare not listen."

"Why?"

"I can't listen at this time," Fair repeated. "It's not the time yet, Van Cleef, you don't know what I saw. My death cannot come before that moment, I must die more valuable."

"In a way, that's not death." Van Cleef replied coldly.

"But it's not a promotion." Feier responded with the same coldness, but with a wry smile. "I'm beginning to understand now why the instructor has been pessimistic about this. He understands better than anyone what it is."

Van Cleef was silent for a moment, then chose to change the subject, with a very stiff tone: "How do you feel now? Jairzinho asked me to ask these things. We need to write down these situations. In the future, people like you will only There will be more and more.”

"Is there any sign yet?" Feier asked seemingly nonchalantly. "I can feel some firelight through the walls and the ground. Okay, the first thing you need to remember is don't let me be alone with them."

"them?"

"Those who can already summon the fire of rage," Fair said. "I have some kind of instinct. In fact, it's a desire. If not stopped, I'm afraid I will bring their death to an early stage."

"Understood." Van Cleef nodded towards him. "So, number two?"

"Second, I'm thirsty for killing." Feier said in a low voice. "Far more terrible than instinct or calling, more terrible than the urge of a beast to be full."

"How intense?"

"A hundred times more terrifying than you can imagine. I am vaguely aware that this desire may never end. It is a kind of madness that should not exist. Its only purpose is revenge, revenge for all the unjust deaths. "

Van Cleef made silent gestures to express his emotions. Fair smiled but didn't respond. Over the next few dozen minutes, he described his feelings at this moment in detail.

Fehr believed that he had lost his sense of pain because his body was slowly sinking into some kind of coldness. The latter was changing him, making him stronger, and repairing the injuries he had suffered every minute.

But this is the complete opposite description of his cracked face.

Then, he mentioned his power armor, and he could 'perceive' a vague consciousness inside the power armor that was whispering to him, which was different from the terrifying cries like landslides and tsunamis of the people who died in vain. The voice was low and silent, as if it had not yet been born.

He understood that his power armor was changing, and exactly what it was, might be the same as the power sword he left on the bridge of Macragge's Glory.

Finally, he mentioned something.

"I'm a little worried about something, Van Cleef." Felzalost spoke slowly and calmly.

"What's up?"

"You." Feier lowered his head and looked at him. There was nothing in the mourning bird's eyes, but his real gaze fell on Van Cleef's face, as sharp as a blade.

The first company commander narrowed his eyes: "What do you mean?"

"You're burning."

"Go on."

"I lost my eyes, but I gained another kind of vision, a new way of observing the world. I can see that you have been burning for a long time, at least for decades. The fire in your body is so strong that I almost I dare not look directly, but you have not changed at all. What are you now?"

"That's a good question. I wish I could answer you, but it's a pity that I can't. I don't understand my current situation myself."

"Aren't you worried about that?"

"No."

"Aren't you afraid that something will happen to you one day?"

"No, I'm not worried about these things." Van Cleef smiled in an obvious manner. Such a pure smile had never appeared on his always sinister face.

Feier was stunned, not quite understanding why he was smiling at this moment, until he heard Van Cleef's explanation. Or rather, see.

Along with the roar of the flames, the vague shadow of the company commander began to deform in the darkness.

——

Roboute Guilliman looked thoughtfully at the sword before him, maintaining a precious silence. Several technical sergeants stood aside, with tools scattered around them, looking slightly helpless.

This was already the forty-seventh hour after leaving Calth. Almost all the damaged parts of Macragge's Glory had been repaired. Even the assault boat that had sunk into a corner of the bridge had been repaired. They removed it somehow.

The only thing that didn't work was this sword. It was deeply embedded in the damaged holographic projection table and could not be pulled out no matter what method was used.

They also thought of other ways, such as dismantling the holographic projection platform and letting the sword come out on its own - the result was naturally not very good. They tried three times in total, and all tools used to destroy the holographic projection platform would be burned by the sword. The flames completely destroyed it.

However, those who tried to pull it out were fine. Even if they were in direct contact with the flames without wearing gauntlets, they would not be burned, but they could not pull it out.

"Okay, I think we'd better stop here today." Guilliman finished his thinking and said to his technical sergeants.

"It seems that the sword that saved us has a stubborn temper. If it doesn't want to leave, I guess it's okay. Macragge's Glory is not the only holographic projection platform."

"Don't you think this will lead to some consequences that we can't predict?" one of the technical sergeants asked cautiously.

"I will notify the Midnight Blade and let them come up with a solution." Guilliman said, he smiled, but he smiled helplessly.

The technical sergeants quickly followed his orders and left the bridge, and the maintenance servitors were also taken away. For a moment, there was almost only the quiet sound of instruments operating.

Guilliman looked around and suddenly felt a little dazed.

Not long ago, this place was a nightmare scene, with demons raging, killings rampant, and blood flowing all over the ground. What now?

Now, the walls are brand new, the floor is smooth and waxed, all the instruments have been repaired, and those that were completely damaged have been replaced. If you don’t observe the sword and the huge repair marks on the wall somewhere, the war is really It's like it never happened.

Guilliman sighed, not sentimentally, he was just worried about Macragge.

The Word Bearers would not give up, and the Night Blade and the Ultramarines also focused on this matter in the joint report submitted urgently after the war.

For tactical purposes, Guilliman did not think that the Word Bearers would miss this opportunity. They were already within the Ultramarine, and other worlds had no idea what was happening on Calth.

They can continue to launch dastardly attacks, just like they did on Calth.

Robert Guilliman frowned and forced himself to end his thinking. He could no longer think about it. The top priority now was to obtain supplies and inform the news.

He walked up to the sword with his hands behind his back and glanced down at it. The pale handle caught his attention.

It looked like two sharp and thick bones twisted and intertwined with each other. The ends were sharp and shining with cold light. The sword grid was dark, looking straight and reliable, with a dim ruby ​​embedded in the center of the sword grid. The sword body cannot be observed. It has been completely trapped in the holographic projection platform and wrapped in steel.

The Lord of Macragge looked at it like this for a long time. Later that day, he returned to his office with a sword and sealed it himself, delivering it to the Night Blades' ship.

There is one more chapter.