40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 322 42. Interlude: Warmaster

Our Persson, or Oranès Persson, is thinking.

The former is the abbreviation of the latter. Olanez is an overly long name, which is troublesome to write and even more difficult to pronounce. He had been called Orpeson for many years, but he couldn't tell how long.

Such a description is very strange for an ordinary retired soldier. It's a pity that he is not. He is a certain branch of the human race, a branch with mysterious talents.

In the past, some people called them the immortal people, and some people once knelt down in awe, thinking that they were gods. Orr Persson disagrees with either statement.

First, he does not believe that immortal things really exist in the world. Second, they are not gods, they are just a group of immortals. Some people may think this is a big deal, but unfortunately, for Orpeson, it is a curse.

Living long will bring you nothing but painful memories.

He meets some people, says goodbye to them, then meets some more, then says goodbye again

He has lived for too long, but his memory is not very good. Most of his life has been forgotten by him. This may be some kind of self-protection mechanism to prevent him from being overwhelmed by the overwhelming sadness, or maybe it is just because he refuses to accept those things.

To this day, he doesn't even know his true age, he can only guess.

In the lower cabin of Macragge's Glory, Orr Persson wrote a number, 45,000, with a pencil on a piece of paper classified as D-3 in a room he was assigned.

Room, because of his status as a retired soldier, and because he saved some people during the Calth War, gathered a not too small army force, and fought side by side with the Ultramarines for a period of time.

He got the pencil from a painter, as did the paper. The D-3 model is a cheap paper. It is very soft and will be scratched with a little force, but it is also favored by painters who pursue the pinnacle of their skills.

They claim that as long as they can paint on this kind of paper for a long time, their painting skills will be greatly improved. The painter evidently believed this, for he carried so many of these papers with him that he did not even drop them when the fire rained down from the sky.

As for the string of numbers, they were his guessed age.

He is about forty-five thousand years old, which may be more or less. This number cannot be accurate because he has forgotten too many things.

There was a knock on his door, and his thinking was interrupted.

Orpeson stood up and carefully placed the pencil on the table. He didn't want it to fall to the ground. This was something he got from the painter after working as a sketch model for two hours.

He walked to the door and thought for a while before he remembered how to open such a door. Instead of pulling a handle, you push a button. He looked at the wall to the side, and sure enough he found a button painted green among the metallic luster.

Orpeson pressed it, and the door slowly slid open, revealing a figure far taller than him standing outside.

"Soldier Persson," the Astartes said. "In the name of the Emperor, you are summoned again."

"I understand," said Orr Persson. "When will you check in tomorrow?"

Astartes lowered his head and looked at him with slight surprise.

He did not expect that a veteran could face a war so calmly after so many years of disarming and returning home. Orperson's attitude did not look like someone who had experienced the tragic war on the surface of Calth. He even acted like he was okay.

"Eight o'clock on Terra, bridge on the 60th floor, soldier review ground." He nodded towards Or Persson. "I am Saul Damocles, commander of the sixth company. You will serve as the commander of the 78th Osiris Infantry Company and operate with us in future wars, Captain Pesson."

company commander

Orpeson fell silent for a moment. He had not taken on this responsibility for a long time.

A high military rank is considered a good thing by some because it represents great power. But for Ole Persson, it was just a responsibility that he had been trying to escape for a long time.

Being the commander of an infantry company means being responsible for at least a few thousand lives. His silence was understood by Sol Damocles as a feeling of bewilderment, so after performing the aquila salute, the captain of the sixth company left quickly.

He personally came to inform Orperson, which meant that the Ultramarines had noticed the experience he had shown on the battlefield.

Orpeson smiled bitterly. He closed the door and returned to his seat to try to write something more, but he couldn't come up with a single word. So he simply put down his pen and lay down on the bed.

He already knows what he will do in the future. Just like before, he will lead many people, many people, to fight for the Emperor.

But he didn't like the Emperor.

In fact, he didn't even want to think about the Emperor - the word was little more than poison to him. Subconsciously, he reached out and grasped the cross, and instinctively shouted the word God.

What am I doing?

Company Commander Peisong closed his eyes helplessly, preparing to fall asleep and welcome the next day.

Yes Yes. He doesn't like the Emperor, that's for sure. People would consider him a heretic and might even kill him if he told the story. But this is just a private matter.

His dislike of the Emperor was his business, and it in no way meant that he would be on the other side. He understood what the Emperor faced on the other side.

"It feels like a lifetime ago," he muttered to himself a few minutes before falling asleep. "After so many years, I actually became a commander again."

He was asleep, or maybe not. He smelled the pungent smell of burning in the darkness, and Orpeson woke up suddenly and saw darkness.

He left the bed, stood up, and started coughing, maggots filling his throat. He immediately understood where this place was. This was subspace, a place where nightmares gathered.

But why is he here?

With this doubt in mind, he began to look around. Then he discovered the truth - those darkness, they are not what they are here, they are actually flames.

Orr stared at them in surprise and sniffed involuntarily. He raised his hand and touched it and found that he was bleeding. And the pungent smell of burning began to become stronger and stronger, and the ground shook with a frequency no different from the deck of a ship when it was sailing.

A guess began to swirl in his mind, and Orperson realized that this might be a certain ship.

Macragge's Glory?

No, not likely I'm still dreaming?

He turned around in confusion and tried to find his bed to continue sleeping. He has experienced too many incredible things. From these things, Orpersson learned a lesson - if you ignore them and don't take the initiative to contact them, there is a high probability that these things will not bother him.

Just like the Emperor.

Then he failed.

His bed was gone, leaving only a huge iron door that was at least a dozen times as tall as him. It was extremely solemn and inlaid with rubies on the edge. It now looked twisted as if it had been destroyed by violence.

Orr walked through it and reached a corridor, where he tried to find a porthole and failed again. All the portholes in the corridor were covered by flames, and there was no way to observe the outside world. He moved on and arrived at a new room.

Then he was stunned at what he saw.

An angel lies on the ground. He is a collection of beauty, but he is broken. There was something pure violence that destroyed him, leaving his wings broken and blood pooling in rivers beneath him. His eyes were shining, and something far redder than tears was flowing out of his eyes.

The murderer who caused such a tragic situation was standing nearby. He was covered by darkness, his body was wrapped in surging flames, and his armor was as hideous as a skeleton.

Pale white and pure black intertwined with each other, forming a twisting spectacle. His face is that of a skull, the world is burning at his feet, and he holds a sharp blade in his hand.

Just staring at it made Ole Persson feel boundless fear. In an instant, he seemed to return to that volcanic eruption, that earthquake, that world war - he began to retreat uncontrollably, and his movements were heard by the murderer.

He turned and stared at him.

"Ol Persson."

The murderer read his name in a low but calm voice. Then, he raised his hand and pointed to the side.

The world burst into light in an instant, the darkness dissipated, and a golden light that far surpassed everything burst out from the porthole. Orpeson stopped. He was so familiar with this kind of brilliance, and he immediately understood who brought him here.

As this thought arose, the angel and the giant who didn't know whether he was the murderer or not disappeared, replaced by a piece of grass. A man with his back to him sat under an apple tree, waiting for him.

Orr Persson has no past.

"That's enough, that's enough." He held the cross on his chest tightly. "Let me go."

The man turned around, his profile still as ordinary as before: "Are you sure?"

"I'm damn sure!" Olanès Persson shouted at him. "We had an agreement!"

"Is it true, Olanez?" the man asked him. "Think about it, recall it, and you'll see a promise that didn't exist."

"I will never fight for you again," Olanez said firmly.

"But you are already here, you joined the 78th Osiris Infantry Company."

"Just because I stand with you doesn't mean I will fight for you, do you understand?" Olanez glared at him.

"I stand with you only because I still have sense. I am not crazy like you, Erda or Malcador. I am a normal person and I just want to live a normal life! I want to stay normal, so I have to Stay away from you and your ambitions!"

The man smiled gently and apologetically, but said nothing.

"What on earth do you want to do?!" Olanez roared at him, holding the cross high in front of his chest. "God, what the hell do you want to do?!"

God didn't answer, God just handed him a gem.

"Give it to him," God said. "I beg you, Eulanius."

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