40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 331 51. Madmen and Embers (4k)

You smell betrayal.

It smells so clear, so obvious. It represents a complete disloyalty, why can you tolerate it? No, this is not an option. The betrayer should die, you think, but you can't do it now, because the time has not come.

Yes, the time has not come.

Gaviel Loken and Tarik Torgaddon are your descendants, they deserve a more brilliant death, they should die like warriors.

You need to give them hope, because hope is about to become the most terrifying thing in the galaxy. You need to make them afraid, and then make them despair, make them hate with death, this is what you need.

Although it is difficult to accept that your descendants hate you, for the future of all mankind, there is nothing you can't accept.

You smiled, a bitter smile at your own thoughts. You stood up, and then thought of others.

The first person you thought of was Sanguinius and his wings. You miss the days when he used his wings to shield you from the sun. You wait for him, but this wait will not be long.

You have transferred him and his legion to Signus, where they will see the truth. Sanguinius may agree or not, but you will persuade him in your own way.

The second is Rogal Dorn. You always like Rogal. You like his honesty and integrity. You even like his stubbornness to a certain extent. These rare qualities and unbearable shortcomings make up Rogal Dorn.

There is no doubt that he is one of the best among you. Unfortunately, he will not stand on your side.

Rogal has a shortcoming, you think, his shortcoming is blind loyalty.

He has turned following the Emperor into an instinct. He is almost like a puppet. It doesn't matter. You will find a way to free him from this bondage.

You smiled, you temporarily interrupted your thinking and walked out of your room. The mortals cheered in the shadows behind you. They were pale and the cheers sounded as thin as mosquitoes and flies, almost non-existent.

This is strange, why do they look so pale?

You brushed the question aside. It didn't matter. It wasn't even worth thinking about.

You continued walking until you reached Fabius Bile's infirmary. Your brother lay there, with his only sane son. This was good, and you were comforted by the thought.

You walked in and saw the disabled Fabius Bile operating on his knee. He was startled by your presence, but you raised your hand to signal him to continue.

You smiled to comfort him. You looked at his wound and spoke in a sad and sympathetic tone.

"Who did you do this to, Fabius?"

"It's okay, Warmaster," the pharmacist said to you, bowing his head respectfully.

He was in pain because he didn't give himself anesthesia. You saw this scene through the afterimage left in the air, and you also saw the murderer. But you didn't say either of these things. This was not something you needed to deal with.

The Warmaster should be gentle, but not too gentle. Let them handle the internal conflicts of the Emperor's sons themselves. Sooner or later, they will understand your good intentions.

You looked at Fabius Bail with approval, thinking that he was a true son of the Emperor. You walked up to him and patted his shoulder, motioning him to continue. You stood aside and handed him the instruments needed for the operation.

This honor made the pharmacist blush. As always, you used some small tricks to make people trust you completely. This is not deception. After all, you really want to help him, but you are different from others. You turned this help into an external manifestation.

You remained silent and waited until the pharmacist finished his operation before speaking again: "How is my brother?"

You don't have to ask this question, you don't have to.

You know Fulgrim's situation better than anyone else. You ask this question only because you are standing here.

You haven't completely trusted Fabius Bail yet. Although you have seen his future and you know how important he is, you still won't trust someone so easily.

You looked at him, and he looked at you with his phoenix-inherited violet eyes. He was silent for a moment before answering the question. During this time, you savored the silence, very satisfied.

You understand that Fabius Bayer has bowed his head to you.

"My Lord is recovering, Warmaster." You heard him say. "Our sacrifice is worth it."

Yes. It is true. You smiled at him again and sighed, "Unfortunately, this is not enough, Fabius."

"What. What do you mean, Warmaster?" The pharmacist immediately looked at you uneasily, his expression almost filled with fear.

You know that every word you hear next will be stuttered. You sighed again, deliberately showing sadness. You pursed your lips and looked at your brother sadly.

Your behavior completely turned the pharmacist's uneasiness into fear, and he fell back in panic and rolled off the operating table. You immediately stepped forward to help him up. Instead of asking him to thank you, you quickly began to explain.

Some things are too much, and this degree is just right.

"I'm sorry, Fabius, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to increase the frequency with which your brothers fight each other. Fulgrim is being attacked by something in his sleep, and only your souls and blood can help him. Get relief from it.”

It's strange how skilled you are at lying, when did you become so good at it? You became confused and your words stopped.

Horus Luperkar looked at Fabius Bayer in a trance.

No, you don't have to think about it.

Really?

Of course, you are the Warmaster and you are good at everything.

But I can't tell such a lie, he was not attacked, he was getting help.

Whose help?

Khalil Lohars.

Yes, correct answer. You already know what he is, don't you?

He is a monster, and the purpose of his existence is to make humans and aliens kill each other. He is a ferocious god wrapped in flames, and once he sheds his stolen skin, his true colors will be revealed.

But how hateful this is. Even from far away on Terra, he still wants to dictate your affairs, as if it wasn't enough that he took away your position among your brothers. However, this time he is destined to fail. After all, the gods are blocking your father. .

Across such a long distance, what could he do alone?

But, is this really what I think? I'm not so narrow-minded and I don't think he's a monster. Was it really him I saw?

There is no but.

You look at Fabius Bayer, who is waiting for your next words. You saw fear, pain, and doubt in his eyes—you were happy with the first two emotions, but not surprised by the last one.

You raised your hand and helped him back to the operating table. You put your hands on his shoulders, look at him sincerely, and speak slowly.

"It's true, Fabius." You said sadly. "He's starting to heal and we can't stop here."

"Okay, Warmaster." The pharmacist surrendered, and you saw the blood and tears in his heart. You also feel pain about this decision, but you have to do it. This is a necessary sacrifice. You squeezed his shoulders, forcing him to look at you again.

This time, you gave him serious confidence: "We will succeed, and we will definitely let the Phoenix rise from the ashes. Stand with me, Bayer, and we will heal him together."

After a few minutes, you leave the medical room. You're laughing, even though you don't know why.

It doesn't matter, you will know.

——

"You killed me, Fulgrim," said Ferrus Manus. "You killed me so cruelly that you didn't even feel sad about it. On the contrary, you had a filthy orgasm over it. You are a monster, Fulgrim, and I hate you."

Fulgrim ignored the sound, and the cold sea breeze blew past him. He keeps moving forward and he never stops. The seawater flooded his chest and was extremely cold.

A kind of cold joy pressed from all directions, and he understood what it was - primitive desire, extreme pleasure, the limit of sensory stimulation. This joy tried to include him and make him a part of it.

It tempted him first with the hope of escape, and then with the body of Ferrus Manus. It never stops, and these waters are one of its incarnations. It also showed him other things, such as his murder of Gorgon.

But that's not true.

Fulgrim stopped, raised his hand, and wiped his face. The seawater wetted his hair, and subtle waves came slowly from the distance, gently persuading him to dive into the sea.

He lowered his head and looked down at his reflection in the water. That is a coquettishly beautiful creature. I am afraid that nothing in the world can compare with him. Those bright red and delicate lips look so delicious.

Fulgrim smiled, raised his hand, and slammed it down, breaking the water curtain. He was still afraid, but there was another roar of anger raging inside him.

"How dare you slander me like this?" he asked the dark water. "How dare you treat me as such a lowly creature? Listen up, I am Fulgrim of Chemos. I may not be perfect, nor may I be noble, but I will never inherit the blood of my brother. Get the pleasure.”

The water did not answer, but responded with a gentle wave.

"Shut up!" Phoenix roared, a kind of crazy hatred surging on his face.

He has been here for one hundred and seventy-two years, and he keeps time by listening to his own heartbeat.

For the first forty years, he was ignorant and collapsed at the picture shown to him here. On his fiftieth year, he suddenly remembered the past. He still doesn't understand why he got here, but he remembers what happened before.

He remembered Horus Luperkar, and he remembered the battle. So he understood immediately that he didn't need to know where this place was, he just needed to leave.

In the eighty-second year, he began to walk continuously. The sea water was gradually getting higher, and it even reached his mouth and nose a few times, but it still could not submerge him.

There were no rocks or anything else to rely on in the sea, and the sky was still dark. It was a desperate situation, and even the horizon did not exist, but he kept walking.

In the 105th year, he understood that this was a desperate advance. Here it wants to drown him, to take him to the bottom of the sea.

But he doesn't give in.

There was no reason, he just wouldn't give in. You can name any reason, such as his love for Ferrus Manus, such as his hatred of Horus Luperkar, such as his fear for his children.

The reasons for his refusal can be varied, or they can be extremely simple, or even as simple as just four words.

I do not believe.

Yes. He didn't believe it.

He didn't believe that he would be so humble, he didn't believe that he would so easily abandon the perfect path he and Ferus had forged together, and he didn't believe that he would just throw away the humility he had finally picked up. He's not that kind of person, never has been.

"Listen carefully," he said to the sea. "I am Fulgrim of Chemos. I am the third son of the Emperor. I am the Primarch of the Third Legion. I do not believe in it. I do not surrender. I reject you."

The sea water did not answer, how could it answer? What really answered him was another person, a voice, a voice he was very familiar with.

"Primarch," the voice called from behind him.

Fulgrim turned sharply.

Tacitus, Tacitus of the Sixth Company was standing there. A stubborn sergeant, a sergeant who always has something to say, a sergeant who will never bow down to anyone. His body is wrapped in flames.

Dark, darker than night.

"Why are you here?" Fulgrim asked. He had understood something, and his sorrow kept rising like the sea.

"I am dead, Primarch," said Tacitus. "We're killing each other."

"Why?"

"Horus asked for it," Tacitus said quietly, standing there.

The water began to boil and roar at his arrival. In an instant, the peaceful night began to change. The originally silent ocean began to roar, the wind blew violently, and the thunder was finally no longer just a show, but actually appeared along with the lightning.

Fulgrim was almost overturned, and would have fallen into the ocean had Tacitus not caught him. But even though they were so close, he could no longer hear any voice belonging to Tacitus.

The latter figure was interrupted by the crashing waves, drowned by the roar of the wind, and destroyed by lightning and thunder. He could not hear any sound, and could only truly feel a pain.

The pain was real, not as illusive as the ocean, and it burned in his hands.

Tacitus looked at him, his lips trembling and deforming. Fulgrim began to read his lips.

"They will come for you, but they are not real, Primarch."

who? Who will come to me?

Tacitus did not answer. He disappeared from the spot, as if evaporating without a trace. However, the storm did not subside at all. Phoenix stood on the spot and slowly held his right hand.

"Come on," he murmured softly. "Come, come to me"

His silver hair floated above the water.

update completed.