40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 355 75. The End of Silence (VII)

‘Silence’ drew a deadly track in the air. Even though it was stained with black blood, it was still as sharp as before.

Typhons’ head was cut off in an instant. He could not compete with a Primarch, even though he had broken through the constraints of the human form and became a completely blasphemous thing.

Some boundaries can be blurred, while others cannot. It seems that some people can be corrupted, while others can only be destroyed.

The Lord of Death retracted his scythe and watched Typhons’ head fall to the ground. The fungal carpet spreading on the bridge instantly swallowed up the head, along with the headless body.

So, in the next moment, Typhons—the complete Typhons—stood up from behind Mortarion.

The single horn on his head was still hideous, the armor was corrupted, and the symbol of the death shroud remained ironically on his shoulder armor. Mortarion stared at him coldly, and Typhons responded with an unknown smile. Extremely disgusting.

His skin was pale, a greasy pale, with blue-gray veins bulging from under the skin, beating constantly on his face, and the blood flowing in them was completely black and like solidified gel. His eyes were completely insect nests with fine spaces, and thousands of insect eggs were waiting to hatch in them.

Looking at him, Mortarion smelled a choking stench, which came from Typhon's body, from his blood, and from every molecule that made up his current form.

The warp, sorcery, evil. Nothing more than the same, the corruption is still the same, he is very familiar with it.

"You should know that this will not lead to anything, Mortarion." Typhon said so.

Mortarion raised the sickle again.

"You have tried hundreds of times, but none of them have really hurt me. As I said, I am immortal. You cut off my head and cut me into pieces, but what? This is just a small episode in the cycle of life and death, and it is destined to come. When it passes, the season of resurrection will come." Typhons stomped his feet with a smile, and the fungal carpet under his feet was filled with dark green juice. "Did you see it?" he asked. "The power of the kind father has emerged, like a seed taking root in the soil, and the bud has bloomed." "I have never been so sick of your words as now." Mortarion said. He rushed towards Typhons, but the latter just pretended to resist twice, which aroused the primarch's deeper anger. The sound of the sickle cutting through the air was as violent as an explosion, and he dismembered Typhons again. Pools of gray-black liquid gushed out from the broken limbs and arms, and the insects feasted on them. The bones of the dead were soaked by the juice under the thick fungal carpet. Mushrooms and flowers bloomed from their eye sockets, and vines and branches engulfed the remains of Typhons, making him stand up again.

"There is nowhere to escape, and resistance is useless, my friend." Typhons looked at him with pity. "Your resistance is meaningless. I am not mocking you, but telling a truth. Take a good look."

He raised his swollen right hand, and the diseased and proliferating flesh filled the armor, making the hand look swollen and funny.

He pointed to a porthole, but Mortarion was too lazy to look. He pulled out the lantern and melted Typhons' entire right hand with one shot. The latter sighed, and this time he was too lazy to even pretend to resist, just bowed his head and waited for death to come.

The sharp blade slashed, and Typhons was reborn from under the fungus blanket.

"You really should have seen it." He said slowly. "So you will understand what you are in now, Mortarion."

"I will see, after I have completely exterminated you, the pest." The Lord of Death replied with a sneer.

Silence fell, cutting Typhons in half. Mortarion raised his foot and crushed his head. The 'pest' descended from the ceiling, and the spreading fungal carpet spit him out. Silence slashed at him again, but Typhons did not dodge, but spoke.

"I have waited a long time for this day"

Mortarion smashed his face with the handle of the sickle.

"Technically, I did not betray you."

Mortarion cut him into pieces.

"It is my nature, I was born with this talent, and my tenacity is just a byproduct of it. I was born to carry the glory of my kind father, so I did not betray"

Mortarion pierced his abdomen with silence, picked him up, and broke him into pieces in the air.

"But I have planned this day for a long time. Very long, Mortarion, so long that I could hardly bear it several times. Fortunately, every day and night I have endured in the past has brought me greater rewards today. If you only look at that porthole, you will understand how much I have worked hard for you."

Mortarion killed Typhons, once, twice, three times, four times.

Countless times.

He melted him with the lamp of the underworld, chopped him up with silence, smashed his face with his hands, and crushed him into pulp with his iron boots. He killed him as if he were killing a bug, and he did it faster and faster, while Typhons still spoke.

He had only one request, he wanted the Lord of Death to stare out the window. Mortarion could probably guess some of the reasons, but he didn't want to do it.

He had to fight, he had to resist - admittedly, it might sound stupid to resist an enemy that could not be killed, but resistance itself was the meaning.

He stood here, fighting for humanity and the Empire, and that was the meaning.

Not everything has to be done for a good reason, some things just have to be done and must be done. For example, humans must rise, for example, Mortarion must resist, for example, Typhons must die.

Yes.

Mortarion told himself - Typhons must die.

"I have secretly placed ritual circles on every ship." Typhons, who was cut in half, said, with black blood dripping from his eyes.

"The time has come, I told them so. And your numerology adds even greater power to my ritual. You are obsessed with the number seven, aren't you, Mortarion?"

Typhonse's head smiled in the sky.

"Seven, it's everywhere. Even the number of your fleets must be multiples of seven. Seventy-seven battleships, how spectacular. Coupled with this subspace storm that started from Calth and is about to sweep half of the galaxy, The power of a loving father is finally revealed. Take a look outside the window."

There was a burst of laughter from the creep, and in an instant, it seemed as if there were thousands of Typhons talking. His voice was pervasive, coming from the ceiling, from the portholes, and from beneath Mortarion's feet.

The Primarch stared down and saw a pair of dark eyes looking up at him. A crew member coughed blood and looked at him imploringly from beneath the creep. His face was rotten, and insect characteristics spread and twisted on his twisted face.

The Lord of Death drew his gun and sent him to rest.

"Take a look out the window." The intact Typhons came from the other end of the bridge. "Just one look, my friend, and you will understand why your resistance is pointless."

Mortarion took hold of his lantern and finally did as he was told. Typhons' ecstasy was visible to the naked eye, and he even trembled with excitement.

Has the Lord of Death finally decided to surrender?

Outside the porthole, huge vines are being born among the stars.

They spread from one battleship to another like a jungle. The stars were obscured, and the vines and branches were filled with a dark green mist visible to the naked eye, tightly wrapping all the ships. Such a supernatural scene, so evil, it sends chills all over.

The right wing of the entire combined fleet and even half of the central area have been swallowed up by this weird cosmic jungle.

The source is none other than Typhons' flagship, the Terminus. The exposed rear half of its hull had turned a completely dim yellow, and a sickly light shined extremely clearly where the engine had once been.

and the Blood of Steel.

It was like a poor little bug caught in a spider's web, tightly bound. Mortarion stared at Perturabo's flagship, and in a trance, he saw three wide-open rotten eyes, looking at this vine spider web. At the top, overlooking everyone.

Mortarion looked away.

"Did you see it?" Typhons looked at him expectantly. "There is no hope of victory, my friend, accept your fate."

"Destiny?" The Lord of Death sneered. "I have two brothers who can see something called destiny, and they both laugh at it. Destiny? Huh."

He sneered and raised the lantern in his hand, aiming at the porthole. The entire bridge has been completely covered by germ carpet, and that is the only gap left. Typhonse had gone to great pains to show him a sight that might have driven him to despair, but he had left a loophole.

The only loophole. How ridiculous. A hundred secrets and a sparseness.

The lantern was the Emperor's personal collection, originating from an industrial world of craftsmen. Forged from bronze, brass, and steel, it fit Mortarion's hand perfectly. Over the years, it has made great achievements.

It is deadly to anyone and anything.

Mortarion pulled the trigger, the lantern buzzing in his hand.

"This is not the end." He warned coldly. "One day, I will kill you completely."

The lantern penetrated the porthole easily. As Typhons howled, Mortarion sneered and fired a final shot at him, melting his skull.

The power of the universe came into play, and through the punctured porthole, it began to greedily devour everything on the bridge of the Endurance. Creeps, corpses, flies. And Typhons.

The Lord of Death raised his right hand, fixed himself on the deck with the silent handle, and activated the magnetic boots at the same time. He watched the dark green fungus spinning and flying out of the window, returned to the command console, began to inspect the interior of the ship in manual mode, and immediately returned to the communication channel.

"Perturabo." He began to call anxiously, no longer as cold as before. "Reply, brother."

Also, code.