40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 357 77. The lingering sound of the deceased (4k)

The bridge of the Blood of Steel has never been so quiet as it is now. In the past, there would at least be an orderly noise here. But now, there is no sound here.

Even the painful gasps were gone, the carpet of bacteria had disappeared, and it was completely burned by some kind of flame that shouldn't exist, which was quite a challenge to cognition and reason.

It took Perturabo a few minutes to allow herself to accept everything.

He held the warhammer in one hand and manipulated the screens on the command platform with the other hand. Only a few screens were still on, but this was enough for him to achieve his goal. After a brief conversation with Vulkan and Mortarion, he left here.

There were only corpses in the wide corridor of the battleship at the moment. The bodies of dead crew members or Iron Warriors were piled up, covering the entire long corridor, and everyone fell on the way forward.

Now, the only things that are still moving here are calm floating dust, and even the flies and maggots have disappeared.

The Lord of Steel strode past the staggering number of corpses, turning a blind eye.

He entered the unlocked door of the auxiliary bridge through a secret passage. The biometric code and his special identification lock jointly verified the identity of the visitor, and the door slowly opened. It's still quiet inside, not noisy.

Twenty or so crew members lay dead next to the ticking array of cogitators, and two Iron Warriors slumped near them, one dead, the other not.

Perturabo approached the still living man and slowly knelt on the ground.

"Vitru Kaa." He said his name without wavering. "You will die."

"Yes." A member of the Fourth Legion reluctantly responded.

His eyes had almost melted, and his reactions were sluggish in a way that no Astartes should be. It took half a minute after Perturabo called his name before Vitru Khal located the direction of the original body with his remaining hearing.

His chest, which had almost stopped moving, began to rise and fall violently at this moment, without any hesitation, as if he had been accumulating strength for this moment.

So, in the following paragraphs, Vitru Kaa of the 146th Iron Warriors Company completed his summary of the battle report against the original body without any pause.

"We have completed the entire ship's security, but the engine room has been lost. The communication channel within the ship was destroyed, and we were unable to contact the First Company Commander and other war blacksmiths after that. The number of survivors on the ship cannot be determined. The only thing that is certain is that The traitors continue to attack."

"We managed to complete the overall status inquiry of the ship through the cogitator array on the auxiliary bridge. All engines are offline, and the void shield lacks energy and cannot be activated. Eleven of the ship's artillery positions are still available. Maybe there are still people there. Resisting."

"I see, well done, Vitru," Perturabo whispered. "You have performed your duties brilliantly, wearing iron armor, both inside and out."

The Iron Warrior slowly opened his completely melted eyes, and liquid that was so turbid that it didn't look like blood or tears slid down his dirty cheeks.

He nodded.

Perturabo stood up slowly.

He put down the warhammer temporarily and leaned it against the dead man's side. There were dark bloodstains and a few handprints on the wall, the warhammer covering up their traces.

The Lord of Steel did not leave any buffer time for himself. He strode towards the Thinker array and began to try to repair the communication within the ship.

The thing didn't go well, and it had only been going on for less than five minutes before Perturabo realized he couldn't fix communications in this situation.

Need to find another way.

Remaining calm and with this conclusion in mind, the Lord of Steel turned around and returned to the command platform of the auxiliary bridge. He pulled a neural link cable inside the armor and inserted it into the command podium through the external interface.

A huge stream of data that had been stained to the point of being almost completely unusable flashed across his eyes, but Perturabo ignored it all and began to use his lightning-fast thoughts to roam in the world of data. West Minato.

Ten seconds later, he finally gathered the data and created a port that could be temporarily used. Through it, Perturabo was able to temporarily change the function of the command post and immediately update his tactical map.

The parts of the Blood of Steel that could still be detected were now under his control. A glistening green light illuminated Perturabo's face, causing him to slowly open his eyes.

He glanced at the map, then walked to Vitru, picked up his war hammer, turned around, and strode away from the auxiliary bridge.

Due to the fact that all engines are offline, many doors inside the Blood of Steel cannot be opened by normal means. Fortunately, destruction is always easier than construction.

Moreover, not all doors are automatic structures. There will always be a few reliable mechanical structure doors waiting for him somewhere. However, it is still too slow to move on foot alone in a warship that is twenty kilometers long and full of twists and turns.

It took Perturabo twelve minutes and forty-six seconds to reach his first destination. He used his war hammer to destroy two walls and a half-destroyed door, and stepped into a bloody battle.

This is the fourth artillery position. The two sides fighting are the Iron Warriors and the traitors in the Death Guard. The enemy clearly had the upper hand, and they were almost on the verge of victory, but then the Lord of Steel arrived.

So, in the blink of an eye, what was almost a victory turned into a total rout.

In just a few back and forth, Perturabo killed the traitors to pieces.

The body that had been transformed and proliferated by the disease could not remain intact under the war hammer. The putrid air and the pervasive viruses were also firmly blocked by the original body's immune system this time.

The Lord of Steel did not even use the portable weapons platform installed inside his armor, but simply waved his hammer to kill them all.

There was no so-called venting of anger in the whole process. Every movement strived for precision, speed and absolute ruthlessness. He had never been as extreme and intimidating as he was now.

"Naric Dragur." After killing the last one, Perturabo turned around with his warhammer still dripping blood, and called out the name of the commander of this remnant army. "How many of you are left?"

".Twenty-six, the original body." The person whose name was called answered awkwardly.

"How is your physical condition?"

"Almost all of us have a fever." Narik Dregul quickly entered the state and began to answer questions clearly, as if he had never been sick. "There are still varying degrees of dizziness and weakness, but we can still fight and are getting better."

Perturabo did not answer immediately, he just looked at Naric Dragur seriously. That look was very strange, not like what the Lord of Steel should have. Naric Dragur was stunned, and it was the voice of the original that brought him back to his senses.

"Very good." The leader of the Fourth Legion nodded slightly, then turned around. "Keep it up, come with me. We're going to gather our troops and abandon ship."

"Abandon ship?" Narik Dragur and the warriors behind him were shocked. "Primarch, I beg you to give us an explanation.?"

"The Blood of Steel has been contaminated. These corpses and the diseases that should not appear on your body are the best evidence." Perturabo stopped and for the first time complied with his words.

His performance did not have a comforting effect, but made the remaining warriors look more and more confused and panicked - what kind of situation requires the Lord of Steel to explain?

He hated explaining the most.

Perturabo could see their reactions, but ignored them and continued his story.

"What's more, its engine has completely shut down. If you want to repair the engine in this situation, it will be difficult to move it to the sky again. We must abandon the ship and transfer to other warships that can serve as flagships. Although we have never fought like this war, but this war still needs us.”

He turned his head slightly, and the pale white light of the temporary emergency light could only illuminate half of the original body's face. His expression was very calm, but it became strange due to the light.

".This war, and many wars to come, will require us."

Perturabo spoke the last words slowly.

"And in the empire, besides the Iron Warriors, who else can take on this important task? Only we can be called steel, and only we can resist the fire that is about to burn the entire galaxy. We will accept its forging and tempering, we Extinction itself will become the enemy of mankind."

"That's the explanation you want, Naric Dragur, and I'm finished."

The Lord of Steel ended his explanation, turned his head stiffly, held up the war hammer, and strode into the darkness.

"In armor, steel inside and out!" roared Naric Dragur, immediately following his primarch, followed closely by the other twenty-five men.

——

Hatred is a kind of bitter sinking. Although it is bitter, it makes people willing to walk in it.

Different from ordinary emotions, hatred is the most extreme emotion of human beings or any other intelligent race. It is colder than anger, more fanatical than desire, and even far beyond the state of insanity that love can reach.

It can make a long-standing coward pick up weapons at a certain moment and become a brutal butcher without a care. It can also make lovers turn against each other, siblings can kill each other, and parents and children turn against each other.

By its very nature, it is twisted. But it is also indispensable. However, what will happen to people if they are exposed to such an extreme emotion for a long time?

Little by little, Khalil forced himself to open his eyes and return to the real world.

In the caves dug deep underground in Terra, the cold air trembled to welcome his return. Lalhe draped itself quietly and submissively over him, offering him the protection he didn't need but that it was determined to provide.

Finally, he began to breathe again. Along with this behavior, the blade of a spear also began to appear in the dark cave, revealing a golden brilliance, blazing like the flames of the sky.

Constantin Valdo thrust out the weapon without squinting, accurately hitting the part that the shadow could not cover. Golden light flickered faintly from under the armor.

Lalhe was very dissatisfied with this, and wrapped his arms around the neck of the Marshal of the Imperial Guard, about to forcefully end his life, but Khalil grabbed it and pulled it back.

The shadow retracted into the gap in his armor very aggrievedly, and it seemed that it would not come out in a short time.

"Thank you."

Khalil ignored it, wishing it would be quiet for a while. He looked at Constantine Waldo and solemnly expressed his gratitude to the Marshal of the Imperial Guard.

"Thank you so much for your willingness to wait for me here, Constantine."

"It's just your job, no need to thank you." Marshal of the Forbidden Army nodded calmly, without giving any emotional reaction to what just happened.

He drew back his spear and looked down at it. This weapon used to be radiant, but now it looks much dimmer. After careful observation, the Forbidden Marshal came to a conclusion.

"It can jog your memory once at most."

"That's enough," Khalil replied with a smile. "It's just a spare. It's something I didn't expect to reach such a high level. It seems that he is indeed the best craftsman in the world when he has time."

The corners of Constantin Waldo's mouth twitched.

"Yes," he admitted. "This is true, my lord. But you should know better than me that memory carries humanity. How long can you continue to act like this, Khalil Lohars?"

"Until I'm done with this."

Constantin Waldo was silent.

Although he was ordered by the emperor to wait here, curiosity was indeed welling up in his heart when he received the order - he rarely had curiosity, and in most cases, the only emotions he needed were anger and calmness.

The latter is the weapon he has been using, the former is a flawed burst. He doesn't allow himself to get angry unnecessarily. Curiosity is different. As a handy weapon for his master, Constantine rarely allows himself to be curious.

But he couldn't stop himself from being curious. This thing was so bizarre. Even a broken man like him inevitably develops a thirst for knowledge.

"Why?" Suddenly, he asked a question sincerely.

This lack of beginning and end should have made people confused, but Khalil gave an answer after thinking about it for a while.

"Because I want to." He slowly sat down and returned to the stone chair, still smiling. "Maybe it's stupid, maybe it's unreasonable, but it's just because I want to do it. Of course, if you insist on a reasonable explanation."

He thought for a moment and made a gesture.

"I've been in the dark for too long." Khalil suppressed his smile and slowly put on the mask for himself. The angry flames flashed past, fluttering past the connection between his face and the mask. Constantine stared at him intently, his expression changing from calm to solemn.

He began to wait for his last words.

"I know very well what it feels like to be in the dark. No one should have to endure it. It's a terrible feeling. It's worse than death. And now I happen to have a flame that can drive away the darkness. How do you want me to endure it? ?”

Smiling, Khalil put down his hand, and the mask had completely replaced his broken face.

Constantin Waldo bowed silently, turned and left.

Today is the first update. I need to adjust my thinking to write the subsequent plot. I feel like I'm not in very good shape lately, and my writing skills are a bit poor.