40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 373 102. The Burning of Five Hundred Worlds (12, 3k)

Roboute Guilliman found it difficult to define his current mood, and could not even find a suitable word to describe it. His repertoire of words was so scarce that it reminded him of the day of Connaught's death.

At that time, he was unable to say anything and could only keep reading King Connaught's manuscript. He relied on his inhuman memory to memorize the entire manuscript in just a few minutes, but he still couldn't find even a single word to describe his emotions.

So he began to recite those words mechanically. As a result, when Thalasa Yuden came to him after finishing the matter at hand, Guilliman could still only tell her four words.

"I'm bad," that's it, nothing more. That was the only thing he said to Youton that day.

So, what now? Is this the case now?

"Am I bad?" Robert Guilliman asked himself, thinking to himself. No one answered his question because most people were busy clearing the battlefield.

The fierce and bright light belonging to the promethium flame burned blazingly in the artificially excavated pit. The transport truck passed by mercilessly, and the tracks crushed the muddy ground full of dirty blood, making everything worse.

The Ultramarines were in obvious mourning, but couldn't stop what they were doing. The contaminated corpses of local residents were being burned together, and those who were lucky enough to survive were watching it all tremblingly.

There was putrid acid rain falling from the sky, dripping into a baby's eyes. She and her parents were nailed to a statue. It was the statue of Robert Guilliman, which the people here voluntarily erected for him to commemorate his achievements.

Once, he liberated this place and made it one of the five hundred worlds of Ultramar. What now? Guilliman asked himself, painfully, what now?

He looked up and let the acid rain slide down his face.

Not far away, Argo Severtarion of the Midnight Blade was interrogating a Word Bearer who had his hands and feet cut off, using extremely bloody methods.

The Word Bearer's skin was cut open, and lay layer by layer on the edge of the open armor as thin as cicada wings. The fragments of internal organs and bones were placed at the other end in categories, which had not completely lost their effectiveness and had not been destroyed.

Guilliman even saw him using his blade to stir a delicate nerve on the traitor's right leg bone, his technique incredibly gentle. Like a tavern poet strumming the strings. His blades are his fingers, and his harps are the wails of the Word Bearers.

His posture is so elegant, like an artist sorting through the tools he has at hand. However, this artist has no pride or love for his art, only disgust and endless coldness.

But

Robert Guilliman smiled - such a cruel smile was rare in the world. I am afraid that even if Thalasa Yuton stood here in front of him, it would be difficult to recognize who this person with blood all over his body and pale hair was.

Satisfied, he walked over, took steps, and started heading in that direction. The slanting wind and drizzle brought the pain of the Word Bearer, making him slow down with great satisfaction, so that the traitor who was in great pain could not detect his arrival.

Savita saw him accurately, but the movements in his hands still did not stop, but he became even more focused.

He wiped his face with his free left hand, his dark eyes showing no emotion.

Nostramos have a natural advantage in keeping a straight face. Their eyes could hide most emotions perfectly, but the vague sneer on Sevita's face still betrayed his mood at the moment.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock." He twisted his wrist again, provoking the nerve with the tip of the knife, causing it to tremble endlessly on the traitor's leg bone. The voice is soft, and the tongue-licking sound is naughty and absurd.

"Have you thought about it? Time is passing, traitor, just like your life. However, you can choose to speak up and end this unprecedented pain early. Of course, you can also be stupid and endure it until the end. It all depends on you. ,traitor."

Smiling ferociously, Savita bent down and got close to the face that had been stripped of its skin, pretending to be listening. He heard a faint breath and some kind of breath brewing in his throat.

Nightblade narrowed his eyes, raised his head, and spoke to Robert Guilliman.

"He seems to want to endure until death comes, Lord Guilliman."

"Really?" Robert Guilliman asked expressionlessly.

"That's probably the case." Savita lowered his head, and the tip of the knife finally severed the tortured nerve.

The Word Bearer trembled violently, and his steaming internal organs fell into his chest due to this tremor.

Sevatar flicked his tongue regretfully, then put away the blade, stood at attention and saluted Robert Guilliman, and left here.

He knew what a person who wanted to vent his anger usually looked like, not to mention that Robert Guilliman was not trying to hide his emotions.

He slowly disappeared into the rain, and Guilliman knew what he was going to do - the nightblades would try to use their unique vision to filter out who could survive and who could only be executed.

The process was anything but pleasant, and they refused to allow any Ultramarines to take part in it.

In Van Cleef's words, this is a "little protection of your sanity, we don't want you to participate in such a cruel decision." Cruel things should be done by cruel people, like us.' Guilliman had no problem with this, and he was even grateful.

He understood the special responsibilities of the Midnight Blade, and all the mysteries hidden in this group of people had their reasons. He knew that if they had the choice, they would never obtain this power equivalent to judgment.

Guilliman came to the Word Bearer, leaned down, and stared into the eyelidless eyes.

"Look at me." The Primarch growled like a beast from his throat. "Watch this face, Word Bearer. I will not be the one to kill you, for your blood is not worthy of staining my blade."

He smiled with satisfaction, and the Word Bearer's eyeballs began to move, bloodshot eyes beating endlessly.

"But you will die in this acid rain, worthless and without honor. Lorgar Aurelion will spurn you, and I mean the real Lorgar Aurelion, not the one you are now. The fake thing you follow.”

Guilliman knew that venting like this would only make his anger burn even more intensely, but what choice did he have? He cannot remain rational all the time, he must do some less decent things in exchange for greater dignity.

But the Word Bearer was staring at him, and Guilliman could see that his thoughts were nothing more than sacrificing himself, longing for the coming of the demon.

"You can't do that." Guilliman smiled with a meanness he had never shown before. "Someone has already taken what you obtained from the subspace, and it was not in the form of prayer. They are still standing, holding their heads high, but you have knelt down and groveled."

The Word Bearer opened his mouth, his tongue twisting in the blood-filled mouth. Guilliman watched him struggle with satisfaction. Tens of seconds later, the dying thing lying on the ground spat out three words with its broken mouth.

"you lose."

And then die.

I lost?

Guilliman looked at his body, and after a long time, he slowly closed his eyes. The acid rain dripped coldly, failing to burn the original body's skin, only causing a strange itching.

Yes, as the traitor said, Robert Guilliman lost, and he lost miserably. He had indeed wiped out the Word Bearers on this planet and killed them all. The whole process didn't even take four hours, but what was the point?

This place has been destroyed, and the Word Bearers' army has long since left here and is heading towards other worlds.

However, losing does not mean that you cannot win.

Guilliman opened his eyes and took out a data pad from his belt. He flicked his fingers and grabbed a theoretical model from the floating projection. He then enlarged it until it expanded to the entire Ultramar star map.

The model matched perfectly with a galaxy located in the Southern Sector. Its capital was called Andemang, an edge world that was not taken seriously, but it was still considered the capital.

And now, if his five days of sleepless calculations were correct, the Word Bearers were here.

At least most of it is here.

Robert Guilliman had already ordered in advance to clear every planet on their route to Endemang. The traces of pollution left by the Word Bearers had been completely removed, and the promethium flames had devoured everything, including the contaminated planets. ecosystem.

The path before the United Fleet has become clear, and no one can stop their revenge.

It was already the forty-seventh day, Guilliman calculated very clearly - it was already the forty-seventh day since he left Calth, but the ghost of Calth still haunted him. For so many days, he had been looking for a chance to pay homage to them, and now he finally found it.

"My lord." Marius Gage panted and walked slowly over.

Of course, he did not come to Guilliman on a temporary basis. In fact, the First Chapter Master had been silently observing their original body somewhere on the battlefield.

He saw the theoretical calculation model presented by Robert Guilliman, so he understood that the moment everyone was waiting for had arrived.

The gray-haired Chapter Master looked at his primarch tiredly but excitedly. The latter put down his hand and gave Marius Gage an answer with a not-so-gentle smile.

"Issue an order for all troops to return to the ships," Guilliman said. "The target is Andemang, the enemy is the Word Bearers, and the goal of the battle is to kill them all and leave no one behind."

His voice began to echo in the combined fleet's communication channel, like thunder and war drums.

I finally finished writing it and it was so hard that I fell asleep while writing it at one o'clock. If I hadn't woken up from the cold, I might have just lied on the chair and slept until tomorrow. I'm happy. This chapter is 3k, the first two chapters are 4k and the first chapter is 3k5. It should be updated by 11,000 today, so I only owe 500. ok, sleep.