40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 387 116. Terra (2)

Although Jophiel Demuchia never mentioned that dream to anyone, he was actually accompanied by screams every time he woke up.

This was certainly not something that could be mentioned casually. Anyone with any sense of shame would be ashamed to wake up screaming from a nightmare, let alone him, an Astartes.

Despite being disabled, the beheader's self-esteem has not diminished at all, but has become stronger because of his disability. He didn't want to mention it, just as he didn't want to mention the name 'The Beheader' to others.

Before Rogal Dorn mentioned it today, no one had called him that for six years.

Accepting a disability may be easy, but the real difficulty is accepting loss.

Being physically disabled is just the easiest part of the process. You can easily get used to the bulky legs and figure out how they work in just a few days. But what happens next? That's hell.

Talking about that dream, Jophiel didn't lie to Rogal Dorn, but he couldn't finish the sentence either. He wanted to tell the Terran Guards how terrifying his dream was, but the latter did not give him the chance.

They left the heavily guarded building and took three different modes of transportation before arriving at their destination. At this time, three hours and forty-one minutes had passed since their conversation ended.

Terra is just that big, vast, and inaccessible. Day or night, the sky is crowded with airships, not to mention the ground.

The recent cold wind that lasted for more than a month has made things worse. Its intensity has obviously exceeded what Terra's barren nature can do, and it has almost become a natural disaster.

Jumping from the airship, the Emperor's Son struggled to regain his feet. He refused the help from the guards and just stared at the fortress in front of him - he had been in Terra for six years, but he still dared not say that he knew anything about it.

Qiao Feier understood that the Terra he could see was just a drop in the ocean, nothing more. Just like this fortress, it was something he had never seen before.

It was completely black, but reflected a faint purple color in the night light. Looking at it, the Emperor's Son even felt a sting in his eyes. He didn't understand what was going on, but he thought it was not something ordinary minerals could do.

Rogal Dorn chatted with the two Imperial Fists for a few words in the cold wind, and then turned back to look for him, but there was a bright power scepter in his hand. Qiao Feier was slightly startled, but Dorn had already handed over the scepter.

"In the following situation, a warrior should wear a sword. But I don't know what style of sword you prefer. It is also difficult to temporarily find a power sword with the right center of gravity for you. Therefore, I hope you can accept it. This power scepter, Jophiel.”

".Thank you, my lord."

Dorn nodded calmly and strode forward without any intention of waiting.

Jophiel held the scepter and made an eagle salute to an empty Imperial Fist in his hand. The latter raised his right hand and gently hammered his chest, and they stepped into the deep darkness.

It's difficult to catch up with a Primarch, especially when he doesn't want to slow down and wait for you. But Jophiel didn't have any objections to this. He moved his iron legs with difficulty and bit Dorn's back tightly.

They went all the way down and soon arrived at a gate. It was made of pure fine gold and had the emblem belonging to the Midnight Blade of the Eighth Legion engraved on it.

The Emperor's Son couldn't help but feel confused.

Why is there an adamantine door engraved with the Mark of the Blade of the Eighth Legion beneath a Terra fortress garrisoned by the Imperial Fists? He swallowed the question silently and began to wait.

Rogal Dorn walked forward and stood in front of the door. There was no movement or call from him. The door actually opened by itself - to be more precise, it seemed as if it was knocked open by something. of.

The loud noise echoed throughout the entire underground passage, causing a strange whimpering sound. As they walked inside, Dorn's leather boots and Jophiel's steel feet made two completely different sounds on the ground.

After they were completely inside, the fine gold door slammed shut. At the same time, a sudden burst of light immediately lit up, illuminating everything inside.

In such a huge space, there is only one Thinker. The data servitor raised his head sluggishly among the complicated processing cables, looked at Dorn, and spoke quietly.

"Require?"

"meet."

"Object?"

"Fulgrim."

"Retrieving. Target existence retrieved. Time?"

Dorn glanced sideways at Jophiel, raised his hand and put it on his shoulder, and uttered two words.

"Now. Teleport alone."

A burst of dazzling blue light suddenly struck, and in the biting chill, Jophiel Demukia quickly opened his eyes and found that the room had disappeared.

He looked around, looking at the energy delivery pipes and portholes on the wall, and he came to the unbelievable conclusion that he was on a ship.

But how is this possible?

The Emperor's Son finally couldn't hold back anymore and looked at Rogal Dorn, trying to get an explanation, but he didn't know that Dorn was not by his side at all. Only then did he remember the request made by the Terran guards to the servitor.

"Teleport alone." He muttered to himself. "Where am I?"

Naturally, no one answered his question, so the decapitator tightened his grip on his scepter and began to move forward cautiously.

His steps were so slow, his back and hands looked bulging under his robes, and the posture of holding the scepter did not seem unfamiliar, but rather familiar to the point of being unreasonable. It was obvious that even though he was disabled, he never neglected the training he should have.

As he walked forward, slowly, he heard some sounds. Like a conversation, or an argument. The decapitator silently increased his vigilance, slowed down his movement again, and began to move in that direction, with the power staff already raised high.

A few minutes later, he peeked out from around a corner and saw two maintenance workers busy. Frowning, he left behind the chosen bunker, deliberately made some noise, and began to move towards the two maintenance workers.

One of them looked back - and at this moment, Qiao Feier sensitively discovered that there was obvious sympathy and respect in the worker's eyes.

I don't need your pity! The beheader screamed in his heart. Give me that respect too, I'm just a damn cripple!

His lingering mood came and went as quickly as it came. Qiao Feier pursed his lips and forced himself to remain calm. He was about to speak, but the worker unexpectedly got there first.

"Sir." He shook his head, sweat on his forehead streaking across his dirty face. "I thought you all left the Nirvana."

Once again - Qiao Feier showed obvious surprise.

"We?" he repeated. "What do you mean? Us?"

This time it was the worker's turn to stare at him in astonishment. His companion turned away, but he was much more wary.

The man held the long wrench that could be used as a weapon tightly in his hand and looked him up and down: "No offense, sir. But, where did you come from? Who are you?"

"I am Jophiel Demukia of the Emperor's Children." The Beheader replied subconsciously, his mind now like a mess.

"But you shouldn't be here, sir." The worker who spoke first scratched his head in confusion. "The primarch, Lord Fulgrim, said that you have all left the ship."

There was a buzz in Qiao Feier's mind immediately, exploding like thunder. A few minutes later, he dragged his body to the boarding deck of the Nirvana.

Batches of power armor and weapons in urgent need of repair were waiting to be transported away. Their familiar colors and emblems made the decapitator stop immediately, and even his breathing became cautious.

He stood still for another ten seconds before he remembered what he should do. Holding the scepter, he squeezed through the servitors and groups of workers who were carrying cargo, and walked out of the Nirvana.

A group of people were standing not far from him, one of them was particularly tall, with a head full of white hair scattered behind his back.

The decapitator opened his mouth wordlessly, his voice gathering in his throat, and finally forming a cry with an almost comical tone that echoed in the dock.

They turned around immediately.

——

Khalil had expected what would happen today. Ever since he knew the truth, he knew that this day would definitely come.

Sooner or later, it's just a matter of time. But he still feels a little confused about his current situation. Fortunately, it has no impact on what he is currently doing.

The breeze blew through, creating a whistling sound among the stone pillars of the palace. Many pilgrims crowded the place, but the cold was still there.

Except for those who were pious to the extreme and only cared about kowtowing, most other people noticed him, an overly tall man in black robes. There was a lot of talk, and some people were even scared enough to go to the guards.

Seeing this, Khalil couldn't help but quicken his pace - he knew that this ordinary way of traveling would cause trouble, but he didn't expect that it would develop to the point of calling the guards so quickly.

Do you regret it? Not really, it's just a bit of a pity. He didn't have many opportunities to see the current Terra and get along with the Terrans of this era.

Maybe you shouldn't do such a stupid thing. Khalil thought. I'm just borrowing them to preserve my humanity, it's really hypocritical

"gentlemen?"

A voice sounded in front of him. Kalil looked down and saw a child wearing a cotton-padded jacket, his face purple from the cold. She stared at him, curiosity on her face.

"What's the matter?" Khalil asked gently.

"Are you the Primarch?" She asked this question so boldly that Khalil had no time to answer.

A woman in the crowd of onlookers let out a shrill cry and rushed over to take her away, not forgetting to kowtow to him.

Her forehead kept bumping against the stone brick with her name engraved on it, making a dull echo. People watched this scene speechlessly and even began to kneel down.

The denial that should have been blurted out was swallowed back in his throat. Khalil sighed and had to speed up and continue moving forward. Only this time, when he passed a certain stone pillar, he disappeared like a breeze.

In the night sky, it blew toward a dock.

And pinch.