40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 452 178. Interlude: Steel and Stone

"How long?" asked Constantin Waldo.

"Nine centuries and seventy-five years," Rogal Dorn said.

The Marshal of the Forbidden Army nodded and said nothing.

Golden boots surged in the mud. He held a spear and walked in front of everyone. Not even Rogal Dorn could take this responsibility away from his shoulders - he was the pioneer, but he was also the one who led the way.

No one can take his place.

At this moment, the number of people in this team is still small. However, compared to when they just found Rogal Dorn, the team has actually expanded a bit, and they have 341 more people joining them.

Among these latecomers, there are those with black armor and cross emblems, there are also those who don’t look much different from today’s Imperial Fists, but kill a lot of people, and there are also those who are a mixture of blue and gold and are few in number.

The interesting thing is that the difference between them is not just superficial. The coating of the armor is only the most superficial difference between them.

Dorn didn't ask a single question about this.

He acted indifferent and didn't even take the initiative to ask everyone's name. Some people introduced themselves to him, but Obushi just nodded expressionlessly. Others saluted him with attention, and he returned the same salute.

Nothing superfluous, not even a little bit. It was as if he had suddenly become a mirror. Whatever you give him, he will give you. However, Alessio Cortez noticed that Roger Dorn did not leave anyone behind.

He had greeted everyone and bowed, but he didn't have the slightest bit of arrogance that a Primarch should have.

The realization made Alessio uneasy, and it wasn't until today that he actually met his genetic father. Then he discovered that he actually knew nothing about him.

He had read many descriptions or histories about him, as well as many precious surviving portraits. However, when he actually met him, Alessio discovered that these things were just a picture of Roger Dorn. side.

They couldn't even express exactly how amazing that aspect of the Primarch was.

But if he had to choose a single word to sum up his character and what he does, Alessio would choose 'indestructible'.

Rogal Dorn, Unbreakable.

They moved on, led by the Custodes into the darkness again. It's the same, abstract journey again. Everything took on another appearance in the darkness, an ugly form that was completely different from their true appearance.

Stones grew mouths, the air turned into choking dust, and trees sprouted eyes and long tongues, tirelessly telling every story of the past ten thousand years. Malice permeates it, unabashedly.

These things were peeping at them in the dark, but they could only 'peep'. Those words failed to sway anyone, and their distorted forms only made disgust appear on the faces of many warriors.

Apart from this, there is nothing more. Did they fail?

Maybe, but it's still a long way to go, and there's plenty of time for them to do what they want to do - until Constantine Valdor raises his spear.

"Retreat and die." The Marshal of the Forbidden Army ordered coldly. "In His name."

Golden flames flickered on the spear points, and thousands - or tens of thousands - of screams came out of the darkness, followed by the stench of burned flesh and the hissing of fat in the heat.

From this point of view, no matter how blasphemous they are, their shapes still need to obey some of the most basic laws. For example, they are not immune to fire damage.

The Sons of Dorne in black and white armor began to loudly praise the 'God-Emperor', praising His ruthlessness towards demons and praising His protection of mankind.

Their fervor made the remaining Sons of Dorne immediately uneasy, but their father remained silent and calm.

In fact, he was very calm. He simply noted down the word 'God-Emperor' and the word 'He' used by Constantine Waldo.

Unnoticed by his sons, Donne began to think.

First, he thought of himself.

He was Rogal Dorn, the culmination of centuries or even a dozen centuries of painstaking efforts by the Masters of Mankind, the culmination of a project.

The Emperor created him and his brothers in a laboratory, and for decades after their recovery, war was their only duty.

Some people in the galaxy call them demigods. Dorn doesn't like this name, because in his mind, gods are usually associated with extreme hedonism without any punishment.

He read many myths. In those precious ancient Terran myths, the gods sometimes looked like humans, sometimes too much like humans, and sometimes they showed no emotion, just the appearance of rules.

So, what about them?

If they really were demigods, how would they be judged? Is he an evil god who neglects his duty and causes the earth to burn and makes the people miserable, or is he a righteous god who would rather sacrifice himself to control floods or bring fire to mortals?

No.

Donne shook his head - let's just be human.

He put the word God-Emperor behind him for the time being, and Constantine Valdor had done his duty. They left the darkness and returned to the Terran surface - or at least it looked like the Terran surface.

The sky was still burning, and black dust-like snow was floating. The ground was covered with thick ashes, and countless people died tragically. The only difference was that the sky was filled with golden light, and the huge battleships that should have covered the earth somehow failed to cast any shadows.

"It's time for me to go, Rogal Dorn," Constantine Waldo told him. "My Lord, there is another task that I need to complete."

Donne glanced at him and saw Waldo's deliberate blankness from the subtle change in his stance.

He was again surprised for a moment, as he had been when he saw Waldo's smile, and then he asked: "What else do you have to say?"

"You are a bit too direct, Rogge." The Marshal of the Forbidden Army sighed softly. "only."

"What?"

"My lord, let me decide this matter myself." Waldo said hesitantly. "He wanted me to decide for myself whether I should tell you about this."

"I wonder about it, his attitude has changed a little bit, he's not so cold anymore, but I can feel his pain, he's screaming, every second, Roger me."

Emotions are exposed. Dawn choked his sigh and thought. You have never been more human.

"You're feeling it, Waldo," he said. "This is probably why he wants you to decide this matter yourself. Life is made up of countless choices."

"Do you feel the same way?" The commander of the Imperial Army was stunned. "But I - I have no emotions, and I don't have any emotions except anger. Sadness, happiness, and other strong emotions are just cold academic words to me."

"But you were sad just now." Dawn pointed out this matter mercilessly. "And if we weren't here, I'm sure you'd be crying."

"."

"And, what do you want to tell me?"

The Marshal of the Forbidden Army was silent for a moment, and then he spoke: "The Lord has given me a new task. He wants me to lead the way for another person. That person is named Orpeson. A shameless betrayer and a traitor."

"What kind of traitor?" Dorn asked.

"The traitor who betrayed him." Constantine Waldo frowned. "His existence and name are both secret, but the Lord just informed me of these things without any concealment."

Dawn nodded, understanding.

"Then he asked you to ask me."

Waldo nodded.

"Obviously, then, he knows that you will have doubts and dissatisfaction about this matter, and he wants you to seek some advice or support from me that you may need. I must point out one thing, Waldo, you were in the past But he never questioned his orders."

"...occasionally once or twice." Constantine Waldo added reluctantly. "Well, counting this time, it's four times."

"Maybe that's what he wanted," Dorn said. "He wants you to question him and therefore understand him. I think we've talked about it enough, Waldo."

Constantin Waldo nodded silently, turned and left wordlessly.

There was still confusion on his face, a kind of confusion that belonged to a newborn, like a child who doesn't understand what his parents mean by "going to school" - please forgive me, Waldo.

Dawn pursed her lips.

I really can't think of a better metaphor.

"Father."

At this moment, a call came from behind him, and Donne turned around and called out the man's name: "Alessio, what do you want?"

"What should we do next?" Alessio Cortez asked, confused. Actually, it wasn't just him, Dawn looked around and saw many people with similar emotions on their faces.

Dawn almost smiled.

How similar.

"We fight," Rogal Dorn said seriously. "That's all."

He drew his Stormfang, and they followed.

——

"We fight," said Perturabo. "That's all."

He finished his speech, and ten thousand faces that were the same or not quite the same began to cheer, inspired.

They may have had names, identities, and families in the past. And now they are just loyal soldiers who belong to the empire one after another. Of course, just now, they also obtained another brand-new identity, that is, the auxiliary army of the Iron Warriors.

The newly recruited auxiliary army. Supplies are lacking, training is in urgent need, and military quality needs to be improved, but morale is high.

Perturabo nodded—that was enough.

"You're giving a speech," said Fricks, his first company commander. "I'm surprised."

Perturabo glanced at him: "You're trying to joke with me. I'm surprised too."

"I swear I didn't think so, Primarch."

Frix immediately raised his hands to show his respect and submission. Perturabo pressed him down impatiently, then turned around and took a construction shovel from behind and stuffed it into the hands of his company commander.

"Trenches, Fricks."

Facing Frix's slightly lost expression, the Lord of Steel began to explain to him coldly and forcefully.

"Instead of wasting time talking to me here, you might as well dig trenches. Even if you dig one more meter before the enemy arrives, our chances of holding on here will be even greater."

".Yes, original body." The first company commander tensed his expression, reached for the engineering shovel, turned and left.

Peturabo nodded slightly and also took steps towards the other direction.

At this moment, his armor was sending him no message, which was unusual. In the past, any war fought by Perturabo should be accompanied by a large amount of real-time information and an overview of the battle situation.

But Terra's situation is somewhat special. Communication equipment seems to be 'banned' here. You can try to communicate with people. If you are lucky, maybe three or five sentences out of a hundred can be transmitted, and this is the limit.

The Lord of Steel raised his head and glanced at the sky. The focus of his attention was not on the warships that were still sending support and firepower down, nor on the huge pillar of fire looming deep in the clouds.

He just stared at the black snow.

"Conrad Coates," he said without looking back. "Did you find him?"

"Very sharp, Abo." The shadow behind him chuckled. "But why should I go to him?"

The Lord of Steel turned around calmly and gently placed the war hammer in his hand on a stone.

"It's not that you are sharp, but that you have no intention of hiding yourself from me. I found traces of you in the crowd as early as the speech, and you are acting alone again? You are obviously the original body."

As he spoke, he frowned and began to scold his brother.

"Do you just trust your legion like this? I understand the Night Blade's special combat power in facing demons, but these monsters on Terra are by no means comparable to ordinary demons. Have you ever seen a continuous automatic cannon that can't kill you after five hits? The devil?"

The King of Night raised his hands helplessly. Although his face was completely covered by the skull mask, his expression was probably not much different from Frix not long ago.

"You'd better not worry about these things, Abo-" He tapped the right eye socket of the mask with his right index finger. "——I suggest you worry more about yourself."

"Why?" asked Perturabo. "I have recaptured six positions on the Western Front of the Palace. I only need to rebuild the trenches and positions to transform the war into the form we are most familiar with. I am confident that I can recapture the entire Western Front of the Palace within twelve hours. I Don’t think I have anything to worry about.”

"But Rogge and his heirs are also heading here." Konrad Curze put down his hand and shrugged narrowly.

"So?" Perturabo looked at him calmly and reached out to hold the warhammer. "What do I need to worry about?"

The King of Night did not answer, just smiled and left. Perturabo followed his movement and turned around, watching him disappear as far as he could see before he stopped.

Then, just twenty-seven minutes later, Conrad Coates hit the mark.

Perturabo saw Rogal Dorn, and the group of Astartes behind him in strange and strange colors.

The meeting between the two Primarchs should have been exciting, but given their identities and names, it was met with a most shocking silence.

After they met for more than five minutes, neither Steel nor Stone said anything. They just stood face to face, observing each other in silence.

To Dantioch, the war blacksmith who was called back urgently, his father now looked like an angry bull, waiting for the right moment to strike. And according to Alessio Cortez

Well, he didn't really have any idea, he was just surprised and honored to see the steel and cornerstone of the empire standing together in the same trench today.

"Dorn."

Dantioch quietly tensed his nerves and reminded himself - the bull is on the move!

But his father's next words shocked him.

"Nice to meet you." Perturabo said this greeting word by word with an expressionless face.

Dantioch turned to look at Frix, who answered his silent inquiry with an indescribable expression, and the construction shovel in his hand suddenly sank deeply into the soil.

Of course, they were not the only two people who were confused about this. Even Rogal Dorn himself showed confusion to a certain extent.

"Nice to meet you too, Perturabo." Dorn paused before finishing the greeting.

Perturabo nodded his head and made a nasal noise, which was a response to his words. This indifferent performance made Dantioch and Frix breathe a sigh of relief, but it also made Perturabo turn his head quietly.

"I don't think a simple meeting requires so many senior officers to watch," he said suddenly. "You can go about your business. I want to see at least five artillery positions built within an hour. Do you understand?"

"Indeed." Roger Dorn nodded slightly. "Do what you have to do, Alessio."

The crowd was dispersed, at least away from the trenches here. Black snow fell from the sky and fell on their armor and soil, bringing with it patches of inky color. After a long silence, Rogal Dorn was the first to speak.

"You've changed," he said cautiously.

"Indeed," the Iron Lord replied with a sneer, completely unmoved by Dorn's caution.

Stubborn stone almost thought he was going to say something sarcastic, making this conversation end like hundreds of times before - but Perturabo didn't do this, and he miraculously used the second half of the sentence to end the conversation. The atmosphere became very strange.

"Just like you, you have changed a lot, Dorn." Perturabo said slowly. "What have you experienced on Terra?"

Dawn was silent again.

".Struggle." He frowned. "And sacrifice."

"Be more detailed."

"Okay." Dorn nodded and began a long narrative.

"I have deployed many fortresses and tactical traps along the solar system, as well as emergency preparation plans of up to hundreds of thousands. I have deployed my legion and most of the solar system garrison along the way, and prepared all the preparations I can think of. preparation.”

"But the enemy did not choose to use conventional methods to launch a war. Their arrival was as silent as thunder. In just a moment, the war came immediately. At first, the situation could still be controlled, but with the spirit of revenge, 's landing."

He was silent, a period of absolute silence. There were no shouts, no roars from the fog, no roar from the test firings of the artillery emplacements. Only the breeze blew slowly by, turning the stubborn face into pain in the wind and snow.

Although it lasted only half a second, the pain was absolutely real.

"In war, the situation changes only in an instant." The silence ended, and Donne continued to speak, his voice still calm. "The enemy is well prepared, at least they have anticipated my reaction."

"It knows that in the first few hours of the war, I will still treat this war with the same attitude as ordinary wars. I can predict the battlefield situation, but this has a prerequisite."

"I cannot make appropriate arrangements for this kind of war that I have not experienced. It uses this time born from my failure to make the situation precarious, and uses a final decision at the twenty-fifth hour. Tactics.”

"On a strategic level, this is an absolute fiasco. As the coach, I am bound to be responsible for those soldiers and civilians who died. I'm done."

"It's not detailed enough." Perturabo spoke slowly, taking over the baton of the conversation.

The Lord of Steel's face remained unmoved, as cold as ice, revealing an inhuman firmness and coldness in the cold wind. It was as if he was really made of steel, and what was buried under his skin was not flesh and blood, but genuine molten steel.

Donne looked at him and felt a strong sense of strangeness again.

"You must summarize the reasons for your failure and correct them, Rogal Dorn." Perturabo said.

His words sounded like an accusation, a terrible criticism of 'you're not good enough', but his tone was very calm, as if he was just telling a fact.

"In the face of these things, you must sum up the reasons after the first failure, and you must never do it again. Our soldiers are very loyal and they will not hesitate to carry out any order from the commander, so we You must do your best within your capabilities, even in the face of failure.”

"In my opinion, the fundamental reason why you got this fiasco can be summed up in one sentence - that is, outdated concepts. Do you have any objections to this?"

"No." Dorn replied quickly, his expression very focused, not paying attention to Perturabo's overly direct words.

"This is indeed a fatal problem," he admitted simply and directly.

"And we've all made that mistake." The Lord of Steel sneered again. "Yes, like you, Dawn, I made the same mistake."

"I once faced the so-called Horus and his wolves in the Istvan system. I had a chance to bite off a piece of his flesh, but I ruined the victory because of a mistake. The fleet, most of the living forces, as well as"

He dropped his smile and spoke a name.

"Mortarion."

Rogal Dorn's pupils shrank sharply.

"The evil thing in the subspace has entangled us." The Lord of Steel recounted calmly. "Perhaps we shouldn't call it an evil thing, but an evil god. Have you ever seen a flytrap, Dorne?"

"My plant and animal restoration project on Olympia involved reverse derivation based on the ancient books of Terra. This plant is one of our successes. It is an extremely patient hunter, and its leaves are its teeth, and A carefully crafted cage for prey.”

Perturabo stretched out his right hand and slowly opened it. When a piece of black snow fell into it, he quickly closed his palm. The crunching sound slowly sounded between the metal palms, causing a tooth-aching shiver.

"Even ferocious beasts will be bitten in half by this plant in an instant. As long as it senses the appearance of prey, it will never leave before that time, or close its leaves. That The thing treated Mortarion with such patience, but its purpose was not to devour him, but to make him surrender."

Perturabo expressed all his pain with a deep voice and a sneer that came and disappeared instantly.

"But he didn't. He resisted until his death. If it weren't for him, you wouldn't see me or Vulkan here. This is the price I paid, Dorne. I let my brother die tragically, let the flagship be lost, and let victory become Miserable success."

"The key thing is, I thought I learned a lesson, but it wasn't enough. At least not enough for me at the time."

He shook his head and remained silent. However, Donne began to observe this brother who used to be irritable and had little patience with him with absolute patience.

He threw away his surprise and his feelings as a brother, leaving only the ability to 'observe'. Using this detached third-party perspective, he saw Perturabo's great pain hidden in a sneer, a blink, or an occasional deep breath.

A question immediately followed, asked by himself: "What has happened to you, Perturabo?"

"Failure." The Lord of Steel spat out the word expressionlessly. "That's all, like what you experienced on Terra."

"Along the way, I saw many corpses, mortals, Astartes, tanks, Titans - everything for them ended here. No matter how great their beliefs were and what unshakable courage they had, they They are all dead too.”

"They were the best of the best when they were alive, but they fell like straw, covered in dust in the mud. And now, I see darkness covering Terra. The savage cultists proudly show off their loot, Wrapping the skin of a loyalist around him, he crucified the tortured defenders on a ridiculous reverse cross and slowly raised it.”

"They have no so-called discipline. Apart from their barbaric nature, the bigger reason is that those who can restrain them have also become part of this depraved barbarism. Therefore, based on the above facts, I have to deduce a Conclusion - This is not a war, Rogal Dorn."

"The battle we are experiencing now cannot be called a war. A war should be a confrontation between two armies, a collision of tactics and strategies, and a competition of courage and perseverance. And it will end."

"But what about those things? They will not give up, even if we all die, they will not give up. So this is not a war, and you and I are in it. We should put aside our past experience and pride as soon as possible and learn from scratch. Get up. We are nothing but two losers."

"Buried friendly troops, dashed hopes, yet lived shamelessly."

Perturabo raised his hammer dismissively.

"But we live," he snapped. "And so I command you, by ancient law, to fight by my side, Rogal Dorn."

"I answer your call." Dorn said slowly. "But which code?"

He stretched out a hand and waved it in mid-air. After a few seconds, the hand was held tightly by another hand.

Behind them, artillery began roaring.

Perturabo grinned.

"A code of vengeance," he said. "It is a law of nature, a code engraved in the bones of mankind."

7.3k, only one chapter. I have pulpitis and I will go to the hospital to have my teeth extracted tomorrow.

I calculated that I have had root canals on two teeth, and I still have two wisdom teeth that have not been extracted. Now I have pulpitis, and I may have to extract a good tooth and implant it.

Numb.