40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 453 179. Interlude: Van Cleef

I have only one duty.

Van Cleef slowly swung the sword, the motor roared, the sawtooth kissed someone's neck intimately, blood and flesh spattered, and the bone fragments chopped finely by the single-molecule saw blade burst out from the center of the chain sword, creating together with the blood A terrible rainstorm.

Six explosive bombs roared and smashed into this cruel man-made scene, rushing straight towards his head, but none of them hit. Van Cleef dodged without looking, then held the body that had not yet been dismembered and pulled him to his chest.

The chain sword came out of the chest brutally in the next moment, and the wave of violence and torture began to surge. The cultist who was not yet dead suddenly began to mutate, and the eight-pointed star of chaos on his body was brightening, but it only brightened for a moment, because Van Cleef had already completely dismembered him before this happened.

At the same time, a blessed son of the Word Bearer struck from behind, the evil wind was like ice, and the blade whizzed down above his head. Van Cleef took a step back without looking back, and bumped into the arms of the Blessed Son lightly, disrupting the pace of his attack.

He spun the chainsword with one hand and slashed from front to back. The enemy began to roar, his voice full of pain.

Ordinary physical damage is naturally not enough to cause him such terrible pain, or even make him roar. However, the coincidence is that Van Cleef happens to be quite talented in how to torture his enemies.

He learned long ago how to inflict pain and despair on his enemies in battle. And now, this ability has also undergone some unspeakable changes along with him.

"Your fight is pointless, resist me, or not—"

Van Cleef slowly turned around and looked at the pair of eyes mixed with madness, looking at the soul that was entangled with the devil and rushing towards the abyss of corruption. They also saw him, but that was not enough, just 'seeing' was not enough.

You need to experience more.

He drew his sword, rotated his wrist, and swung the sword again. It was an understatement, but it was a very cruel blow. He completely cut open the left shoulder of the blessed son like a butcher slaughtering an animal.

The corrupted body whined and split in half amidst the roar of the chainsword. The internal organs were scattered all over the floor, falling steamingly into the pile of corpses. The blood was scattered like a solidified gelatinous object, like stars falling.

Their scarlet color gave the eyes of the dead looming between the black internal organs and corpses an alluring color, almost seeming like an invitation.

Want to have a taste?

Van Cleef raised his foot to crush them, and then added a kick, completely kicking away the Blessed Son who was still suffering in pain.

With just one movement, the smoke and dust brought up by the battle were shattered by the extreme speed. The thick fog dissipated, and the scarlet eyepiece of the company commander was looming in it. The lightning patterns on the dark blue armor were extremely bright, with no intention of extinguishing them.

And his voice finally came again.

"——Actually, it makes no difference."

Van Cleef began to move forward slowly, bursts of darkness spread under his ceramic boots, and the fog continued to become thicker. But his posture at this time was quite strange. He straightened his back, held the sword in one hand, and the chain sword was lowered to his feet. Every step is slow, every step is determined.

At this moment, there was a scream in the sky, and a group of demons with bat wings rushed down. The fangs and sharp teeth slowly emerged from the wide-open mouth, and they were squeezed out together with the long sticky tongue in the form of vomiting. Human eyes stared blankly at the object of the attack.

Van Cleef raised his head and glanced at them, then calmly withdrew his gaze without paying any extra attention, as if these dangerous demons were just a burst of harmless smoke.

The truth is that not long ago, these demons staged a cruel scene of biting through ceramite and devouring flesh and blood. At the same time, the Word Bearers priest in the enemy camp who was using evil magic to control them suddenly screamed. With a sound, his body began to tremble violently.

The jet-black muddy flesh spurted out from the gaps in his armor that had begun to mutate a thousandth of a second later, splashing to the ground. The high temperature burned the armor full of traces of corruption, steam rose, and the victim's face appeared in the air. It is looming among them.

Van Cleef stopped, took off his helmet, and put it on his armor belt. He blinked, and the slender eyes on the high cheekbones suddenly began to change color, and two angry flames ignited rapidly, igniting his eyes in an instant.

Above him, the group of bat-winged demons began to tremble, turning into burning ashes in an instant.

"First of all, this is not out of personal grudges." Van Cleef slowly raised his sword. "Secondly, I hope you can understand one thing."

He smiled.

"In the name of the Lord of Blades, death is just the beginning."

He did not break his promise. The killing lasted for fifteen minutes in total. It was purely intentional on his part. The ancient ritual has now become a kind of instinct that is deeply rooted in his bones. Even if he doesn't want to, his instinct will make this choice before him.

If you stay away from Terra, you might be able to control it. But now he was on Terra. His god was here.

Van Cleef raised his hand to put on his helmet and left the killing field. Like a shadow that might disperse at any moment, he passed over the devastated dark ruins.

He was alone and without communication, but that suited him just fine.

However, under normal circumstances, Van Cleef does not advocate any isolated fighting, solitary action, or individual heroism.

Moreover, even without using the old Terran sayings, in today's Night Blade, the beast habits from Nostramo have penetrated into every aspect. Even a new recruit who has just joined the army will spontaneously learn how to integrate into the group in such an environment.

They were not a pack of wolves, but another pack of dangerous beasts, equally keen on hunting. Therefore, he should not have been alone as he was now, he should have stayed with his First Company.

However, I only have one responsibility now. VanCleef smiled ruefully.

The world shattered beneath his feet, then healed again. The power of chaos instinctively responded to his movements, and each seemingly simple step actually distorted the space, crumpling the already unstable structure into a crumpled paper.

Van Cleef is the only ink mark on this white paper. His movement seems completely random, but it follows the fold marks made by the person who crumpled the paper. He knew this, but he still felt uncomfortable.

In the past, in the real universe he was familiar with, it was absolutely impossible to do such a thing. Even if it was in front of the gods, a certain price would have to be paid.

Their real universe used to be so indestructible in the past. Science and rationality filled every corner of the empire. Even religion was a progressive religion.

But now?

The stable structure has been crumbling, and the curtain of reality has been torn apart by the evil god in chaos himself. Not to mention Terra at this moment, even the entire solar system is now in a precarious situation.

With just a slight push, this ancient galaxy where mankind originated will completely turn into some kind of nightmare place, and that will be an absolutely unbearable blow to mankind and the empire.

Van Cleef stopped slowly.

Darkness bowed at his feet, not for himself, but for the favor he had received. The realization made him more unhappy, but it didn't matter because the person he wanted to see had already arrived.

The first company commander left from the darkness and appeared quietly behind the man. The latter did not notice his arrival at first and was still alert with his gun. It was not until Van Cleef deliberately made a burst of footsteps that he realized what was going on.

Then, accompanied by a dangerous buzzing sound, the man turned around holding the gun, and the muzzle of the gun began to warm up with a dangerous energy radiance.

Van Cleef gently placed his palm against the muzzle of the gun, and gently tapped the barrel with his sharp fingers, making a slightly dull echo.

"I think it's better not to waste ammunition." Van Cleef reminded kindly. "What do you think, Ser Luther?"

The old knight sighed, released the trigger, pulled the gun back, and hung it on his shoulder: "Actually, this gun has no so-called ammunition problem. It fires condensed... uh, air?"

"Another private collection of the person holding the seal?"

"Perhaps it should be called some kind of technological relic excavated and rescued from a lost era." Luther shrugged. "Anyway, it's not the first time he threw these things to me and let me try them out first. Didn't the scholar named Rand also complain about this?"

VanCleef laughed, took off his helmet, and nodded to Luther. He is always a relatively old-school person, and some things are deeply engraved in his bones. Even if it has become like this, it will not be easily eliminated.

"Anyway, let's get the time right first." Luther said.

He raised his hand and took out a pocket watch from under his cloak. It has a pale golden shell and silver hands. However, the places where numbers should be engraved are completely blank.

Van Cleef reached out and took the clock, while Luther magically pulled out another piece from under his cloak. They looked at each other and pressed a secret button on the right side of the pocket watch at the same time.

With a soft click, the hour hand, minute hand and second hand began to move, but the numbers still did not appear. There is still a pure blank on the clock face, but if you look closely, you will find that it is not blank, but nothingness.

"Thirteen hours," Luther said, staring at his pocket watch intently. "We only have a total of thirteen hours to get everything done, Van Cleef. If I had known this, maybe I should have told Leon earlier that I had other things to do."

"Didn't Lord Leon express anything about your unauthorized departure?" Van Cleef put away his pocket watch and asked with a smile.

"He wanted to say something." Luther shook his head thoughtfully. "But Lord Russ probably reminded him of something."

VanCleef sighed.

"Death does not mean the end." Luther also put away his pocket watch and looked up at him. "You should be the one among us who understands this sentence the most, Van Cleef."

"It's not the same thing." The company commander replied in a low voice. "Even if they die in vain, they can sleep peacefully as long as the hatred is settled. But the original body is different. Even if they die, they will never enjoy any peace."

"Yes," said the Caliban in the same low tone. "Like everyone who died in this era, Van Cleef."

"Essentially, we are all just running around, driven by forces above us - the only difference is that the demons think they are free and we know we are not."

"But we happened to get real freedom because of this." Van Cleef nodded solemnly. “At the same time, we will also free more people from slavery.”

Luther silently raised his hands and performed an eagle salute. Van Cleef returned the gesture and escaped into the darkness again.

The pocket watch was shining slightly on his belt, and a heat that shouldn't exist was radiating from its surface. He silently counted its clicks, trying to hear some possible information from the delicate mechanical structure.

Malcador is a person who is good at leaving blanks. He will occasionally leave some information in the mission, just for you to discover by yourself.

It's a pleasant mysticism, for the Markbearer is neither difficult to communicate with like the Emperor, nor overly communicative like Khalil Lohars.

He is a clever middle value. Van Cleef is not sure if this is an external choice deliberately shown by the palmer, but he definitely admires Malcador's hard work and dedication.

But, Malcador, how can our crumbling empire continue to exist? Van Cleef couldn't help but ask himself.

In the darkness, he dashed to another corner of Terra and, with the click of a stopwatch, came up with an answer.

Only sacrifice.

You must be determined and fully focused. You have to survive every step that comes next, like pain, like bleeding, like death.

The Patron's voice slowly passed through the stopwatch, his delightful mysticism cracked once more, and Van Cleef received his reward. The words brought a smile to his lips, but they also caused him pain.

The darkness receded and he was once again above Terra. But this time, the wrinkled white paper he was walking on had undergone earth-shaking changes.

The ruins were rebuilt, the corpses were dragged away, and the sun that should have been extinguished but somehow burned again for ten thousand years was steadily shining directly on the ground in the sky. The roar of motorcycles was heard not far away. Fan Cleef turned his head and saw the disappearing figures of several guards in golden armor.

It wasn't until they were completely gone that the company commander looked away and looked at the man standing in front of him.

"Cassidorius Delkunas?" he asked.

The man took a deep breath, nodded, and raised the gun in his hand.

"What do you need me to do, my lord?"

"First of all, there is no need to use honorifics." Van Cleef said to him. "Also, let me see it."

Cassidorius did as he was told. He put down his gun and fished out a gem from his chest. Its surface was extremely clear, reflecting their two eyes, one dark brown, the other burning scarlet, floating in pitch black.

"Very good." Van Cleef nodded. "Do you know what we're going to do?"

"I know." The descendant of the Delkunas family smiled and raised his gun again. "We want to go back to ten thousand years ago, the person holding the seal told me."

Van Cleef smiled slightly: "You are as courageous as your ancestors."

"My ancestors?"

"Yes, your ancestor Navarro Delkunas, a brave Rogue Trader"

Van Cleef explained softly, but in such a patient whisper, his face began to slowly break, cracking into countless lines like broken ceramics, and pale ashes hung upside down from the cracks, gradually floating into the sky.

One more chapter