40k: Midnight Blade
Chapter 465 186 Terra (forty-four, spreading hope)
Chapter 465 186. Terra (forty-four, spreading hope)
Or Persson had lost count of the first Astartes he had seen on Terra, but he had no time to care about it now.
The thought flashed through his mind like a shooting star and then quickly disappeared. Moreover, there is another thing that is giving him an even bigger headache now. This matter, compared to that illusory thought, made him focus his attention more.
He also has to focus.
"It's still a little bit close, just a little bit close, just hold on," he muttered to himself, blood and sweat rolling down his forehead.
The bolter hung on his shoulder by a rope made of rags was punishing his lower back due to his incorrect walking posture, and the thick butt of the gun was causing pain to his bones. But it was nothing compared to the pain his fingers were experiencing, which was so painful that he was about to lose consciousness.
This was not the first time that Orr had experienced such a moment. He could vaguely recall many kinds of pain, but they were all memories from the past and were not as profound as the one in front of him.
But he must continue. He had to endure the pain, the hunger, the exhaustion, he had to endure it all.
'It's like I was born to take this, ha. ’
"One more step, bastard!"
He threw away that thought, stepped onto a slope, roared and dragged an Astartes wearing pitch-black armor up amidst the hail of bullets.
Of course he couldn't do this with his own strength. He relied on the glowing gem on his chest to achieve this feat. But he still needs to bear the price and responsibility, as evidenced by the thick white bones worn out by the gaps in the shoulder armor on his fingers.
He kept walking, and kept walking, single-minded and extremely focused, not caring about the bullets that passed over his head or his ears. After about a few minutes, he dragged the giant back to a trench filled with the smell of blood with his bare hands.
An Astartes came over. Orr looked up and saw his identity from the red and gold armor and logo.
This was a Blood Angel, and exactly the kind of Blood Angel he needed to be - a junior medical officer, a squad apothecary.
This man's face was covered in blood, and his hair, which was deliberately shaved short, was wet on his head. He came to Orr, gently pulled Orr's hand away, and began to inspect it silently.
He seemed to have no complete medical equipment, only a simple external medical arm armor installed on his right hand, and it was making a rapid beeping sound on the face of the pale-faced Raven Guard with closed eyes.
The Blood Angel shook his head sadly.
"You are brave, mortal." He said with his back to Orr, his voice very low. "But you are not just brave. You pulled him back from the front line with just your own hands. It seems that many miracles happened today."
"However, this venerable Brother Crow Guard has left us forever. His meninges did not function as they should. The omnipresent evil forces have reduced the help from surgery. He has died, and we He will be remembered.”
"How to remember it?" O'er gasped, and said a mean ridicule to whom he didn't know who he was targeting. "We don't even know his name."
The Blood Angel turned around silently and pulled out the bolter from his waist with his left hand. Orr also took out his gun from behind and turned off the safety.
"But we can also learn each other's names. What is your name, soldier?"
"Orr Persson." Orr said, looking down. Only then did he realize that the white strip of cloth on his chest had disappeared.
"I'm Melos." The pharmacist introduced himself. "I am an apothecary from the Ninth Company of the Blood Angels. Now, you and I will live and die together."
He stood up and began shooting at the incoming enemy from above the trench. Orr turned around with difficulty, stuck the muzzle of the gun out of the reserved peephole, and pulled the trigger all the way.
There is no need for so-called aiming anymore, the ground is shaking, and if the enemies are not charging in groups, the trenches would not be shaking for this.
He didn't know how the Imperial Fists did this, but the trenches they built were indeed very strong. Except for artillery bombardment or group charges, it will not shake at all.
Under the roar of gunfire, Orr quickly finished the first magazine and began to replace his last magazine.
At this moment, his complaining nature once again took over.
He thought that if Constantin Waldo would give me a little more time, I could get more supplies. But he was always very anxious, even more anxious than me. In the end, for the sake of a stable front, he chose to part ways with me temporarily.
Do it in one go if you can, you golden bastard. If you die, who will I look for to guide me now?
The veteran inserted the magazine into the bolter with an angry face, and then pulled the trigger to the end again. He could barely hear any sound, and his eardrums were severely damaged again.
Hearing the firing of two bolters at such a close range at the same time, and one of them was Astartes-sized, he no longer expected that the gem on his chest would heal him again after this.
And, sometimes, he would rather be deaf.
The war is consuming what little humanity you have left, Olanis. A voice said in his heart. You still have a chance to escape and get away from it all.
Yeah, yeah, then what? Living like a fucking primitive, hiding in the galaxy, watching these bastards using humans as slaves?
Orpeson retorted to himself and suddenly grinned.
"They're coming!" he shouted. "Get ready to engage the enemy at close range!"
He retracted the bolter, pulled out the bayonet from his waist, and attached it to the bottom of the barrel. The pharmacist nodded to him, half-knelt down again, and a gleaming jagged short blade suddenly popped out of the medical external arm armor on his right hand.
"You and I will live and die together," the pharmacist said solemnly.
Orr didn't hear these words, he was just busy calming his heartbeat.
The first enemy to jump into the trench appeared half a minute later, a cultist far stronger than many of his kind.
His body showed a strange swelling that was definitely not normal, not like muscle, but not like fat either. With a crazy light in his eyes, Orr rushed over and stabbed him to the ground with his bayonet.
He resisted, clumsily waving the incomplete machete in his hand, trying to chop off Orr's legs, but he was too slow, and Orr had completely smashed his head long before that.
His death is the beginning, but when will the end come?
The second enemy soon arrived, a demon with a human face and a dog body. It threw Orr to the ground with an agility that far surpassed that of the cultists. The apothecary saved his life. The Blood Angel dismembered him with a jagged short blade and pulled him up again. The two men began to run wildly along the trench. .
They shot and killed the enemies who jumped down from the front and tried to intercept them, and ran without looking back, ignoring the bullets floating from behind. They can continue to kill for a while, because the ones charging ahead are always these cultists and low-level demons who appear out of nowhere.
At the beginning, these cultists were naked and looked barbaric. However, when Orr went deep into the darkness for a while, he saw something that made him shudder.
For example, the cultists suddenly put on military uniforms, and some even had the imperial double-headed eagle completely covered by the eight-pointed star of chaos engraved on their foreheads. He probably guessed the reason, but he couldn't control it, and he couldn't control it. thing.
Just like now, facing the enemies coming like a wave, the only thing Orr can do is to run, run wildly, and try not to fall behind.
Melos opened the way in front of him, and the back of the Blood Angel was extremely determined. No cultist can approach them. Those holding blades or spears will be directly chopped down by him, and those with explosives tied to their bodies will be shot one by one by him.
Their fanatical behavior will cause huge casualties among the enemy group. However, such easy killing cannot last long, and soon, a Son of Horus came to them.
"Traitor," the apothecary whispered with hatred.
The Son of Horus did not answer, but just shouted away the fanatical cultists, and then forced the demons back with even stronger scoldings. He stood in front of Orr and Melos with the sword in his hand, and slowly raised it.
The pharmacist rushes towards him, and Orr covers him with his gun raised. The Son of Horus turned sideways, blocked all the bullets with his shoulder armor, and swung his sword to drive back the apothecary who only had a serrated dagger. He began to pace slowly, looking carefully at his former brother and now his mortal enemy. Orpeson coughed up a mouthful of thick phlegm mixed with blood and began to take a deep breath.
Not wearing a helmet, not wearing a helmet, and still playing this stupid one-on-one game
He raised his gun and began to aim with all his might. The cultists behind him muttered some obscene and obscene words in low Gothic with ill intentions. Only then did Orr realize that his hearing had returned.
He was a little annoyed - didn't I say that? Just keep me deaf
Melos launched a second charge. He fought with the man at a speed that Orr could not see at all, and separated again after more than ten seconds. Orr couldn't see what they did to each other, but he could see the result.
Melos' left hand below the elbow has completely disappeared and was cut off by the traitor's sword, but the Son of Horus did not feel better either. The Holy Blood Angel used his determination to trade his wounds for his life and inserted the serrated short blade deeply into the weak side of the traitor's abdomen, creating a ferocious gap that was bleeding.
Orr began to take aim.
One chance, you only get one chance, got it, old guy? If you miss, you will die here. If you hit, you can live for more than ten seconds, allowing the Blood Angel to live for a while longer.
He was concentrating on reading these things, completely forgetting the gem on his chest and the mission he had accepted.
The gem didn't make any comment on this, it just glowed slightly without anyone noticing. Then Orr vaguely heard an almost undetectable strange noise coming from behind them. He didn't pay attention to this, but suddenly thought of the Raven Guard and felt guilty.
Not long ago, they helped Orr and Constantin Valdor pass through an army of demons at the cost of hundreds of lives, but now, he left one of them behind among the enemy.
He will be insulted, absolutely. They would not let him go, they would savagely cut open his armor, take out his entrails and devour them, break his bones, peel off his face, and proudly regard him as a trophy.
Orr's fingers trembled for a moment, and he had the urge to turn around and fire behind him. He quickly forgot about this impulse and began to breathe deeply with complete rationality and calmness.
Melos was speechless and rushed towards the son of Horus. The opponent raised his sword and stood ready. The world in front of Orr began to slow down, and he miraculously saw the movements of the Sons of Horus and the movements of Melos.
The apothecary was still using his old strategy of trading wounds for lives, trying to hit the bleeding wound again with the short blade in his hand. The traitor raised his sword high, not intending to block or entangle anymore, he just wanted to kill him with one clean blow.
His name flashed in Orr's mind.
The supreme, the damned, the cursed, the Lord whom I despise and love—
He pulled the trigger.
The bolt whirled out of the barrel and struck the Son of Horus' wound before his blade came down.
Blood splattered.
So precise, so deadly. Mortal-sized bolters brutally destroyed the Astartes' pride and life. His eyes widened, and the blade fell limply to the ground.
A burst of noise suddenly erupted from all around. The pharmacist rolled over and picked up the power sword. He quickly turned around and began to sweep away the pagans like a tiger entering a flock of sheep, while still not forgetting to pull Orperson away.
"That's a good shot, Orr!" he praised loudly. "You bought us a few more minutes of life, and you bought us an honor!"
He swung his sword to kill a demon that was trying to charge up. Orr didn't answer, just stabbed the enemy who was charging towards them with his short sword. He was out of bullets, and that was the last round.
What a fateful last shot. He smiled bitterly.
"And now, we will use the time you earned to kill more traitors for the Emperor and Terra!" The Blood Angel roared loudly, and the determination in his words made the bloodless and tearless traitors also follow suit. Shaken for a moment. "For Sanguinius!"
for
Orr took a deep breath.
"Maybe we won't have to die," he said. "one person--"
What he said was true, and even though he didn't finish what he said, what he said was indeed true. A black shadow set off a bloody wave among the cultists. His hands were waving lightning claws, and his blood-stained face was twitching. From such a long distance, Orr could see his face clearly.
That was the Raven Guard he rescued, the Raven Guard who was diagnosed as dead by Melos. His name was Alastor Rorschach, and his brothers called him crow.
It took him five seconds to kill in front of them. He was covered in blood, and his body parts slid cruelly from his armor. The Raven Guard's crest shone brightly in the blood, as if he had returned from hell.
"Let's go," Crow said incoherently. "Before they find out."
They started running again, and Orr felt dazed as his lungs and legs began to torture him again. He didn't know where Constantin Waldo was now, or how long it would take for his mission to end, but he seemed to realize something.
So, this is what I'm going to do?
He looked down at the gem, which was glowing as if in approval.
Update completed, this chapter is 4k, total 12,000.
By the way, do you think this is okay for now? One chapter of extras and one chapter of main text every day. I didn’t have any problem with the writing, but I felt that the reading experience might be a bit fragmented. The fundamental reason still lies in the issue of paper division at the starting point.
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