40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 475 196. Interlude: The Death of Sisyphus

There is no sun here, there is no moon here, so there is no light here, and darkness naturally takes away everything.

In this pure and desperate darkness, a man is slowly pushing a stone.

This stone was so surprisingly big compared to himself, that one couldn't help but wonder whether it was real or not - could such a huge boulder really be pushed by a person who was not considered strong?

However, if you look closely, you will find that it is not really a stone at all.

It is some kind of monument made from the bones of the dead and rusted weapons. Each bone is incomplete and is being cruelly connected together by the murderous weapons. They were killed by these weapons while they were alive, and they still bear their censure after death.

What’s interesting is that the surface of this stone is covered in blood.

It should be noted that the dead have already become complete skeletons, so where did the blood come from?

Simple, ask the person who is pushing the stone. Ask him about his arms full of wounds and shoulders missing all flesh and bones, and you'll get the answer. Of course, don’t forget the last question.

how do you feel?

Sisyphus did not answer, but continued to push the boulder.

He clenched his fists tightly, jammed several blades with the gaps between the bones, and used his own flesh and blood to aim at the stones and push them upward.

This is not an easy job. Every time the boulder rolls for a few seconds, he has to pull out his palms to let the bones and flesh leave the weapons that are so rusted that the shape of the blades can no longer be seen, and then press the boulder with his shoulders, cheeks or forehead, not to let the boulder roll. It falls.

There was no light in the darkness, so he had to stretch out his trembling hands to find the next point of support that could penetrate his palm.

However, the pain caused by the blade piercing the flesh and getting stuck on the bone, although severe, was incomparable to the problem that followed.

How do you hold up this rock? With brute strength, or with terrible patience, endure the pain?

Sisyphus just pushed, just pushed.

He knew that he was doing useless work, because no matter how high or far he pushed the stone, it would definitely return to the foot of the mountain, back to the starting point of it all. Over and over again, the cycle continues.

The most unforgettable part was that he had to go down the mountain to find it empty-handed.

How freeing? No pain, no need to gasp, just walk along the road, swing your hands and walk easily and naturally. Only at this time will the breeze blow by, bringing him some coolness. At this time, he doesn't have to endure anything

Then, when he returns to the starting point, he must face the blood-stained boulder again.

It was almost like forcing him to make a choice.

give up? how? Just stay where you are.

Why let yourself become a living specimen of nihilism when there is no more pain and no need to do this meaningless work? Human nature, or in other words, animal nature, is to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages, and there is no shame in escaping.

Just like this time, Sisyphus stood in front of his boulder, calmly breathing the blood-smelling air.

He knew in his heart that this stone was slowly wearing away his willpower and the more precious things. Moreover, he had no choice in this matter.

The stone is but a metaphor that has been pared down many times, a reflection of a vast power, weakened by multiple rituals and then sent elsewhere by the hands of the most powerful psyker in human history, who Already received a commutation of sentence.

In other words, Sisyphus was lucky enough. It is precisely because of this that he can still persist until now.

Then, there is no reason to give up, right?

He walked toward the boulder and started pushing again. Then another, and another, and always the next.

Sisyphus has forgotten how long he has been here. Time has become a concept that he no longer needs to care about since a long time ago. Moreover, this is what he did deliberately. He promised a friend of his that he would persist.

He only broke a promise once.

However, this time the promotion seems to be a little different. There were sounds in the darkness, causing Sisyphus to stop and listen.

At first, he didn't hear what the sound meant, until he suddenly realized that it was actually a creepy chewing sound. Very dense and regular, it rings almost every once in a while, as if something is feeding in the dark.

Sisyphus frowned, turned around, pressed his back against the boulder, and began to listen to the sound that first appeared in the darkness.

Then he managed to hear it.

"I know you hid him, Father. I also know you won't give him to me, but I will find him."

"You can hide yourself in infinite cracks in infinite dimensions and use these little tricks, but I will chase you forever until every bit of your power is taken away by me - they belong to me. Yes, remember, father?"

"You promised that your army, your power, and everything in the empire will be used by me. But now, I'm here to ask for them. So run away, father, and let me see how long you can last."

There was anger quietly emerging on Sisyphus's pale face.

He understood what it was, but that skin shouldn't have such self-awareness anymore.

Is it deception?

This is what Chaos is best at, twisting the originally positive part of human nature into evil and extreme emotions, and using this to trick others and force them to despair.

But it was only a skin, the skin of Horus Luperkar. The last bit of his self and essence had long since dissipated aboard the Vengeful Spirit, and since then, his body has been a shell inhabited by Chaos.

They are endlessly satisfying this empty skin so that it can expand, fill, and be put to use. Their treatment of Horus Luperkar is completely different from their treatment of Lorgar Aurelion. Different attitudes. They were very devoted to Horus.

However, regardless of whether it is intentional or not, a skin that can continue to exist because of the power of chaos should not have that kind of self-awareness.

Sisyphus could hear that there was no manipulation or hint from Chaos in the words he had just spoken. They were filled with confidence, ambition, and desire.

The puppets of Chaos have no desires, they can only think they do. Like the tragic Lorgar Aurelion.

Sisyphus clenched his fists and another voice began to sound in the darkness.

"Don't do it," the voice said. "We have calculated countless times that you cannot take the initiative to escape. Your remaining humanity is not enough to support you to regain control of that divine body."

"I cannot watch you being eaten," Sisyphus said.

"He's just eating the phantom." The voice suddenly turned into a smile. "I may not be able to fight against quasi-gods in person, but I am very good at deceiving gods. I have done this countless times, my friend."

The sound faded away, and Sisyphus fell silent again. He heard the cruel joke but failed to laugh.

He turned around and started pushing the stone again.

Non-existent time passed by again, and at a certain moment, a terrifying bloody light emitted from the center of the boulder.

It was the first light that shone in the darkness, and it was so ominous, but there was no fear on Sisyphus's face. He stared at the light calmly, and then gradually pulled his hand away from the blade.

This time, the stone did not fall due to gravity. A call came from within, the voice vague and distant, very soft and hissing.

Sisyphus raised his hands and began to beat the boulder.

A dull and horrifying sound slowly sounded in the darkness, and the bloody light emitted from the center of the boulder suddenly became strong. The bones on it were falling continuously with Sisyphus's hammer, and the swords were constantly being pulled out. The strange thing is that the brighter the light, the fewer wounds Sisyphus has.

At first, he was a bloody mess with bleeding wounds all over his body. But now, he has almost recovered more than half. No more penetrating wounds or white bones could be seen on the arm, only the pale skin wrapping the muscles.

He is still not strong, but he is much better than the skinny and scary appearance before.

The bones of the dead continued to fall, and soon they were all around his feet. The rusted blades were pulled out one after another and thrown into the darkness. The blood light suddenly began to flicker and change color, until it was covered by a tragic blackness.

At this moment, the brilliance looked like a dancing flame. Dark red as the base, wrapped in darkness, it's absolutely terrifying.

Sisyphus stopped hammering and sighed tiredly.

He reached out his right hand and touched the flame.

It surged up suddenly, instantly bursting out from inside the boulder and surging onto his body. However, it did not cause any harm to him. Instead, it enveloped him, making him look like he was wearing a suit of armor.

Sisyphus slowly and sadly clenched his right fist and threw one last punch.

This time, he completely shattered the boulder. At this moment, flames lit up in the empty eye sockets of the skeletons, making the place brightly lit.

A giant covered in blood stood silently in front of Sisyphus. His skin was pale, his black hair was hanging down, and he wore a moonlight-like crown on his head, which was emitting cool fluorescence.

Conrad Coates nodded and said, "I'm here to find you, father."

‘Sisyphus’ was speechless about this.

Curze smiled and tilted his head. The black flames in his eyes flashed away, and the blood on his body was completely evaporated. He used his sharp claws to brush away the black hair from his forehead, and even stretched out, acting very naturally.

"It wasn't meant to be like this, Conrad."

Finally, Khalil Lohars spoke slowly.

He used no more images or features of Sisyphus, and the surrounding darkness instantly disappeared, leaving nothing but nothingness.

A strong tearing feeling came from the feet of the two of them, and in just an instant, the scene around them changed. The wasteland covered with thick ash replaced the darkness, the flames rose, the wind roared, the sky was filled with deep thunder, and the air was filled with impatient praise.

A temple called from behind Khalil.

"It must be so, Father," Conrad Curze said softly. "I have to do this. Only I can find you through the connection between authorities. What's more, I am the anchor, and you need the humanity I bring."

Khalil closed his eyes, and his face seemed never to change. After so many years, when he didn't smile, his face would always be cold.

Kurtz knelt down, picked up a handful of ashes, and began to distinguish them carefully. They passed through his fingers like dust, but he watched them intently.

His eyes were no longer as completely dark as before. Angry flames had replaced his eyes, burning the area around his eyes black.

Looking at the white dust, he suddenly smiled and said, "To be honest, I have never thought about these things before."

"What's the matter?" Khalil asked with his eyes closed.

"That's all, Father—" Coze chuckled. "——You are asking questions knowingly again."

He stood up, walked behind Khalil with his hands behind his back, and began to look at the bone temple curiously, but still did not forget to explain.

"It's these overly complicated things, gods, authority, thrones or crowns. And of course, my brother who can't rest in peace."

"The evil god who is good at deceiving somehow captured one side of him and magnified it infinitely. Not only that, he even forcibly borrowed the spirit of vengeance as an altar to give him the special character of a vengeful god. Sex. In other words, you now have an additional competitor supported by the Four Gods, which is really scary.”

"Where did you learn all this, Conrad?"

"analyze."

Curze turned around and shrugged at Khalil, who had his back turned to him.

"I already have enough information on hand. Moreover, I now have the authority to know the things you didn't want me to know in the past. Authority means that I will tell you these things in detail. It's so strange. This kind of It feels like you knew them all along and are just remembering them now.”

As he spoke, he suddenly laughed again, this time not because of a joke or anything else, but simply because of the change in the person who had his back turned to him. For example, the scarlet crown that suddenly appeared, or the ferocious armor that had transformed from illusion to solidity.

"It's my fault." Khalil turned around and said. There were two traces of blood on his face, from his eyes to his chin. "I shouldn't have interfered in your life without permission. You didn't have to become like me."

Coates laughed and said: "I think I'm probably still far from it, father. But what I would be without you, I remember I said it a long time ago."

Khalil stared at him silently.

"I used false light—" he said.

"——Is false light not light?" Konrad Coates interrupted with a smile. "There is no need to grieve for me anymore. This is my own choice. Father."

"I must wake you up. Human beings need a god who is temporarily on their side. Moreover, my biological father who doesn't like to tell the truth also needs you. Although he behaves as if nothing has happened, I'm afraid he is at the end of his strength."

He took a step back, touched his chest, lowered his head, and bowed gracefully, his cloak flapping in the strong wind.

"I'll be here for you, father," hissed Conrad Curze.

The god didn't respond, turned and left, embers filled the air from the armor, and his eyes were as violent as an evil god.