40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 507 25. The idol is broken and the dead are resurrected (10)

Perturabo walked very calmly into a cemetery, or in other words, a jungle of steel.

Malcador followed closely behind, the scepter in his hand was as dazzling as a torch, illuminating the surrounding darkness, and they were surrounded by iron coffins made of steel one after another. At a glance, you can't even see the end. No one knows how many people are buried here.

Perhaps the Lord of Steel knew it, but he never revealed this number to anyone. Not even Rogal Dorn could get the answer to this question from him.

They walked in silence, their robes dragging the floor. One of them stepped barefoot on the cold steel, making a dull echo. The other person was obviously wearing boots, but he didn't make any sound, as if he didn't exist here at all.

Finally, they stopped in front of a coffin that had been welded to death. Judging from its size, it was obviously intended for use by the Astartes. Malcador lowered the scepter in his hand unnecessarily, letting the firelight illuminate the coffin.

A crude Imperial Sky Eagle appeared, along with the tombstone-like chapter emblem of the Iron Monument. Below them, is a name.

Malcador read it.

"Sebarus."

"It's Gavir Loken." Perturabo answered, crossing his hands. "This is just a rough pseudonym. I have no intention of hiding his true identity from anyone."

"But you made him the first Chapter Master of a sub-chamber of the Iron Warriors."

"Isn't he?" Perturabo asked with a sneer. "Gaviel Loken served his duty faithfully, and Cebarus served his duty equally."

"He led his brothers to fight endlessly in the galaxy. During his service, he participated in a total of 679 wars, large and small, and protected 226 precious imperial worlds. Countless people have died because of them. Only in this way can he survive. From any perspective, he is worthy of the position of Chapter Leader."

Malcador released the scepter in his hand noncommittally. It lost its support, but strangely maintained its balance and stood on the ground.

Immediately afterwards, the burning fire broke away from the top of the long staff, floated up, and landed in the palm of Malcador's open right hand.

Perturabo frowned, and his expression suddenly became a little displeased - by his standards, this level of displeasure was enough to make a large number of people feel intimidated.

"That set of psychic tricks again?" the Lord of Steel asked.

"No."

Malcador responded in ancient language, and his too-young face actually looked a little dazed. Immediately afterwards, he put his right hand on the coffin, and the burning fire disappeared into it, never to be seen again.

Perturabo looked at this scene, the wrinkles between his brows became deeper and deeper, and he looked as if he would become angry any second.

"You'd better explain to me what you're doing, Malcador."

In a warning tone, the Lord of Steel lowered his hands and put them behind his back. He seemed to raise his chin proudly, but what was revealed in his eyes surprised Macado.

If he could still express this emotion perfectly, he would definitely laugh out loud now, but he has lost this ability.

So, he just shook his head.

"The psychic tricks you talk about can resurrect the dead, but throughout the ages, only one person can do this. And that person is not me. I am far from having such skills and extraordinary willpower. Besides, he also does it now Nothing like this happens.”

Facing his answer, Perturabo remained completely silent, except that his hands behind his back were completely clasped. After a long time, he spoke slowly, and his voice had become very deep.

".How is he doing?"

"Half dead." Malcador said calmly.

"Be more detailed."

"He couldn't be distracted, and he couldn't even give any response to those people who came to die one after another. He had to concentrate on it in order to continue to control the body of the god. Over the past ten thousand years, the power it possesses has been Increase."

Perturabo nodded slightly and stopped talking. His face was completely hidden in the darkness, and the left hand made by Ferus Manus and the right hand made by Vulkan had entered a closed mode, limiting the power output.

If not, his emotions are likely to affect the stability of the two prosthetic limbs, forcing them into combat mode

From this point of view, his brothers are indeed highly skilled. Human beings naturally exert force unconsciously when they are emotionally excited, and their works perfectly replicate this.

In silence, Perturabo thought of his brothers unconsciously.

Apart from Rogal Dorn, they had not had contact with each other for many years. Even for Sanguinius, who was in the same solar system, it had been a century and a half since Perturabo last saw him.

As the only regent of the empire, he has been suffering from political affairs for a long time. Due to the special status, Sanguinius rarely leaves the solar system. Even with the help of Malcador, he still has to face the vast and complicated work.

For ten thousand years, every recorded war required him to witness it personally. Just the government work that slipped through his and Malcador's fingers was enough to exhaust hundreds of high lords to death

And in that meeting, Angel Baal didn't seem to have aged much, and his blond hair was still dazzling. But this is just an appearance. The Lord of Steel knows it well. His brother just doesn't want him to worry, so he insists on facing him with this appearance that belongs to the past.

As for other people, occasionally, news about them would come back, but most of the time it was just gossip coming back from the mouths of the Rogue Traders.

For example, Ferrus Manus and his warriors destroyed a horde of Orks trying to invade Imperial territory, and Leon El'Jonson's Angels fought alongside the Space Wolves.

Vulkan and Jaghatai Khan personally led their armies to the edge of Chemos to aid the Emperor's Children in their fight against the forces of the Plague of Nurgle. Fulgrim and the sons of Sanguinius foiled a bloody massacre by Khorne's demonic host on Baal.

Except for those places that are really far away, the Rogue Traders have visited almost every corner of the empire. The empire now seems to have returned to the ancient times, relying on traveling merchants to deliver messages to each other.

This was simply backward to the extreme. Perturabo had long been dissatisfied with this, but he was helpless.

The brilliance of the Star Torch is still not bright. Most of its brilliance failed to illuminate the darkness in the Milky Way today. Instead, it went back to the past, penetrated through tens of thousands of years, and arrived at a war that had long ended.

Malcador raised his right hand and tapped the steel lightly, interrupting Perturabo's thinking with a dull echo, drawing his attention back to the real world. The eyes of the person holding the seal are very deep, pointing directly to the human heart.

He looked at Perturabo as if he knew exactly what he was thinking.

The Lord of Steel looked at him expressionlessly, crossed his arms again, and asked: "So, did your psychic trick that was not a psychic trick succeed? I told you that Gavir Loken was dead long ago. Don't tell me you can really bring the dead back to life."

"Not me." Malcador repeated again.

He removed his right hand, and a rapid breathing sound suddenly sounded inside the completely sealed coffin. Golden light bloomed from inside, turning the steel into transparent for a short time. A decaying corpse sat up slowly in the golden light. There was no disturbance from the coffin.

Malcador stretched out his right hand again and pulled the corpse out of the coffin. No one knows where he got such strength to pull a corpse that was much taller than him.

But that's not the point. The point is that the corpse is rapidly reviving in the golden light.

Perturabo let out a rare sigh. After witnessing such a miracle, there was no joy at all in his eyes, only heavy sadness. Although fleeting, it is genuine. However, he quickly calmed down his emotions, walked forward, and said in a deep voice: "Gavir Loken."

The person he called him turned his head in confusion, his eyes as clear as a newborn baby's. He opened his mouth and spat out vague words, as if he had been under deep anesthesia and was not yet fully awake.

Perturabo frowned again and expressed his doubts and dissatisfaction to Malcador with the least facial expressions and body movements. But this time, the master of the seal did not explain anything to him, but stretched out his hand to hold his scepter.

He raised it high, and an unbearable and terrifying sound suddenly sounded in the originally quiet room. A golden light spread out from the top of the scepter again, fell into the hands of Gavier Loken, and turned into a sharp sword that seemed to be burning.

Immediately afterwards, there was another bright light that was thousands or even tens of thousands times stronger. Even the original body couldn't help but squinted his eyes, trying to block this terrible light.

He wanted to keep looking directly, but the never-gentle sun told him not to look directly at the gods.

gods

The Lord of Steel gritted his teeth.

Thirteen seconds later, the light dissipated and everything calmed down, except for Gavier Loken.

The person holding the seal held his scepter and knelt weakly on the ground, with blood continuously pouring out from the seven orifices. Perturabo stepped forward and helped him up, asking coldly: "Where has he gone?"

Malcador answered his words with a strange, unfamiliar and ferocious smile. He didn't say anything, but he seemed to have said everything.

——

Samus reluctantly returned to the unwelcoming ship through the power of Chaos. When it struggled to throw itself out of the temporarily opened portal of Erebus, the Night Soul had given It's a second welcome.

Compared to the first time, this time he seemed even more violent. The broken pipes flew up together, transformed into countless real sharp knives in the thick fog, and rushed towards it.

At the same time, the ground beneath its feet also deformed. The originally solid steel deck suddenly turned into a muddy swamp at this moment, completely engulfing half of Samus's body.

Facing such a terrifying offensive, the demon seemed a little listless. It raised its recovered right claw and stopped all those sharp knives. They made it bleed a little, and that was the only thing they could do.

Otherwise, Samus was relatively unscathed.

It supported itself with both hands, and even forcibly pulled its body out of the swamp of steel. Its entire body had been burned to a large extent, and its flesh and blood continued to fall off. However, it turned a blind eye and just walked forward one step at a time. .

Its sense of smell has always been very keen. As early as 10,000 years ago, it smelled what happened today and saw the fight between Shen and Erebus.

Samus had worked so hard to get himself involved, and now he had to stay away from it, just for a stupid drop of blood.

It could smell the blood, and because of this, it was very angry.

Just for a drop of blood? Just for this? Erebus, you stupid bastard.

The demon grinned its lips angrily, took a large bite of the steel in front of it as if to vent its anger, and began to chew them. Its teeth easily turned these alloys into rags, and finally even swallowed them in its belly without showing any discomfort.

The cold wind blowing on the dark deck became more violent, and the Night Soul roared silently, and its plasma engine began to operate at an even more manic power, just to reach Litatra's low-Earth orbit as soon as possible.

Samus didn't know what the Night Soul wanted to do, but he could vaguely sense its anger. The devil pondered for a few seconds and suddenly showed a sneer.

"How about we make a deal?" it asked into the darkness.

The sound of wind is still there.

"I'll give you, uh, coordinates? Yes, coordinates. I'll give you a coordinate. The enemy you want to deal with is right there. It's an exact coordinate, do you understand?"

"As long as you have it, you can launch your ridiculous airborne pods at fixed points to accurately attack the enemy who is fighting Shen, how about that?"

Darkness surged, and countless shadows appeared in the layers of mist. When Samus saw this scene, the beast's head showed a little caution. It took half a step back without leaving a trace, its tail like an iron whip sweeping back and forth on the ground.

"I have only one request." The devil said slowly but very seriously. "I want you to send me down with you. I must be there for that battle."

The shadows did not answer its words, but the mist continued to spread. Samus was not in a hurry, and even laughed lowly: "Believe me, I have no interest in the so-called ritual and blood. My goal has always been clear."

In the silence of the shadows, the mist surged again, and after a few seconds, they enveloped Samus. The demon didn't resist, and with a strong tearing feeling, the next second, it appeared in an airborne warehouse, occupying the entire space.

Samus turned its beast eyes, looked left and right for a moment, and then smiled ferociously again.

It immediately spit out a coordinate, and then, amid extremely strong tremors, a drop pod with the emblem of the Shadow Knights Chapter jumped in front of all the Shadow Knights who were preparing, and entered Litatra's low-Earth orbit first. atmosphere.

No one knew that there was a real demon inside, laughing maniacally. It laughed loudly at its simple and crude plan, which was undoubtedly a perfect betrayal.

Improvisation is more fun, isn't it?

Its chaotic nature was greatly satisfied by the friction of the drop pod, and Samus could not wait to see Erebus's expression when he saw it again.

However, what it didn't know was that behind the airborne pod, there was a golden light following it closely, like a gangrene attached to its bones.

——

Tujia reached out and grasped the radiant fragment, and he took it out of his pocket in confusion and confusion.

This seemingly insignificant action evoked some kind of power hidden in the fragment, and darkness rushed in. The world in front of Tujia began to disintegrate, and those flashing scarlet cracks were like hideous wounds one after another, tearing Horst's hut into pieces.

Instead, there was a pale wasteland.

The sky is dark and the clouds are rolling, as if the end of the world has come. The pale white spots on the ground are all made of ashes, floating in the whining wind, forming fleeting spirals one after another.

Tujia looked at the world tensely, and instinctively wanted to raise his right hand, reach into his pocket, and hold his gun. However, a cold hand reached out from behind silently and grabbed his wrist.

Tujia's whole body trembled suddenly and he immediately turned around, but he didn't see any shadow. When he came back to his senses, the fragments in his hand had completely disappeared, but there was no one around.

Seeing this scene, Tujia didn't feel much fear in his heart, but instead felt a burst of cold anger.

He gritted his teeth, pulled out his gun, and fired into the sky. As if to respond to him, in an instant, a strong wind blew up, almost making him unable to open his eyes. The corners of his coat were fluttering in the wind, and his hat had long since flown to nowhere.

Tujia didn't bother to look for it now. He just stretched out his hand to cover his eyes, and then shouted into the wind.

"Give it back!"

A voice suddenly appeared and asked: "Why?"

The wind suddenly stopped.

Tujia stood stiffly with his back facing the direction from which the voice came, and the hammer dropped on the floor little by little. His back was completely wet with cold sweat for some reason, and his willpower was even more shaky. That voice.

He had never heard such a voice before. It was impossible for humans to speak in this way. Every word sounded like the howling of the dead, but it was extremely soft. His sanity was being tested, but Tujia managed to calm down.

He has those cheap organic candies to thank for that. The sour taste of the last candy he ate still lingered on the taste buds of his tongue. The sour taste reminded him of what he should do most now.

Tujia turned around slowly, held his gun tightly, and spoke without blinking: "Because-"

Suddenly, he was speechless.

A giant with a moonlight crown on his head looked at him calmly, with his hands behind his back and the fragments floating in front of him. A shadowy cloak floats in the windless form behind it, like black satin or sparkling like a river.

Tujia looked at him blankly, all thoughts were completely deprived of him.

The giant sighed, turned his head and complained to his cloak: "Look, this is one of the prices I paid. I can't even talk to people properly. How about you communicating with him instead?" , Lalhe?”

The cloak manically sent back a thought, which turned out to be rejection.

"Why?" the giant asked in surprise, and then he got an answer that made him laugh or cry - the demon named Larhe actually felt that this man's dirty coat was not worthy of it.

Sighing, Konrad Coze ignored its protest, reached out and pulled it off, then threw it towards Tujia. The poor investigator's face was covered by the cloak in a daze, and he fell to the ground with his head up. There was no movement at all, as if he had died.

Cozz couldn't help laughing. In just a moment, he already had three or four jokes he wanted to tell.

In these ten thousand years, he has saved many jokes.

The King of Night raised his right hand, gently held the fragment floating in front of his eyes, and softly responded to its call.

"I'm right here," he said. "Father."

At the same time, in the distant and silent darkness, a person opened his eyes.