40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 51 51. Gift (2)

Khalil waved his arms expressionlessly.

The excessive strength and speed turned his fist-pumping movements into some kind of terrifying omen of murder, and the tearing sound caused by his arms cutting through the air even overcame the sound of gunshots for a moment.

Immediately afterwards, a head was beaten into a mist of blood.

Khalil's expression finally took on some disgust.

But he must do it.

The headless corpse spurted out blood from the horrific wound. The huge wound brought a huge amount of bleeding. Even when it fell to the ground, the blood did not stop flowing.

Khalil reached over him and used his toes to pick up the automatic gun that had fallen next to the body. This weapon did not help him in combat, not in the past and even less so now, but he needed them.

To be precise, he needed them to do one thing.

He stepped past the body and threw the automatic gun into a sack slung over his shoulder. It was huge, even large enough to cover part of Khalil's current body.

The last trip. Khalil thought.

Standing next to the bullet-damaged door, he took one last look back at the mess inside the house. He was carrying a bag and was covered in blood. If someone who didn't know saw him, they might think he was here to rob him.

But he's not.

And doing this also violated a rule he had set for himself in the past to some extent.

He entered the darkness with an indifferent expression and agile movements. There was nothing waiting in the darkness, only acid rain and neon lights cutting through the sky, and a chaotic combination of sounds came from a certain neighborhood eight hundred meters away.

Khalil was indifferent to it. His work for the night was done. This was his last trip. He jumped lightly, reached the top of the low building, and started running.

Five minutes later, he returned to the shelter.

Five such huge sacks have been piled on the top of the building, filled with firearms.

Homemade guns, high-end goods made of all metal in one piece, automatic guns, shotguns, even a third of them are deadly laser guns - Khalil knows their number, one thousand, seven hundred and four Thirteen.

That amount of guns might mean a sizable war, but in Nostramo it's nothing more than the combined inventory of six gangs.

With a wave of his arms, Khalil removed the bag from his back and it fell at his feet. The murder weapons inside collided together and made a terrible sound, but none of them misfired.

This was a stroke of luck - a single shot or ricochet would have been enough to bring down everything in the shelter except the door. Khalil thought to himself.

He smiled, and then his eyes lit up with a cold blue light in the next second.

Firearms weapons. They collided and flew out from the sacks of linen twisted by building materials, forming a spectacle that blocked the sky at the top of the neglected building.

They stayed silently in the air, and acid rain fell vertically, but not a drop fell on their surface. These beasts stand quietly, some are well maintained, some are rusty, but all of them are waiting.

Khalil closed his eyes and began to carefully explore every corner. His mind sank down a deep tunnel, and in that he knew the exact number of their kills.

"It's terrible," Khalil said in a low voice. "But what sin is there in the weapon itself?"

So he raised his right hand and slowly closed it.

A heartbreaking sound of metal twisting suddenly came, and the ferocious beasts whined as their bones and muscles were twisted.

The spring popped out, and the bullet still remaining in the gun chamber caused a small explosion, and the special ammunition of the laser gun turned into scattered dust.

The cold temperature began to stagnate the acid rain, and the raindrops falling from the sky turned into countless tiny ice edges at this moment, falling vertically to the ground, smashing into pieces, and it continues.

Khalil clenched his right hand and sighed.

I had sworn to use this power with caution, but now I had to use it, again and again—first, I used it to kill, and now, I used it to make a gift.

Khalil Lohars. Sooner or later you're going to die on this.

He smiled mockingly, opened his eyes, and spread his right hand suddenly.

The temperature changed again at this moment, and the inferior metals and high-quality metals all turned into boiling molten iron. The bright temperature brought by the high temperature made the darkness fade away. Khalil looked at this spectacle created by his own hands, and once again felt a real coldness.

There is no doubt that he distorted an established fact, and he did so effortlessly.

But - why?

Sighing, Khalil cut off his thoughts.

When he's not busy teaching Midnight Ghost or Conrad Coates, his mind is always racing.

Sometimes they spread for the better, but sometimes—or, most of the time—they plummet toward the abyss.

Tonight, he wasn't going to let them waste his time.

As the molten iron continued to boil, Khalil closed his eyes and began to outline a sharp and straight shape in his mind. It has a flat handle with dangerous lines and a silver guard

A sharp blade.

A promise.

A weapon reborn from the blood-stained beasts—and a gift.

He opened his eyes and pulled out a blade from the ice edge where it stayed temporarily. It stuck tightly to Khalil's palm, cheering and shouting lowly.

"No."

Khalil raised it and stared into his eyes through the reflective blade.

He whispered: "You don't belong to me."

The ice edge fell and shattered into pieces.

——

"Gift?"

Conrad Coates' eyes widened, and he sat in his chair and repeated: "A gift? For me?"

Ferrus Manus and Rogal Dorn nodded expressionlessly. Their speeds were consistent, and even the vague movements of their eyeballs looked so similar.

"But."

Conrad Coates put down the pen in his hand and tilted his head: "Why?"

"Because you are our brother." Rogal Dorn said expressionlessly.

His tone sounded like a math teacher declaring that 1+1=2.

Curze blinked, turned his head and looked at Fulgrim as if asking for help. The latter was leaning against his desk checking Coze's notes. The Chemos looked at it very seriously and even covered his face with his notes.

——Of course, it is also possible that he simply does not want to see Ferrus Manus and Rogal Dorn.

but

The Chemos man sighed and put down the note with a soft tone.

"If you want to accept it, then accept it, Konrad. It doesn't matter. What does a weapon mean to Ferrus Manus anyway? He can make one in a few days. Come."

Conrad Coz turned his head silently and looked at Ferus.

‘Gorgon’ shook his head expressionlessly. "It took me ten days just to design the sketch."

"Oh, ten days?"

Fulgrim sneered, his tone now very different from when he talked to Curze. "Only ten days?"

Dawn frowned.

He originally wanted to refute Fulgrim's mistakes in weapon design - in fact, ten days to design a weapon is already a very scary statistic.

But then he thought of Ferus's Forgebreaker. That warhammer was forged by Fulgrim himself, and it was absolutely impossible for the Chemos to make such a stupid mistake.

"."

Silently, Rogal Dorn slowly took a step back.

Seeing this scene, Conrad Coates' expression couldn't help but become more confused, but he had no time to say anything.

"Yes, ten days."

Ferus nodded calmly and spoke quickly.

"It's not that you don't know about forging, Fulgrim. My war hammer can give a heavy blow to anyone who thinks so. So, I beg you, don't ask questions that will dissipate your glory."

Dawn raised her eyebrows slowly, rarely looking surprised. Kurtz looked left and right blankly, not understanding what was happening here.

Fulgrim narrowed his eyes, then nodded.

"The light is gone. That's an interesting statement, Ferus. I accept it."

He lowered his head and looked at their pale brother: "So, here's the thing, Konrad. Ferrus wants to give you a gift, a weapon, a power sword - but he doesn't know if you Will like it.”

"Power sword?"

Coze blinked: "I have never used a sword, let alone a power sword. But why do you think I don't like it?"

"Because Khalil Lohars obviously doesn't know how to use a sword."

Rogal Dorn said this sentence calmly in Fulgrim's expression as if he had seen a ghost - not only that, in the Chemos man's rapidly changing expression, he even added the next sentence talk.

"And we think you'll probably emulate his fighting style."

Dawn nodded expressionlessly. "To sum up, we think you might not like Ferus's sword. That's why we came to ask you, so that Ferus will have time to recast it before your legion arrives."

Conrad Coates blinked and did not speak immediately.

"Conrad, Rogge didn't mean that." Fulgrim said very quickly.

"What do you mean?" Cozz asked, raising his head.

Facing his gaze, Fulgrim was once again stuck. "He doesn't - at least not what you think."

"But..." Conrad Coates laughed. "I'm just learning from Khalil, he's very efficient."

"and"

He stood up and changed to a solemn tone: "Khalil said that a gift does not depend on whether the person receiving it likes it, but on the intention of the giver, right? I will not judge by whether I like it or not. A Gift."

Fulgrim breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to speak, but Dorn got there first.

"But it is a weapon, and for a warrior, choosing a weapon of your choice is very normal and very serious. For some people, a warhammer is easier to use than a greatsword."

Rogal Dorn shook his head slowly, calmly and completely unconcernedly at Fulgrim's glare: "So I think you should think about it again."

"Um"

Curze turned his head in confusion and glanced at the Chemos. The latter quickly changed his expression, smiled encouragingly at him, and then continued to glare at Dorn after he turned his head away.

As for the caster himself, Ferrus Manus, he was very calm, but his eyes had become a little strange.

"Do you want to take a look at it?" Ferus asked suddenly.

"What?"

"Your gift is only one step away from being complete."

A dry smile appeared on the stern face of 'Gorgon': "I see that you don't know whether you will like a power sword. So, are you going to take a look at it?"

After a few seconds, Conrad Coates nodded vigorously.

"Thank you," he said quietly.