40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 519 37. The Children of the Night King (4)

Orak Kataks had never experienced anything like this in his life, and he couldn't even find an adjective to describe it. But he understood that this was just the beginning.

As Van Cleef said, death is just the beginning.

Orak put on his helmet solemnly, and the visor, which was deliberately carved into a skull shape, was dotted with lightning-like patterns that flickered and faded with his breathing.

Nostramo's adamantine has been completely assimilated by his psychic energy. If nothing unexpected happens, this armor and helmet should be handed over to the next Librarian after his death.

Of course, there is a prerequisite for this. He must accept help from Yago Savitarion to do this.

If he accidentally reaches his 'disposal date' on the battlefield, then this armor may have to usher in another form of existence along with him.

They will go through great changes, with hatred as their bones and anger as their blood. From then on, the call of everyone with hatred will echo in their ears forever.

Orak took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down - he didn't have much time left. The better Iago Severtarion treated him, the more aware he became of it.

He had already seen it once when he was an apprentice, and the person who was treated like this was his mentor, the former director of the think tank. After he took office, he experienced it himself.

Just two times was painful enough. Orak could not imagine what a terrible torture this was for Yago Severtalion. He could only hope that this day would come as soon as possible.

Today, his last attachment to the world will be completely dissolved, for no other reason than the return of Khalil Lohars.

He is back, which means that the brothers of the Chapter will no longer have to go through the pain, the empire will also usher in a drastic change, and the lives of those innocent people who have perished finally have a chance to change.

Khalil Lohars strongly disagreed with his idea.

At this moment, he was standing on the shuttle 'Batwing' sent by Nightfall, waiting for it to take off.

Caiul Sahora stood behind him, arranging his own simple power armor without saying a word, seeming to be thinking about whether to save the temporarily hung ribbons.

Lord Scaladric stayed silent in the corner of the cabin, his pale face blending into the shadows, with only a pair of eyes shining inside.

He didn't want to come, and no one knew what they were talking about until Khalil went to visit, but in the end, Scaradrick did come.

Regarding this matter, Scheherel Lenghun just wanted to find an opportunity to laugh at Scaradrick.

He will do his best to use all his taunts to severely damage Ichiban Daijun's self-esteem - yes, he has expected that they will end up in the duel cage, but this is his purpose.

For some people, violence is the most efficient way to relieve stress, whether released or endured.

Sheher thought about this and couldn't help but reveal a pleasant smile.

The deck beneath his feet began to tremble at this moment. The shuttle's engine had been started and it was about to take off soon, but his attention was drawn to another corner of the cabin.

There, an Astartes who could not be said to be a stranger to him, but definitely not familiar to him, was looking down at a pale tome.

Its pages looked very dry and thin, but at this moment they were slightly lifted by two fingers wrapped in steel, bearing a weight that it shouldn't bear.

Sheher glanced at the strange words on the page, then immediately withdrew his gaze and whispered a greeting in a low voice: "Good day, hunter."

Astartes, known as the Hunter, raised his head and nodded to him: "Compared to last time, you seem to have changed a bit."

Shehir sighed: "When are you going to stop knocking me with honorifics?"

"This is not a knock, just a reminder from the day after tomorrow." The hunter said in a neither humble nor arrogant manner, thus starting a debate that has been held many times.

"We hold great power. Throughout the entire Imperium, there are not many Astartes who can compare with us in this matter."

"They are all restricted in some way, but we are different. The laws of the empire are in vain to us, and officials from the Ministry of Government, the Ministry of Military Affairs, or the Ministry of Justice will not have any idea about us."

The hunter paused for a moment, emphasized his tone, and said something incredibly cold and unbelievable: "We can even directly assassinate a certain governor without suffering any criticism."

"But this is because we will never step beyond the threshold." Scheher replied extremely seriously.

"Behind this power is the perseverance of the children of the night for thousands of years. We have never blurred any judgment. Every attack that stains the blade with blood must pass strict review."

"What's more, we have never ignored any rules and regulations. The reason why officials don't trouble us is because we will submit any action reports they need. Don't forget this, Mr. Hunter. "

"I never forgot," the hunter replied softly. "It is precisely because of this that I must stand here and treat all of you as a stranger."

Shehir turned his head and glanced at Khalil Lohars standing in front of the porthole, and suddenly raised his finger and pointed at him: "Including him?"

The hunter did not answer, but gave a very interesting silence.

Sheher frowned, showing a little anger for the first time: "What on earth are you thinking about?"

The hunter still didn't answer the question.

Twenty-two minutes later, with a heavy muffled sound, the shuttle entered the Nightfall's boarding deck. After another half minute, when the complicated inspection procedures were completed one by one, the cabin door slowly closed.

Khalil, still wearing a heavy robe, walked out first, leaving a line of wet blood marks on the ground.

The Night Horn blew a howling cold wind, as if to welcome him.

At the same time, this gust of wind also blew away the darkness inside the boarding deck, and the soft moonlight lights gently lit up, completely revealing the few shadows hidden in the darkness.

Orak Cartax took the lead in walking out of the darkness, and the lightning patterns on the think tank director's power armor became brighter at this moment.

Khalil nodded to him, but said nothing. Instead, he walked directly past him into the darkness that was not yet illuminated by the moonlight.

His figure blended in perfectly and was never seen again.

The director of the think tank withdrew his gaze and began to greet his blood relatives one by one. He didn't even notice Khalil's disappearance.

"Vice Chapter Leaders——"

"—Before we engage in a long series of exchanges of threats filled with false politeness, I have to remind you of something, Orak."

Sheher raised his left hand with a serious expression and clicked on the darkness: "Let him walk alone on the Night No., which may cause some unnecessary things."

"What's the matter?" Orak asked. "He was already familiar with this ship before our ancestors were even born."

"Relax, Supreme Commander. No matter what happened down there, as long as he returns to the Night Veil, all problems will be solved."

The last four he pronounced individually in Nostramo. Sheikh heard the hint but was not very willing to accept it.

He frowned and wanted to say something, but at the last moment he swallowed his words, leaving only a moment of silence.

The Night Horn faithfully blew all these things to Khalil's ears with the help of the cold wind.

"Oh, don't do that." The 'instructor' advised him helplessly and amusingly. "I don't need this kind of tip-off. Their ideas have reasons and are legitimate. It is better to let nature take its course. Forced intervention will only be counterproductive."

The wind intensified, whistling past, blowing his robe, and turned forward.

Khalil smiled again - the Nightshade was showing him the way, even though he didn't need the extra kindness, but since it insisted on it.

He took steps and walked slowly towards that place.

There was not a single figure in the corridors or training halls along the way. Nightshade told him the whole story - the cause was Yago Severtarion's declaration of war, and the process was endless gang-hopping and fighting. Artillery fire, as for the ending

The end has not yet come, they are still on their way back.

Barring any accidents, this process will last for more than ten hours. Not everyone set off in gunboats, and the Word Bearers didn't only have two Abyss-class battleships.

Moreover, not everyone can come back.

Khalil listened to its report carefully, but his steps were not slow. In fact, on the contrary, he walked very fast. In just five minutes, he arrived at his final destination.

The heavy and huge fine gold door opened spontaneously in front of him, and a total of twenty-five protective measures were automatically lifted one by one.

In the end, the only person who appeared in front of Khalil was a man lying on a cold iron bed with frost on his face.

Khalil couldn't help but laugh.

He walked into it, and the door slowly closed behind him. The mechanical structure hidden under the steel was operating at full strength. High-temperature steam gushes out from the gaps, leaving a dark trail that looked like blood on the ground.

The pale incandescent light fell from above the iron bed, turning the frost-covered face of Yago Savitarion as if it were transparent.

Khalil came to the iron bed and leaned down to look at him carefully.

Compared to 10,000 years ago, there is already an aging look in Sevita's face that cannot be ignored. Overall, he may still be considered young, but the old age cannot be concealed by any means.

It is only at this time that this kind of twilight energy will probably transcend his own constraints and appear on his face.

But there's something else that stands out the most, those cracks beneath the frost.

They are the rifts of 'Iago Severtalion'.

Khalil narrowed his eyes, took out the skeletal face from his arms, and gently placed it on Sevita's face.

Nothing magical happened next, no vision at all occurred, only a slight sound of ice breaking slowly came from under the mask. It was as if the mask had grown fangs and was chewing the frost.

Despite this, Sevatar still showed no signs of activity, as if he was truly dead.

Kalil was not in a hurry. He just stretched out his right hand and took the pot of Glocks meat that was placed next to the iron bed. He also took away the small salt and pepper bottle hanging on the edge of the pot and started to sprinkle salt.

He was very attentive and careful in doing this, but it was a little weird - not to mention the fact that the meat had already gone cold, just adding flavor to the steak next to a dead man was enough to make people think deeply. .

But Iago Severtarion had no problem with that.

Khalil put down the salt shaker, and with a flash of blue light from his right index finger, the iron basin filled with Grox meat levitated in the air, and even began to slowly heat up. The aroma of the meat soon escapes along with the boiling fat, making people's fingers tantalize.

Even Khalil couldn't help but take a deep breath of the aroma - it was only then that he finally felt a little desire for food.

He finally remembered that he hadn't really eaten anything since he recovered.

Nutrient solution is naturally not considered ‘food’

So, do you want to eat?

Khalil looked down at the pot of meat and shook his head gently - forget it, he didn't want Fel Zalost to suddenly appear somewhere in the dark and accuse him of his behavior.

He turned around, and his robe swept across the ground, stirring up the mist and causing the ground to boil suddenly.

Every component of the Night Veil was working with all its strength at this moment, and its interior was rumbling as violently as if it had been hit directly by a macro cannon and then hit by more than a dozen torpedoes.

It roared, and in its own way, which terrified the crew, the fog that was everywhere on the ship gathered in one place, that is, this room.

At this moment, the place became ghostly, and the souls of generations who died on the Night Veil were flying up and down in the fog. Some are captains and some are sailors. Some are civilians, some are servitors

The souls of the Auxiliary Army also stood silently among them, and some were even saluting Khalil. Their uniforms have been completely lost in the current empire, and the only thing they have in common is the eagle.

"Please help me," Khalil said, his voice low and his words brief. "Or, please help him."

"How?" one of the souls asked calmly.

Khalil said nothing, but pointed at the mask. Then the mist dispersed, and the ghostly shadow roared past, sweeping the place like a storm, and rushed straight into the mask without any hesitation.

Only one spot of light remained in place, that of an old soul, wearing a blood-stained captain's uniform, with lightning guarding the face of an eagle, shining on his left shoulder.

"I've waited for you to come back." The soul said with a smile. "We have been waiting for this day for a long time."

Khalil was silent for a moment and shook his head: "I'm sorry to disturb your sleep."

"Death is only the beginning, my lord." Soul replied with a smile. "Is there anything more glorious than continuing to fight for humanity after death?"

He dropped these words and disappeared in place.