40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 520 38. The Children of the Night King (End)

Yago Severtalion found that he was shaking uncontrollably.

His face was covered in burn marks, as was his armor. There was even thick black smoke billowing from the gaps between steel and steel, stimulating his keen sense of smell and making his eyes hurt, making him almost unable to see.

But Sevatar didn't care about these things. He had just regained consciousness not long ago. Now, the first and most important question he had to deal with was called - Where am I?

Yes, where is he?

He lowered his head and looked around. The pale white sky was shining with abnormal brilliance. He was at the top of a cliff, with terrible mud made of blood under his feet.

Savita was in a daze for a moment, and it was only then that he realized that he was holding two weapons tightly in his hands.

In his right hand is a chain halberd, but it is not the one he is using now. In the left hand is a combat dagger, from the adjutant Molec of the first company.

Or rather, from the former adjutant of the 1st Company, Molec.

He looked at the combat dagger, staring at the dark and angry flames burning on its dark blade and remained silent, but a voice came to his ears. This voice seemed to be out of breath, out of breath, and contained a strong smile.

That voice belonged to Erebus.

"Now, it's just you and me, dear Yago. Terra has been broken for a century and a half, but you still don't have any memory. Look what you've done, pursuing me with all your might. You have a hundred Two brothers lost their lives because of this, and their deaths will all be blamed on you.”

Savita raised her head and glanced at him, but said nothing. His reason is quickly returning, allowing him to fully understand his current situation - none of this is real, but the cruel war he has experienced, an echo or some kind of recurrence of memory.

In short, it won't be true.

In other words, the Erebus standing in front of him was just a phantom of the past.

At this point, Sevatar sees no reason to fight.

The next second, he rushed over and completely dismembered the shadow in the most cruel way.

He doesn't care about reasons.

The world began to spin, completely mixing the sky, cliffs, corpses, and Erebus's broken limbs into a crazy whirlpool of incomprehensible colors. Sevatar stood in the center of the whirlpool, expressionless.

He even opened his blood-stained hands and allowed the vortex to swallow him completely.

What else is there to say? Something similar may have been repeated dozens of times. He killed Erebus again and again, from the farthest reaches of the galaxy to a forest on Caliban, from near the moon of Nostramo to the front of the fleet of the Lord of Salvation.

In the real world, these killings never happened. He didn't kill Erebus. He could only watch the bastard escape again and again.

But here, in this illusion of torture and sinking, Erebus was killed by him again and again.

What is this?

Standing in the crazy whirlpool, Savita couldn't help but laugh wildly.

He had no way to suppress the urge to laugh. If this was a joke, then the joke would have three elements of irony, absurdity and madness at the same time. The most important thing was that it was not funny.

The vortex dissipated, and Erebus stood in front of him, stained with blood, one hand broken, and half of his face torn apart by power claws.

"You failed," he said vaguely.

The strong wind swept behind him, almost swallowing his voice completely. There were many corpses lying at his feet, some of them were demons, some were night blades, and most of them were civilians who died innocently.

Sevatar stared at all this coldly, and the blurred edges of the world began to become clear with the recovery of his memory. What was once an iron-grey floor now turned into rough concrete, and the walls turned from whitish gray into trenches with peepholes.

The artillery roared loudly, announcing its presence. The sky lit up with flames, the clouds cleared, and bombers roared past, turning the ground into a burning inferno.

Argo Severtarion was trapped in hell, staring at Erebus.

"I win! Again!"

Erebus coughed and raised his arms, and a portal slowly formed behind him. An ugly and weird smile was slowly being born on his incomplete face, and Sevatar could clearly see the process.

He even knows what will happen next - in half a second, he will launch an attack, and he will try to destroy the portal called by Erebus.

But this was no longer possible, so he changed his strategy and wanted to enter the portal with Erebus.

Yes, at that time, Savita was already crazy, or in other words, he had never been truly awake in these ten thousand years. This crazy idea was a completely feasible and legitimate plan in his mind. However, this plan also failed to succeed.

The only reason was that a spiritual light flashed from behind Sevita, and a child was strangled by that spiritual energy.

Erebus stood at the edge of the portal. At this moment, two seconds had passed. But Sevatar didn't move.

"Come on," he said softly. "bring it on."

Sevatar still didn't move.

The man he was - the man he is now - they didn't move.

Then Erebus smiled.

"You, you... are always like this. You do the cruelest deeds and master the cruelest skills, but each one of you has a ridiculously weak humanity. Especially you, Yago."

"If it were your cousin standing here today, I'm afraid I would have been dead a long time ago. They don't care whether the child is dead or alive. In the highest heaven, do you still remember what I have done?"

Erebus pointed at himself seriously.

"Don't you remember? Who is behind all this, who has plunged countless worlds into flames, and who asked your genetic father to give up his body. You are giving up the opportunity to avenge them, and this may This is your only chance, Yago."

"What would Khalil Lohars and Konrad Coates think if they knew? You are willing to give up all this for a child?"

He laughed wildly, turned and walked into the portal, throwing the child to the ground. Sevatar turned around and ran over, picked him up gently, and watched the fragments of internal organs pour out of his throat.

In three years' time, this child will become a member of the Night Blade.

Like his brothers, he will harbor an undying hatred for Erebus and hunt him eternally. However, at this moment, he is just an ignorant child who has lost his hometown, his relatives, and everything.

Sevatar stared at the child through her own eyes, without saying a word.

He is already dead, at least in his world, in the future, this child is already dead - but not now.

So, what if I don't recruit him into Nightblade? What if I disregard his life, rush forward, and tear Erebus's chest completely open?

Sevatar sighed deeply.

There is no if, there is no if in this world. The vortex reappeared, engulfing him and taking him to Epsilon III, Thalydrax, the Moon of Naral, a battle fortress on Kalfein.

He hunted Erebus in countless places, and many times he came close to victory. His claws once truly grasped Erebus's two hearts, but no matter which time, he failed to complete his revenge.

Sevatar attributed all these failures to himself, but this was not the case. The fact was that Erebas had endless divine favors and gifts during these ten thousand years. No matter what he wants to do, this superimposed divine favor will help him without reservation.

If he wanted to plunge a world into darkness, its sun would be extinguished. Funny battleship engine failure, series of collisions, endless demons appearing on the surface of the sun, and a mysterious virus that can make the sun decay.

There is even a group of singers who traveled from far reaches of the galaxy to perform dark rituals on their ships. They would strangle a sun and send it to the six rings of indulgence, making it another small sacrifice of self-enjoyment to the god of pleasure.

Similar things have happened too many times, enough to make anyone who knows the full story feel numb and despair. But Yago Severtalion did not. The two similar emotions had completely dissipated when he felt the departure of Konrad Coze with his own eyes.

He knew exactly what he was dealing with - he was not fighting Erebus, but in the physical universe and fighting a hand of the Ancient Four extending from the Warp.

This hand takes their place in the material world, confusing right and wrong, manipulating people's hearts, setting the world on fire, and destroying hopes.

In other words, Iago Severtarion knew that he was going to fight a god, and he had to find a way to win.

But what he couldn't win, he couldn't win anyway. Even Khalil Lohars couldn't do something, so why should he be able to do it?

However, he couldn't just sit back and watch everything happen. The wails of the dead would keep him awake at night. Therefore, even though he knew that this was a war that he would not win, he still participated in it.

Savita opened his eyes, watched the vortex rise, and watched the vortex dissipate.

The vortex continued to rise and dissipate in his eyes.

In that crazy manifestation, 900 million people were tied to stone pillars, greased and set on fire. Eighty million people were decapitated and had their spines taken away. Father, son, mother and daughter, all died.

Seven hundred million people are infected with disease, their skins are rotting, their internal organs are pouring out of their throats, and their blood vessels are filled with pustules. There are 600 million people killing each other in extreme pain, enjoying each other's bodies, licking each other's blood from the ground, and doing these three things at the same time.

And these are just a drop in the ocean.

Standing in the whirlpool, Savita stared at everything in front of him, watching this eternal torture, and there was no longer any joy or sorrow in his heart.

He still didn't understand what Conrad Curze had thrown him here for, but he would accept it. These failures stem from his incompetence, and he must shoulder the responsibility and pay the price for everyone who died because of Erebus in the past ten thousand years.

If it weren't for him, they wouldn't have to die. If he was determined enough, they would still be alive

Once again, the whirlpool slowly dissipated in his trembling thoughts. The ashes of time and the wails of the dead rushed towards him, turning everything into a choking wind and sand, which captivated Sevatar's eyes.

He covered his face and took a slow, unnecessary deep breath in the darkness and the coldness of his gauntlets.

He was still shaking, but the wind and sand had stopped, and it became very quiet in all directions. Savitar lowered his hand and saw a young boy hanging up in chains.

The child didn't notice him, nor the countless shadows squatting in the darkness around him. Savita glanced at him and walked out of the darkness, but the boy turned a blind eye to him and looked in another direction.

There, another Yago Sevitarion was slowly walking out of the darkness, his chest and abdomen pierced by five sharp claws, dripping with blood, and it was too horrible to look at.

Sevatar stared at them without saying a word.

The hanging child was from his childhood, but who was the bruised warrior?

He couldn't remember, he couldn't even remember how long he had been in this whirlpool. His mind was splitting, and everything he owned had been shattered into pieces by endless tearing.

There were so many conflicting things roaring and fighting with each other in the depths of his memory. Did he kill Erebus? still none? Did he win the battle with him? Even just once?

Did he really save anyone?

"You got it, Cy," Conrad Coates said. "You have saved many people, but you haven't realized it yet."

Sevatar turned his head and told his father, not surprisingly, "I can't see."

"That's because you dare not see it." Kurtz replied gently. "You have been walking in the darkness for too long, so long that you can't even stand any light. Even if it's just the moonlight, you feel that it will burn your fragile conscience."

He laughed, revealing sharp teeth, and his eyes were deep, like black holes that extinguished everything. True to his words, the Moonlight Crown began to glow on top of his head.

That light was really too weak to be called a light source, but it made Savita feel burning pain. His skin began to dissolve beneath the armor, and so did his very being.

In such severe pain, Sevatar didn't make any sound. He just looked at his genetic father, trying to get an answer.

"The answer is-" Cozz took a step forward, stretched out a finger, and gently poked his forehead. "—No death is your fault. You are blameless and innocent. Iago Severtarion."

Behind him, in the burning hall, Argo Savitarion tremblingly grabbed Argo Savitarion. His chest and abdomen were pierced by five sharp claws. He vomited blood, but his eyes were as bright as two day stars.

His voice began to merge with that of Conrad Coates.

"This is the moment." He, or rather they, spoke softly. "This is the moment you will remember everything."

There was a loud thunder, and the Bone Temple disappeared. The vortex enveloped him in it for the last time, but the voice of Konrad Curze always echoed in his ears.

The King of Night's voice penetrated the darkness and pierced through all barriers. Like the sharp knife he once held in his hand, it pierced into Sevatar's brain with incomparable precision, echoing deafeningly in his skull.

"kill him."

who? Who to kill?

The answer is obvious.

The darkness recedes, but the scorching moonlight remains with me. The surrounding area is in ruins, with countless undead standing in every corner. They had different identities and names during their lifetimes, but now no one cares about it.

Savita wanted to distinguish, but his vision was blurry, and only a shadow remained clear, or in other words, a bloody person.

The man's skin was covered with twisted scriptures. His mouth was wide open, and his eyeballs without eyelids were staring at the dark night sky. The smooth priest's robe had been completely soaked with blood. Perhaps more than that, the clothes had actually become his skin.

His skin was peeled off, but it fit tightly to his body and would not really fall off.

And, he was still breathing.

The undead let out a boiling roar.

Sevatar understood, and he smiled.

I couldn’t ask for it, I really couldn’t ask for it.

He walked toward him, each step firmer and heavier than the last. He approached Erebus, who was lying on the ground, and raised his right fist. Lift it vertically, the muscles are completely tense, and every joint is completely locked

Sevatar looked at him, then waved his arms. Inertia, strength and locked joints turned his arm into a real sharp knife, cutting deeply into Erebus's body.

The pure evil thing that called itself the Hand of Destiny spit out a large mouthful of blood, and its cloudy eyes suddenly became sober at this moment.

He looked at Savita and showed a hint of ridicule as usual: "You are finally here, dear Yago."

Savitar remained silent and waved his arms, only this time slightly loosening the lock on the joints.

His arm was embedded deeply into Erebus's body like a whip. The whipping was so painful, cruel and bloody. Even Erebus screamed.

He gasped for breath, and the forcibly amplified pain completely destroyed his thinking ability at this moment, turning him into a puddle of mud paralyzed on the ground. Sevatar looked down at him coldly, without any pleasure in his heart.

It's not enough. For a thing like Erebus, this kind of punishment is not enough.

He raised his head and looked at the undead. They were standing in every corner of the ruins. They seemed to have no specific image, only vague concepts.

They were civilians, soldiers, Astartes, men, women, children, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters. They were an overlooked part of the Imperial battle report, a cold and unnoticed number.

But now, they were standing in front of Savita in real terms.

He blinked, and their image gradually became clearer.

"How long have you been waiting for me?" Sevita asked.

"A long time," one of the undead replied. "But the wait is worth it, the death of Erebus."

Sevatar smiled slightly.

The dead souls swarmed in like a sea, passed through the ruins unimpeded, and passed through Sevatar's body. They walked to Erebas and surrounded him. Then, they stretched out their hands.

Some hands are thin and withered, so pale that they seem to have degenerated. Some of the hands were wearing iron armor and were so strong that they could crush human bones with one hand. Carrying boundless hatred, these arms put their hands on Erebas's body one after another and began to tear apart.

First it was skin, then flesh and bone. His nose and eyes were held in his hands, and his teeth and tongue were trampled underfoot. It is impossible for him to have such a huge mass that every soul here can get a piece of the pie, but that is the fact.

Everyone Erebus had ever killed now held his heart in their hands and spurned his face. They lifted the prestigious Dark Apostle high, trampled the awesome and terrible hand of fate under their feet, and then began to roar.

Roar into the warp, in the holy name of humanity and vengeance.

It was just a simple roar with no words, but the anger and joy in it spread to every corner of the chaotic wave in an instant.

The angry one in the scarlet massacre, the giant bird in the magnificent crystal, the fat old man stirring the soup pot, the androgynous god meditating while holding a gemstone, and every demon under their command, all heard this roar.

Then came Erebus's screams and begging for mercy.

"Let me go please!"

He screamed imagelessly, his voice breaking to the end of the number. He was unable to maintain any manners, or even feel ashamed of the current situation. His thinking ability was stripped away, leaving only the primitive desire to survive.

He is a pure evil creature who does not know how to create. He only knows how to destroy and corrupt those beautiful things. He should have rotted in the mud, but because of this twisted desire, he has come step by step to become what he is today. appearance.

He screamed to the gods.

"Please save me!" he cried with tears. "Please take action, gods, please save your humble believer! Let him escape the sea of ​​misery!"

The angry man snorted coldly, scolded him for his cowardice, and then strode away without any regrets.

The giant bird laughed playfully and withdrew its power support, letting his fragments turn from flesh and blood into mud, and its wings flapped with great joy.

The fat old man didn't even look at him. He was still stirring the soup pot intently, as if he had never heard his voice.

Only the androgynous, exceptionally handsome God of Joy smiled and shook his head, giving a clear answer.

"You are so ugly," He said in disgust. "I don't want to touch an ugly thing like you."

Then the divine grace is shattered, pulled away, and erased. Erebus's consciousness was completely ripped away by the dead souls in the next second. His flesh and blood were still tightly held in their hands, but his mind and soul, which was no longer protected, were tied to an upright stone pillar.

His image was extremely small and ugly, and he looked like a maggot as he writhed in his white robe. He looked at the undead around him in horror and wanted to beg for mercy, but could not utter a word.

These insignificant existences that he didn't pay attention to in the past, these mediocre souls that he didn't even bother to pay too much attention to. They died because of him, and now, they come to him.

The man who was once superior is now screaming for mercy in a low voice. However, will those who once begged for mercy really let him go?

The answer is no. He will endure eternal torture here and remain awake until the last person he harmed has no resentment anymore.

Sevatar finally laughed softly, gently and comfortably.

——

Khalil stretched out his right hand and pierced a piece of greasy steak with two fingers. He lowered his head and carefully looked at the steak, which was still dripping with juice.

No matter which Grax this piece of meat once belonged to, it must have loved sports during its lifetime, otherwise it would not have such firm and tender meat. Then there are these salt and peppers. Although they are named Terra, they are indeed a bargain.

They are stuck in the gaps between meat, and the aroma is heightened by the high temperature. This aroma is mixed with the fat, and together they form a wonderful smell that is unbearable.

Khalil sighed softly, used his shoulder to move his right hand, and moved the steak in front of a man who suddenly sat up from the iron bed.

"Long time no see, Yago," he said. "Would you like a Gracchus steak?"

The man took off his mask, threw it aside, opened his stiff jaw, and took the meat into his mouth. He was eating like a wild beast, with his head lowered, holding pieces of meat with both hands, constantly biting, tearing, and swallowing.

The juice splashed, and some kind of more crystal clear liquid slowly fell down along the cheekbones at this moment, turning into small, crystal clear ice droplets in the cold night, and finally fell to the ground and shattered into pieces.

"Eat slowly." Khalil said softly. "Phil just doesn't like steaks, but he never said he hated them."

Savita stopped chewing, swallowed the last bite of meat, and jumped off the iron bed. He stood up straight, frost falling from the gaps in the armor, and his eyes were staring at Khalil unblinkingly.

"Do you have a share, instructor?" he asked suddenly.

"If I say no, you probably won't believe me. After all, you already know everything."

"Yes." Sevita nodded expressionlessly and looked down at the mask that fell to the ground.

"It's just that I didn't expect that this mask can actually split the wearer's memory. How many people have I met in the wasteland in the past ten thousand years? Why have I forgotten so many times?"

Khalil shook his head and said: "You are asking the person who is least likely to know the answer, Yago. As for it, I think that splitting memory is not its function, but a side effect."

"No matter how powerful it is, it still exists in the material world. To make it work, you have to pay something. It just so happens that the strongest emotion in your heart is hatred, but-"

"—It's myself I hate," Sevatar said, and he seemed to smile. "It's so interesting, instructor, from whom did this consistent self-loathing spread?"

He asked, staring at Khalil.

".This is a philosophical question."

"So, can you answer that?"

"As you all know, I'm not much of a philosopher," Khalil said, twitching his finger, inviting darkness, and walking into it.

The mask floated up and flew into the edge of his billowing clothes. Savita watched his back being swallowed up by the darkness little by little, and suddenly smiled.

"Welcome back, Khalil." He paused and said.

"Welcome to you too, Yago." The man in the darkness replied, his voice as soft as it was thousands of years ago.