40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 527 45. Records of the Battle Group Era (6, Wolf’s Lair)

The hunter raised his hands expressionlessly.

A knife was being held at his neck, and his helmet had fallen to the ground, sinking deep into the ice and snow. It is absolutely impossible for a natural fall to create such a scene based on the weight of the helmet alone, so the answer is very obvious.

There was silence all around, but the hunter knew clearly that there were four hundred and ninety-nine deadly killers standing in the darkness. They were all staring at him coldly, waiting for the judgment of the man with the knife.

So, who is holding the knife?

The answer to this question doesn't even require any thought.

Besides Yago Severtarion, who else dares to draw a sword and threaten him near the Wolf Fang in Fenris in front of Khalil Lohars, Bjorn, Azek Ahriman and others? A Nightborne?

"Give me a reason not to kill you." Sevatar spoke slowly.

His face was hidden behind the helmet, and the skull visor was covered in scarlet. High-temperature steam was constantly pouring out from the gaps in the armor, and the wind and snow in the sky were completely melted before he could even get close.

The snow water and warm wind hit the hunter's calm face restlessly, creating an artificial rain curtain in his turbid white eyes.

He didn't blink, as if the eyes were not his own. He didn't care about the sharp knife across his neck, as if the person being threatened was someone else. He acted calm and aloof, but now that he was here, he had to face something head-on.

For example, Yago Severtarion was in a rage.

"I would like to give you a believable explanation, Sevatar, but I can't." The hunter blinked. "You should be aware of our responsibilities. Silence is a required quality."

"You can tell it again," Sevatar said with a smile. "I wouldn't mind hearing this riddle again and ripping your throat out along with your spine."

Bjorn stood aside, watching the conversation that was becoming increasingly dangerous, but showing no emotion. Now he looked very different from the man by the fire.

The same is true for Azek Ahriman. The blind poet put his hands in the pockets of his cotton-padded jacket, breathed in the cold air of Fenris, and exhaled the almost invisible heat.

They surrounded a man in black robes from left to right in the center, and the wolves stopped not far away, waiting for this 'internal matter' to come to an end.

Khalil sighed inwardly.

A person must pay a certain price for everything he does. Eating requires chewing, resting requires sleeping, and even breathing requires physical operation. He is no exception, and he knows that Savita will probably complain about this.

However, Khalil did not expect that his ‘complaints’ would be so strong.

"This whole thing has nothing to do with hunters, Yago." Khalil persuaded him gently. "There is absolutely no need for you to say such harsh words."

Savita sneered without looking back.

"Come on, instructor. He planned this whole thing. Without that book, you wouldn't have been able to get to Fenris, and who gave you that book? Who was secretly planning to let you do this? What you gain is not worth the loss?”

"I haven't lost anything," Khalil tried to argue, but stopped mid-sentence and stopped talking.

There was a wave of moonlight undulating in his shadow.

Bjorn glanced at it, then immediately looked away, and gave a light punch to Azek Ahriman who was looking at him intently.

The poet blocked with his elbow in anger, and whispered a series of extremely dirty curses in Fenrisian. Bjorn laughed lowly, turned his face away, and the laughter was hidden in his beard.

Sevatar stared at the hunter, and with a little force in his right hand holding the knife, the short knife accurately avoided the main blood vessels and cut into the hunter's neck.

The hot blood fell slowly, creating bright red blooming flowers one after another on his power armor.

The hunter remained unmoved. He remained calm and shook his head slightly so that the blade would sink deeper, just like he was about to kill at the neck.

"We all have our responsibilities, Sevatar. Unfortunately, I can't let you know the whole story, but I can assure you that I have a clear conscience."

"Even if you kill me now, I won't have any hatred towards you. In fact, I will personally tell our genetic father in the wilderness how outstanding his eldest son is."

Sevatar slowly turned out his fangs and showed him a stern expression that was half a smile, but suddenly withdrew the knife.

"Never again, mark my words, hunter."

He turned around, sheathed his sword, said a cold word, and walked straight towards Bjorn. The subsequent series of exchanges between the two all took place in just one minute, and were concise and concise, without any sloppiness.

"Political visit?" Bjorn asked.

"No, Chapter Exchange," Sevatar said with a smirk. "Is there a party?"

"Yes, you can have as many as you want. How big do you want it to be?"

"We only have five hundred people here. You can figure it out - ah, no, it's five hundred and two people."

Bjorn grinned: "Then let's drive it in the Great Wolf Hall, how about it?"

"So grand?"

The lone wolf tilted his head and pointed at Khalil who was silent aside. He didn't say anything, but it seemed like he had said everything.

Khalil raised his hands, covered his face, and took the initiative to doubt the decision he made when he was controlled by the 'moral code'.

——

The fortress monastery of the Space Wolves is called the Wolf Fang, and it is a fortress so huge that it is almost exaggerated. Although it cannot compare with the palace, it is still suffocatingly large.

It is located on the highest peak of the Asaheim Central Mountains in Fenris. It is located on the top of the mountains and can completely overlook the entire ice sheet and frozen soil. The reason why it should be built at such a high place not only has symbolic meaning, but also has very serious strategic significance.

Thanks to the relationship between altitude and its own height, Wolffang is able to penetrate the atmosphere and directly provide a docking point for ships arriving in low-Earth orbit. This way the pack, or anyone visiting, can actually reach Fenris quickly and safely.

From this point of view, Wolf Fang Castle can completely metaphor the personalities of wild wolves. Everyone in the world thinks that they built this place so high as a symbol, but few people realize the wisdom they hide.

Of course. Sometimes, the two are not contradictory.

Khalil stopped and watched as Bjorn touched the rock with his hands. They were in a secret passage. There were countless such secret passages in Wolf Fang Castle. Most of them could only be remembered by the lone wolf and the blind man who had experienced them for thousands of years.

Therefore, they are in a state of disrepair as expected, but it is not cold here.

The geothermal heat brought bursts of warmth along the cracks in the stones. The wolves kept whispering behind the tunnel, seeming to complain about the temperature. The air carried the stench of fur and the stench of sweat produced by the sons of Russ with their well-developed sweat glands.

This was quite displeasing to the Children of the Night - at this moment, out of etiquette, they all took off their helmets, their pale faces tensed up in the darkness, and they held their breath, as if they were no longer Nor the breathing dead.

Khalil took all these things into consideration, and his remaining sense of humor finally came into play, causing him to smile and causing the expressionless Yago Savitarian beside him to ask a question.

"Don't you feel bad, instructor?" he asked very directly.

"Didn't you smell something worse than this when you were living in a shanty town?" Khalil asked.

"This is different." Sevita frowned. "Lack of attention to hygiene caused by the environment and lack of attention to hygiene caused by personal choice are two different things."

"Come on, you cold-blooded bat who always fakes a smile."

Bjorn, who was looking for the mechanism, heard this sentence and immediately snorted and gave his own rebuttal.

"If you are able, come and live in Fenris for a while. I'll see if you can practice good hygiene in this extremely cold weather. Although the fur stinks, at least it will keep you warm. Mead is scorching, but it's also warm."

Sevatar raised his hand with a fake smile, pulled a red-haired bloody claw from Azek Ahriman, and grabbed it with his right hand - or rather, claw - without hesitation. Man's scruffy beard.

The remains of food fell slowly.

"...He is a special case." The blind poet spoke slowly. "Lucas is not a universal image. If you want to find a standard image that can represent most wolves, you should look for the young brother next to me."

Ragnar Thunderfist blushed, straightened his chest, and raised and lowered his polished gauntlets seemingly inadvertently, as if he had forgotten where his hands should be.

Sevatar finally burst into laughter, almost hilarious, in fact.

The other four chapter leaders in the team of 500 people stood not far away, staring at his overjoyed face and looking at each other silently.

Kaiul Sahora was the first to speak: "It seems that what Orak think tank said is true, our eldest brother is indeed crazy."

"It's mental disorder." The hunter corrected quietly. "This is two different things from being crazy."

"It's the same thing." Scaladrick retorted seriously and gloomily. "Insanity is one interpretation of the word 'mad' in the secular sense. Moreover, hasn't he already suffered from various mental illnesses?"

"You should know that both he and the instructor can hear us talking, right?"

Sheher Lenghun couldn't help but remind him. He shook his head without hesitation, and knocked on the stone wall beside him. A muffled sound began to reverberate in this winding secret passage.

The Supreme Grand Leader spoke again and said: "Besides, other people can probably hear what you are talking about - such as those stinking wolf pups."

There was a howl and excited laughter from behind the pack.

"We can hear you, Grand Master!" someone shouted. "But what does it matter? This cannot affect my respect for Lord Yago Severtarion!"

Sevatar turned his head sharply, bared his teeth and spat out a burst of Fenrisian slang. The speed and precision of his words even made Bjorn look at him with suspicion.

The lone wolf waited until he finished scolding before speaking: "You really learned a lot from Russ, Sevita."

"I didn't learn." Savitar returned to his expressionless expression after a while. "I didn't teach him anything either."

He said this while looking at Khalil, who was staring at him silently, his hands clasped together and placed in front of him. The joints of the ten fingers are distinct, and veins protrude from the back of the hand.

So the farce stopped.

Eleven minutes later, this large team with a very strange composition finally left the secret passage and entered directly into the main hall of the Wolf Fang Castle.

This is also called the Leman Russ Hall. Once upon a time, the Wolf King held banquets here one after another.

His chair was still on the high platform, alone and covered with fur. Two sleeping giant wolves lay next to it, one on the left and one on the right.

From under this high platform, countless long wooden tables filled the huge hall, and the tables were filled with steaming various delicacies, as well as barrels of indispensable Fenris specialty wine.

Flags were flying to the wind, and the wolves that had already arrived were struggling around the table. The cold wind howled, and the skylight fell on the ground from the observation hole deliberately left above the head, illuminating their faces.

The weapons were hung on the walls, and the ground was covered with a thick carpet, which was deeply dented by the giants coming and going. Mead flowed freely on it, as well as the blood left from the fight.

Bjorn took a deep breath and nodded with great satisfaction. He strode away from the team and walked straight to the high platform.

He shouted something in Fenrisian, and the hall fell silent. Kalil looked back and found that the wild wolves who had followed them back had left the team and each had found their seats.

A few seconds later, all the wild wolves shouted in unison at this moment, one sound stronger than the other, like thunder or a war cry. They roared, stood up, and began to hammer their chests with their right hands. The sound of gold and iron colliding was endless, and it was also louder and louder.

Countless wild beast pupils were staring at this team at this moment, but Kalil could clearly sense that they were coming towards him.

And the words they shouted

welcome back?

Khalil couldn't help but lowered his head and sighed, but he also smiled. Faced with such a grand and warm welcome, even he didn't know what to say.

However, the wolves didn't care. They quickly pulled all five hundred Nightborne to the long table. Regardless of whether the other party was a chapter leader or a battle brother, the drinking party began immediately. Then there are stories, jokes, and requests for competition.

Even Khalil was pulled to a wooden table by Bjorn and Ahriman. Twelve thick wooden wine glasses were immediately raised. Bjorn also grabbed his own wine glass, grinned, and said Khalil nodded.

"We won't treat you as an 'adult'!" He winked at him, then turned his hand and stuffed another wine glass over. "Drink first, instructor!"

Khalil held the glass, raised his head, and drank it all.

He actually tasted it.