40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 535 53. Record of the Chapter Era (Fourteen, Ashes of Macragge)

Khalil folded his hands without saying a word and leaned against the wall. Compared with the giants walking around, he was still an inconspicuous little mortal.

The Sons of Calth, clad in gun-grey armor, had no idea that the man was carrying a copy of Macragge's last remnants in his sleeve.

If he didn't say anything, they would know nothing about it and just rush to the front line.

Fortress No. 6 had been recaptured, much faster than they imagined. Not to be outdone, the descendants of Robert Guilliman immediately decided that they would take Fortress No. 7 back together and completely rebuild the material transportation route.

Savita raised some vague concerns about this, but Khalil did not nod in agreement.

The Astartes have always had strong self-esteem, and not many of them are willing to hand over their own tasks to others. But Sevatar's worries are not unreasonable. If there is a statue in Fortress No. 6, who can guarantee that No. 7 There isn’t one in the fortress?

In other words, how many such statues are there in the entire Calth, or in the entire Ultraman?

"Erebus is essentially a conspirator who likes to cast a wide net, instructor. If you find a little clue, it means that he has laid a whole web of conspiracy."

"He has the ability to preach to these mutants who have lost the ability to speak. So, what about other worlds in Ultraman? What about those who truly believe in Robert Guilliman and think he is the savior and son of the gods? I don't believe it. The bastard will let them go."

Khalil quietly chewed Seveta's cold words, splitting and chewing the words one by one and swallowing them one by one. He must admit that although there are many inconveniences when he is a god, within a certain range, Omniscient' still struck him fondly.

When dealing with chaos, it is inevitable to be plotted. If there is some way to have an overview of the whole situation from the beginning, so that these conspiracies can be hidden, perhaps more lives can be saved.

But he is no longer God.

Khalil lowered his head, put his hands out of his cuffs, and began to observe carefully. He didn't see the calluses left by holding the knife before. The hands now looked slender and clean, more suitable for holding a paintbrush or playing a musical instrument than carrying out brutal killings.

He smiled and decided to start holding the knife again today.

He is a person who only knows how to use violence to talk to the world. For now, his old tricks are still not outdated. So, he's going to pick it up.

".Instructor Khalil."

Khalil looked up and saw Hectors Calgio, the Chapter Master standing before him in full armor.

Engraved on his left shoulder armor is a radiating Death Star, shaped like a skull, with the wings of an eagle raised at both ends, giving it a chilling look. This is the emblem of the Sons of Calth. It is quite serious, and one can tell at a glance that it carries a heavy history.

"Is something wrong, Chapter Master Calgio?"

"Yes." Calgio hesitated for less than a second, nodded, and then revealed all his questions.

"I want to know, who are you?"

"Are you asking this question because of the familiarity Robert Guilliman has shown me?"

"Yes."

"Iago Severtarion has fully explained to you that I am the instructor of the Eighth Legion and the adoptive father of Konrad Curze - but I guess you don't have much real sense of these identities. After all, what happened ten thousand years ago is too long ago.”

"You want to know more about how a mortal like me survives to this day, don't you?"

"Yes," Calgio repeated again.

The lifting platform rumbled behind him. A company of Sons of Calth had just been sent to the surface. This huge machine was now descending rapidly. The Calth local defense force drove past them and rushed towards A gathering platform for them.

For ten thousand years they fought alongside the Sons of Calth.

There was a chill in the air, and the heating system where the Sons of Calth were stationed had little effect on the huge shaft, not even the geothermal heat. The abnormal cold destroyed everything, and people's breath turned into white mist and quietly escaped in the air.

Behind Calgio, his company was waiting quietly.

Khalil nodded to him gently: "But I won't tell you this, Chapter Master Calgio. The past is in the past, and even I have no right to continue to mention it. But I can tell you about it. A story about your genetic father, if you want to hear it."

Calgio expressed his wish with his eyes.

"I wish you a triumphant victory," Khalil said with a smile. "I'll have a story ready."

He watched them leave, then walked quietly into the darkness - to this day, Khalil still likes to be alone.

This is not to say that he is ashamed of being with people, but sometimes, he prefers the quietness brought by being alone. The silence helps him continue to think and pick up old memories.

He needs to find a way to get back to the way he once thought as Khalil Lohars, instead of the crazy escaped prisoner he is now.

No one likes to be around a madman, especially one with an extreme desire to self-destruct.

He sighed and walked towards the depths of the Sons of Calth's quarters.

Robert Guilliman had given him privileges as early as the end of the last star language. He could borrow that formation to contact him at any time. This was also the goal of Kalil's trip.

Some things cannot be delayed. The sooner Guilliman learns what happened in Fortress No. 6, the better. He quietly passed by the patrolling sentry and walked into the wide space engraved with the magic circle without being noticed by anyone or anything.

The automatic sensor lights couldn't even detect his presence. The darkness still existed and had not yet been dispelled by the light. Khalil knelt down and gently touched the ground with his hand, feeling an astonishing roughness.

He continued to feel with his fingertips, taking in the feeling very carefully, but also greedily - the scars left by the prison of nothingness still hadn't healed.

Finally, he found the core of the magic circle.

In the center of a series of very simple patterns, there is a long name written in cursive script - Lord of Macragge, Lord of Ultramar, Lord of Five Hundred Worlds, and the most loyal number one to the Emperor of Mankind. The Thirteenth Son, the Vengeful Son, the Primarch of the Ultramarines, Robert Guilliman.

Staring at this line of text, Khalil briefly felt the urge to laugh.

All his knowledge of psychic spells comes from the books he once read in Malcador's library. Although he is not a master in this field, he can be regarded as one of the practitioners.

Therefore, he fully understood that there was no need to write this line at all. The real core was hidden in the center of Robert Guilliman's name. Within those High Gothic letters lay quietly a small piece of inconspicuous steel

It comes from Macragge's Glory.

Khalil reached out and tapped it gently, and the steel immediately began to glow.

With it as the center, simple patterns began to light up one after another, and soon the dark hall was illuminated like daylight. Khalil stood up and began to straighten his appearance.

He slowly tightened his collar, smoothed out the wrinkles, and then stood in the light with his head held high.

A few seconds later, amid the slight hum of the magic circle's continuous operation, countless light points rose into the sky, forming the image of a giant with steady steps. As soon as he appeared, he took steps towards Khalil.

Khalil raised his head, looked at the outstretched right hand, and smiled unconsciously.

"Nice joke." He commented, and even raised his hand to gesture to Robert Guilliman. "But I can't shake your hand now, Robert."

"You can't..." Guilliman pulled back his hand and winked at him. "What I mean is - are there any restrictions on your psychic spells?"

"There are no restrictions. I just find it convenient to live in a normal size. You see, now I no longer have to hug my legs when riding in a vehicle, nor do I need to find someone to order special clothes, tableware or Separate beds and I can be pretty inconspicuous.”

Guilliman put his hands behind his back, his eyes under his white hair full of smiles.

"But you are a master of stealth, Khalil. As long as you don't want to be discovered, who can see you?"

"Standing casually in the crowd without attracting attention are two different things from using skills to hide in the dark. Anyway, I have something to tell you."

"I guessed it." Guilliman nodded, his smile immediately fading. "What's up?"

Khalil retracted his right hand and then stretched it out again. As if by magic, a small gray stone appeared on his palm.

There's nothing special about it, it just looks like an ordinary stone. Guilliman slowly frowned. He bent down and observed the stone carefully.

Within a few seconds, an extremely strong hatred broke through the shackles of his reason, causing the face formed by the light spots to become distorted.

"It seems that you have already guessed whose handiwork this is?" Khalil took back the stone and asked.

Guilliman nodded slowly and firmly.

He didn't say the name, but tightly closed his lips. I would rather let it turn into a sharp blade and cut my lips and tongue than reveal this name a little bit.

Khalil stared at him, feeling the resentment and hatred in his heart, and had a rough understanding of what Robert Guilliman had experienced in these ten thousand years.

But he didn't mention it, nor did he show concern. He just continued to pursue the topic along his own train of thought. He told Guilliman everything about Fortress Six, who was frightened and angry, but did not let his anger break through his reason.

He was as calm as a piece of ice, even when hearing specific descriptions. Guilliman didn't speak until Khalil finished speaking.

"It seems that I need to thoroughly investigate the Five Hundred Worlds." He frowned and said slowly. "A giant rat sneaked into my home during the war. It must have chewed something and contaminated something."

"Need help?" Khalil asked. "The Nightborne are more than happy to assist you."

"Then I will be disrespectful," said Guilliman.

He was still frowning, not relaxing for a moment at the help. His whole body was completely tense, and Khalil could even see Robert Guilliman's nerves under high pressure at this moment from the image formed by this light spot.

He understood that the Lord of Macragge might now have entered his world-famous multi-threaded thinking mode.

In this state, he will review every detail in his memory over and over again in order to find any clues that may lead to Erebus's conspiracy.

However, this can be very tiring. But now no one can persuade Robert Guilliman to stop and take a rest. The only person who can do this is probably long dead.

"Be careful." Khalil said again. "But don't overwork yourself, Robert. You're in a state that would make your father miserable."

Hearing this, Guilliman temporarily stopped thinking. He raised his head, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes slowly relaxed, feeling a bit happy.

He raised the corners of his mouth and asked deliberately: "Which one?"

Khalil looked at him rather surprised.

Guilliman couldn't help laughing at his reaction. As he laughed, he said: "I also have a sense of humor, Khalil, don't think of me as too bitter and hateful."

"This is just another stumbling block that needs to be dealt with, and it's far from the point where I need to be older."

Staring at him, Khalil also smiled silently.

Robert Guilliman would not know that this smile was not because of his appropriated joke, but because of the bright spot of light behind him.

They formed a cloak that sloped down from his shoulders, looking like a knitted shining galaxy, creating a swath of deep blue silk.

Looking at it, a voice sounded in Khalil's ears. It was the voice of an old woman when she was dying.

It should have sounded more like a murmur to oneself, or a murmur in sleep, but this woman used her infinite tolerance and gentleness to turn it into a sentence that could sustain someone for thousands of years. pillar.

"As Macragge stands forever, so shall we, Robert."

Khalil sighed softly, and he didn't know whether it was out of a little revenge, or just because he didn't want to say it out loud, but he actually said: "Your mother is great, Robert."

His words stunned Guilliman, and then, the light spots that made up his face began to fluctuate rapidly.

Obviously, he had many questions to ask, but Kalil took a step back and left the center of the formation. The light suddenly went out, and Guilliman's question was stuck in his throat, never being spit out. In the darkness, Khalil began to take steps.

His shadow whispered quietly.

+He will definitely accuse you then+

+And I'll push you out as a shield, Conrad. +

+What? Do you want to see our brothers reunite? +

+Maybe. +

Khalil smiled and shook his head, his steps becoming brisk again.

The update is complete and will continue to be updated tomorrow.