40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 545 63. A little bit of simple physiology (5k, plus 1/5 update)

When Robert Guilliman walked into the former assembly hall that had been temporarily requisitioned as an anatomy room, he noticed that the cold air was filled with choking black smoke. Compared with them, the extremely rich smell of blood seems to be less concerning.

Guilliman frowned. He knew that the smoke was a powerful disinfectant measure during the transformation process. Judging from their external performance, the entire disinfection measure has reached the final step.

Only when the smoke turns into a colorless and odorless white mist will the mortal servants be allowed to enter. Until then, the environment here will have an impact on them.

Of course, even if they do enter this place, it will only be when it is no longer used as an anatomy room.

It is worth mentioning that these comprehensive disinfection measures are actually theoretical knowledge obtained from a chapter called the Purifiers.

After it was proven to be effective many times, Guilliman introduced it to the Ultramarines and various sub-groups, requesting it to be used as a general disinfection method and as an extreme countermeasure in rare cases.

"Salar!" Robert Guilliman shouted into the smoke. "Where are you?!"

His words were met with a muffled cough, and the apothecary from the Raven Guard strode through the black smoke and appeared before him.

He was not wearing a helmet and his armor was covered in blood. A temporary mask made of polymer material was worn on the lower half of his face. This rough mask would not be removed until his severe injuries recovered to a certain extent.

Several bone nails were driven into the edge of the mask, firmly fixing this slightly terrifying medical measure on his face.

Compared to the injuries on his face, the condition of his left hand was slightly better. It didn't take long for the technical sergeants to install a prosthetic leg for him.

Although it was just an old model found in the warehouse and could not be used for any fine work, it could at least allow him to hold some potions and other things with his left hand, so that he would not face the embarrassing dilemma of having only one hand to use.

The pharmacist had no objection to this. Firstly, he did not have time to cooperate with the technical sergeants in performing complex neurological adjustments. Secondly, he could perform dissection work with one hand.

As a member of the association, he still has this confidence.

"My lord." Seral bowed to Guilliman. "I must remind you that my work is not over yet."

"I know, and this is one of the reasons why I temporarily interrupted you." Guilliman said, pretending not to hear what Seral meant.

"grown ups?"

"I found you a new helper."

His words made Seral a little confused. The Crow Guard even raised his head and glanced at the tall primarch, but only received an intriguing gaze.

At this time, the 'anatomy room' contained a total of 422 main anatomical objects and the remains of thousands of victims. As early as four hours ago, Guilliman issued an order and urgently dispatched twenty pharmacists to help.

They were temporarily away from the patients and came to another place where medical knowledge was urgently needed. Seral welcomed their arrival, which simply solved an urgent need, but it also meant that he did not lack helpers now.

However, he still wanted to know what kind of talent Robert Guilliman could come to recommend in person.

Half a second later, he saw a mortal man wearing black robes slowly walking out from behind Guilliman. He was not very impressive.

The pharmacist's expression turned a little surprised.

"Khalil Roharth," said the Lord of Macragge. "He'll help you with your research, Seral."

After he finished speaking, he turned around and left, leaving behind a confused Seral. Not only that, the surprise has now even turned into consternation - he has never seen Robert Guilliman so ill-considered. Is it really appropriate to send a mortal here?

However, considering the situation they are facing now, this may be normal.

The Primarch is human and will inevitably make mistakes. And if he is right, then this person must have something special about him.

The Crow Guard thought about this, said nothing, and just turned around. The medical arm extended from his back and threw a human-sized filter mask to Khalil.

"Well, come on. Are you a combat medic? Or did you attend some medical school?"

"None of that." Khalil said. He had already put on the thick filter mask, and his voice became very hoarse.

".What?"

"I have not studied in any academy, and I have never treated anyone. In fact, I am not a doctor, Selal Apothecary."

Seral offered another guess: "So, you're an ex-soldier?"

"I'm not technically a soldier, but I did fight in a few wars."

Seral frowned and stopped, turned around and looked at this mortal named Khalil Lohars.

The latter stood there, accepting his doubtful and slightly cold inspection, unmoved. He stood quietly like that, his hands hanging down naturally. Blood, smoke or other things didn't seem to exist to him.

It was only then that Seral discovered that he was actually very tall among mortals. Not only that, his eyes had no distinction between black and white or pupils. They were pure black, which was the hallmark of the Nostramos.

Throughout the entire galaxy, only people from the Star of Eternal Night have such a pair of eyes that cannot see bright light.

".Are you from Nostramo?"

Khalil smiled obviously, nodded, and did not continue the topic.

Seral looked at him deeply. The doubts in his heart not only did not decrease, but became more, but he was no longer prepared to continue asking.

This doesn't make sense.

The top priority is to seize the time to perform the autopsy. Compared with what they are about to face next, the identity of this person is not his primary concern.

Seral turned around and walked towards his workplace again, deliberately slowing down, with Khalil following closely behind. As they went deeper, what was hidden in the black smoke was fully revealed.

Dozens of cold iron platforms were fixed to the floor of the hall, and the iron hooks used to hang the corpses were moved on top of them through a transport platform. The corpses lowered their heads and were suspended and moved without any respect. .

The pharmacists were busy like workers, their gloves already stained with blood, and their servo skulls were floating above their heads, constantly recording. The anti-gravity blades swallow the smoke and slowly discharge it, passively evolving the air.

The servitors carrying corpses or replacement dissection tools carefully avoided the cables laying on the ground, walking hard amidst the cruel sounds of flesh and blood being cut and bones being rubbed, trying to complete the tasks assigned to them. .

The pale lights pierced the black fog at the top of the slaughterhouse, illuminating the area near the iron platform as if it were daytime. However, it did not dispel the terrifying atmosphere, but made everything even more gloomy.

If anyone asked, Seral would rant about it - he really didn't like this working environment, but it was the best he could find right now.

The medical hall on Macragge's Glory was attacked during the recent riot, the energy supply pipeline was cut off, and the program set the fifteen doors to be completely locked.

If you wanted to get in, you had to wait until the tech sergeants and boatmen opened it, but they didn't have time to do that now. One-third of Macragge's Glory's engines are in urgent need of repair. Until the power is fully restored, the medical hall can only continue to wait.

Seral raised his hand and pointed to an empty iron platform slightly closer to his work place.

"You can start working there if you want. I'll have the servitor find you a set of tools you can use."

"I don't think that's necessary, Apothecary Seral," Khalil said quietly.

He walked towards Seral's workplace, where there was the remains of a monster with only the upper body left. Its blood has been drained and it has been embalmed. The whole body looks much shriveled out of thin air, but it still looks huge.

There was a huge wound on its chest and abdomen, probably caused by a surgical saw. The bones and internal organs were taken out one by one and set aside. It is worth mentioning that its face has also been peeled off.

He walked to the iron platform and began to observe it carefully. Seeing his behavior, Seral couldn't help but frown.

If it were an ordinary mortal, he might have begun to persuade the other party to recognize the reality, but...

"Pharmacist Seral, before we officially start, I would like to ask a few questions." Khalil spoke softly. He was looking at the corpse on the iron platform intently, without any discomfort on his face.

"Your autopsy report mentioned that you believed that the existence of this creature violated the most basic physiology, didn't you?"

"Of course." Seral crossed his hands and replied slowly. "The flesh and blood that make up their bodies comes from many different people, men, women, old and young, without any restrictions."

"Take the one in front of you as an example. His spine may be composed of several men between thirty and fifty years old, but some of the muscles on his right forearm come from a teenager."

"For me, let alone natural birth, even if it is a surgical transformation, the rejection reaction alone is enough for these things to die dozens of times."

"But they are alive - at least they were alive," Khalil said.

As he finished speaking, he stretched out his right hand and put his index finger on the corpse's mouth. Before Seral could even stop him, he saw a drop of blood pouring out of his index finger and falling into the corpse's mouth.

The next second, the lifeless body began to tremble violently. Its shriveled skin was stretched back up with a weird sticky sound, its muscles twitched, and its eyeballs moved wildly in its sockets without warning.

Seeing this scene, the Crow Guard pulled out an explosive musket from his waist without saying a word and pointed it at Khalil.

"Don't shoot for now, pharmacist. Besides, explosive weapons may affect other people's anatomy materials, right? Do you have any other guns?" Khalil said without looking back.

The Crow Guard was silent and put on another bolter he inherited, took a step closer, and pointed the muzzle at the back of his head.

The screams became more intense, and the pharmacists put down their work and walked towards here. They remained silent, making multiple eye contact with Seral over several seconds.

Khalil just lowered his head, not paying much attention to everything around him, and his attention was completely focused on the resurrected corpse.

The screaming lasted for five minutes before it stopped.

"Where am I?" 'Robert Guilliman' asked blankly. It sounds like two dry logs rubbing against each other.

Khalil said: "You are on the Macragge's Glory. To be precise, it is the fifth deck of the Macragge's Glory. This is the assembly hall of the Ultramarines."

The monster with only half its body left looked around and groaned from its throat: "I can't see it. What's the difference between this place and the slaughterhouse?"

"The difference is that no life is being murdered here. This place has been temporarily requisitioned and used as an anatomy hall." Khalil began to explain very patiently. "Do you have any more questions?"

The monster looked at him and shook his head very hard: "No more."

"So, are you still hungry?"

"I'm not hungry anymore." The monster said, a little surprise suddenly appeared on his face. "In fact, I don't think I've ever been so full."

"Do you still have any memory of your past?"

"Oh, yes," it said. "But memory is such a weird word."

"Why? Don't you have any memory of the past?"

It pondered for a while, and then gave its own answer while looking at the surroundings full of danger: "I think, probably none. If you look at it according to the definition of memory, my past is just some chaotic pictures. They are obviously not worthy. It’s called memory, right?”

"So - what does it look like?"

The monster was silent for a few seconds, and his throat suddenly rolled up and down, and there was an obvious nausea on his face: ".I don't want to say it."

Khalil smiled, took off his filter mask, and winked at it: "You ate people."

"."

"To be precise, you ate thirty-two of them. Do you need me to say more? For example, their gender, age, name or the last words they said before they died?"

"who are you?"

"I'm the one who feeds you," Khalil said. "In other words, I saved you from the state of a mindless and soulless beast. I don't expect you to thank me for anything, but I hope to ask you some questions."

This time the monster brooded longer. The apothecaries from the Ultramarines saw something eerily familiar in that shameless face.

"Well, you ask," it finally said. "But I want you to kill me after you ask."

Khalil raised an eyebrow.

"So, first question - why?"

"What?"

"Why do you want me to kill you?"

"Because this is not living." The monster said clearly. "At least it is very different from my own definition of life. I don't know what kind of creature I am, but I think this life form is unclean and poisonous."

"My mere existence will endanger those who believe in me - no, believe in Robert Guilliman. Therefore, I should not be alive in terms of emotion, reason, public or private."

"You know something about faith?"

The monster raised the muscles on his face and nodded with a smile, his tone actually sounded a little emotional.

"Of course I know, after all, I was born of it. I can still remember the prayers that prompted my birth. They believed in Robert Guilliman with all their hearts, and I"

It fell silent again.

"And you ate them up the first moment after they were born." Khalil said calmly. "You are an illusory creation, an empty shell fabricated by people's beliefs. You need something to maintain your existence in the material world."

"In order to achieve this goal, your instinct drives you to pounce on the nearest living creature. However, even if you eat some more, you are still just an empty shell. To obtain the intelligence you have now, you need to eat at least a few Only ten thousand people or some special individuals.”

"And by that time, I'm afraid you have already lost the right to choose."

The monster looked at him blankly for a long time, then asked: "Who made me up?"

Khalil didn't answer, just looked at it with pity. The monster stared at him blankly, its broken half like a broken puppet under the pale light.

After a few seconds, it lowered its head as if enlightened.

A flash of silver light flashed away, shaking the air and cutting off a head.

Seral's expression suddenly changed. He didn't see clearly how the knife appeared in Khalil's hand, and how he swung it out and smoothly killed the resurrected monster.

In shock, he even had a faint urge to pull the trigger immediately.

However, no sooner had this idea been born than the bolter's magazine suddenly fell to the ground. Immediately afterwards, the opened bolt returned to the closed state with a bang, and finally the safety,

Seral watched helplessly as its two safeties were completely closed spontaneously, and the Raven emblem on the muzzle looked so terrifying at this moment.

Khalil turned around, glanced at the gun, and suddenly smiled.

"Alastor Rorschach's gun is interesting. So, goodbye, Apothecary Seral, and everyone else. I'm sorry for causing you trouble."

"Where are you going?" Seral blurted out.

"How about I go back and report to Lord Robert Guilliman the results I just discovered?" Khalil said as he bent down to pick up the magazine and handed it to Seral.

"You-" the pharmacist took a deep breath, calmed down, and reached out to take the magazine. "——I also have a few questions to ask you."

"Why do you think I would answer?" Khalil asked.

He looked at him with a half-smile, naturally showing a weird joy that had never been shown in thousands of years ago.