40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 554 72. Dark Crusade (6, Invitation from Hell)

If a person already lives in hell, then what reason does he have to refuse the invitation from hell?

Robert Guilliman could think of no reason.

He held a wooden board and drove it deeply into the mud with both hands. He didn't hammer it with a hammer or turn over the soil in advance with a hoe. It seemed that he didn't even use any effort, and the board sank deeply into the mud.

He turned around, bent down, picked up another plank, and plunged it into the ground again. His work is nothing compared to the design drawings in his mind, but this is the best condition he can get at the moment.

The village and town he was in - Lafen - was a primitive and backward place.

Most of the buildings are made of wood, and two of the only three wells have dried up, forcing people to go to dangerous rivers to get water. The fortifications were better than nothing. The guards consisted of thirty-one people in total, less than half of whom were young people.

There is only one person who has actually received military training.

Robert Guilliman knew that he was a deserter, he knew it as soon as he saw the man, even though he had never seen any deserters before. But people didn't care because they were actually runaways.

Guilliman thought about this and was still very focused on his work. The scorching sun hit his back, bringing some warmth. He spent two hours erecting a wooden fence about two meters high and sixteen meters long before returning to the village.

More than a dozen big trees were piled in the square at the entrance of the village, and men and women were cutting them with axes. This was not an easy task. All these trees had absorbed enough rain from the recent heavy rain, and the wet wood needed to be cut. A few levels harder to handle than dry.

Behind them was a group of half-grown children who were carrying wood that had been processed.

They were doing this on crude wheelbarrows, and before dark all the finished wood would be transported to the other end of town. Of course, kids can often only carry one rod at a time, with most of the work actually being done by their parents.

There Guilliman would work through the night. He had a complete plan for today - to complete the construction of these fence-like walls during the day, and to dig traps behind the fence at night.

The woodwork was indeed awkward to use, but their moisture and his strength were enough to make these things a fortification capable of temporarily resisting threats. He walked through the crowd and received the warmest praise and welcome anyone could give.

Guilliman was not used to this. He had only been in this village for more than a week, and they already believed him completely.

There are only two reasons for this matter in detail. One is because he saved their priest and other people who went out to look for water from a group of green-skinned beasts. The other is because he single-handedly fought them off within a week. Received three attacks from those beasts.

People worshiped him because they were actually refugees, having escaped from a city in the south. There it was overrun by the same beasts, the armored knights were slaughtered, and the whole city was set on fire

They thought they had escaped far enough, so they built a small village here. However, for now, it seems that they have not escaped far enough.

If Guilliman had not appeared, they would probably have continued to flee. They had lost the courage to fight these beasts.

Guilliman walked towards the center of the village, where there was a relatively low wooden building for him, with a simple sky eagle painted on the outer wall with ground grass.

A middle-aged man was standing in front of the door waiting for him. He was wearing a robe that became funny due to damage, and his head was shaved, which was a symbol of his faith.

He looked at Guilliman with fear, wanting to bow or kneel, but he did not dare to do so because of his order, so he could only stay where he was and watched Robert Guilliman walk towards him little by little. In front of him, it blocked all the sunlight he could enjoy.

"Lesius." Guilliman called his name. "clam down."

His words had a certain effect. The priest stared at him with a mixture of reverence and fear, and then bowed his head deeply: "As you command, my master."

"Come with me," Guilliman said in a commanding tone.

He didn't like it, and he wasn't used to talking to people in this tone, but he had to do it. This is a primitive world where people habitually obey authority rather than what is truly worthy of belief.

But, then again, he had no right to blame the pastor. He exploited the latter's beliefs and assumed a stolen identity

Yes, he knew he was not Robert Guilliman. He has used hundreds of theoretical models to demonstrate, and the final result is without exception: he is not Robert Guilliman.

However, he wanted to live, and the feeling of living was unparalleled.

He led the priest to the back of the village, just as the children returned, and the cart he had made temporarily transformed into some sort of man-carrying toy. Several children were sitting in the dirty cart, while the older ones were pushing the cart.

They were originally smiling, their innocence and childishness were briefly released, but it stopped because of Guilliman's arrival. The children who were sitting in the cart and shaking their legs also jumped out, lowering their heads as if they had done something wrong, and quickly left with the older children.

Guilliman watched them go away, a somewhat depressed feeling spreading in his heart. He pushed the emotion aside and led the priest to the back of the village, where work awaited him.

He held a piece of wood and began to search for a suitable position. He asked: "Go on, where did we talk yesterday?"

Letius coughed a few times and hummed hesitantly before answering his question: "We talked about the lord - may the Emperor bless his soul."

"He is dead," Guilliman said. "What the Emperor does is his business, but your lord is dead and we are still alive. So go on, Lesius, and don't stop until I tell you to."

He drove the piece of wood deep into the ground.

"As you command, Master," said the priest.

The trembling in his voice was one of the signs that he was beginning to remember. What he experienced in that destroyed city was far beyond what he could bear. To him, every memory was like torture.

Guilliman sympathized with him, for there were things he himself did not want to recall, such as those deer eyes.

But he had to do it, he wanted to live.

He must know his enemy.

——

For a few seconds, Robert Guilliman thought he was sighing, but he didn't. He has experienced too many things that require sighing, and he must suppress his emotions at the moment.

This is a philosophy and a way of life. He must do this in order to clear away the fog and find the shadow of the truth among the many phantoms.

And Khalil Lohars said, "Let me pass."

Behind him was a huge screen, which belonged to an advanced cogitator.

Through a complex design, it can directly read the data on the main bridge of Macragge's Glory. It has the right to display things such as star maps, ship hull conditions, and even things captured by the auspicious omen.

Guilliman used it to observe the situation on the main bridge in real time in his study. He could not stay there all the time, but there were some data that only he could detect anomalies from.

In order to avoid repeating certain mistakes, he specially installed this meditator.

"No," said Guilliman.

"Why not? Killing without blood is always a good choice." Khalil persuaded gently. "Letting me go is essentially the same thing as sending your company there, and it will lead to a common outcome."

"You were not so eager to fight in the past, Khalil." Guilliman rubbed his brows with a headache, and spoke slowly while considering his words. "And how are you going to board the ship?"

"A shuttle."

Guilliman frowned, his words becoming sharper.

"With all due respect, Khalil, but they will shoot down your ship. These aliens are not like the ones we have seen in the past, Khalil. Most of them are cunning, cruel, and arrogant, and love unnecessary torture. "

"They have been harassing Ultramar for thousands of years, maintaining their annoying mosquito bites, pillaging the planet, stealing resources, and even kidnapping our people to use as slaves."

"One of my sub-groups has been fighting these damn aliens for a long time near their hometown. So believe me, everything they said is a lie, not to mention that they robbed one of our ships and then expressed themselves later. To negotiate."

"Doesn't this sound ridiculous? It's hard for me not to interpret their behavior as a roundabout strategy adopted after seeing on the main bridge that the main enemy was a fleet that they could never defeat."

Khalil smiled.

"It seems like you really don't like these aliens." He said with some emotion. "Ten thousand years ago, you were even considered a very enlightened person among the Primarchs, Robert."

"Enlightenment cannot be a shield. If enlightenment can save my people from these disasters, then I will stand up and accept all new things and theoretical knowledge in the universe."

After Guilliman finished speaking, he resolutely raised his right hand and chopped it off like a sword.

"Forgive me for not agreeing to your proposal, Khalil. Judging from the behavior of these aliens, there are probably no living people on that ship. Even if there are still, they are being tortured. In other words, I will not recapture it. try."

Khalil didn't answer, just turned around and looked at the screen. More than four days have passed since that meeting, and Macragge's Glory and accompanying fleet, which were moving at full speed, have successfully arrived in southern Ultramar.

All the planets along the way were normal, but when they were about to arrive at Endemang, they encountered a medium-sized transport ship floating on the route. It was experiencing engine failure and the hull was on fire.

After a brief communication through the ship's communication, the captain of the transport ship responded that they were being plundered by the Eldar. And this was a few minutes ago, Robert Guilliman firmly believed that the captain was dead.

He said that the captain's actions would anger the arrogant Eldar and they would kill him, but Khalil disagreed. Humans are not the only race in this universe. He understood this many years ago.

Then, after some reading and the establishment of the Inquisition, this knowledge was quickly expanded.

The Eldar are a race that is often mentioned in Aliens. As early as ten thousand years ago, Malcador and his spies had already investigated this race, and finally concluded that there are multiple factions within the Eldar. .

It's not like a country, but more like a splintered tribe or something like that. This kind of investigation could have continued until they found a way to eliminate these aliens once and for all. However, not long after the Inquisition was established, the tragic war broke out completely.

It was not until many years after the war that the investigation was reopened, led by Luther of Caliban. The results of their investigations were firmly memorized by many inquisitors, and the knowledge was not lost until their death.

In other words, Khalil already knows a lot about the Eldar, and this knowledge may be full of prejudices and stereotypes. However, at least for the human race, it is completely sufficient.

Regarding this matter, he wanted to laugh at himself: By gaining knowledge from the memories of dead people in this way, is he considered a different kind of ghoul?

"I still stand by my offer, Robert," Khalil said thoughtfully. "A shuttle, piloted by myself. I will use a psychic barrier to protect it. The artillery position of the transport ship is half paralyzed. It is unable to break through the barrier and shoot me down."

After he said this, he heard Guilliman sighing heavily, his voice full of annoyance and helplessness.

"Why...?" he asked hesitantly.

"Because of this matter-" Khalil turned around, his expression calm again. "—I mean this whole thing, the riots, the religion, the statue of you."

Guilliman frowned and calmed down instantly. He raised his right hand again and made a gesture, indicating to Khalil to continue speaking. Roboute Guilliman has probably always been like this, except for a few moments when he has always seriously considered the advice of others.

"Erebus shaped this conspiracy, but now the direction of things has obviously gone beyond what he originally imagined. Therefore, you don't need me to say anything more to know who is behind it."

"Not only that, he was behind my escape. And now, the Eldar are also involved in this matter. And among these aliens are some so-called prophets that are the only ones seen in the galaxy."

"You want to take advantage of them?"

Khalil nodded.

Guilliman covered his face, took a deep breath, then put his hands down and asked slightly confused: "Then why didn't you tell me these things at the beginning?"

Khalil didn't answer, but pointed to his own shadow, with a slightly apologetic look on his face.