40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 558 76. Dark Crusade (10, Kaban Ha)

The Eldar succumbed quickly to Robert Guilliman.

And, since then, they seem to have stopped nagging. Several place names were quickly thrown out by these aliens. They were very familiar with the names of these worlds, as if they had visited them many times.

Janus was disgusted by this. He knew that the Eldar were divided, but he didn't bother to get to the bottom of it.

Finding the murderer is something that judges who believe in justice and law will do. As for foreigners, they are all treated equally by the third company commander - any alien deserves to die.

However, this is not the biggest reason why he is standing behind an Ada with his sword.

"That's it." Naida said in Gothic, pointing with her right hand to the projection of the star map. "An unnamed planet is here, Astartes."

It chanted the four words Astarte in a cadence, as if it were reciting poetry, forcing Janus to frown deeply.

He suppressed a certain instinct that could be called 'hate' that he had gained from years of fighting, and tried hard to keep his tone calm and untroubled - he succeeded in doing this, but at a certain cost. bitter.

At this moment, he seemed to see those people who died because of the Spirit Race again.

"You'd better check it out," Janus warned. "If you make the slightest mistake, you and your kind will die."

Hearing his words, the Eldar turned around. Its body under the robe was slender and without any armor. Janus squinted his eyes and began to dismantle its flesh and bones in public with a gaze like a war butcher's, thinking about which direction he would swing his sword to kill it later. dismemberment.

He revealed this intention seemingly casually, and the Eldar accepted it without showing any of the emotions Janus wanted to see.

It wasn't even angry, but bowed slightly submissively.

"It is with this awareness that we come." Ada said gently and forcefully in a simple tone. "Whether you believe it or not, Mr. Company Commander, I personally believe that this incident will be the beginning of re-establishing friendship between humans and the Eldar."

It hardly sounds like an Eldar

Janus sneered and nodded, without giving any response to its wishful thinking.

There are many people like him in the human race who have lost many important things, or even everything, due to aliens - and hatred will not end on its own. Before the moment of revenge with blood-stained hands comes, these restless souls cannot Get any peace.

"Don't you believe me, Your Excellency, Company Commander?" The Spirit Tribe asked again.

"Don't push yourself too far," said Janus, still holding his sword.

The Eldar slowly turned his eyes and glanced at his right hand. His expression still did not change, and he just shook his head slightly.

"I am not the kind of person who is ungrateful. Your Excellency, I admit to you that we are indeed a divided race. Some of us choose to escape because of some kind of fear, sinking in sin and becoming numb."

"They have dedicated their long lives wholeheartedly to a cruel, dark and evil path. There is no end to this path, they are hopeless, and we are different. Please believe this, we are different."

"Your words are just lies and poison to me." Janus said coldly. "The only reason I tolerate you standing in front of me and boasting is because my primarch allows it."

"If it weren't for that, you would have been separated from your body the first moment I saw you and your kin. I don't care where you come from or what creeds you believe in. I don't care about these things. So, do what you should. Things to do, alien scum.”

The Eldar nodded obediently again, with no trace of disappointment on his face. It bowed again, turned around, and began to move the star map with its slender fingers.

The crew members who had already received the notice seemed to have inadvertently cast their attention here. An alien boarded the main bridge of Macragge's Glory and even used the Meditator to mark the star map.

Even with the supervision of a company commander, this incident seemed a bit appalling.

Janus knew exactly what they were spying on, and he could even distinguish those whose gazes were filled with curiosity and disgust, and those whose gazes were filled with hatred just like him.

But this is not the time for deportations or killings. Janus did not understand why his primarch would choose to cooperate with the Eldar at this moment, but he would not contradict any of Robert Guilliman's suggestions.

He knew himself, and he had already seen the Primarch's foresight.

Of course, Robert Guilliman was disappointed.

He stood in his office, took off his uniform, waved his arms, and gave a heavy sigh to the other man with a somber expression.

"I called him here just to see his dissatisfaction, and at least to hear some of his dissatisfaction! But he behaved completely like a wooden man or a puppet! My puppet! Macragge's blazing sun."

"If you have any dissatisfaction with him or them, my lord, maybe you should speak out frankly." Khalil said without raising his head.

He was sitting calmly across the desk, facing Guilliman's seat, with his head lowered and flipping through a book of ancient poems from the old Terra era. His words made the Primarch, who was walking up and down the wooden floor crushing them, let out a cold snort.

"How dare I? Each of my company commanders regard themselves as my most loyal sons. If I do this, wouldn't it be refuting their good intentions? What do you think, Master Khalil?"

Khalil answered him seriously.

"I think, Lord Robert, this matter needs to be discussed at another time. Now, the issue we need to consider most is-"

He stood up, gathered the poems together, and tapped its leather cover with his fingers. A dull thud replaced the heavy footsteps of the original body and began to echo in the study.

Guilliman watched as he walked to his bookcase and returned the book of poems under the portraits of King Conor and the Emperor.

"—What is it?" Guilliman asked.

"When to kill," Khalil said. "And the manner in which the killing was carried out."

The Lord of Macragge frowned. He read something in this sentence that he didn't really want to see, so he asked directly, his face full of suspicion.

"Don't tell me what you want"

"Go into battle personally."

Khalil turned around and gave him a toothy smile: "Yes, it's what you think, Robert. I want to join the war too."

Guilliman looked at his shadow with a straight face.

"He is not here right now."

"Then when will he be here?" Guilliman asked with a frown. "I think I need to report to him that you have been unusually active recently."

Khalil smiled and answered him in a light tone: "Conrad won't be here recently, Robert, he has other things to deal with."

"What's up?"

"War." Khalil spat out the word, and the way he pronounced it was very calming, as if this powerful word, soaked in blood and death, could be equated with books or sleep for him.

But Guilliman knew that was not the case.

He could read sadness and remorse from the dark eyes of Khalil Lohars. These two emotions made him choose silence - empathy is a false word, but it is true at least at this moment. of.

Guilliman understood how he felt. Over the past ten thousand years, people had praised his achievements. However, only he knew what kind of sacrifices were hidden behind these so-called honors.

Moreover, it was not his sacrifice.

He especially hated this.

He was the father—the father of genes—to many for whom his word was the rule of the world. They obeyed him wholeheartedly and obeyed his every word wholeheartedly.

They saw nothing wrong with this, only Guilliman knew the dangers involved.

But he had no choice. As time went by, the old people from the old legion died one after another, and there were fewer and fewer people who could communicate with him on an equal footing and even give him advice when he was extremely angry.

By now, such people no longer exist.

Now is the era of the Chapter. The new Ultramarines are full of honors, roaring and wielding swords on the shoulders of their predecessors, trying to guard these medals and create new honors of their own.

They had grown up hearing the legend of Roboute Guilliman, and everyone was familiar with his story. They knew that he had fought against the Swarm near Kannor, and had heard that he had torn the skin of Lorgar Aurelion into pieces to drive away the darkness of Chaos.

They saw him as a god, a fatherly god but still a god, and gods could not be disobeyed.

They are rational and principled, and will make their own choices in the face of major issues of right and wrong. Only not when it came to him. The way they treated him often filled Guilliman with fear in his meditations.

What will they do if one day he is gone?

Guilliman closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a breath, without revealing his true feelings.

He knew that he didn't need to be like this. Khalil was one of the few people in this era who could completely understand him. They have known each other for a long time and have many things in common in their approach to the world. Moreover, Khalil Lohars treated him as a human being.

He viewed him as a fallible, restless, and fearful human being, rather than as an almighty and compassionate God.

Guilliman slowly opened his eyes, ending this brief meditation. Not because of anything else, but because the astral array on the study floor was lighting up, and the buzz it made was almost the same as an earthquake to Guilliman's keen senses.

The Primarch strode towards him, and the gradually blazing light drowned his face, leaving only a pair of eyes brighter than them clearly visible.

Guilliman frowned. The Star Array had never been operating at such high power. In fact, when it was just an idea that had not yet been born, the people responsible for its design never thought of giving it any overloaded functions.

In other words, it's a feature it's not supposed to have.

The buzzing began to intensify, becoming more intense and higher, until finally it almost became a high-pitched scream that can restore hearing to deaf people.

The air trembled, and the alarm in the study began to blare. The door was knocked open by the victorious army, and they rushed into the study, fully armed, with silent anger spreading in the armor, and the scarlet goggles of the eagle-faced helmets shining like the light of destruction.

However, none of the expected attack scenes occurred, only Robert Guilliman standing in the light and his calm voice.

"Who calls out to Macragge's Glory?" he asked majestically.

Khalil narrowed his eyes.

He smelled blood.

——

"It's me, the Primarch," Hector Calgio said bleedingly.

He was panting, and there were many scars on the surface of the armor. The depths of the battle group's station are filled with blood and corpses, and the demon flesh and blood that has not yet dispersed is gradually turning into etheric essence.

The think tanks of the Sons of Calth are emitting psychic energy around the magic circle to stabilize its existence. The dazzling red warning lights are flashing on the top of the stone walls and steel, making everyone's shadows thick and weird.

A piercing howl spread from not far away, mixed with war cries and shouts of explosive bombs. The Nightborne are fighting alongside the Sons of Calth deep within their sprawling settlements, against the tide of demons.

They have been fighting for four days. For four days, the original plan was completely disrupted. The Star Magic Array also lost its original stability under the influence of the chaotic ether brought by the Demon Gate. It was only now that it was under the control of the think tanks. He managed to recover despite unremitting efforts.

"What happened?" asked the blurry image of Robert Guilliman.

"Daemon invasion, original body, unprecedented scale." Calgio began to report clearly. "The entire surface of Calth is occupied by them. They are everywhere, they are the demonic army of the Blood God."

"And it will be led by Kabanha." Yago Savitarion reminded in a low voice on the communication channel.

The other end of the communication line was filled with the sound of howling wind and a strange roar.

"And it's led by Cabanja," Calgio said.

The light blue image of Robert Guilliman fluctuated. He seemed to say something, but the Chapter Master could not hear it at all. The wet smell of blood wafted from the top of his head and gradually spread to every corner of the air.

The magic circle was swaying, and in the center, Calgio could notice it very clearly. He raised his head and looked above him, and heard a dull rumble of thunder amidst the screams of the think tanks.

He soon realized that it was not thunder.

He drew his gun and rolled to the other side. The ceiling collapsed, steel and gravel fell to the ground with a bang, and a huge, strong and brutal existence entered the sight of everyone present.

Its mere presence caused burning pain in their eyes. It stood hunched over, and could easily touch the ceiling without standing upright. The ferocious horns on its head were steaming, and between its fangs, a long scarlet tongue appeared slightly.

It actually speaks human words.

"Iago Severtarion" it called with a ferocious grin. "Keep fighting. You'll be a great dessert until he shows up."