40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 565 83. Dark Crusade (Twelve, Massacre)

Hunt.

It had been a long time since Khalil had done this wholesome thing, and, if you think about it carefully, the last time he had been so angry was all the way back to Terra.

Based on this calculation, it seems that the last time he killed someone with his own hands was in Terra. Although his hands were stained with blood many times after he recovered, those two monsters were not actually human.

A kind of body is just a false body, and there is no life at all. The other is a man-made beast with no intelligence at all. So, strictly speaking, he has just returned to the path of killing.

It was as disgusting as ever, and he was as efficient, adept, and calm as ever. On the collapsing Honor Force, his kill count, which had been stagnant for ten thousand years, finally started flowing again.

The second person he killed was a fool who thought he was hiding well in the dark. This person was also covered in human skin, and it was freshly peeled off. The screaming face rested on his chest, and the wet blood glistened, but he himself was completely unaware of it.

Khalil pulled him out of the darkness, clawing at his helmet and all the flesh from his face as he stared in shock. His limbs received the same treatment as he fell to the ground with a whimper.

As his screams began to echo across the cold decks of the Honor Force, the third, fourth and fifth victims emerged.

They launched a surprise attack on Khalil, with precision and cruelty. One of them used his bolter as covering fire, while the other two aimed at his neck and heart, one after the other.

Treating a mortal with such solemnity, but still did not get the desired effect. The explosive bombs were stagnant in the air by psychic energy, the blades and claws were broken by fists, the power armor was ripped off, and the bones were broken and stuffed into their own bodies.

Khalil killed them in the simplest and most direct way, and was stunned by Vanion Tasiad who had just struggled back from the brink of death.

"Who are you?" Finally, after the fifth victim's throat was blasted with a bolt gun, he asked, his voice full of confusion and vigilance.

Khalil did not answer this sentence, he was already eyeing the sixth goal.

He turned around and disappeared like a ghost, sending a chill down Vanion's back. At the same time, the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground came from behind him.

He looked back, and happened to see a head with spines spinning and flying out, smashing into the wall, and being scorched by the remaining current amidst the whine of the energy transmission pipe.

However, the murderer disappeared.

Vanion held the battle flag tightly, his muscles all tense, and the forearm of his right hand was lightly patted. He turned around suddenly, raising the battle flag high in his hand——

"——Didn't I say that?" Khalil waved his hand and said to him. "My name is Khalil Lohars."

The Emperor's Scythe looked at him for a while before putting down the raised battle flag.

"It's just a name."

"The name is enough, Adjutant-General." Khalil said.

He turned around and continued walking towards the darkness.

There are traces of battles and massacres everywhere. The bodies of the crew members who died tragically were nailed to this glorious battleship. The glorious history is stained with blood, but they also resisted, and their bodies are often scattered next to them. arms.

Vanion frowned at this, but couldn't help but let out a slight sigh, full of sadness.

Compared to him, Khalil goes much deeper.

He very calmly noticed another truth revealed by this incident: most of the resisters were executed on the spot, and were tortured to death in a joking and frivolous manner.

This is not an effect that can be achieved by pretending, only those who are pure sadists can do this kind of thing

Looking at this hell, it was hard for Khalil not to think back to Nostramo, the old Nostramo, the Nostramo filled with acid rain, dead people, sin and destruction.

But that Nostramo has long since completely disappeared, and the current Eternal Night Star is a completely different planet.

In the mouths of some cult followers and demons, it is called the 'god's domain' with awe and disgust. Of course, most Nostramo people know nothing about it.

They don't need to know these things, or even see the real sky in their lifetime. The steel dome gradually built over thousands of years blocks people's view of the sea of ​​stars.

There is no doubt that this is a yoke that hinders freedom, but it is also a protection that must exist.

They live an ordinary and natural life under its protection, and everyone is free to choose the future they want - except for farmers. The ancient occupation of farming has disappeared on the Evernight Star.

The food that people eat now comes from several nearby satellites that have been transformed by the Mechanicus. There is a wide variety of meat and vegetables. The only drawback is that transporting food from the satellites to the surface of Nostramo is more dangerous and the process Cumbersome.

This matter must be accompanied by a local 'priest' in Nostramo, or simply be escorted by a night blade. Otherwise, no one will be able to cross that sky unharmed.

Khalil stopped his thoughts, stopped his steps, and cast his gaze to the other side of the deck here.

The Force of Honor is a battle barge. It is an absolutely large ship with an intricate yet orderly internal structure.

The outstanding design of Connaught Shipyard allows it to have most of the decks that can be accessed normally even in this extreme shutdown state. It is incredible that the air circulation system can still operate under such circumstances.

However, just now, a strange guest broke into the "capture net" he spread out. It came from the outside world and also from the places on the Honor Force that had been completely swallowed up by the void.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and began to use his psychic powers again.

What he once resisted has now become his most effective helper. When he is unwilling to use another kind of power, it is the best choice.

With its help, the capture net was extended again. This skill, which had truly been forgotten by him for ten thousand years, came back with a new look. With him as the central axis, the entire Force of Honor actually fell into the net.

Every detail is emerging in Khalil's mind at this moment. As long as he is willing, this network can tell him everything he needs.

His first question: Where are they?

The capture net completely revealed the remaining twenty-four red dots, as well as their appearance, their emotions, and what they were doing and saying.

These people were activating the remaining escape pods of the Honor Force. They were puzzled by Khalil's existence and the power he displayed. They could only speculate that he was some kind of Chaos Demon in human skin.

Their plan was to use the escape capsule to go to the surface of Sousa, meet up with the large force that had evacuated from the Honor Force, and then discuss the next steps.

Of course, they were not idiots. Before escaping, these people had already activated the explosives placed throughout the Honor Force. They calculated the time and planned to use the disintegration of an entire battleship to banish the demon Khalil.

But how could the devil get what they wanted?

Khalil turned around and stretched out his bloody left hand towards the adjutant of the Emperor's Scythe of the First Company.

"What are you going to do?" Vanion asked warily.

He received no verbal answer; the person being questioned replaced words with more powerful actions. His left hand, which was full of blood, slowly grasped the flagpole of the battle flag under Vanion's sight, but did not leave any blood on it.

The next second, the sky and the earth were spinning, and the surrounding scenery turned into a vortex shape that could only be created after being violently rotated. Even as an Astartes, Vanion still felt a strong discomfort.

Fortunately, this excitement did not last long, but his misfortunes did not stop here. But just as he got out of the vortex, a deafening explosion sounded in his ears.

Vanion instinctively bent over and rolled over. When he stood up, he saw a bloody mess.

The four traitors seemed to have been bombarded by cannons, their bodies splattered all over the wall, but their upper bodies connected to their heads stuck neatly to the wall.

They are not dead yet and are screaming based on their instincts. Such a terrifying sight made Vanion hold the battle flag tightly. He looked around and soon saw something even more indescribable.

But he didn't say anything to stop it. He had no position, no reason, and he didn't think he should prevent this misfortune from befalling them.

Vanion has always believed in the simple creed of repaying tooth for tooth. What's more, he doesn't feel that these traitors only owe debts like teeth.

He looked at them with hatred until a voice spoke calmly.

"Don't do that," Khalil said, his hands bloody.

He had his back to the lieutenant of the Emperor's Scythe, holding half of the corpse in his hand, and was swinging it, constantly hitting a closed escape hatch with it.

"What?"

Amidst the collision of flesh and metal, Khalil spoke again: "Don't hate them. At least don't hate them as your lifelong goal. They are not worth it, your Excellency, Adjutant."

"Why?"

Khalil let go of his hand, threw down the half of the body, and then pulled the only two remaining targets out of the escape cabin. They fell to the ground in embarrassment, then quickly stood up and launched a counterattack that was destined to be futile.

One of them rushed towards Vanion, while the other punched Khalil with his fist. Rightfully so, these two different options were blocked. They suddenly froze in place like servitors whose programming went wrong, leaving only their eyes still active.

"Are you trying to persuade me not to give up my life for hatred?" Wagnon slowly spoke while holding the battle flag tightly.

He seemed to have the urge to do something. If Khalil hadn't been standing not far away, he would have pierced the battle flag into the chest of the man who was charging towards him.

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I'm just trying to save your soul."

After Kalil said this, he abandoned Vanion, who was frowning, and turned to look at the two people.

The capture net is still operating at full strength, and their inner thoughts cannot be hidden at this moment. He was able to do such a thing in the past, but the driving force was slightly different.

There may not seem to be much difference between these two things, but in fact they are completely different.

When you look at other people as a god, you can certainly see everything clearly. This is a difference in personality, a complete crushing.

In fact, the word scrutiny may even seem biased, since the gods may not even be interested in such a thing. With just a quick glance, they can hold a person's entire life in their hands.

Using psychic energy was different. This process was more than a little more difficult than the former, but it also made him more than a little comfortable.

He needed this just the right amount of clumsiness to remind himself what a hard-won second chance he had been given.

Khalil was doing his work intently, but Vanion on the side once again saw something that he couldn't understand.

At first, he noticed that the power armor on the two traitors was shaking. He had thought it was just a side effect of his psychic abilities, which was not surprising.

Although the mysterious psyker who was traveling with him was very powerful, his psionic power was definitely not a gentle force. This situation was not something he expected.

Then, this conclusion was completely overturned in just three seconds, because the two pieces of power armor were degrading.

Yes, degradation.

The polished and rounded dark blue armor plate turned into original ore and metal, the artificial muscle fiber bundles turned into raw materials that had not yet been synthesized, the rivets rotated, and the reactor disappeared in the blue light.

The black carapace inexplicably disappeared from the flesh and blood. Not only was there no hole left, but the lost part of the skin and flesh was also back. Their faces, pupils, and pale skin began to rapidly deform after that.

In just the blink of an eye, the classic Nostramo appearance disappeared without a trace, replaced by two naked bald giants with highly similar faces.

They all had a snake-shaped tattoo carved on their left cheeks, and their eyes were dull. One of them suddenly lowered his raised arm, turned around, and saluted somewhere on the empty deck.

"Yes, for Alpharius." He said expressionlessly, and then turned into a puddle of blood. His companions followed, and together they were reduced to a sticky mass of flesh and blood.

However, this is not the end yet. With a flash of blue light, their disappeared forms were restored, and then they began to shrink rapidly, transforming from adults into babies.

A circular shadow suddenly appeared on the ground, and then slowly rose up, encompassing the two of them. The two babies were floating in the imaginary nutrition tank, sucking their fingers, with various monitoring lines attached to their bodies.

Vanion couldn't help but feel his scalp tingling.

"What an interesting, forbidden flesh-and-blood technique, hypnosis, mixing lies with truths that never existed."

He heard his fellow travelers comment without a smile, and involuntarily, Vanion looked over.

I don't know if it was a coincidence that the latter also looked over at this moment. He looked at him, and from those unusually calm black eyes, Vanion read a kind of turbulence that was not completely revealed, but was still enough to subvert everything.

The adjutant suddenly closed his jaw, teeth clashed, and muscles clenched - he instinctively felt that it was impossible for humans to possess such murderous intent.

"Let's go, Adjutant-General." His companion spoke again.

".Where to go?"

"Go to your space station." Khalil said. "I have a shuttle that can help us get there."