40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 569 87. Dark Crusade (Seventeen, Questioning the Gods)

Khalil reached out and grabbed Jando Skolevok from the ground.

With a flash of blue light, the twelve metal rods trembled and spontaneously retreated from his body. The surface was still extremely smooth, without any blood or tissue fluid.

They fell to the ground with a clanking sound, and the blue light continued to flash, accompanied by the heart-wrenching sound of flesh and blood tearing. Jando Skelework's body returned to normal, and then he immediately received a heavy blow.

He was forced to fly backwards and hit the wall. His whole body fell into a strange paralysis from the neck down and he was unable to move at all.

Immediately afterwards, Khalil reached out his hand again and lifted his head. From any angle, this is a face that belongs only to the Nostramos.

Excessive paleness, and excessive cruelty. The black lines brought by the tattoo completely darkened his eye sockets and extended to his cheeks and forehead, naturally forming a sharp line.

And Khalil doesn't care about that, he knows what it is, but he doesn't care.

He looked at Jando Skolevok's face intently, carefully comparing it with the wailing face in his memory, and finally came to the conclusion that made him frown tightly.

He let go of his hand, dropped the so-called tattooed count, and stepped on his throat. Psychic energy surged violently from the air around him, pinning him to the ground and causing him to temporarily lose consciousness.

Khalil wasn't going to torture him.

At least, the torture was over when he said the name Konrad Curze in Nostramo.

Words have power, even though Khalil hated to say it, Nostramo did change tremendously because of him.

This change is in all aspects, and even language itself has become a magical thing. It is no longer suitable to be used for daily communication, but has become something suitable to shine in the field of summoning and mysticism.

Using it, those who are prepared or have faith can simply and easily summon the sleeping dead and even other beings from the wasteland of bones.

As such it was sealed, abandoned, and anyone qualified to learn it was closely guarded.

Just now, Jando Skolevok said the name in Nostramo, but it did not summon anything.

Nothing, as if his hissing syllables and perfect accent were just a dream.

"Is this part of your conspiracy?" Khalil asked.

The next second, in his shadow, some shining silver powder began to boil.

"No, no, of course not."

A voice emerged from the powder and answered his question in a thoughtful voice. This time, He sounded very calm, in fact, unusually calm.

"I accept fools' flashes of inspiration and wise men's rare mistakes, even if it is a child's little prank, I am willing to see it. But this is different, old friend, this has exceeded the limit of what I can tolerate. You Remember Horus Luperkar?"

"I remember."

"Then you must also remember the confusing behavior he showed when fighting you?"

"I didn't fight him," Khalil said coldly. "Horus Luperkar was never my enemy, he was my son's brother."

"Whatever you say, you and I have different opinions on this issue, and I have no intention of starting a debate with you at this time, so let's just go with what you say."

"That counterfeit, the monster, the incarnation of darkness. Under the influence of my power, it can see countless pasts and futures, as well as their respective branches. It was defeated because of this. Therefore, let it see these things that are not My original intention.”

"But this part of my authority was already in its hands at that time, and I had no right to persuade it. It did grow into a monster that could destroy you as I wished, but it was also beyond my control."

"Fortunately, I will always learn my lesson, and I will not make the same mistake again. Since then, I have stopped paying attention to the countless branches that the tree of 'Galaxy' has extended on the timeline. It is meaningless. "

"Whether I think so on other branches is their own business, and I have made a decision. Among so many branches, I will be the only one."

Khalil listened silently without saying a word. He did not use divine power, and summoning Tzeentch at this time was just an opportunistic move. The media he left behind last time still exist in his shadow, so it is not difficult to do this.

Moreover, he paid nothing, Tzeentch bore all of it himself.

"Besides, I have many ways to win this long game, why do I have to use this stupid way? Connect other branches to my unique branch, and then watch the two worlds Have a melee?"

"So many changes, don't you want them?"

The Lord of Change sighed.

"No," He said. "Although this is my nature, I still have to say no. I refuse to lose my uniqueness in this way, and I refuse to become one with another me, and I refuse to be othered in a world where I am everywhere. Get involved.”

How many truths and how many lies? And if this is true.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and did not fall into the trap of thinking. Instead, he forgot these words and began to use his intuition to guess the true motive of Tzeentch's long speech.

His sharp instincts cut through the darkness like a sharp blade, cutting all the mysteries in two and drawing a long straight line in the realm beyond reason.

At the end of this straight line is a conclusion that seems to have nothing to do with Tzeentch's motives.

"You've become weaker. You can't see so much, and you can't control so many things." Khalil said. "That's why you don't know who the real culprit is behind the scenes."

Tzeentch laughed.

"Indeed," He admitted. "Otherwise, there is no need for me to have such a long discussion with you. So, go find it, old friend, and kill them all. I will help you when necessary. After all, this matter is now my business. ”

The light went out, the powder dimmed, and the shadow returned to calm, but Khalil frowned deeply.

He was used to attributing horrifying conspiracies to Tzeentch. Now it seemed that this was not a good thing. This made him enter a fixed mindset and almost fell into a strange circle.

He silently kept this matter high in his mind, preparing to alert himself at all times and not to step into the trap brought by thinking. Then he started thinking about something else.

Tzeentch said that this was not his handiwork, and that the real culprit was someone else. But what other existence can do such a thing? ——

Trazin judged from the gust of breeze that the door of the room behind him had been opened. He turned around, turned on his hearing sensor, and began to greet: "How's the torture going, Your Excellency?"

"I didn't torture him."

"Ah, this surprises me a little. It seems that such magnanimity should not be used on such a scumbag. He comes from a violent gang that enjoys killing people. Your Excellency, are you planning to pardon him?"

Khalil glanced at him, once again surprised by the qualities the Necron displayed.

Trazin's vocalizer is advanced enough that he can program himself to express a wide range of emotions. And the words he just said were full of indignation and contempt for Jando Skelework.

As if he actually had feelings.

"No, but I don't intend to judge him, at least not now. You can bring the analysis device over, Mr. Endless. In addition, I noticed that you have some kind of teleportation method."

"It cannot be used to teleport living creatures." Trazin continued calmly. "But I can have one of my ships bring them here if you agree, sir."

"I don't have a problem with that," Khalil said. "Then please continue working. I'm going to visit the surface of Sosa."

Trazin bowed slightly and watched him go away. The remaining Emperor's Scythes still looked at him warily, turning a blind eye to the man with whom he exchanged honorifics, as if he was not closely associated with an alien.

Trazin could understand them. After all, if his guess was correct, Khalil Lohars must have come with orders from Robert Guilliman.

Even if there is no written order, there is at least something like a personal coat of arms that can prove identity. To the Astartes, the orders of their respective Primarchs were absolutely supreme.

There are only a few people who can resist, and there are even fewer people who can maintain themselves in front of the Primarch.

He was immersed in thinking about these things, and he couldn't help but have the idea of ​​recruiting a few outstanding ultramarines to make new exhibits.

Then he snuffed it out quickly.

forget it.

He gave two monotonous laughs to the Emperor's Scythes, and then stepped into the room.

The door closed, and Jando Skolevok lay on the ground without any sense of consciousness, looking like a corpse.

Trazin ignored him for the time being, but sent back the obsidian platform he had sent, and then sent over the complete set of analysis devices.

If the signal relay station at his hiding place had simple thinking capabilities like the deep consciousness of the tomb world, he would probably have started to ask him not to waste computing power by now.

Trazin shook his head happily, sighing at his genius design, walked to the end of the room, and kicked Jando Skolevok into the analysis device with his feet.

Forgive me, but he really didn't want to use his hands.

After doing this, he started using the transport protocol. Almost in the blink of an eye, his consciousness passed through hundreds of transit stations and arrived at the Horus Heresy exhibition hall of the Solems Underground Museum, where he resurrected from a functional body.

This one had probably not been used for a whole thousand years, and it gave him a strange sticky feeling. He knocked on the back like a living person, and then stepped inside.

Compared to other exhibition halls, this place is unbelievably large. Trazin used technology similar to pocket dimensions to reshape the space so that he could fit those battleships.

Yes, battleship.

There are many broken battleships on the ceiling, each of which has not been repaired. The frozen time ensures that they will not continue to disintegrate.

Their engines are still on, the gun decks are still smoking, and the crews and soldiers on them are fighting desperately with enemies or monsters - of course, they also stopped, stopping at the moment before life and death, stopping at This eternal second.

Trazin looked at them with admiration, then withdrew his gaze and continued walking forward. As in the other exhibition halls, he has set up a timeline here and categorized several important battles to highlight them.

The regret is that, ten thousand years have passed, and he still has not completed this masterpiece.

Most of the marked places only have the ground stained red with blood or some broken corpses. Only the small subdivisions of 'Caliban's Rebellion' and 'Macragge's Battle' have several teams of Word Bearers. As well as the Dark Angels, Iron Warriors, Salamanders, Death Guard, and Ultramarines.

Trazin sighed and forced herself not to look at them, still feeling extremely regretful.

Different from ordinary wars, the most important Battle of Terra in the entire Horus Heresy was a war that he had no way to conduct on-the-spot investigation. He could not set foot on the planet, or even get close to it. But most of the important things happened. The battles take place on it.

Trazin has begun to feel that this will become his eternal regret.

This thought continued until he walked to the next exhibition hall, and his attention immediately returned to his hard work.

The first thing that caught the eye was a small group of Iron Warriors from the Olympia Defense Battle. All of them were injured, and their armor was completely scorched. Hundreds of civilians were protected behind them, holding their own weapons.

A woman with a resolute face and a thin figure stood at the front of the group, with a flower of steel on her left ear, shooting angry bullets at the group of demons opposite her.

Trazin looked at his masterpiece with fascination. He could even remember how long it took him to restore this scene that had amazed him for centuries at a glance.

It’s really unforgettable to think about it. The Endless One sighed secretly, and then immediately woke up - what am I doing here?

He hurriedly walked forward until he reached the end of the exhibition hall. There was also a group of frozen warriors. The leader was holding two swords and his dark face was full of anger.

"La Endymion."

The Endless shook his head in reverence, sighed, then laughed, praising himself. After a while, he carefully reached out and moved him out of the exhibition hall.

What he didn't know was that a golden light flashed across the warrior's eyes.