40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 590 108. Dark Expedition (Thirty-two, a corner of Yago Sevitarion's memory)

Sevitar has lost count of how many walls he has broken, but fortunately he is too lazy to count. He doesn't care about this, just as he doesn't care how many things he has killed.

For people like him - or creatures - killing has long become an instinct engraved in the blood vessels.

No need to think about how to swing a weapon, no need to consider whether to dodge attacks. Just give your body to the violent instinct and let it release unspeakable cruelty. That's all.

"You released a beast." Cassidorius' death whispered in his ear. "I wonder if you still have its reins in your hands?"

Sevitar answered calmly.

Reins? I'm sorry, it didn't exist from the beginning.

The bone fangs turned violently, and were brought to the direction of killing by a superhuman force. A monster with wings on its back had its chest cut open. It tried to resist, but how could Sevatar give it such a chance?

He drew back his weapon, waved his claws to grasp its spine, and then pulled it out violently, taking out the spine and internal organs with this blow.

The dark blood and parasites from the warp fell to the ground with them, and the unspeakable stench immediately spread, but the instigator raised the butcher knife in his hand again.

The halberd fell, and the fangs of this demonized weapon once again cruelly sank into the monster's body, excitedly inflicting pure violence, forcing it to bleed more blood

The blood vessels wrapped around the edge of the halberd also got a share, they quietly spread out, and then pierced deeply into the monster's flesh and blood, and began to suck its essence in big mouthfuls.

In less than half a second, accompanied by a creepy swallowing sound, the demon dried up into a perfect specimen, with fear on its face.

Sevatar thought, killing should feel good. After all, he killed a demon, an enemy of humanity, and this often means honor.

Those Astartes who killed demons of this level alone would be regarded as the future of the company after returning to the company and would be trained as a priority. They would receive the inheritance left by their predecessors, or weapons, or armor, and then take on more responsibilities until they died.

And in the Imperial Guard, if a brave soldier miraculously did this with cheap weapons such as combat knives or light guns in his hands, the entire military affairs department would be completely boiling.

The propaganda department would use up every bit of ink and try its best to print one article every week, and then put this soldier in the most conspicuous place, and then use the largest bold black font.

It won't take a few months for his or her deeds to spread to every imperial world still within the glory of the Astronomican, and all soldiers will know about it and passively follow this person.

In the end, the unit where this soldier originally served may even name a new company with his surname.

A few years later, he or she will become one of the countless heroes who hold up the empire, which is really a great honor.

And Sevatar felt nothing, even though he had killed a dozen of these demons in just a few moments.

He walked here, killing, destroying - but he could not get any honor, and he did not want it.

"You abandoned us!" The demon in the belt cried hoarsely. "You promised to save every innocent!"

"I broke my promise." Sevatar responded in a murmur. "Hate me."

He smiled and walked deeper into the darkness, but the voice of Robouti Guilliman echoed in his ears.

If he was not so crazy that his memory was wrong, then it was a sunny afternoon. The Lord of Macragge was standing five steps away from him, not by coincidence, but the result of careful calculation.

A huge shadow was suspended in the blue sky. The Glory of Macragge, which had just ended a pursuit, was parked in orbit for repairs. Gunships and shuttles filled the sky, but it still did not detract from the beauty.

Ultramarines and Midnight Blades came and went behind them. The tires and tracks of the troop carriers and the engines of some anti-gravity vehicles mixed together, which sounded quite noisy, but also presented a strange order.

Robert Guilliman, with blood on his armor and gray hair on his temples, said tiredly: "If you continue like this, you will kill yourself sooner or later, Yago."

"Excuse me, my lord, my mind is still strong."

Guilliman frowned at his slightly frivolous tone, so he didn't show mercy and spoke again sharply and bluntly.

"Normally, it is a common practice for officers to lead the troops in battle, which can boost morale and anticipate the enemy's moves. But you are different, Yago. The reason you always stand in front of your brothers is just because you want to die."

"Don't rush to refute me with bad jokes or self-mockery. You know in your heart that I am right."

"Van Cleef has patiently trained you. I don't believe you can't take on the responsibilities of the position of commander. You are fully capable of unraveling the situation in battle, but you rarely use it."

"More often, you just throw the power of command to your adjutant, then rush into the enemy's camp and let the enemy overwhelm you."

Sevatar still remembers his reaction at the time - he turned around and left, leaving Robert Guilliman far behind.

Two days later, the Lord of Macragge found him again after finishing his rest, and sincerely hoped that he would change and stop being in pain and unable to extricate himself. This was a completely cowardly move.

Savita didn't respond, but he thought his expression at that time was probably scary. Otherwise, the Ultramarines standing behind the Primarch would not have quietly and stiffly placed their hands on their weapons.

He didn't blame them, and besides, his own lieutenant had done something similar. Savita knew that as long as he showed the slightest sign that he was about to cross the line, the adjutant would not hesitate to bring him to the ground.

escape.

The eldest son of the night chewed on this word and suddenly smiled. There is actually no difference between humans and animals. It is one of our instincts to seek advantages and avoid disadvantages. Therefore, there are many ways to escape in this world.

Some people choose to be alone and live in isolation, while some people choose not to care about worldly affairs and bury themselves in numbness. and iago savitarion

He chooses to fight.

As long as you fight, as long as you wave your weapons, as long as you linger endlessly on the edge of death, the pain in your heart can be temporarily forgotten. As long as he does this, he can forget his own incompetence.

Sevatar moves on and continues to dig into his memories. There was nothing to do here anyway, so he didn't bother to look at the ugly faces of those monsters. There were some more beautiful faces in his memory that he could look at.

Such as Sanguinius.

"You must cheer up." The regent of the empire, the glorious archangel, comforted him at a banquet table with a concerned look on his face. The table was filled with food, and the aroma was fragrant. Although Sevatar had no appetite, he still felt that they were very suitable for Sanguinius.

Fireworks were rising outside the floor-to-ceiling windows on the right side of the banquet hall, and their light looked extremely bright in the night. The excited people of the Empire are celebrating the arrival of Sanguinius below, singing hymns and celebrating the festival.

The tall golden cup in the archangel's hand swayed with bright red liquid, exuding the fragrance and the faint sweetness of pure blood. He was wearing a dress, light gold, with extremely fine lines of black onyx as embellishments.

Sevatar remembered these trivial things extremely clearly, but actively forgot Sanguinius's expression at that time. Therefore, in his current memory, the archangel's beautiful face was actually completely blurry.

There was nothing he could do about it, the compassion and pure sadness that Sanguinius naturally showed at that moment were too noble for him to accept. For the next hundred years, his eyes would hurt every time he thought about this incident.

But not everyone will persuade him in this way, and there are some people who understand him.

"On the way here, I was drafting. I wanted to say that Conrad would be proud of you, but I finally decided not to mention these things. Of course he will be proud of you, and there is no need for me to say such nonsense."

The one-armed, blood-stained giant stood on the hot sand dunes and spoke calmly. As the sun set, the corpses of the orcs lay beside them, in pieces, the blood dyed the yellow sand red, and the fishy smell lingered for a long time.

The steel braid on the giant's head trembled slightly in the scorching wind, causing his cheeks to tremble, and pain gnawed at him like a shadow.

Sevatar knew the reason, but he was helpless. Those souls could not come back, and they had their own resting place. Unless the owner of that wasteland takes action himself, there is no way they can return to the Children of the Mountains.

Such a tragedy, the irony is that today's Imperial people regard his mutilations and scars as a symbol of honor. The image of the one-armed warrior centered on Nuceria has attracted countless people to regard him as the highest example of a warrior.

Many fanatical soldiers even wanted to imitate him and cut off their arms. Angron rarely became angry after knowing the complete reason. In this way, this terrible trend slowly subsided.

But the trend has been formed, and the martial Nucerians will always follow the giant they longed for, naively thinking that he is an indestructible body, and what beats in the chest is not the heart, but will never suffer, will never The iron wall that will hesitate.

That was not the case, the fact was that Angron was very human. If you want to deliberately make the war dogs angry, then Sevita would say that he is very gentle.

What a bad joke. Savita thought about this and couldn't help but reveal a numb smile.

"Pain is proof that we are still alive." said the giant on the dune. "For people like you and me, it's almost the only way we can still make ourselves aware of the actual feeling of being alive."

"So, even though Sanguinius has been begging me to do this -"

He suddenly lowered his head and exhaled a breath of hot breath that smelled of blood. Immediately afterwards, Angron expressed his opinions word for word, very slowly and very seriously.

"—I don't want this, I'm not going to do what he says. Listen, Yago Savitarion, those things belong to you, good or bad, they belong to you. No matter what you do, I understand."

"I will not share your pain, nor will I take away your numbness. I am not qualified to do such a thing. After all, you and I are both addicted to pain. Just remember one thing, don't let it engulf you."

I have not, son of the mountains. Sevatar held the halberd tightly and whispered.

how about you? Why have you been living solitary for centuries? What happened on Nuceria? your brothers are worried about you

Savita stopped her thoughts and couldn't help but feel a sense of self-mockery: She has been reduced to passing time by recalling the past, and she still dares to worry about the situation of others?

He clenched the halberd.

The bloody demonic weapon seemed to sense his thoughts, and the bone fangs that were biting a piece of blue crystal suddenly stopped turning.

The throbbing blood vessels floated from the front, gently but powerfully grasping his wrist, and gave him the power gained from killing without reservation.

It couldn't understand what Sevatar was thinking, but it trusted him, so it gave him everything it could give.

Sevatar lowered his head calmly, looked at the halberd, and smiled slightly.

"I plan to call you Judgment." He said. "It's not a good name, and it's even a bit cliché. What do you think?"

The saw teeth turned rapidly, making a wild howl.

Sevatar laughed and broke the fence again.

He had no idea what else existed in the darkness. The silver tower blurred his perception, not only making him unable to distinguish the direction inside the tower, but even making him lose contact with the outside world.

However, this was not the work of the only prisoner in the silver tower. In the darkness, it began to whisper to the non-existent wall.

"I don't understand why you do this. Yes, it came, but this is not what I want. I was born to kill Cassidorius Delcunas, not that fool named Van Cleef."

"Please don't forget why I came here to ask for your help. If it hadn't forced me with an oath, how could I be your prisoner here willingly?"

Its eyes shone like two yellow lanterns. It blinked, waiting for the wall to answer.

Its sound was absurd, but the wall did answer it, and the sound was as soft as a feather scraping. It listened carefully, and then smiled.

"I see." It nodded. "Then I will wait, and please tell Lady Joy that my Lord's invitation to her is still valid."

The wall dissipated, and the darkness remained. The beast stretched out its wet tongue, no longer calm before, and licked its hands with a hideous face

Its body was human-like, hunched over, but a black stone was hanging from its chest. After a while, when the trembling subsided, it stretched out its saliva-soaked hands and reverently picked up the stone.

"Yes, my Lord," it whispered. "I will be free soon, and your father's shame will soon be washed away."