40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 592 110. Interlude: In the hangar of Macragge's Glory

Khalil studied the face carefully, dark with a white snake-shaped tattoo that spread from the cheekbone to the lower lip. A face that was anything but handsome, a face that belonged to a warrior, a face that belonged to the tribune La Endymion.

Looking at this face, it was hard for Khalil not to think about the past.

The first is the first meeting with the tribune in the library on the Emperor's Dream 10,000 years ago. Then came Terra, where the Custodes were ordered by their lord to protect him in the underground caves.

At that time, these guards in golden armor got to know each other in a real sense and had some changes in their attitudes. This matter is very subtle when you look into it carefully, but it is understandable. Khalil feels that this is just human nature.

However, these familiar faces are probably dead now, and most of them have died on Terra, wandering forever. Even the name has been buried in the wind and sand called history, and the only remaining relics lie among the broken Terra, waiting for future generations to discover it.

Sometimes it's a piece of nail, sometimes it's a piece of bone. Otherwise, there are weapons, shields and metal fragments.

The empire spent a lot of effort to dig out their names, even setting up a brand new organization and investing a lot of manpower and material resources for this purpose, but the progress was always very slow.

The knock-on effects of Terra's fragmentation have made excavation work very difficult. If you look into it carefully, the harsh environment is not even the first issue that explorers need to consider.

There are countless people who have gone too deep and have forgotten the stipulated time to return and have stayed on Terra forever.

Khalil cut off his thoughts and turned his attention to the tribune, who had nothing to say.

La Endymion didn't answer his question, perhaps because he didn't want to, but Caril would have been more inclined not to know how to answer.

The expression on the tribune's face can probably be summed up in one sentence: My lord told me nothing.

What a classic.

Khalil smiled, raised his hand in a gesture, and simply ignored the topic.

There is no point in asking further. La himself probably doesn't know what his master wants to do. This consistent mysticism is really annoying, but considering La's identity, the matter becomes intriguing.

Keeping smiling, Khalil mentally tried to figure out the factors behind this incident, and then quickly gave up - he had never been very good at thinking, especially on this kind of thing.

Let’s take action first.

"How are you feeling now?" Khalil asked.

"All body functions are normal, that alien"

The tribune answered like this, but inadvertently frowned, a bit of anger flashed on his dark face, and his voice became deeper.

"It seemed to have a set of adjustment techniques. I clearly remember that I was seriously injured. However, when I woke up, the injuries had all recovered."

"That's natural!" Trazin, who was still besieged by the scribes, suddenly turned around and shouted. "I treat every guest who comes to the museum with gratitude! Please also say a few kind words for me in front of His Majesty, tribune!"

The tribune's right hand clenched tightly on the sword at his waist, but he did not respond.

After that, Trazin didn't get another chance to speak. The Ultramarines with bad looks surrounded it and began to bombard it with scribes.

Servo-skulls filled with documents came and went above their heads, and the clerks shouted loudly and spit out numbers one after another. Coupled with the long skeletal face of the Endless One that glows with green light, this scene is really absurd.

However, if combined with the surrounding ancient warriors who are undergoing inspection, the absurdity will turn into madness. For those who are still sane, it is difficult to accept this scene.

A thousand Astartes, ten thousand Auxiliaries, fifty thousand Skitarii and all kinds of armed forces. The appearance of such a large military force as reinforcements should make any commander happy, but what if this reinforcement comes from the past?

Some of them have even disappeared. If this is still within the scope of understanding, then add a prefix condition to this matter.

An alien sent them here.

Furthermore, the alien claimed that the Emperor had asked him to do so.

Even to the fanatics, this thing sounds very suspicious, let alone the Ultramarines, who are always known for their rationality. At this moment, in his office, Robert Guilliman is dealing with this matter.

Or, to put it more realistically: to deal with the siege from his company commanders.

Most of the company commanders and their respective officers expressed doubts and distrust in this matter, and so they came to seek out the Primarch, wanting to know his thoughts or persuade him to take action.

Guilliman was delighted - it sounded paradoxical, but it was true.

He has been repeatedly emphasizing that company commanders do not need to obey his orders completely and must have their own thinking. But now, this thing has come true, and they finally look like the Ultramarines Legion from thousands of years ago.

Never follow blindly, be independent-minded, act according to justice and reason, rather than being a puppet on the strings of the Primarch.

Khalil guessed that he was probably in a happy trouble.

He sighed.

Robert Guilliman did not realize how similar his mentality was to that of a parent in an ordinary family.

The relationship between the Primarchs and their offspring was extremely complex and could not be guessed by common sense. There was a reason why these superhumans had to undergo transformation surgery and endless cruel training. Before they became human beings, they were first soldiers and killing machines.

The Emperor could have simply and directly erased their feelings and those of the Primarchs and turned them into handy and easy-to-use machines, but he did not do so.

On the one hand, he required his sons to become extraordinary and outstanding beings, but on the other hand, he had pity and feelings for them and wanted to get along with them and communicate with them as a normal father.

Just like Robert Guilliman at this time.

How similar. Khalil thought.

He smiled, of course, this smile was another concept in the eyes of the tribune beside him.

La Endymion frowned, stepped back a few steps meticulously, pressed his sword, lowered his head, and whispered quietly in Khalil's ear.

"What happened, sir?"

"We can discuss the question of honorifics later, La. Compared to this, I am more curious about why you think that my smile is--"

Khalil paused for a few seconds, choosing his words.

"--To deal with some problems?" He said cautiously.

"It's just experience." The tribune said. "But I'm not the only one who thinks so, many people have mentioned this."

"What is it?"

The tribune shook his head and did not answer the question. Khalil sighed again with some helplessness and some relief, and turned to ask another question.

"So, did you communicate with these warriors on the way here?"

"No."

Khalil looked at him with a little surprise.

"The alien's technology is flawed." La said expressionlessly. "Or maybe it did it on purpose."

"It took them out of the stasis field in batches. They should have felt confused. They were on the battlefield one second and suddenly in a new place the next. This is natural."

"However, I didn't see this reaction. Most of them fell to the ground on the spot and fell into physiological muscle spasms. Some even fainted and had to receive medical care. If this is the case for Astartes, the situation for mortals will be even worse."

Here, he suddenly clenched his teeth, and there seemed to be fire in his eyes.

"That damn alien." The tribune gritted his teeth and said. "It let its men treat them, and then talked to me about the physiology of humans in his eyes, and he was even very knowledgeable."

Khalil was silent for a few seconds, and said: "The Endless Trazyn is a rare alien that does not hate humans. I don't mean to excuse it, but I want you to know one thing, La. In its eyes, it really has no ill will towards us."

"But it is arrogant." The tribune said coldly, ending the conversation.

Half a minute later, the last gate inside the hangar suddenly dropped, the jagged shadows were dispelled by the light, and a huge figure stepped on a huge amount of steam and quickly entered the hangar.

He was tall and bloated, like a specially modified chariot. The iconic red robe showed his identity, but compared to him, the real eye-catching thing might be the pale giant behind him

At this moment, the Astartes in the hangar cast their eyes on his face, frowned at the same time, or showed a thoughtful look, but it did not last long.

Belisarius Cawl's voice quickly tore apart the slightly weird atmosphere at the moment.

"Where is it?!" The great sage shouted, and the blue light in his eyes flashed at high speed.

In a few seconds, he located his target in the vast sea of ​​people, and rushed all the way at the highest speed allowed at the moment, with a huge momentum, as if he was charging towards the enemy.

The giant behind him had to trot to catch up with him, and even bowed his head to apologize to those who were affected along the way.

However, the target mentioned by the great sage was not affected at all. The living metal that made up its face was slightly twisted, giving it a weird smile. The alien just stood in the middle of the Ultramarines who were facing a great enemy, smiling and waving his right hand gracefully.

"My precious ones - no, my excellent warriors, it seems that our fate is about to come to an end. I decided to say goodbye to you in advance, but I believe that this will not be the last time we meet."

"I, the overlord of the Solomus Dynasty, the Infinite Trazyn will come to your aid in your darkest moment, please believe me."

A burst of green light flashed.

"Stop it!" Belisarius Cawl roared. "Don't let it run away!"

He made a timely reminder, and the Ultramarines responded immediately - at this moment, six melee weapons slashed at Trazyn's body, but none of them hit.

The Necrons's hard body turned into a dreamlike bubble at this moment, illusory and ethereal, with only the reactor in its chest and the green light in its eyes still shining like substance. It smiled, walked out of the Ultramarines' encirclement, and bowed slightly to Khalil.

"See you later, my judge." It said. "I will notify you when everything is ready."

As soon as the words fell, the green light went out, and it disappeared in place. The complex structure on the back that caused the Great Sage's rickety posture suddenly emitted a burst of high-temperature steam, and then Belisarius Caul began to curse.

He spewed obscenities at a jaw-dropping speed and breadth for half a minute, then quickly returned to normal. Facing everyone's gazes, he turned around without caring and walked to the side of Khalil and the tribune with a grunt.

La Endymion looked at the mechanical priest with an indescribable expression.

"My lord——!" Kaul said sincerely. "You saw it all! I heard it all! You had another meeting with it, right? Is that what I thought?"

"I don't know what you're thinking," Khalil replied as he took a step back.

"Anyway, you and it will meet again, right?!"

"Yes, I can't deny this." Khalil said helplessly.

"Then this will be easy! Please take me with you!" The great sage waved his appendage excitedly. "I beg you, please let me go with you!"

"You can, you can, but, alas, forget it." Khalil sighed and shook his head. "As you wish, great sage."

He cast his gaze on the giant standing behind him, who happened to look over at this time, his eyes were very cautious and could leave at the first touch.

"Anazion Sosa Kaul." He lowered his head and slowly spit out a name. The voice was deep and the accent matched Call's Martian accent.

Khalil suddenly smiled and nodded to him: "Caril Lohars. Nice to meet you, Anazion. This is the tribune La Endymion."

The Imperial Guard frowned. He didn't want to introduce himself, but now that the matter was over, he nodded towards Anazion. It doesn't look too forced, just a little stiff at most.

Kaul watched this scene silently, the blue light in Yi's eyes never stopping.

The conversation ended, and the great sage who suddenly arrived took Anazion, the pale giant, out of the hangar.

The Ultramarines discussed indignantly for a few words, and soon left in a hurry with the scribes. The mechanical priests and technical sergeants who had completed the inspection followed closely and became the second group to leave.

Just like this, I don't know whether it was intentional or unintentional, there were no "newcomers" in the huge hangar at this moment, only the old antiques from ten thousand years ago were left looking at each other, speechless.

Finally, it was a Death Guard who broke the silence.

"They did it on purpose." The veteran said with a hoarse voice.

He was wearing an old MK3 with mottled paint and chipped paint in many places. The dark green on the shoulder armor on both sides had even been peeled off to the point where it was almost completely gone from the surface.

His face was as weather-beaten as the armor itself. Under the short hair that was so pale that it almost faded, the face was covered with scars and wrinkles born from exhaustion and numbness.

His words resonated.

"Anyway-" he spoke again. "-I guess they want us to calm down, and I'm fine with that. My name is Kefa Morag, some of you may have heard of me."

"Lord Mortarion's personal bodyguards?" asked a Salamander.

The Death Guard's face twitched, he hugged his helmet tightly and nodded silently. His companions stood silently behind him, providing a special kind of moral support, so he softened slightly and admitted.

"Yes, I was the Primarch's bodyguard."

"You still are." An Iron Warrior reminded. "The great Mortarion would be proud of you, Lord Kevar."

He clenched his right fist, hit his chest, looked around, and said in a deep voice: "Narik Dragur, war blacksmith of the 114th Battalion of the Iron Warriors."

Kefa Morag was stunned, and then he forced himself to smile: "I didn't expect to see a brother here who fought together in the Battle of Macragge."

Naric nodded to him, "The Emperor bless us."

"Yes, the Emperor protects us."

Another voice sounded, thick and dull, as if it had an echo. The speaker was very tall, with dragon scales and a dragon head on his golden-green armor, making his identity obvious.

Despite this, the height he inherited from his original body did not make him appear intimidating. The face, which was so dark that it looked like it was smeared with soot from a forge, was full of sadness and solemnity.

"Adro Branuel salutes you brothers."

Khalil stood at the edge of the hangar, remaining silent, with no intention of entering into a conversation. He watched them interact with each other, shake hands, and perform warrior salutes, with calm eyes.

He admired these warriors, there was no doubt about it. They were people who were ready to make sacrifices 'before they were alive', but now that they are resurrected, they have to face the changes of the times.

They probably crossed the battlefield and arrived nearly ten thousand years in the future without blinking an eye. Not everyone can bear such an impact. Despite this, they are still trying to make everything return to normal - at least what they think is normal.

Those warrior rituals are probably no longer used by anyone.

Warrior associations and warrior rituals are both specialties of the legion period, and warrior rituals were born out of associations, and the two complement each other. Now is the era of the Chapter. There are better and closer connections within the Chapter to replace this organization. Each Chapter has its own characteristics.

In other words, users of these etiquettes have already been tacitly dismissed.

Khalil sighed and turned to leave, but the tribune grabbed his right hand first.

"Forgive me for overstepping my bounds." La Endymion said seriously, then raised his right hand and spoke loudly, calling out his name

and his position.

The instructor of the Eighth Legion.

Khalil found that the eyes of those people suddenly lit up.