40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 595 113. Interlude: The Old Ones (End, Three-in-One)

The Ultramarines like to standardize everything - to be more precise, they like to set a value, an exact number for everything.

As long as you follow this number and don't exceed or lack too much, the final result will definitely be very good.

This talent born from rational instinct makes everything they build anywhere look exactly the same. Blue and gold, regular, square, full of seals, emblems, and logos.

Narrick Dragoor thought about these things from the perspective of an architect and walked slowly to the deepest part of the data room. The stone floor perfectly supported his weight without making any sound. Clean and tidy, spotless.

Robert Guilliman chose to let him go to his destination by himself, and he stayed at the entrance of the data room and did not move forward with him.

While walking, Narrick found a white-haired woman sitting behind the neatly arranged brown bookshelves, wearing round-framed glasses, looking at him carefully.

The warsmith did not express that he had noticed her, but continued walking. Thirteen seconds later, he reached his destination.

He walked between two bookshelves.

They were large, even for an Astartes, so Narik could hardly imagine the woman maintaining this place. Two bookshelves, a total of ten layers, each row of shelves was filled with silver books.

Yes, books, not data tablets. These books were even specially designed, with steel and alloys forming the cover and spine, so they could be used as weapons.

As early as ten thousand years ago, the Ultramarines liked to write books, and usually used real pens. Narik even saw them holding sharing sessions, bringing their own books to share with each other.

With such a style, it is no wonder that others call them Guilliman's scribes.

But these books are different.

The warsmith did not know whether the Ultramarines still liked to write books, and he was not interested in exploring whether they had maintained the traditions of their predecessors, but these books were different, and their authors were definitely not Astartes.

Their author is Roboute Guilliman.

In other words, the two bookshelves, twenty shelves, and two hundred iron books here were all written by the Lord of Macragge himself.

Every book in this archive was written by him personally.

Is it a tribute? Or a sense of responsibility that he must bear? Narik couldn't think of an answer, so he walked to the innermost part and took the first book according to the reading order marked on the bookshelf.

The heavy weight in his hand made him want to take off his hand armor and feel it with his fingers. He opened the first page, a title, and two lines of small words came into view, and then shared through the eyepiece to all the waiting Iron Warriors outside.

"Details of the Fourth Legion's division and an introduction to each sub-corps."

"Note before reading: Because we are in a place where the light of the Star Torch cannot illuminate, the news we received is seriously lacking in timeliness."

"I have done my best to check for omissions, but it will probably be different from the actual situation. If one day you can fight side by side, please remember not to take the contents of the book as a criterion."

Narik hesitated for a while, but still turned to the second page. As a result, after just a few seconds of waiting, hundreds of communication messages flashed in the upper right corner of his eyepiece.

A bunch of impatient bastards. The war blacksmith secretly complained.

"Galactic Guard."

"Parental Chapter: Iron Warriors."

"Galactic Guard is the first daughter chapter to be split from the Iron Warriors - or rather, the First Galaxie is the first daughter chapter to be split from the Iron Warriors."

"They are stationed in Olympia in place of the parent chapter, and the surrounding world is also included in their responsibilities. Logically, this responsibility should have been handed over to the Iron Warriors, but they must take on a new task."

"The responsibility of guarding Terra and the entire solar system falls on them and the Imperial Fists."

"This task was personally issued by my father after he took the throne, and was jointly undertaken by Perturabo and Rogal Dorn, and guarded by the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists. Who could have thought of such a thing? But they seem to have done a good job."

"It is said that every planet in the solar system has been completely fortified, forming a floating in the void. The Great Wall of Steel in the sky. I am sure that the scene must be spectacular. "

"Back to the point, compared with other sub-groups, the Galaxy Guard is obviously more special. They share the same name, but add numbers in front to distinguish them. "

"From this point of view, the Galaxy Guard is essentially a relatively loose legion. My brother is obviously taking advantage of the loopholes in the Holy Scripture, and he is doing it very well. "

"He gave each Galaxy Guard a separate home star, fortress monastery and garrison area. From this point of view, I guess he must have united these garrison areas, one ring after another, forming another steel wall on the star map."

"Unfortunately, I don't have the relevant star map in my hand, so I can't prove this. After all, he is different from me. He is a more successful and more ruthless tactician. If I have the opportunity, I hope to learn from him again. "

"Of course, this is not the only regrettable thing. Due to the weakening of the Star Torch and the raging subspace storm, few Terran officials can successfully contact us. No matter what kind of intelligence they carry, we have on hand That’s all I have.”

Narik Dragur slowly exhaled a breath of cold air.

The indoor air purifier gave his breath a strange, slightly bitter taste, which suited his current mood. It's complex and slightly bitter.

The same is probably true for his brothers. The scrolling speed of text messages in the communication channel has slowed down significantly. There are far fewer people asking questions, and even fewer people making demands. Silence has become the choice of most people, and they don't know what to think.

Then let me go first. thought the Warsmith.

A line of text was quickly and accurately input into the communication channel by him relying on neural connections. When it was sent, it was already highlighted with the commander's special logo.

+We should go back. +

Questions were soon being asked.

+Where to go? +

+ Terra. +Naric entered the information again.

+ Legion - no, warband. The burdens that the chapter now bears far exceed every mission we have received in the past, such as fortifying the Wall and guarding Terra. Even from the perspective of a pure sense of honor, I will never allow myself to miss such a mission. cause. +

a sergeant responded. +I agree with you, sir. However, according to the instructors of the Eighth Legion and the information revealed by Lord Robert Guilliman in his book, it may be a very difficult task to return to Terra. +

+ Not to mention how to navigate the subspace when the light of the Star Torch disappears, just how to deal with Chaos, traitors and the aliens called Zerg is enough for us to have a headache. I don't think just a few hundred of us can deal with the aliens who have been fighting the Ultramarines for ten thousand years. +

"No matter how difficult it is, you have to do it." A veteran sent a unique voice message with a gloomy tone.

"To defend Terra, with such great honor comes great danger. I don't think the Legion and the Primarch will be in trouble, but they will certainly need our help. The Emperor is watching us, and we will return to Terra."

An argument quickly ensued.

Narik watched this scene helplessly and did not dissuade him. The people under his command were a mixed bag, some of whom he had heard of before and who were notoriously thorny, while others were the most standard Iron Warriors, role models who could not ask for more.

Moreover, they all come from different camps, which makes coordination work very difficult.

Narik himself knew that he was temporarily elected as a temporary commander only because of his military rank. If he really wants to get full command power, he still needs to spend some time and energy, at least to be able to convince the public.

But he had to act.

He opened the real-time call permission, used his identity as the commander who had not yet settled down to silence everyone else in the channel, and then spoke slowly.

"I don't want to insult anyone. I know that none of you are afraid of death, or even ignore death. This is how we used to be, wearing iron armor, both inside and outside. This is our way of survival, a difficult road."

"But I must point out that choosing to return to Terra by ship under such circumstances is tantamount to suicide. Not to mention whether the Ultramarines can borrow our ship, even if they generously lend us a battleship, what can we do? ?”

"The inability to navigate subspace means that we can only move slowly in the material world. In this case, we are very likely to encounter various enemies. At that time, only three hundred and twenty-two of us will be able to How to deal with the enemy?"

"Is it possible that we need to borrow manpower from the Ultramarines? Or ask other people like us if they want to return to Terra together? You know yourselves clearly. No matter which one you choose, we are just dragging them with us. Go and die."

"Therefore, I must veto any suggestion of an immediate return to Terra. Remember the teachings of the Emperor and the Primarch, brothers, haste makes waste."

He closed the silence and turned the pages of the book.

"Monument of Iron."

"Parent Group: Iron Warriors (Doubtful)"

"Special note, possible theory: I have no intention of questioning my brother, but based on the available information, the Iron Monument is a battle group full of doubts."

"First of all, I would like to mention their first chapter master Cebarus. It is said that this man was the captain of the 10th Grand Company of the Iron Warriors. However, the Grand Company was not the organization used by the Fourth Legion during the Great Crusade."

"At the same time, according to the chapter record from the Ministry of Military Affairs in my hand, the Monument of Iron does not have detailed records of early history like other chapters."

"The Ministry of Military Affairs did not provide any early information about this chapter, and even explained in the introduction that they had been marked as top secret."

"Since this book was written specifically for me by the Ministry of Military Affairs, I think it is obvious that this is a veiled reminder from those who know the truth."

"In addition, considering the time when this book arrived in my hands, I believe that there are only three people who know the truth and have the ability to remind me. One is the sealer Machado, and the other is my brother Petu Rab himself, three, is my father."

"The most likely candidate among them is my brother. If we follow this line of thinking, then any secrets that exist within the Iron Monument Chapter may have been tacitly approved by him."

"After all, the Iron Monument is stationed in the Eye of Terror area. This is a very serious task. I don't think Perturabo would give such a task to someone he doesn't trust."

Narik frowned and wanted to say something, but resisted the urge. Other people in the communication channel probably had the same idea as him, but no one spoke or used words to express their opinions.

They waited in silence.

Narik looked at the next line of text.

"Theory Possibility Two: I already know the truth. I must pay tribute to my brother, the Iron Monument, and Cebarus. At the same time, any company commanders and high-ranking officers who read this book must do so after reading this theory. Report to me."

The war blacksmith took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"Let's forget about this for now."

He turned to the next page.

——

Adro Branuel watched as the distraught Warsmith walked out of the data room with Robert Guilliman.

Naric Dragur hasn't taken off his helmet yet, so Adro can't actually see his face clearly, but the small change in his walking posture is still noticed by the Salamander. This is different from the Death Guard's Kai. Far Morag behaved exactly the same way.

Thinking of this, Adro couldn't help but feel worried.

He looked back at the Iron Warriors behind him and found that they all looked very indescribable, as if they had been shocked by something. Adro took this to heart and stepped forward to greet the Lord of Macragge.

The latter was whispering something to the war blacksmith at this time, and the latter kept nodding. These two things changed quietly with his arrival. Guilliman stopped talking, and Adero looked at him with some regret, showing a humble smile.

"Sir." He bowed and looked at the war blacksmith. "This is."

"I'm fine." Narik said this harshly before he asked a specific question.

Robert Guilliman looked at him, then at Adro, and in the end he could only smile helplessly.

He patted the war blacksmith on the shoulder and said: "Take your brothers to rest on the twentieth deck, Naric. We will discuss those issues another day."

"I understand, sir. Thank you for your generosity."

The Warsmith saluted solemnly, and with a single gesture sent his brothers forward and marching in formation. A group of Iron Warriors began to march on the flagship of the Ultramarines, and the person responsible for leading them was even a victorious soldier.

Adro resisted the urge to sigh about this and looked at Robert Guilliman. Coincidentally, the latter was also staring at him at this time. The blazing eyes under the short white hair were unblinking, and an indescribable power burst out from them.

The son of Nocturne Star felt awe-inspiring, feeling sincerely frightened by this kind of power. This had nothing to do with how he felt about the Lord of Macragge himself, it was simply his instinct as a creature.

Adro wanted to open his eyes, but found that he couldn't do it at all. He was forced to stare into those eyes, and was deeply fascinated by the flames in them that seemed to be emanating from a forge.

He was spared this influence until Roboute Guilliman spoke up.

The Primarch shook hands with him as if everything was normal, and then entered the data room with him with a friendly smile. Among the tapestries, flags, and books, Robert Guilliman's voice came softly to his ears.

"There's something I have to tell you before you put on your helmet, Adro. After what I went through, I now attach great importance to the psychological issues of warriors. Although you may think that psychological disability is also a symbol of honor. , but if the matter is serious enough like you."

He lowered his head to look at Adro Branuel, whose expression was constantly changing, and then turned to stare until the latter's expression, standing posture, and even the entire temperament of the person changed, and then he ended the stare.

"What's your name?" he asked 'Adro Branuel' seriously, as if he didn't know this salamander.

"Kathos Mekorn," Salamander answered. "I am his brother, his company commander."

"who?"

"Adro Branuel."

The man who called himself Kethos Mekorn answered meekly. His lips were trembling, and the voice he used was completely different from Adro himself. Then he bowed deeply.

"I apologize to you, my lord, but I am actually dead a long time ago. I am just a personality constructed by Adro's brain based on his memory of Captain Kessos Mekorn."

"He was so traumatized by watching us die that he went insane, and I was actually a protective measure."

Guilliman nodded expressionlessly.

"I know." he said. "I understand."

Kethos Mekhan straightened up.

"And I'm the last one," he said softly. "We're all - no, they're all dead. Long before the alien pulled him into the stasis field, it was so cruel that he had to endure the destruction of two companies."

Guilliman raised his head, silently patted his shoulder, then led him to the bookshelf, silently turned around and left.

Kessos took a deep breath, put on his helmet, activated the communication channel, and started eyepiece sharing.

He followed the instructions on the bookshelf and took down the first book and started reading. After reading Robert Guilliman's kind reminder, a warband called the Ember Hammers came into view of him and his brothers.

"The Hammer of Ember."

"Mother group: Salamanders."

"I must point out one thing. In addition to the unusual height (one meter and ninety-eight meters), the book given to me by the Ministry of Military Affairs also has another remarkable feature."

"I don't know if it's because of some confidentiality regulations, but for all the war groups mentioned in this book, the information they can provide is completely different. Some are very detailed, some are very vague, and even the information behind their names is very different. All should be marked with doubts.”

"I'm really driven crazy by the book editors and the cumbersome operating mechanism of the Ministry of Military Affairs. How did they make office work become such a torture that can torture everyone?"

"Damn it, slate weight. They still have the confidence not to accept my reform suggestions?"

"Back to the topic, the Ember Hammers are the first sub-chapter of the Eighteenth Legion. (If the information recorded in that damn book is correct, I hope they are not wrong.)"

"The Salamanders were badly hurt by the Heresy. First the betrayal, then the encounters within the Warp, and finally, their heroism in protecting the people of Macragge."

"I don't need to say more about the tragedy of that war. Any Ultramarines should read books and materials about it to understand how much blood your cousins ​​shed for our own duties. We must remember, Never forget for a moment.”

"In short, due to the severe damage, the Eighteenth Legion did not split up the war group at first after it became a war group. It was not until five hundred years after the end of the Great Rebellion that their size finally returned to the standard line."

"At this time, they have probably exceeded the standards in the holy book by a lot. I hope no one will bother them about this. If I can contact the Ministry of Military Affairs directly, I will definitely update that book every year."

"I hope others are doing this, after all, they are also one of the authors of the Holy Scriptures."

"As the first attempt at the Salamanders in the Chapter Era, I think Vulkan probably put a lot of thought into the Ember Hammers. Please see the following evidence."

"The Ember Hammers not only have the same rights to recruit troops in Nocturne as the parent group, but are also very well-equipped. Please note that the well-equipped equipment here is compared to the Sons of Vulkan. Therefore, if you have read the book carefully, , you should know what this means.”

"At the same time, thanks to the good working relationship between Vulkan and the Mechanicus, they have the friendship of a Forge World. They have three battleships, an Emperor-class battleship, a Retribution-class, and an Apocalypse Record level.”

"This is very powerful firepower, and having battleships means that they also have a large escort fleet. Therefore, the relationship between them and the Imperial Navy is also very good."

"After all, the Sons of Vulkan have always been reassuring comrades on the battlefield. If given the chance, most soldiers would probably want to fight alongside them. Knowing that the Sons of Vulkan are watching over your back is simply comforting. No one has any worries anymore.”

"However, this is not enough. Due to the huge fleet size, they have to recruit a large number of auxiliary troops to maintain normal operations. This force also has outstanding merits and a long history, and its name is Ember."

"In most cases, the descendants of the Embers will also become the source of soldiers for the Ember Hammer. After all, Nocturne can only provide so many school-age children every year. In addition to these characteristics, the Ember Hammer also has a very significant characteristic, that is, it is powerful close combat ability."

"Generally speaking, I don't particularly recommend close combat. If you can use explosive bombs, plasma and flamethrowers to solve the problem, why should you fight the enemy hand-to-hand?"

"The Ember Hammers obviously think so too, so they have a large number of Destroyer squads. However, their melee capabilities are really strong, even strong enough to be explained separately."

"Unfortunately, the damn book provided by the Ministry of Military Affairs did not contain a single case for me to prove this matter. Therefore, we can only imagine their bravery on the battlefield with regret."

"Their first chapter leader was Barek Zitos, a member of Vulcan's personal guard. He had outstanding achievements and strong combat power. I have personally seen him fight one against eight on Terra. In addition, Ashes The hammer also has a special ability called Dragon Flame."

"When they are about to die, a certain part of their body will spontaneously combust, whether it is the face, limbs, or trunk, and it will quickly spread to the whole body."

"This kind of flame does not seem to be natural fire. They will dry out the flesh of the Ember Hammers and turn the armor into twisted metal, but will not damage the bones. Before they truly die, the Ember Hammers will become indestructible."

"The extreme heat brought by the flames allows them to melt any alloy (including ceramite) with a simple touch. And if the weapons they hold are sophisticated enough, the flames can melt them without destroying the weapons. Pour it into it and bring the same temperature to their weapons."

"Therefore, they will try their best to learn forging techniques since they are new recruits, hoping to forge a weapon strong enough to carry dragon flames before they die."

"When an Emberhammer dies from the possession of dragonfire, they are left with a tough skeleton covered in shards of blackened armor, said to be extremely strong. Their remains are recovered by the Chapter and treated according to tradition. into their three forges on three battleships."

"Although the dragon flames are extinguished, there is still residual warmth. This person has passed away, but his will will always be there."

"I can't comment on this behavior, but I admire their will and determination. Their weapons will be regularly brought back to the treasure house in Nocturne and made by Vulkan himself. It is said that it must go through a very complicated process It takes a ritual to open it.”

"No matter which war group you come from, even if you are a mortal, as long as you can prove your courage in this ceremony, the door to the treasure house will be opened, allowing those who pass through to choose weapons."

"To this day, the relics of the Ember Hammers have been widely circulated in the empire, and all warriors are proud to own one. The war group seems to have no objection to this. They believe that this is the best memorial to the dead in battle. , which is also the best encouragement for them.”

"Because they don't have to worry about anything behind them. After they die in battle, their bones will be thrown into the furnace to help future generations. Their weapons will be inherited by the brave to protect more innocent people."

Kethos Meken slowly closed the book with trembling hands. He did not want to read any more for the time being.

It is already very good to know that the legion, no, the war group is prosperous. Not to mention such a glorious sub-group - although he still felt a little weird about it, there was no doubt that the Ember Hammers had the same blood from Vulkan as them.

This is enough.

He smiled, sighed, used the neural link to temporarily turn off the helmet's communication permissions, and then whispered.

"Adro, our juniors are as brave as us, can you see?"

His fingers suddenly twitched, and after more than ten seconds, the twitching slowly stopped. Adro Branuel looked at the book in his hand, silently opened the permissions, and turned to the next page with tears in his eyes.

He couldn't help feeling excited.

——

Kefa Morag stood in front of a sliding door, looking inside. This is a very simple living room, specially designed for a warrior like him.

A bed fixed to the ground, with no trace of use, did not look soft. Not far away is a practice dummy, designed for performing some simple exercises without wearing armor.

Then there is a table, a chair, and a private storage compartment mounted on the wall, also open.

A light blue display next to it was flashing, prompting the Death Guard in High Gothic to set up a password that only he knew.

Kefa Morag watched all this silently, and it was not until several minutes later that he stepped closer.

He had changed out of his armor, which was being repaired in a small forge aboard the Macragge's Glory, along with the armor of the other three hundred and sixteen Death Guards.

The Ultramarines were as generous as ever, and the company commander who led the way even arranged a separate station for them.

This was beyond Kaifa's expectations.

Moreover, this kindness also made it difficult for him to breathe.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud. Temporarily freed from the outside world and alone, Mortarion's bodyguard suddenly fell to the ground, as if he had lost all his strength.

He gritted his teeth and pushed himself up with his hands, becoming dripping with sweat from the unbearable violent impact.

Just now, he inevitably recalled the past.

He thought of the Primarch's death.

He thought of the tortured man, that deformed and twisted face with blood-red eyes and a low growl.

Unyielding, unyielding, never give in. The man shouted these broken words that could not be made into words, and suddenly looked at them, blood flowing from his eyes. Then, there was a flash of golden light and thunder.

Kefa Morag closed his eyes, lowered his head, rested his elbows on the ground, and began to breathe slowly and deeply.

One after another, one after another, until the two hearts in his chest beat evenly, he regained the strength to stand up.

The Death Guard despised his own cowardice, clenched his fists, pulled off his training shirt, and lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes and began to think about what he had read in the reference room, trying to divert his attention.

He was very successful in what he did, or maybe Robert Guilliman wrote it very well. His thoughts were suddenly brought to the unfamiliar title and word 'sub-group'.

He has no real sense of the terrifying time of ten thousand years, but the matter has come to this. If he doesn't accept the reality, should he still escape from it?

The purifier. He said the name silently.

A ship-based battle group - Kaifa actually didn't know what ship-based meant, but he could understand it literally. After all, it was a later compound word. In his time, the word, like purifier, did not exist.

The specialty of this chapter is quite cruel. As the name suggests, they are good at clearing out Chaos contamination and carrying out extermination operations.

Their predecessors were a Destroyer force during the Death Guard Legion. Kefa had the opportunity to join them, but he wanted to be closer to the original body, so he refused their invitation.

Thinking of this incident really made him feel helpless. How could such a coincidence happen?

He sighed and shook his head, worried about what the Purifiers might encounter. After all, they were by no means unknown. Their specialties determined one thing - the Purifiers had to face the most cruel and bloody battlefields.

And, this was indeed the case.

Kefa recalled the contents of the book, which clearly pointed out that the Empire had even begun to regard calling the Purifiers as the last response plan before using the extermination order.

Once they received the signal, they would rush there and start to deal with it. This process is often accompanied by a devastating reshaping of the natural environment, not to mention the local society. If the situation is so bad that they need to be called, then the local civilians would probably have been wiped out.

However, since they bear such a heavy responsibility, they are bound to be misunderstood and even disgusted by others.

However, Kefa Morag knew that these descendants who inherited the blood of the Primarch would not care about this. After all, they have another thing to do.

They want to kill Karas Typhon, or Typhons. And those traitors who betrayed the Primarch with him.

In the Death Guard and the culture of the Purifiers, they no longer use these two names to call it, but directly use the derogatory name of "evil creature".

To be honest, Kefa thought it was very appropriate.

That thing had watched from afar during Mortarion's torture, and Kefa saw it at that time. In the darkness, its body was bloated, huge and ugly, no longer the appearance of an Astartes, and its armor even looked like a certain texture of flesh.

Mortarion's guards almost bit their teeth.

Karas Typhon, Typhon, I hope you die without a burial place. I hope your internal organs are eaten by wild beasts, your eyes are pecked out by vultures, and I hope you are nailed to the stake and burned to ashes by the flames of promethium.

He suddenly sat up, held his neck, and began to swallow fresh air in big gulps. Excessive hatred came back from the bottom of his heart, almost overwhelming his reason.

Every second he had spent with the evil creature in the past was transformed into a bone-eating poison, making him so miserable that he wanted to die.

Kefa Morag even began to hope that he could go back to the past. If he could, he would kill it before it was too late. Even if he had to bear the stigma of killing his brother, even if he had to be executed by the Primarch himself, he was willing.

The hand holding his neck began to tighten slowly, and his breathing not only did not improve, but even began to get worse. Kefa immediately realized that he had to divert his attention quickly, otherwise the sequelae caused by his excessive trauma would most likely kill him.

At that time, he would probably become the first Death Guard to commit suicide.

He quickly recited the name of another sub-group - the Death Guard.

It was obviously a war group, but it had the name of a legion. A cruel joke, or perhaps a deliberate protective measure. After all, the first group of Death Guards were people like him, a group of incompetents.

Witnessing the death of the original body, but unable to do anything, he could only watch them exile themselves, erase their names, and fight to death.

Kefa knew that if he had not been taken away by the alien and placed in the stasis field, he would probably respond to the call when the holy book was released and become one of the dead. For a group of cowards like them, being able to die in battle is already the best outcome.

Kefa Morag slowly opened his eyes.

At some point, his right hand holding his neck had been put down. His breathing became steady again, and the suffocation just now had disappeared without a trace

The Legion of the Dead.

The fleet-based battle group can have a home planet, but refuses to have it. Their original purpose was to rush to death to erase their cowardice and seek relief.

Even if they accepted new responsibilities and became new protectors and new guards, they still wanted to die. Under the influence of this concept, they gradually withered over the past ten thousand years, and it was even difficult to maintain a full staffing

Kefa frowned, and couldn't help but recall his reaction to seeing these things when he was still in the data room.

That was the first time he felt dissatisfied with the Death Legion - how could it be so? The old duties can be ended with death, but what about the new duties? And what about the new Death Legion?

Those new protectors born from the protected. They have no sins against the Primarch, nor are they incompetent cowards, and they don't need to bear the sins of their predecessors.

Anger suddenly flashed in the sharp gray eyes of the guards.

If possible, he must find the current Death Legion. Although he may not be qualified and in a position to give advice, he must try.

He knew that the Death Legion had been reformed and was no longer so extreme, and a new culture had been born, such as the yearning for death.

They regarded the equipment of the dead as precious relics, carefully recycled them after the war, used them as shrines, and handed them to every recruit as an important inheritance. But this is not enough, this is far from enough.

Rushing to death is indeed the mission of the Astartes, and it is also the wish of the original group of Death Legion, but these later ones, they don't have to do so.

They are protectors, and they will indeed step into death's door one day, but until then, they must fight as hard as they can.

Yes, fight as hard as they can.

Kefa Morag stood up.

No, it is not enough to try one's best - one must use all one's strength to kill, fight, and protect. One must fight until the last drop of blood in one's vein disappears, one must swing the sword until one's hand has no more strength, and one must protect hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, and even millions of people.

One must let the Primarch rest in peace.

The Death Guard slowly closed his eyes, made the Sky Eagle Salute, bowed his head, and began his daily mourning.