40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 596 114. Dark Crusade (Thirty-four, Angel’s Meditation)

meditation.

The air is cold, and you can smell the faint smell of blood with every breath you take. The nose, throat, and trachea are being cut and repaired over and over again.

The low temperature turned the air into millions of tiny razors, damaging his body. He had stayed in this room in a meditative posture for one hundred and twenty-two hours, and even his wings were covered with frost.

The machine that caused such terrifying low temperatures is still operating steadily on the ceiling of the room, a masterpiece of the Mechanicus, a supreme masterpiece.

Without these extraordinary names, it was unworthy of chilling a Primarch, and could never make him bleed.

meditation.

The scene outside the porthole window is disorderly and chaotic. From far to near, the seemingly inconspicuous tiny stones gradually turn into mountain-like giants, with shining debris entangled around them, like billions of eyes.

From time to time, explosive flames would appear around the portholes, bright and dazzling, which would make ordinary people temporarily blind. That was the bombardment of the escort warships. They were destroying the reef to prevent the floating and rotating mountains from harming the Red Tears and subsequent ships.

All this noise failed to penetrate the protection of the armor plates, so the room remained silent. Slow and long breathing echoed inside, a pair of huge stiff wings stretched across the darkness, and the light from the porthole window shone on it, illuminating specks of frost.

The ship moved, and the light shifted together, shining on the back where the wings grew. The muscles are bulging, covered with a thin layer of ice, strong and white.

However, in this environment, its whiteness can't help but make people a little worried - is this a natural skin color, or is it caused by the cold?

No one knows the exact answer.

In the darkness, a pair of eyes slowly opened, the breathing stopped suddenly, and a tall shadow slowly stood up.

The proportions of its limbs and torso are just right, so harmonious that you can't believe your eyes. However, the shape of those muscles disrupts this harmony.

Let's start with the slender arms that hang naturally on both sides of the body. The muscles of the forearms are in a relaxed state, but they still have an incredible arc. As the five fingers slowly clenched, they also tightened into a shape that was difficult to look away from.

Hard, but also soft. He has the strength of a warrior and the softness of a dancer. Can normal human muscles do this? Absolutely not. This is a masterpiece that only exists in imagination and drawing paper. It is a supreme masterpiece that can only be born in human fantasy.

Then, someone made it a reality.

Ten thousand years ago, this creature emerged from the laboratory. At first it was just an embryo, then it wandered outside, wandering in a space that should not exist, and finally, it landed on a world called Baal.

This creature later became known as Sanguinius.

The creature slowly ended its meditation.

He started walking.

Being barefoot did not affect the stability of his walking, nor did it change his posture. Looking forward, he walked vigorously, as if he were walking on flat ground, as if his bare feet were not stepping on frost-covered steel.

Muscles worked, bulged, pumped, blood began to flow, and tiny shards of ice fell from his body, sparkling. At this moment, a kind of pure harmony suddenly broke out from him, bringing the simplest yet most powerful feeling.

If someone could see it, they would probably be moved to tears and sigh: This is the ultimate in power and beauty.

But, can this be done just by walking?

So, what if this body dances? Jumping, moving, fluttering wings, rotating steps, the weight of the waist, and the dancing of the arms.

Then, add a sword to these actions.

A sword was already in his hand.

The angel of Baal slowly grasped it, then raised it and looked at it carefully. Suddenly a strong wind blew up inside the room, followed by a continuous breaking sound. A pair of wings that had been frozen stiff began to flap at this moment, rolling up ice shards and blowing the angel's blond hair.

The mirror-like sword reflected his face and one blue eye, like the ocean or the sky, but the emotion inside was not very kind.

It's the ocean, but it's the deep blue sea before the storm is coming. It's the sky, but it's covered by dark clouds, and it's extremely dark

The blade dropped and made a sharp sound, which made people feel a little happy inadvertently. The angel held it with one hand and walked slowly towards the other corner of the room.

The machine on the ceiling also stopped operating at this moment, and the room temperature began to rise rapidly. Two robotic arms stretched out from a wall, carrying clothes, and came to him like snakes on an apple tree.

He put on his underwear, robe, and knotted his waist, and suddenly he became a capable warrior.

Immediately afterwards, a mechanical sound came from inside the wall.

"Do you want to start training?"

"Yes," Sanguinius said. "Strength ten."

He raised his head, raised his hands, held the sword upside down with two fingers, combed his long hair behind his head, and tied it up with a hair rope. During this period, the blade trembled dangerously, almost slicing through his seemingly soft neck.

But it didn't.

The ground cracked, and the pipes hidden underneath began to rumble, as if something heavy was crawling inside. This was indeed the case. Half a minute later, a shadow even bigger than Sanguinius emerged from the cracked pipe. The ground stood up quietly.

Hot air gushed out from its back, and two red lights simulated by electronic signals suddenly lit up in the steel-cast mechanical skull, followed by pale lights, completely illuminating the wide room like a training ground.

At this moment, there were two people confronting each other.

One was Sanguinius holding a sword with one hand, and the other was a huge monster made of steel.

It looked hideous, with high-strength alloy plates tightly attached to the artificial muscle bundles below, no wires exposed on the body, and a pair of hideous horns hovering above its head.

Sanguinius looked at it calmly, changed his posture, and held the sword with both hands.

In his eyes, this poor imitation had changed its appearance, the steel armor turned into blood-red fur, the artificial muscle bundles turned into real strong muscles, and the electronic signal light in the eye sockets turned into real hellfire.

There were corpses piled up at its feet, human corpses. Broken, completely desecrated by meaningless violence, everyone's face was filled with fear. The place where it stood was no longer a room on the Red Tear, but a living hell, a place covered by darkness.

The shells passed over its head and flew to the other side of the battlefield. The smell of gunpowder and blood instantly hit Sanguinius, bringing him back to a hundred generations ago.

Veins suddenly bulged from his forehead, and his hands holding the sword were no longer stable. Indescribable anger quietly bloomed from his eyes.

The angel's canine teeth protruded from his lips, savage, but also cruel. It shouldn't appear on such a handsome face - wait, is it really handsome?

No, not anymore.

It has been twisted by anger, and every detail has become hideous. Tightly frowned eyebrows, elongated and thinned lips, too long canine teeth that only beasts should have stuck on the lower lip, wiping out the blood and arousing a sharp white.

And those eyes.

Those eyes that have been devoured by red blood.

At this moment, Sanguinius is no longer beautiful.

The world thinks he is the embodiment of justice, that he is flawless, loving and kind. This is true, but only at certain times. He always hides a kind of anger and a desire.

The desire has not gone away, and so has the anger. As a warrior, he welcomes the arrival of anger.

After 10,000 years of silence, he personally welcomed it into his body.

The angel roared and rushed towards Kabanha.

There was no sound, no movement, as if he did not hold the sword in his hand. However, the huge steel monster was completely cut in half at this moment, and bright sparks suddenly burst out from the broken end, creating a shocking color.

The heavy sound came again, and this time it did not stand up again. After a few seconds, the ground cracked again, and the steel creation that was split in two rumbled away again along the pipe.

Sanguinius let out a long breath, closed his eyes, and the blade fell with him.

Thinking.

Can I still fight as I did in the past? Is my perception still sharp? Am I worthy of this sword? Four thousand years have passed since Vulcan brought it to me, and it has never been stained with blood.

It was forged by the best smiths among us, and shaped in the furnace of Nocturne. It should drink blood until it perishes. It should not be stained with dust in my armory.

The sword is covered with dust.

Sanguinius chewed on the word, smiled bitterly, and then called out: "Dante!"

His voice echoed and circled around the room until it became a low and distorted echo, and the person he called answered him as always.

The door slid open, and a warrior in golden armor walked in with a solemn face, fully armed and majestic, almost stabbing Sanguinius in the eye.

The angel had something to say, but now he swallowed it back. He looked at the man with a sigh, as if looking into a mirror. He watched the slight discomfort on the latter's face before he spoke.

"Where are we sailing to, my son?" The angel asked gently.

"We are almost approaching the 500th world." Dante responded in a low voice. "According to the star map provided by the Military Affairs Department, we can enter it in at most thirty hours."

Sanguinius nodded in understanding, but suddenly asked: "You seem to have some doubts, my son, what's the matter?"

Dante was slightly startled, obviously he was hit on the heart. He was silent for a few seconds before answering: "It's because of the Astronomican, Primarch."

"What about the Astronomican?"

"We can hardly catch its light." The Blood Angels' Chapter Master said so, his tone was still very low, and it could even be said that it seemed a little sad.

As his Primarch, Sanguinius tasted more emotions, such as pity, such as reluctance, and the last emotion: self-blame.

In just a moment, the Archangel understood what Dante wanted to say.

He sighed.

"I know what you're thinking, Dante. You're thinking, the glory of the Astronomican has declined to this point, and the territory of the Empire is so vast, how many people are living in a dark world?"

"No, not only that, father." The Blood Angel responded with difficulty. "I also think that we-"

"What about us?"

"We failed them." Dante said. "

He was worried that his words would incur the wrath of the Primarch, but he still pointed this out. He knew how sharp this sentence was, and the angel's expression at the moment was enough to explain everything.

The suddenly frowning eyebrows and the downward curved corners of his mouth showed his heavy heart after hearing these words.

However, the rebuke Dante imagined did not come. In fact, Sanguinius did not even have the slightest intention to refute.

He nodded heavily and admitted the matter. His expression became as complex as Dante's, but with more compassion and the same self-blame.

After a moment, he spoke slowly.

"Since Terra left, we have experienced no more than twenty battles. We jumped and shuttled all the way, and only left the subspace when necessary. We gathered troops, obtained supplies, and found reinforcements."

"During this process, you did some things that were completely different from facing the demonic tide. For example, you countered the rebellion, or drove away the alien pirates. It was just a small fight, not worth mentioning, but you also saw some other things. Something, isn’t it, my son?”

"You saw those people wailing and suffering in the constantly running war machines, and then you suddenly discovered that the things you have always been accustomed to seem to be not ordinary."

"You found that the living environment of those people was completely different from that in the solar system, and not only that, they were severely oppressed. The fruits of their labor were misappropriated, fell into the pocket of an official, and then handed over to the local governor Enjoy.”

"We, who are supposed to handle these matters, turned a blind eye to it. We just took away the manpower and material resources handed over by the governor and left directly. Then you think of the world where the star torch cannot be seen. Wherever its brilliance can be seen, people have already It’s such a hard life.”

"So, what about those dark places? We who are supposed to be protectors failed to fulfill our responsibilities and do what we were supposed to do - and you feel extremely guilty about that."

The more he spoke, the calmer his expression became. By the end, it was almost expressionless. Dante didn't dare to look anymore. He lowered his head deeply and said yes.

"Keep it," Dante heard his father say. "No matter what you call this emotion, keep it, Dante. Keep it in your heart, just to be used someday."

"One day you will turn it into an indignation. Why does humanity suffer this? Why do we have old nights, rebellions, and never-ending wars? Why can't those people live simply and peacefully? Keep it, My son, then hold the sword firmly."

Dante heard Sanguinius' fingers crunch on his sword.

After a few seconds, his primarch left the room and made his way to the bridge. Dante followed, thinking that was the end of the conversation, but Sanguinius said something else as they were about to reach the bridge.

"My brother Conrad taught me this." He smiled sadly, then strode into the sliding door and stepped into a noisy and tense world of war.

Dante stood still for a few seconds before he remembered to follow.