40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 598 116. Dark Expedition (Thirty-six, Calistarius's Adventure in the Cemetery)

The steady burning of incense, from Baal, added another scent to the yellow sand candle transformed by special technology.

The mixture of the two substances allowed the young Calistarius to be truly calm and fall into a deep sleep.

He didn't want to always rely on external objects to achieve this, but in recent years, as he went further and further on the path of psychic power, he had no chance of deep sleep.

First, he instinctively resisted - in his subconscious, he didn't want to dream.

Although Calistarius was young, he started as a compiler, and he had read all the books in the think tanks' collection. He knew too well what a psychic who entered a deep sleep might do.

Second, his psychic power was stopping him.

It was as if even his psychic power knew that once he dreamed, something extremely terrible would happen.

But now he couldn't care less. With the army in front of him, there was no news from the friendly side. The only clue was a mysterious psychic signal.

Out of a sense of responsibility, Calistarius could no longer refuse, but he was not the kind of fool who would act rashly. He had the help of three other think tank curators, the Blood Knight, the Lamenter, and the Flesh Tearer.

With him, such a powerful psychic force, and with the help of the stabilization array, Calistarius was confident that he could block some of the influence that might come from Chaos.

As for the rest, he could hold on.

"We will do our best, Calistarius." Luciferos, the think tank of the Flesh Tearer, said this in a calm voice that was completely inconsistent with his chapter culture.

He was shrouded in a complex world of deep blue, and his entire face was also blurred, hidden under a dark hood. From Calistarius's perspective, he could only see a mysterious chin.

Realizing this made the young Blood Angel feel an urge to smile, and he did not hide it, but released it. Under the psychic connection, the communication between the think tanks was extremely fast.

As expected, the Flesh Tearer snorted and gave a stern admonition.

"I admire your character, and you remain optimistic under such a heavy burden, young man. But you must understand that behind this matter may be a huge horror that we will never see in our lifetime."

"Don't scare him, Lucifer." Mephistas of the Weeper said with a smile. "Come and prepare for the ceremony."

He clenched the rosary in his hand, and a burst of light shone from it.

A few seconds later, it was handed over to Lucifer, and then to Petrus Tular of the Blood Knight. The taciturn and fierce giant grabbed the rosary and roared in a low voice.

"Boy!"

He poured psychic energy into it, and then threw the rosary. Calistarius caught it steadily and then let out a long breath.

He had already felt the powerful power contained in this ancient instrument at this moment. The infusion of three think tanks had temporarily upgraded it to a tool that could provide him with sufficient support.

The young Librarian held it tightly, then nodded to his blood relatives and lay solemnly in a sarcophagus.

The heavy coffin lid followed closely, closing little by little, making an extremely sharp and harsh friction sound, which should not appear on stone and stone.

The expressions of the Librarians suddenly became serious. They looked at each other and regarded this as a warning, wanting to postpone their actions.

However, the young man in the sarcophagus expressed his opinion firmly.

+ We can't waste precious time anymore, my lords. The Emperor must have sent us here for a reason, and we can't let him down +

"If you insist, then we will support you." The Weeper responded in a serious tone. "I believe that the brave will be rewarded."

The next second, the smell of sweet blood began to boil in the room. It was a drop of Sanguinius's blood, which was ritually processed and dripped into the brow of Calistarius at this moment.

Then, the lid of the sarcophagus suddenly closed, the ground lit up, and a huge amount of blood suddenly gushed out of the deep gullies that had been reserved long ago, completely surrounding the entire sarcophagus. At first glance, it seemed to be floating in a sea of ​​blood.

Inside the sarcophagus, Calistarius's consciousness gradually sank into his heart. He hadn't been so calm for a long time. There was no more cold restlessness brought by psychic energy, or the faint expectation of carrying out a certain task, only a dead silence.

He breathed, breathed, breathed. From long to stop, until there was no warm air exhaled from the nasal cavity, a burst of light suddenly bloomed from the rosary in his hand.

Outside the sarcophagus, the three think tank directors all saw an illusory shadow rushing out of the coffin at this moment, holding a string of heavy rosary beads in his hand.

It rushed straight to the sky, and with the help of the think tank directors, it sank into the subspace and began to carefully search for the source of the psychic signal.

What they didn't know was that Calistarius didn't leave, he was just sleeping.

He hadn't had such a peaceful sleep for many years. There was nothing to worry about. It was pure and peaceful, peaceful and pleasant. Waves of pleasant wind blew past him, blowing across his cheeks, making him reluctant to open his eyes for a long time.

So, what was that soul that rushed out?

No one has the answer, at least not Calistarius. In a world that blurred time, the young Blood Angel had just ended his slumber. His mind was completely blank, and he could only vaguely remember that he had something to do.

But what exactly was it?

He was a little confused and just sat up. However, except for the sarcophagus under him, the world that appeared in front of him had completely changed.

The think tank directors and the light of the Yellow Sand Candle disappeared together, replaced by a gloomy but peaceful cemetery. There were coffins everywhere, no burials, and no tombstones.

What? Are all the nameless souls buried here?

Calistarius frowned and immediately realized the problem at the moment. He forgot something very important to him, and he was now in a place that was obviously unreasonable.

So, where is this place? The answer does not need to be thought about.

I am in the subspace Calistarius frowned and left the sarcophagus quietly.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, he felt an incredible cold. He almost felt that his soul was frozen - if there is such a concept as a soul freezing.

The Blood Angel took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, and began to observe the cemetery.

He soon found that there was a wind coming from nowhere, which was exactly the same as what he felt in his dream. There was no malice in this wind, only pure tranquility. It blew without even making any sound, and it was so quiet that it was shocking.

Calistarius remembered this, chose a direction by intuition, and strode towards it.

He didn't know how long he had walked, but the scene in front of him did not change at all, the gloomy cemetery, the cold temperature, and one tightly closed sarcophagus after another.

Calistarius helplessly cast his eyes on a sarcophagus, which was closest to him.

Do you really want to do this? The Blood Angel asked himself.

He hesitated for the following reasons: he did not feel the evil stench of chaos here, and as he stayed here for a longer time, his keen perception returned.

At this moment, Calistarius could really feel the souls sleeping in the sarcophagus, and he could even vaguely feel their dreams. Peaceful and calm, without exception, perhaps the details were different, but generally speaking, they were all good dreams.

He was silent for a few seconds, and suddenly took a deep breath.

I'm sorry.

He walked towards the sarcophagus, clenched his fists, still wondering whether this was a deception or he really came to a place of rest for the dead in the warp.

His reason persuaded him to accept the former, because how could such a place exist in the warp? However, his intuition said: No, this place really exists. Don't disturb those peaceful souls, Calistarius, don't do this.

Calistarius walked to the sarcophagus and hesitantly put his right hand on the top.

Then, a pale hand quietly emerged from the darkness, took his hand, and pressed it on the surface of the sarcophagus.

"Hi." A pale ghost smiled at him in the moonlight. "Believe me, this will not bring good results."

The Blood Angel pulled back his right hand suddenly. At this moment, his face was almost as pale as the ghost. But he failed to do so, because the hand had caught up and firmly grasped his right hand, bringing a chill hundreds of times more terrifying than the previous low temperature.

Callistarius could have continued to struggle, but he had no time to do this now. He looked at the ghost with a look of shock on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like this?" The ghost raised his eyebrows and asked.

"I, I" the young think tank stuttered in response. "I have seen your portrait"

"Huh?" The ghost showed a mysterious smile. "Where did you see it?"

"My father's--"

"--Hush, hush." ​​The ghost shook his head at him, and his expression suddenly became stern.

"Please be a little cautious, young man. I am a creature existing in the warp. According to common sense, what I am is still debatable. But you have already identified me as the person you imagined? And what is the matter with the portrait?"

The Blood Angel held back for a long time, and finally said: "Didn't you tell me not to say it?"

The ghost grinned, loosened his hand, and then naturally hooked his shoulder.

"I want to listen now."

"."

"Hmm?"

"My father - my primarch painted portraits for all of you." Calistarius replied in a low voice. "The departed, he named the set of paintings. They are hung in his room on the Red Tear, and I met him there once, so I saw what you look like."

"Me?"

Calistarius nodded, his eyes drifting to the crown on his head.

The ghost looked sideways in surprise: "Oh, you mean, I'm wearing this in the portrait?"

"Yes. In fact, the portrait of you is different from what I saw in the books. I can't understand this difference because it is too huge. The Primarch saw my doubts, but didn't explain. He just asked me to write down the details of the portrait and said I would use it one day."

The Blood Angel took a step back, knelt on one knee, and bowed his head: "Callistarius salutes you, the King of the Night."

A chorus of praise came from the darkness.

Conrad Curze looked at him expressionlessly, and suddenly glanced back at the darkness, and the praise suddenly disappeared.

He sighed and reached out to pull the young Librarian up from the ground.

"Listen, Calistarius, about that title, other titles, and my name. You'd better not mention it here. This involves something I can't tell you. Anyway, it's nice to meet you, Mephisto."

The Blood Angel looked at him in confusion.

"Mephisto? My lord, I am--"

"--I know," Conrad Curze replied softly.

At this moment, his eyes were so sad that Calistarius couldn't understand.

Who was he mourning for? The Blood Angel thought secretly, but couldn't come up with an answer.

——

"You fought well." Gabriel Seth praised without interest.

He covered his broken nose and slowly stood up. Blood gushed out from between his fingers and stopped after a few seconds. Opposite him, Dante, who was slowly taking off his training clothes, shook his head calmly.

"Are you satisfied now?"

"A little." Flesh Tearer smiled savagely. "At least you proved that you are not just a show."

Dante shook his head, turned around, opened the duel cage and walked out. Except here, there was no light anywhere else, and no one existed. Even the servitors were completely dismissed. It was obvious that the two chapter masters did not want their fight to be seen.

And Dante knew that this matter was a joke from the beginning.

He knelt on one knee.

"Primarch." Dante's voice echoed in the darkness, and Gabriel Seth's face changed unprecedentedly. "I'm sorry."

Flesh Tearer rushed out of the duel cage.

"Why apologize?" A voice came from the darkness. "It was indeed a wonderful battle. You were evenly matched, and the winner was only decided at the last moment. Hand-to-hand combat is really interesting, but I want to know, who among you proposed it? I mean not to use swords."

"It was me, Primarch." Gabriel Seth answered with difficulty, and then tried to kneel down, but was stopped by a gust of wind. Sanguinius flapped his wings and walked out of the darkness, with a smile on his handsome face.

"Why do you act like you have done something wrong, Gabriel?"

"I"

"We should not have a dispute at this time, Primarch." Dante lowered his head to explain for him. "If you are disappointed, we are willing to be punished."

The angel chuckled, turned around and left. Seth looked at the direction he left in confusion and uneasiness, and suddenly lowered his head and glared at Dante, but just a few seconds later, Sanguinius's voice sounded again from the darkness.

"I'm not disappointed. Rather than ostracizing each other, I want to see things being sorted out in the duel cage. However, I have to tell you one thing. There is a separate duel field on the Red Tear, which has not been open to people for nearly ten thousand years."

"During the Legion period, we had close contacts with the war dogs, and that duel field was built for this purpose. Or rather, a sand pit, an ancient tradition from Nuceria."

"Next time, if you are still dissatisfied with each other and want to fight, I hope you will take your swords and roll in the sand pit."

The two war captains, one high and one low, looked at each other, not knowing how to answer.