40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 610 127. Dark Crusade (End, the real winner)

With a loud noise, a tall human figure filled with golden light smashed into the hard outer deck. The steel twisted, radiance splashed, green smoke curled up, and flames burned like liquid gold.

The ship's preset alarm began to warn at the highest level, the armored door crashed down, the portholes were closed, and a sharp and harsh buzzing sound, accompanied by the recordings of the Ultramarines, began to ring through the place where Sanguinius boarded the ship.

"You have been targeted with lethal force. Surrender immediately."

What more can be said? Standard Ultramarine style.

But Sanguinius believed that if a xeno or daemon had boarded the ship, this type of alarm would not sound. Ultramarines like to design a plan in advance for any situation, and they are not rigid and will learn from the experience of failure at any time.

He turned around, and the mirror-like blade of the sharp sword in his hand reflected the dense black barrels. The automatic turret group rising from under the armor plate was shaking dangerously and could be fired at any time.

The hose carrying the coolant was wrapped around the right side of the muzzle in a way that Sanguinius had never seen before, which meant that this weapon was a new style that he had not seen before.

And they have locked onto him. If he makes any change, these programmed killing machines will fire directly without hesitation.

Sanguinius ignored them and walked away.

Sure enough, the turret opened fire shortly after, and plasma streams, heavy explosive bombs, and several huge alloy capture nets flew towards him, but they melted instantly the moment they left the barrel, turning into nothingness in the dazzling golden light.

As the angel walked, he slowly raised his wings. The light flowed down from between the broken wings like a flowing golden waterfall, turned into flames, and began to burn the heavy deck.

They posed no threat to the deck itself, but they blinded something hiding in the darkness.

They screamed out of the darkness, chirping in unison, flying and crashing around in the golden light. The warning light was pecked to pieces by the sharp bird's beak, and the cables neatly placed on the edges of the metal joints were stained with traces of blood.

The seemingly dark, but actually extremely gorgeous feathers fell together with flesh and blood, and melted in the golden flames, turning into tiny fragments like glass, which were crushed into powder by the angel's footsteps and made a crunching sound.

The angels don't stop.

It's not yet time, there are still monsters that need to be killed.

The anger in his heart has not yet subsided.

"Is that all?" he asked, his voice echoing in the flames.

At this moment, he sounded like millions of people speaking with the same voice, and an incomprehensible power flowed through it, shocking people like a mountain collapsing or a huge wave rising on the far side of the sea level.

As expected, he didn't get an answer. Maybe it's because the initiator is not here, or maybe it's because he doesn't dare to answer at all.

Either way, Angel accepts it, he doesn't care, he's just here to win.

In other words, killing.

Kill those things of darkness that are unclean, evil, maddening and painful. He will kill them all, not drive them away, not at all.

In the past, except for a few special methods, the act of killing demons could only destroy their physical bodies.

After that, exorcists or agents of the Inquisition, or anyone skilled in the art, can only watch in dismay as their essence returns to the Warp.

They know that these things—no matter what shape they are, what color they are, what they crave—they always come back.

Therefore, the process of killing them is actually called expulsion in written language and common sense. Although soldiers will use the word kill, there are still many people who actually know the truth.

Now, Sanguinius refused to accept this dismay any longer.

He has a brand new way to do it once and for all. He will use this method to launch a war that will start from this moment and sweep to every corner of the galaxy.

He is a war machine, and this is what he should do most. He will spread the light he is bathing in at this moment to the entire galaxy, leaving no room for darkness to hide, and letting the demons taste the taste of death.

They can no longer escape judgment.

And sooner or later, they will no longer be able to harm anyone.

The angel's golden eyes shone with a ruthless glow. He raised his sword, and the flames flowing on it suddenly rose at this moment. At this moment, he looked as if he was holding a blazing torch, but the flame of this torch Not ordinary.

"I'm coming for you," Sanguinius said, twirling his wrist.

The sword blade touched the ground without making any sound. At this moment, or the next moment, everyone in the Red Tears fleet who still had eyes and vision to observe this place saw a miracle that they could not describe at all.

If you have to use the most intuitive and simple sentences to express it, then you can roughly describe what they saw in the cold void like this: After the angel crashed into the flagship, about half a minute later, it was destroyed by the golden flames. Wrap thoroughly.

A six-kilometer-long warship burned like this in flames. They later learned that the ship had not suffered any serious damage.

What we really want to use this word to describe is another thing, a thing that has its face peeled off and its hands and feet cut off.

Sanguinius drew his sword, flames enveloping the metal, making them scream and open at his feet, writhing out of the way like living things.

Layer by layer, layer by layer, the thick deck and the various machines buried under it all gave way in a supernatural way at this moment, until finally, in the bottomless pit, a bloody stream The stench hit my face.

Sanguinius cast a cold gaze, and then, at some point, the coldness quietly changed into a kind of blazing indignation born of empathy.

A hall, a banquet hall, appeared in front of him. Ignoring the mountains of human debris, it looks like any ballroom on board a Son of Robert Guilliman battleship.

Tapestry, chandelier, long table, blue and gold, the emperor's portrait stands at the top of the hall looking up at everyone. But how can we ignore those corpses?

Sanguinius looked at them from a distance, his eyes scanning every sign of gnawing on the corpses, as well as some empty heads that seemed to be thrown aside casually because he was not interested.

The brain is gone, but the face remains. Fear, despair, and the bone-gnawing wounds of betrayal.

The angel grasped the sword tightly and jumped down at a speed that was so frightening that a being like him, a god with golden light, was moving at such a fast speed at this moment and holding a sword in his hand.

So, what is he going to do?

A burst of explosive bombs traveling upstream threw a cold answer to the non-existent questioner, although they were captured by the golden light the moment they flew out of the gun barrel and turned into ashes. They can be fired by pulling the trigger. Those who shot at Sanguinius did not give up their resistance.

This group of silent beings wearing blue armor quickly drew another weapon from their waists, whether it was a chain sword or a power weapon. The honor passed down from generation to generation by the Ultramarines shone on the handles of these weapons. glow.

Sometimes it's a name, sometimes it's a nickname, sometimes it's a battle. But now, they are held in the hands of a group of people who appear to be Ultramarines, aiming at Sanguinius.

The angel landed and swung his sword. He obviously suppressed his anger, because the flames on the sword did not splash, but still thirteen impostors were cut in half at this moment.

Sanguinius should have continued to pursue, and in fact, his left foot taking a step revealed his original intention. However, when the smell of blood rushed into his nose, the angel stood still.

Under the helmet, his expression turned to shock, then to solemnity and an almost indescribable anger.

Immediately afterwards, the sword blade was raised again, killing the remaining things together, but instead of cutting them in half, it pierced the heart or brain, leaving the whole body intact.

Standing in the hell created by the new corpses and old remains, Sanguinius sighed very obviously, a sigh that sounded very strange.

Sadness and anger lodged like a stone in his throat.

He turned his head, and his dazzling golden eyes penetrated the obstruction of the deck at this moment, allowing him to see clearly and unobstructedly further down the banquet hall.

On an apron on the side of the twenty-seventh deck of the battleship, a tall giant in a white robe was running and roaring loudly at a black bird on his shoulder, as if asking for accountability.

Sanguinius ripped off his helmet and replaced it. The next moment, his voice carried endless echoes and crashed into the giant's eardrum like a heavy hammer.

"It's you."

The man stopped, with a confused expression on his face, but the black bird on his shoulder suddenly fluttered its wings and screamed loudly. Then, the ceiling above them crashed.

Objects such as cables, lights, and heavy machinery such as mobile cranes fell first, and then the entire ceiling and the entire deck connected to it fell with a loud noise that sounded like the world was being destroyed.

The giant's life and death were unknown, but the black bird dodged every piece of flying steel, and even still had the energy to quietly use the evil magic from the subspace amidst the flying dust.

Until a sword penetrated it.

Feathers were scattered, dirty and smelly blood was splashed everywhere, and golden flames ignited, completely burning them into nothingness.

"you."

The angel standing on the ruins pierced it with his sword, his eyes as golden as light, burning with unparalleled righteous indignation.

Blackbird screams.

As early as a few minutes ago, it had sensed the impending disaster, but it did not want to believe that things would suddenly turn to such a bad side.

Moreover, it is even less willing to believe that the rotten corpse sitting on the throne has recovered so much power, and can even help one of his tools from such a long distance in the material world to briefly have the power to transcend everything.

It didn't believe it, so it was picked up by the sword at this moment and accepted the burning and judgment of another kind of power.

At the same time, its past memories were also picked out, and the sins it had committed against the human race began to bombard the angel's mind one after another, making him clench his teeth.

In a place where time did not exist, he read through each item and looked carefully at each item, plots, tricks, frame-ups, and betrayals. All these things together formed the true name of the black bird in front of him, a taboo name that angels did not have. Read it out.

The black bird continued to scream and neigh, struggling like a real bird. At the same time, its original body began to distort rapidly, but in an extremely terrifying way, as if something existing in that small body was trying to escape.

Soon, it changed from a small black bird to a beast that should not exist in this world. It looked like a huge monster with wings, bird claws and a human-like torso, but in fact, even every feather was filled with a wailing soul.

Sanguinius stared at it, and soon saw the starting point of the conspiracy in its screams.

Born out of a conspiracy that had long been abandoned by Erebus, it quickly expanded and spread into a bottle of horrible poison that could poison the entire Five Hundred Worlds under the careful manipulation of this beast within a few centuries.

Its target was not Robert Guilliman, at least he was not the main target. This beast and its master were not very interested in the Lord of Macragge, but only wanted the Empire to lose the vast territory of the Five Hundred Worlds.

And, if possible, it would be best to make Robert Guilliman suffer a heavy blow.

Sanguinius even heard part of its thoughts on this matter: The War Child has become a furnace, and his pain and self-torture are not the food I desire, but it is okay to spend a little time playing with the so-called legacy of the hand of fate.

The angel frowned.

Legacy? Did someone kill Erebus?

He ignored this matter for the time being, just raised the flaming sword in his hand, and cut it in half amid the desperate eyes of the demon and the faint laughter in the chaos. From beginning to end, it was clean and neat.

The smelly and useless internal organs gushed out with some glowing blue spirits. The High Heaven opened its door and wanted to absorb this little spirit back, but the angel grabbed them and slowly crushed them.

"Don't try to run," he said in a low voice.

The demon's body suddenly ignited with golden flames, and more light points hidden in its body were completely turned into ashes. In the end, the only thing left by this demon in the world was a fleeting scream.

"And you."

The angel turned around with his sword in hand and walked towards a familiar face. The man had just crawled out of the twisted steel. His physical condition was quite miserable. One of his hands was broken, and two broken steel bars were stuck in his chest, and blood was constantly pouring out of it.

Sanguinius sniffed gently, and his face was even more disgusted. He had already seen the horrific behavior of this thing from the demon's memory, but the facts were always more convincing than those pictures.

"How could you be real? It didn't try to deceive me with lies again?" Sanguinius heard the fake whisper like this, and his voice was full of unwillingness and disbelief.

"I am standing here in the real sense, and you--"

The angel threw the sword in his hand. As soon as the throwing action was produced, it had already flown away and nailed the fake thing to the ground.

The pain made him roar suddenly, and then his eyes lit up with psychic power, manipulating the surrounding steel to attack Sanguinius.

The angel raised his right fist and knocked these things away one by one without even looking at them. Dull sounds continued to ring out above the ruins, and he slowly walked to the fake object and reached out to hold the hilt of the sword.

"I don't believe it!" The fake object roared with a ferocious look. "I have clearly calculated everything. You were taken away by Kabanha, and I devoured your fleet. From now on, I will start to counterattack you ignorant old humans. I will kill you--"

Accompanied by the sound of a sharp blade cutting through the air, his words stopped abruptly. The reason was due to a bloody chin that fell to the ground, most of the face skin, the whole tongue, and the vocal cords that were cut out of the throat by the blade.

The angel looked at him calmly, and was too lazy to comment on the whims of this thing. He turned and walked away, with his wings gently flapping behind him.

The golden flame surged, forming a prison, burning his limbs to ashes, and at the same time firmly imprisoned his psychic power, making him unable to move, and he could only stay in place like a maggot.

The instant reversal of defeat and the treatment that was so different from before stunned him, but what really made him unacceptable was the angel's contempt.

How could you do this, Sanguinius? I am a side of your brother, a possible branch, and you don't even want to talk to me?

He wanted to grit his teeth and yell, but unfortunately, he couldn't do either of these things now. But this is not the end, even if the angel is leaving, it is not the end

The fake suddenly saw that under the golden and white wings of Sanguinius, there was an old man hiding. His hair and beard were white, his face was full of wrinkles, and he was wearing linen clothes. The angel seemed to know nothing about his existence, but the fake suddenly became extremely panicked.

He looked at him, his eyes empty, and then walked towards him, his steps neither fast nor slow, as if he was really just an old man with limited mobility.

The fake was even more frightened by this, and he wanted to run away, but he couldn't even do that. He couldn't make a sound, and could only make a hoarse breath. He couldn't move, and could only use his torso to crawl on the ruins, bleeding.

Yes, in the end, when the old man came in front of him, the expected pain did not come. The old man didn't even look at him anymore, just looked up at his back with an indifferent expression.

No, that's not right

The fake suddenly realized that he hadn't looked at him from the beginning.

Then

He tried his best to turn over, lying on his back, and finally saw what the old man was staring at.

He saw a huge monster made up of countless dead people, bleeding, covered with screaming human skins sewn together, and feathers woven from hair inserted between the so-called "pores" that were deliberately left, flashing blood.

It had eyes, densely packed between flesh and blood, staring at him unblinkingly. It even has a hand, a hand that is only a bone for some reason, and is holding a slimy umbilical cord.

The fake looked down and saw a fleshy collar wrapped around his neck. He looked up again and saw the thing grinning at him, each tooth in its mouth looking like a curved thigh.

At this moment, his already fragile mind completely collapsed, and he truly became a mindless beast, lying on the steel, constantly making noises, not understanding where his pain came from.

The old man was completely different from what he saw. What was captured by his empty eyes was just a blue bird standing on a dead branch.

"You are so shameless." He opened his beak playfully and condemned. "How could you prepare yourself in advance and let me jump into the trap?"

"But-"

He spread his wings and happily started jumping on the branches.

"——Oh, I really have to admit, you did a great job, old man. But I want to know, did all those who died for this go under your throne?"

The old man nodded calmly.

"So, did they say anything to you?" He asked maliciously.

This time, the old man didn't answer, but his body began to change. A few seconds later, the person standing in front of Blue Bird had transformed from an old man into a tall guard.

Wearing bronze armor, holding a torch in one hand and a round shield in the other, his bronze face is inlaid with a pair of resolute eyes. Despite this, the details are blurry. It's like a statue born in the hands of a bad artist.

The guard finally spoke.

"Whatever they say, I accept. But you, Tzeentch, your destruction begins today."

The Lord of Change laughed heartily without a care in the world.

"Let's talk about it if you can, old man! The trump card you have been saving for thousands of years has been revealed in front of me, the stars condensed into the hope retrieved from human history? Ha! Based on this alone, you think you can win?"

"Yes, yes, you can save your son's so-called five hundred worlds from darkness, and you can let the brilliance of the Star Torch continue into the souls of mortals through the power of your glorious idol, but you How to win?"

The guard shook his head.

"I don't need to win," he said, turning to leave.

"You need it!" the Lord of Change roared. "Someone has to win, either you or me! If you don't need it, then who will win?!"

Sanguinius, who was about to leave, suddenly stopped. In the dark, he seemed to hear a voice, a voice that he was very familiar with.

The voice whispered a word.

"Humanity."

He turned around and looked back, but didn't see anyone. The angel frowned in silence and tried to call his father's name in his mind. He tried many times in a row, but just when he started to laugh at his behavior, a voice really sounded in his ear.

"Sanguinius."

Father?

"You did very well."

I.

"Stop doubting yourself, you don't have to. It's normal for people to admire you, worship you, deify you, and even regard your arrival as the most important thing in their lives. You can't adapt to these things, You just have to learn to accept it.”

accept?

"Yes, accept yourself. Accept that you are going to be a tyrannical leader, accept that you are going to be some kind of icon, an inspiration and a source of great courage to everyone. Accept these things, and then you will understand , why did Callistarius pay such a terrible price?"

Sanguinius took a deep breath.

I'll try, Father. He said silently.