40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 612 129. Interlude: Willing to Die

"You have no right to do this," Robert Guilliman said.

"I do," Robert Guilliman said.

The Guilliman who had spoken, the one who had said, 'You have no right to do that,' had gleaming blond hair and fair skin. He has a broad chin and a high nose. Even though his facial features are wrinkled, it does not affect his handsomeness like a marble statue.

The other person is different. His difference does not even need to be described in appearance. He can be distinguished from the previous Robert Guilliman by just hearing his voice.

His voice was low and hoarse, which was completely different from the young man's high energy. However, despite this, their voices actually sounded very similar.

Therefore, if a conversation between these two men were recorded and played to someone who had never met them, that person would most likely conclude that this was a father lecturing his son.

The white-haired Robert Guilliman began to emphasize.

"I do." He sat behind his desk and stared at the young man coldly. "If I don't allow it, then there's no way you'll be able to accomplish anything aboard Macragge's Glory or any ship aboard the United Fleet."

The young man's eyebrows immediately knit together unbearably, angry at the deliberate arrogance in his words, but he quickly calmed down.

For a moment, he even looked a little embarrassed and at a loss, but he still tried hard to get rid of this emotion and began to continue to talk about his claims.

"Battle report——"

He raised his right hand and pointed to a stack of data pads on the right side of his desk.

"Yes, battle report." Guilliman interrupted. "I know what you want to say: Five Hundred Worlds is about to suffer heavy damage, and it will be hard damage from within, but you are not the only one who can summarize this from them, and by the same token, neither am I."

"My company commanders, my staff and everyone working on the main bridge can see this. We have discussed this matter long before you came, and we are determined to Fix it the normal way.”

His white eyes, which were about to go out due to calm conversation, relit and bloomed at this moment. He began to emphasize slowly, speaking very slowly.

"If there is a rebellion, we will solve the rebellion. If there is a demon invasion, we will solve the demon invasion. If it is aliens, then we will kill all the aliens who dare to invade Ultramar."

"You can't possibly make it in time!"

When the young man heard this, he suddenly waved down his outstretched arm angrily, as if he was holding a sharp sword. His cheeks turned red and he even started to stutter a little.

"You, you can't - you can't do this! Time is more important than anything in war, and it is directly related to whether information can be trusted! If you act according to your strategy, how long will it take for these wars that are happening at the same time to be resolved? ? How many people are going to die for this?"

Guilliman looked at him, and for a few seconds lost the desire to speak, but not because of the young man's tone, but because of a special emotion that should not appear in him.

That emotion is called nostalgia.

What a resemblance. He thought about it and almost sighed.

How can it be so similar? Almost exactly the same as when I was young, debating with those stubborn elders in the Senate, in the university, and in front of the library.

It took me a long time to overcome the shortcomings caused by this tension.

No one is born an orator, right? Father?

He raised his eyes slightly and looked at the two portraits hanging above the big bookcase not far away. His fists on the table suddenly unclenched, and then he smiled.

"So what are you going to do?" Guilliman asked, even a little surprised in his tone. "We just met a day and a half ago, and now you're giving me advice. Well, young man, what kind of advice? What do you want to do?"

"Are you willing to listen?" The young man looked at him suspiciously.

"Of course, why not?" Guilliman said with a smile, then nodded, stood up from behind the desk, and walked to a porthole with his hands behind his back.

He left it deliberately to the young man to put his words together, he knew he would do this, he knew him.

Guilliman couldn't help but snicker.

Yes, he knew him as well as he knew the study or Macragge. How much do you know? Let's put it this way, behind him, there is a set of sofas and a small coffee table.

A hundred centuries ago, his brother Angron read a novel here. The theme of the novel was a retired soldier with severe sequelae and his miserable post-war life.

That book comes from Macragge and is called "The Way of Maximus". The protagonist in the article is called Maximus and lives in a fictional country that is about eighty-nine percent similar to Macragge. inside.

He was a common soldier, retired in the days of flintlock muskets and bullied. He finally died on the street, fighting his imaginary enemy, and then drowned painfully in a stinking ditch due to drunkenness, falling and his disabled leg.

This book from an acerbic literary writer and critic was written at a time when Macragge was being heavily recruited by the Ultramarines Legion.

Guilliman knew what he wanted to say, and even though many officers in the army were outraged, he did not punish the man, but allowed him to write this book - and many more that followed.

The only thing he did was to put him on the ship, turn him into a special military chronicler, and let him see the Ultramarines' war with his own eyes.

Thirteen years later, the man announced that he would no longer write any books and publicly apologized to Robert Guilliman himself and the Ultramarines Legion.

He said he was sorry he was so stupid and took so long to realize the truth.

He also said that he now knew that the fundamental purpose of the army that the children taken from Macragge joined was by no means the 'invasion' described again and again in his books, but real help.

Facing the readers who still didn't believe it, he self-deprecatingly told the reason: Could it be that the invaders would spend huge efforts on post-disaster reconstruction after the war, leaving behind advanced technology, complete social systems and welfare systems, allowing people to live Get better and then just walk away?

"Are you okay?" A voice suddenly sounded behind him.

"Why do you ask?" Guilliman asked without looking back.

The young man didn't answer, so he turned around and saw a face with pursed lips that looked a little uneasy.

Just a few seconds before Guilliman smiled again - a dangerous thing for a statesman like him. He can fake a smile, but he can never reveal his true feelings in front of another person so easily, even if that person

"A son or a father," Conor Guilliman had solemnly warned him.

Robert Guilliman sighed.

"Say it," he urged. "It's no big deal, even if you think the plan is terrible."

Then the young man spoke.

"I have a way for us to solve all this once and for all. You just mentioned demons or aliens, but you know in your heart that the initiator of the wars that appear in those worlds is not either of these two."

"For the same reason, neither are their causes."

A flash of shame flashed across the young man's face, but he still insisted on continuing his words.

"I don't want to tell you why, but please look at me."

He stepped forward and stood in front of Guilliman. He is much shorter than him, like a developing teenager - of course, based on the size of the two of them, the standard of this teenager is probably enough to defeat 99% of the adults in the world.

He raised his head, looked into Guilliman's eyes filled with white light, and continued to speak.

"Let's not talk about my appearance or body shape, but my way of thinking is what is really dangerous. The way I look at things, the way I speak, and the way I think about them are all the same as you. At least not as different as when you were young. Not much."

"Why?" Guilliman asked calmly.

He got a smile that was a little tired and a little proud.

"It's obvious, isn't it? I mean, it sounds weird to say, but I."

The young man lowered his head and thought for a moment, then raised his head again. His eyes, which had turned almost light blue due to the light, were shining with a brilliance that Guilliman had long lost.

"I am you." He finally revealed this firmly. "At least part of you. And the people who started the war, they would never talk to you the way I do."

Guilliman nodded without retorting.

"So if you're going to fight this war the normal way, you're going to be facing hundreds of enemies who think the way you think, act the way you look, and commit bloodshed in your name."

"Each one of them will have an army, because they are you, the crueler you. And you don't have to think at all about how to plan a war. So, I can easily conclude that if you follow your method, You can't win."

Guilliman nodded again.

"That's right." He replied softly. "But have you ever considered another thing when you're thinking about these things, which is that the army I have is not made up of ordinary people?"

The young man nodded with a painful expression.

"Thinked about it," he whispered. "But, believe me, the Astartes are nothing compared to creatures like me."

"A creature like you?"

The young man was silent for a few seconds, his throat rolled, and he answered with difficulty: "Yes, a creature like me, or in other words, a monster thirsting for flesh and blood."

Guilliman looked at him expressionlessly.

"I would have cravings for people, you know? But I didn't do that, but when that desire was born, there was a voice in my heart telling me that if I really did this, I would get - —”

"Extra power."

Guilliman continued calmly, staring with satisfaction into the young man's suddenly widened eyes.

"I know more about this than you do. From my experience, they probably have a weird recipe—"

"——We." The young man interrupted him stubbornly, probably imitating him.

"I'm one of them," he said. "You can't ignore this, I'm one of the monsters too."

Guilliman narrowed his eyes.

"them."

"us."

"Them!" Guilliman suddenly roared. "You're not a monster!"

In the astonishment of the young man, he waved his right hand resolutely: "Now listen to me, their recipes contain many things, which may very well involve the power of subspace, so we must prepare for the worst."

"That is, they can obtain my genes by eating the flesh and blood of Astartes and become more like me - more like me in every aspect."

He restrained his voice, took a deep breath, concealed his emotions, and then raised his right hand and made a gesture: "This is what I want to add, you can continue."

". So, your army is very likely to be unable to defeat them." The young man threw out a conclusion at a very fast speed.

It was not until this time that Robert Guilliman realized that he seemed to have helped the other party defeat him in the debate.

Some kind of seemingly ambiguous annoyance flashed through his heart, but it did not really spread. He pretended to think for a while, and then simply acknowledged the young man's victory.

The latter showed a kind of cautiousness mixed with pure happiness. Although it was only for a moment, Guilliman still caught it.

Then, the young man began to talk about his solution.

He first mentioned the help of Yago Sevitarion, and then a word that obviously should not appear in his cognition, "psychic power", he took it as the focus and continued to talk about a discovery they made during the journey to reunite with the joint fleet.

It was originally just a daily routine check from Sevatar, and the First Son of the Night would use psychic power to explore his mind. However, on that day, for some unknown reason, Sevatar found a hidden "interface" deep in his mind.

After a series of explorations, they finally confirmed that this was an interface that could be used to see other "Robert Guilliman", a small door connected to some kind of unknowable mental network.

"But only I can go in. Anyway, I tried to talk to several of them." The young man said with a complicated expression. "They have all done things that are absolutely unforgivable, but they are still not satisfied and are still craving for more."

"Moreover, they know about this interface. They have even begun to discuss using this interface to form alliances with each other, transmit information, and fight against you in the war."

"So?" Robert Guilliman frowned and asked.

"So I can kill them, one by one. In the place where they arrive through the interface, they are all spirits. I have asked Captain Yago Sevitarion about this matter, and he used psychic power to confirm the authenticity of this matter."

"Do you understand? I can find each of them through this so-called interface. Whether they have psychic power or not, this interface exists in their brains, just like me. I can stop this disaster without bloodshed!"

After that, in the silence that lasted for several minutes, Robert Guilliman never spoke. He was thinking, and this was obvious. However, with his mind, he was fully capable of doing two things at the same time, but he did not do so. He just kept silent.

If it weren't for the sudden harsh reminder from the Thinker Array on his desk, I'm afraid he would continue to keep this silence.

"Primarch, we received the signal from Lord Sanguinius!"

Guilliman looked up suddenly.