40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 620 6. A joke that is not funny (6k)

Azrael pulled the trigger.

Undoubtedly and very firmly, the finger was pressed down, and the torchbearer was as stable as ever. The muzzle only jumped up slightly, and the recoil had already been completely eliminated by the excellent design and his rock-steady left hand.

He was aiming for the person - or thing - either way, but he was aiming. Time slowed down and lengthened at this moment, and the bombs spun out of the gun barrel and shot at the enemy he identified with the certainty of killing.

Then he was pinched gently by five fingers.

At the same time, the roar of the lion had just reached his ears.

"Azrael, no!"

don't want? but why.? The Dark Angel stared blankly at the explosive bomb that had been fired from the barrel of the gun but was now held casually on the fingertips. The fingers that were originally planning to fire again stopped involuntarily.

At the same time, a hoarse laughter came from the darkness. Immediately afterwards, there was some kind of friction sound of flesh and blood that made one's teeth feel sour unconsciously. The lion's spear was pulled out of his chest by the thing himself and held in his hand.

However, there is no blood.

The original body-level weapon hit a mortal-sized person. Even a spear created a terrifying hole in his body, but no blood flowed out.

Is it a monster? It must be, otherwise it is absolutely unexplainable.

Azrael stood up vigilantly, but suddenly realized that he was not actually injured - he was just knocked away, and the weapon came out only because of an irresistible concussive force.

He was not hurt at all. Upon closer inspection, the only thing that could be called damaged was his self-esteem.

Then, he heard the lion's voice, but it was not like before, with an irresistible confidence and majesty. Instead, it was extremely low, like a philosopher who felt empty and was thinking about his meaningless life. give out the last sigh

"That's impossible," said Leon El'Jonson.

"Why?" the man asked back in a gentle tone.

He raised his right hand slightly, raised his fingers lightly, and rotated the spear in a circle, so that the golden spear tip faced downwards. Then he raised his arm and pointed the handle of the spear toward the lion.

This is a very dangerous posture. If the lion has any other ideas, then this weapon can penetrate his body again. Azrael secretly expected this to happen, but was disappointed again.

The lion did not do this, did not even raise his hand to take the weapon, but took a step back again.

For a moment, Azriel thought his primarch would attack at any moment, but it didn't. The other man - let's call him a human - spun the spear again and drove it deeply into the 'soil'.

Then, he turned around and looked at Azrael with a hollow in his chest. Through the hideous wound, the Dark Angel could even see the uncertain face of his original body.

The man came towards him, walking slowly but vigorously.

"I think you'll need this." As he walked away, he raised his right hand and showed the explosive bomb to Azrael.

Azrael decided not to understand what his words meant. He originally wanted to stop this person's progress with words, but he failed because the world in front of him began to distort without warning.

Countless bones slowly rose up from beneath the flesh and blood. The terrible friction sound almost sounded like the wailing of the dead. There were waves of incomprehensible vague whispers in the darkness.

Finally, it’s that person’s voice.

"Take a deep breath. You'll be fine soon. I'm sorry."

Azriel did not take his advice, but instead concentrated on trying to get rid of this illusion, which in his opinion was just some kind of chaotic evil. He didn't know what consequences this move would have for him.

Khalil knew, but he didn't even have time to stop it.

He only heard a muffled groan, and the young Dark Angel fell to the ground on his back, his limbs twitching, and bursts of low roars came from under his helmet.

Khalil turned back slightly embarrassed and said, "It looks like I made a bad joke, Leon."

"A joke?" the lion repeated as he stared at the big hole in his chest. "You call this a joke?"

The lion had a gloomy face, holding a stone in each hand, pressing them together, and then suddenly exerted force. With a soft sound, sparks flew out, easily igniting the wood chips and igniting a flame.

Khalil sighed, took off the coat he had just bought but had a hole in it, rolled it up and put it on his elbow, then slowly sat down.

Behind them, Azrael, still unconscious, was still mumbling in his sleep.

The lion glanced at him, looked away, and asked in a steady voice: "So, when did you come back?"

"Four years ago," Khalil said, visibly relieved.

"Four whole years? You didn't try to contact us?"

"No, it took a little longer than that. But actually, I met Robert shortly after I woke up, and then Sanguinius. You must have heard the news about the Five Hundred Worlds, right?"

The lion narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly: "I know, but I don't know about you. I have sent a fleet to the extreme star field to support them."

"The Zerg are a formidable enemy. Robert and his sons almost single-handedly kept them out. In the past, we were limited by the weakness of the Star Torch and were unable to provide support. But now it is different. Those bugs must know who they are. He is the master of the galaxy."

"But that's not my main concern right now - how did you get back, Khalil Lohars?"

"Sacrifice," Khalil said.

"That's it?" the lion asked.

The person he questioned shook his head slightly, but said no more. But the Lion would not let the problem end here. He turned to talk about another thing: "The string of secret keys sent through the data terminal of Banjo-1 Legal Department——"

"—It's me," Khalil said.

"But why do you know that?"

The lion stared at him, his jaw tense, but it was only for a moment. He quickly gave up searching for the root cause, and his eyes suddenly became a little more tired.

"No, forget it. The top priority is these aliens. What's the specific situation?"

Khalil smiled, as always, it was not a gentle smile, he seemed to be very talented at it. The smile flashed away, and the lion looked at his face that became as cold as a statue, and got the answer he wanted.

So he stood up and grabbed the spear in his right hand.

"So, what are we waiting for?" the lion asked seriously.

"I don't know how many you killed before I came, but this is a gathering place for them, and it is also a place where rebellion will be launched in the future, and you slaughtered it completely. Those purebreds among them will definitely receive the message, Then we launch an assassination and start a riot one step ahead. We don’t have much time left.”

Before he finished speaking, and before Khalil could answer, he strode up to Azrael and tapped the poor young man's helmet with the end of his spear.

The latter's twitching suddenly stopped, and then jumped up. Khalil could even clearly hear the subtle sound caused by the sudden contraction of the artificial muscle bundles in his power armor.

"Go to the surface, Azrael, find a data terminal, and tell your brothers that I give them permission to use lethal force against Banjo-1 against the Genestealers. I want them all within twenty minutes. Landing on Banjo-1's surface, be sure to remain stealthy."

It didn't take the Dark Angel a few seconds to get rid of the confusion caused by being forcibly awakened, but he still wanted to ask questions.

"But, the original body"

The lion interrupted him calmly: "Just do as you are told, my son."

"As you command, Primarch." Azrael said angrily, then picked up his weapons from the ground, turned around and left without any hesitation.

Khalil looked at the back with admiration, walked to the side of the lion, and suddenly stretched out his hand to hold the Spear of Dionysus.

"Hello, Ruth," he greeted softly.

"Hello, Khalil," Ruth replied slowly. "Promise me not to stab yourself with the Dionysian Spear next time, okay?"

"I stabbed him." The lion corrected him, his lips tightening.

He probably had a thousand or ten thousand questions he wanted to ask, but he didn't say any of them. Leon El'Jonson has a very special kind of focus, and now he uses it to hunt down the Genestealers.

Khalil smiled and finally picked up what the Lions said half a minute ago: "We actually still have time."

He got an inquiring stare.

"The Genestealers are not monolithic, and while their mental networks and hypnotic psionic powers are indeed very tricky, I managed to find weak points, like using deception codes to hack into the Cogitator array."

"In other words, Leon, I have penetrated into the minds of these aliens. The pure-bloods among them have not yet noticed my arrival, and there is no way to know the situation of these hybrids who have not been incorporated into the psychic network at all. how"

The lion frowned: "They were not incorporated? What do you mean? How did you do it?"

Khalil replied softly: "It means that these hybrids are not atavistic enough, and those that are atavistic enough are not smart enough. As for how I did it."

"Well, on Sotha in the 500th world, I once faced the essence of an entire Hive Fleet. Is this explanation enough? Also, since there is still time - can we go have a meal?"

The lion looked at him in disbelief.

——

"Three portions of rich fish soup, and a large portion of grilled fish," said Khalil. "Thank you, Ms. Katerina."

The noisy noise in the Stupid Fisherman's House failed to cover up his voice. The waitress nodded happily and ran to the kitchen with the menu in hand.

The old sailor Hayid sat stiffly in the booth, not daring to move.

The day started off well, with a fish pie and then a meat pie. Then his employer made the one request that took matters down a notch: to go to the government building.

Hayid took him there in accordance with his duties, but had no idea what his employer was going to do. Until a few minutes later, he saw his employer outside the gate being surrounded by several officials who rushed over with smiles on their faces.

In this way, the thin, tall man who looked more like a teacher than an official was led away by the officials who had become flattering for some reason, and a young staff member in a crisp uniform ran out of the door closely behind. And found Hayid.

The young man told him that his employer wanted Hayid to wait at the Stupid Fisherman's House. He had something to do and would be back soon.

This quick standard is two hours.

Two hours later, the restless old sailor waited for his employer, a burly old man.

In such cold weather, the man was only wearing a robe, the sleeves bulging out from his arms. He was obviously so strong, but he held a long wooden stick in his hand.

Hayid was skeptical: did he really need this stick to help him walk? This is actually a weapon, right? But he didn't dare to ask the question, after all, the old man was sitting next to him

And, for some reason, he kept reminding Hayid of his commander when he was serving, a colonel known as the 'Madman'. In the imperial army, which has strict military discipline and terrifying punishments, he is one of the few who dares to violate those obviously unreasonable tasks.

Hayid remembered that he even dared to take people to question officials sent by the Ministry of Military Affairs on several occasions, why they were not given the proper amount of supplies. Where were the stews and drinks on the supply list?

To be honest, it's a miracle that the officials of the Ministry of Military Affairs didn't throw him into the Penal Corps for his contradiction and disobedience. Moreover, until Hayid retired, Colonel Madman was still serving, with white hair and high energy.

Hayid wishes he were alive now

He mused, not noticing that his expression was changing at the memory, but the other two people at the dirty wooden table did.

So Hayid's meditation ends here.

A deep, involuntarily convincing voice came from above him, making the old sailor nearly slide off his seat in surprise.

"What are you thinking about, soldier?"

"Uh, I, sir——!" Hayid stuttered, straightening up and almost standing up to salute.

This was an instinctive reaction. The old man's tone of voice was very much like someone from the army. He must be an officer, and at the very least he must be a sergeant major responsible for overall planning of the company.

"Soldier?"

Hayid took a deep breath to calm down, lowered his head and made an eagle salute on his chest.

"Former Corporal Hayid of the 23rd Company of the 77th Regiment of the Doom Guards greets you, sir."

"There is no need for this, Corporal. You have retired, and the unit I served in is not the same combat branch as you. You were very nervous just now. Relax, we are not performing a mission, we are simply waiting for the dishes in this tavern. "

"Yes, sir," Hayid said.

His instincts kicked in again, which is what you get after twenty years in a system. Hayid thought he could use time to forget, but now he found that he was wrong.

It was impossible for him to forget those days when he served. Fresh faces flashed before his eyes, and then came the dark trenches with heavy artillery fire, the trembling light guns in his hands, and the strange but equally ferocious enemies.

The identity of a soldier slowly revived in this lingering body, causing him to instinctively straighten his back on the seat and place his hands flat on his knees.

"Are you interested in telling me about yourself, Corporal?" the old man continued, with a hint of approval in his voice.

"Sir, what are you talking about?"

"Tell us about the battle of Sauvet," said the old man. "Given your age, you should have been present, Corporal."

"In that battle, the Doom Guards fought side by side with the Dark Angels against the second battle group of the Orcs in the Hadiran system. I remember that you fought very bravely in this battle, but I can only understand it from paper materials. "

"And you are a witness. The 23rd Company of the 77th Regiment was one of the assault companies that faced the orcs directly in that battle. The casualty rate reached 83%. You are one of the few who survived. , and even retired.”

"But you're obviously not doing well. I want to know what's going on. But if you don't want to talk about it, that's okay. I can talk about mine. That's all the soldiers can talk about when they get together. Time to kill."

Hayid showed a crumpled smile and suddenly clenched his hands.

He didn't want to say it, it was obvious, Khalil saw it very clearly. But the Lions didn't push him.

If the tone that Leon El'Jonson just used were known to other people who are familiar with him, they would probably be shocked - it is really the softness that the Calibans, who are known for their majesty and inhumanity, can express Emotions?

"There's really not much to say, sir, it's just that little shit. Fighting orcs and surviving, I was so traumatized that I had to retire."

"That's not the reason why you ended up like this." The lion, whose size had been reduced by Khalil's psychic power, frowned fiercely.

"Everyone who survived that battle was eventually awarded the Combat Hero Medal, and as a member of the Assault Company, you should also have a Model Medal and an Imperial Star. Such an honor is enough for you after you retire. Looking for a garden world to spend the rest of your life, why are you here?”

The old sailor sighed, finally raised his head, and looked at the lion with his tired eyes.

"Sir, or sir, I don't know how to call you, please forgive me. You must be working in the Ministry of Military Affairs, right? Department of Military Discipline? To be honest, I don't care too much. I thank you, but please don't look into it. This is not going to end well."

"Why?" the lion asked softly.

Hayid did not answer again. The waitress came towards them with the tray, unaware of the strange atmosphere in the booth. She put down the thick fish soup and two grilled fish, and left the booth. Her expression was not as happy as at the beginning.

Apparently, her father said something to her in the kitchen.

Hayid took the lead and raised the spoon, put the boiling thick fish soup into his mouth, and ate it quickly, as if to cover up something.

The lion still frowned, and the anger between his eyebrows was very obscure, but it was still clear and transparent to Khalil. However, the lion did not vent his anger immediately as before, but picked up the spoon and began to taste the fish soup in a proper manner.

After he took a sip, Khalil smiled and asked, "How does it taste?"

"The manufacturing technique should be promoted in the army." The lion said calmly. "This technology that can remove the finest and soft bones from fish meat has never been achieved in the canned food distributed by the Military Affairs Department. I didn't expect to taste it here, and the price is so low."

Khalil shook his head, knocked on the table with his left hand, and began to defend the Military Affairs Department.

"I'm afraid it can't be blamed on them. A new machine that can remove fish bones requires money to manufacture, debug and maintain. Not to mention that the Military Affairs Department doesn't actually distribute too many canned foods. Synthetic nutritional paste is the main source of food."

"No need to make a fire, no need to preserve the environment, and rich nutrition. In comparison, this is the best rationing option. Moreover, the empire is too big, but the means of communication are too backward, so the promotion of any policy requires astronomical figures and a long time that is almost incalculable to accumulate."

"It's different to be able to do it but not do it, and to want to do it but not do it, Khalil." The lion said.

The conversation ended very quickly, and the sound was not loud, it could be called mild. But Hayd still heard it clearly, so he drank the fish soup faster, as if he wanted to cover up something.

Ten minutes later, they finished this simple meal, paid the bill and walked out of the door of the stupid fisherman's house.

It was just past noon, and the gloomy sun was staring at the earth in the gray haze. The miners who changed shifts came and went tiredly in this area where taverns were densely distributed. Some wanted to get drunk and some wanted to fill their stomachs and go home.

They all knew nothing about what was going to happen next, and Hayd was one of them.

He received today's payment in advance, and an additional waiting fee, and then his employer dismissed him. The old sailor didn't seem to have any objection to this, but his back was somewhat hesitant when he left.

He had questions to ask, but he didn't ask them. He could also choose to report Khalil's conversation with the lion at the dinner table to the Ministry of Law in exchange for a reward, but he would not do so.

"Like I said, this is a man who knows his limits." Khalil spoke softly in the cold wind. "So, what on earth could have brought him to this state?"

He turned around and walked into a dense steel jungle. The lion followed slowly, holding the wooden staff in his hand, not even touching the ground, frowning.

"I want to know the answer as much as you do, Khalil. After dealing with this, we can find it together. I hope it's a good answer, such as a program error or an omission from the list, carelessness and dereliction of duty compared to deliberate framing and taking away other people's honor."

The lion took a deep, deep breath.

Khalil shook his head, quickened his pace, and led the lion to another underground lair full of hybrids.

At the same time, Azriel and his brothers also stepped into Banjo-1's underground system.