40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 647 30. The belated trial (3, Ten Thousand Eyes War Gang, 6k)

I woke up.

Dark, as always. This is something I asked for, I don't like light, at least not anymore. In the past, when I finished meditating, the burning candles in the room and the sound of my brothers breathing would tell me where I was.

But now it's different, there are no candles, no light, and no one else, just myself. But I'm not completely alone. I have a secret hum for company.

I know where this sound comes from, but I don't know how to describe it in simple and understandable language.

To me, the sound originated from the engine room of the battle barge Blade of Truth. This voice has existed since she was sacrificed to the gods three centuries ago.

However, the mutants, beasts and other hybrid savages on the ship called it a 'heartbeat', believing that it contained the idea of ​​the Blade of Truth itself. As long as you can decipher its secrets, you can survive the Blade of Truth's occasional wrath.

And I'm going to say, it's all bullshit. It was just sacrificed, that's all, there wasn't much reason to tell.

We took it from the dogs of war, changed its name, and dedicated it to the gods. It was as simple as that.

As for the things that follow...it's just a chain reaction.

I stood up and began to inspect and organize myself according to the custom left to me by the Legion.

I first made sure that my knight's robe was not damaged, and then I stored the winged sword crest in an inconspicuous corner of the compartment of my armor belt. After that, comes the operation of weapons and armor.

It took me three minutes to do this, a long time, but worth it. The tranquility brought by meditation was transformed into a small cloud in the corner of my mind by this movement, which continuously provided me with a kind of coolness at the thinking level.

I puffed out my chest, put on my helmet, opened the door and walked out of my room. Behind the eyepiece, I was able to clearly observe the world in front of me.

A world full of filthy bastards.

My room was on the second deck and anyone with any common sense knows how important this is. However, even in such an important hinterland, I could see countless beastmen. They crowded in the halls, corridors and rooms created the day after tomorrow to pray.

These degenerate subhuman hybrids are taller than us, the Astartes, but they are not human at all, just a bunch of brutes. I tried my best not to look at them and walked past them.

However, the dirty graffiti all over the walls, floor and ceiling, as well as the chaotic and violent scenery outside the porthole, never let go of my nerves.

They teased me continuously, giving me the urge to kill.

So I stopped, moved my steps, changed direction and continued walking. A few minutes later, I came to the door of a corridor decorated with a large number of skulls. The endless skulls seemed to be telling me something.

I walked into it, alone, and came to a special place.

I have never known how to describe this place. I can only say that it is very wide and covered with blood-stained yellow sand. Many people were standing on the edge, watching a battle in the middle of the yellow sand.

In the middle of the yellow sand, a giant wearing black armor like me was fighting another giant. His opponent was wearing blue and white ceramite armor, no helmet, and his face was covered in blood.

I want to leave. I don't like this kind of thing.

"Bello."

I turned around and saw Oramon. Like me, a knight, a Caliban, who joined the Legion a little over half a year before I did.

"Oramon. How's it going on the court?" I asked him, then asked a casual question.

I actually don't care what is happening on the field. This yellow sand pit is not our tradition, it belongs to the War Dogs, although we kept it in a not too good way.

The reason why I changed the topic was just to stop him from paying attention to me.

"Ah not good. I think our brother will lose."

Oramon said, he followed my idea perfectly. I saw the two eyebrows above his pale eyes were tightly knitted together, and his facial features began to twist together.

Being soaked in the subspace for a long time and receiving blessings from the gods have caused varying degrees of mutation in us. It's okay for me to say that I'm not religious enough, but Oramon is different.

He is loyal to a god of pleasure. Although he has only devoted himself to it in recent years, it seems to me that the signs have been laid long ago. His pursuit of art and desire for beautiful slaves have already revealed to me what he looked like at this time.

But, then again - yes, he mutated. His eyes changed color, as well as his skin color, and I could see his veins through his face.

I think this is probably just the beginning.

"Why do you say that? Gardevoir is having the advantage," I said.

I'm not kidding, that's exactly what happened. Shanel—the black-armored giant currently fighting on the field—had a real advantage. He had already knocked the prisoner from War Dog to the ground twice.

If he wanted to, this battle would probably be over soon. As always, the war dog would be killed and the body dragged away and fed to the demons on the ship or something more horrific.

"He despises him," Oramon said contemptuously. "And underestimating the enemy is a taboo, Bello."

He turned his head and looked at me, speaking slowly, showing his respect for me.

"Although his opponent is young, may have less than twenty years of combat experience, and is in very poor condition, he is still the son of Angron. Shanel's underestimation of the enemy will cost him the battle and his life."

His words still failed to arouse my interest in watching the battle, but in order not to spoil his fun, I turned my head and took a look at the battle.

Soon, I realized that there was nothing wrong with what Olamon said. Shanel was indulging his desire for torture. But the young war dog was not.

We destroyed him and his team, a total of sixty people, in a raid half a natural month ago. The war dogs have flourished, but it is still a huge loss.

And if we consider the planet they swore to defend but was bombed into cosmic dust by our fleet, the hatred would probably be even deeper. Not to mention, the hatred between us and them has actually been established a long time ago.

Three centuries ago, when we stole the Blade of Truth, we also destroyed several of their battleships and the auxiliary troops on them. Those people were regarded as brothers and sisters by them.

In summary, I have reason to believe that the war dog will seize every opportunity to kill Shanel, and my belief has come true.

Just as Shanel swung his sword to chop him to the ground again, and raised his hands like a champion to accept the cheers or jeers of the audience, the war dog quickly climbed up.

Shanel quickly put away his sword to block. I don’t like him, but I won’t erase his efforts in swordsmanship. Blocking and counterattack were almost completed at the same time. He opened the war dog’s chain saw axe and stabbed with a backhand, hitting his opponent’s chest and abdomen.

This destroyed important organs and spine. As long as Shanel wanted, he could completely cut open the war dog’s chest. The power sword would help him do it very smoothly.

But, as I said, he loves torture, so he twisted his wrist slowly, trying to see more pain on the young face.

The warhound took the opportunity, and he rushed forward, causing more damage to himself with the power sword, but also bit Garnael's neck with the chainsaw axe.

They fell to the ground together, and we could hear Garnael's cry of injury and the warhound's dying cry bursting from the depths of his throat.

"For Angron!"

He roared, and with chainsaw axe, fists and teeth, he tore Garnael's head from his neck.

He won.

And the owner of the bunker was very unhappy about this. The owner of the bunker was Zadkar, and he used to be a clear-headed commander. As for now, he is a bloodthirsty madman.

When needed, we let him out to kill our enemies and let him sober up briefly before he started killing us. When not needed, he would always hover around this bunker, letting people in to fight.

Anyone can step into the sand, but the main event is always Astartes vs. Astartes. From what I know, he has done a lot of disgusting things here. We have captured many prisoners and wasted them all on this.

There are many people in the warband who are dissatisfied with him, but my master Serafax has not responded to any of the dissatisfied voices.

So, for now, the crazy Zadkar can still entrench himself here unscrupulously and vent his bloodlust anytime and anywhere.

I saw him jump into the sand, and before the "after" came, I turned my eyes away and planned to turn around and leave. I had seen enough. I had planned to come here to kill a few beastmen legally and drain their blood in a one-on-one duel.

This is not something particularly difficult to do, but I must be careful myself, after all, they are the darlings of darkness. I didn't think about coming here to watch a few Astartes being killed, whether they are my brothers or not.

"Where are you going?"

Amid the roar of Zadkar and the sound of blood and flesh splattering, Oramon asked me so. I ignored him and just left.

Today, the relationship between me and my brothers has changed greatly. The brotherhood still exists, but only between a few people. More people, such as Oramon, Shanel or Zadkar, have changed. They will not hurt me, they know me, obey my orders, and even please me, but that is only because of my status. In other words, there is not much left of the Legion era. My only consolation for this is that the Imperial side is similar. So far, every Astartes I have seen is a product of the so-called Holy Code. It is ridiculous that they have never seen the Emperor, but they can shout to fight for him. As I went up, I saw more twisted things along the way, such as demons bound by iron chains, sorcerers whispering in corners, and cavemen monsters licking flesh. If I hadn't learned to turn a blind eye to these things long ago, I would probably be very painful. The elevator that remained inside the Blade of Truth, which led directly to the main bridge, comforted me mechanically—at least it was still familiar to me.

I thanked it and stepped into the main bridge. Unlike what I remembered, there was no one here, no busy crew members or servitors. Correspondingly, the instruments that needed them to operate were also destroyed.

This battle barge no longer needed instruments to operate, it had become another form of life.

If you don't believe it, just look at the main bridge, its darkness, and the symbols, objects and half-dead demons hanging all over the observation windows. What ship could adorn its bridge with such things?

I walked towards the throne in the darkness with my head lowered.

"Ah, you came just in time, Bello." My master Serafax said cheerfully.

I'm a little confused - he's not usually a very happy person, maybe he was in the past, but definitely not now.

He was once my company commander, a knight captain, a standard Caliban with red hair. He has been commanding me since before Caliban's Rebellion. After that, we still fought side by side.

As for now, he is a person who is difficult to describe in words. He grew taller, and his red hair burned like a flame, as did half of his face.

This marks his acceptance of a blessing from one of the gods, and the resulting mutation is seen by my brothers as a symbol of strength and authority.

I grieve over this, and I obey him because he is my superior, my brother, and the man to whom I owe my allegiance now. But they are different, at least most of them are.

They were loyal to him simply because of the power he had.

In other words, Serafax's Ten Thousand Eyes warband has power.

Years of plundering have accumulated a huge fleet with more than two hundred warships. Piety and sacrifice to the gods have earned many blessings and useful knowledge. Everyone who can penetrate deep into the warp has heard our name, even the demons will know us.

Am I proud of this?

"Come quickly, my friend."

Serafax waved to me. He was surrounded by books and silver amulets on the throne, and the steps under his feet were covered with blue runes and magic circles. I looked at them cautiously, making sure I had a good footing before walking over to him.

Only then did I realize that he was holding an illusory spine in his hand.

"What is this?" I asked.

"One of the spies we sent out," Serafax replied with a smile. "Remember Leona de Lar?"

I searched my memory, and a woman's face slowly emerged. As Serafax said, we have many spies throughout the stars and seas to provide us with information and intelligence.

Typically, they will remain loyal and honest for a long time until they feel they have the power to compete with us.

It's not that uncommon, and we always profit from it - honestly, it's not that hard to kill them. It is not difficult to give their savings, strength, and souls to the gods or demons.

So, yes, we raise more than just spies.

I nodded.

"She's probably dead," Serafax said lightly. "And it was the kind that was completely destroyed. I couldn't sense her soul. Someone took away her soul before we did. That person even decoded the horn we left for her."

He showed me the spine in his hand, which was gradually becoming solid. I've seen this happen many times, but I still can't help but feel a weird, bone-deep tingling sensation.

I don’t think I could get used to this even if I saw it a thousand times. How could the human spine be used as a messenger? And it can still span such a distance.

He and I waited patiently. Half a minute later, the spine finally took shape in his hands.

"And no matter who this person is, he left us a message." Serafax spoke slowly.

He raised his head and glanced at me. The eye that was not replaced by the flame was looking at me patiently. I said nothing, leaving the decision-making power to him as always.

He smiled and crushed his spine. Some kind of dull explosion quietly erupted between his fingers. The bone fragments should have fallen to the ground, but they were pulled by an inexplicable force and flew into the air. A shadow was among the flying bone fragments. Slowly appears.

He stared directly at us. He has dark green eyes and faded blond hair. He was old, and even though I didn't really recognize him, the thought occurred immediately, followed by a wave of sadness.

He is old. I thought with horror.

It was only then that my mind told me who he was, following instinct.

My fear intensified into tremors.

The lion is old. I think.

I couldn't control my instinctive reaction, and turned to look at Serafax, wanting to seek help from him, but found that his face was calm, as if he had expected such a day.

Despite this, his clenched fists on the armrests of the throne told me that he was actually not calm at this time.

"Wanyan, listen to my words carefully."

A familiar voice came slowly, forcing me to turn my head to look at the lion's projection and accept his cold gaze.

Ten thousand years have passed, and ten thousand years have passed in the material world. We have gradually changed from hiding and escaping. Although we still need to enter the subspace to escape, the lion has never left.

News of him and the fakes he created to replace us will still reach us. Still, I haven't heard his voice for a long time.

I had no real sense of the time of ten thousand years until I heard his voice again. The coldness and murderous intent were genuine, just like Caliban's back then, and I had to take a deep breath to calm myself down.

"A hundred centuries have passed, and you still refuse to face the truth and your own mistakes. You kill, plunder, and indulge in wanton ways, and you stain my name with my blood."

His projection slowly moved forward until it became a bird's eye view full of contempt.

"Without a doubt," the Lion declares to us. "You are all traitors, traitors to humanity."

I shivered as if I'd been electrocuted. I know full well that what we do is not glorious at all, but...

A hand grabbed me, it was Serafax. He was holding my hand and looking at me with concern. The lion's projection paused its activity, presumably because of his handiwork.

"Do not be misled by him, my friend," Serafax whispered.

I nodded reluctantly, Serafax squeezed my hand, and the lion's voice sounded again.

"To this day, the wrongdoers and sinners who survived the massacre on Caliban have gotten what they deserve, but you are the only ones who are still escaping from me. If you are not cowards, come and get what you deserve. Mas."

The lion straightened his back expressionlessly.

"I promise on my honor that there will be no ambush or trap. The matter needs to be settled. No matter how you think of me, the truth about Caliban must be told. I'm waiting in Camas you."

Camas. I quickly searched my memory, but Serafax's laughter sounded immediately, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked at him in confusion and found that he was laughing very happily. This kind of laughter cannot be acted out. The lion's words must really make him very happy, otherwise he would never laugh like this. I looked at him confused.

"Oh, don't be surprised, Bello. I just didn't expect our Primarch to actually talk about his honor with any seriousness."

He looked at me and exhaled softly with great satisfaction.

"You don't know something, Bello, but honor means nothing to the Lion, at least nothing in front of victory. He is the kind of person who will give up honor for the sake of victory, and for the same reason, so do we."

He stood up slowly, the cassock he wore seemed to be rendered extremely red by the burning flames. The sudden light was born as he stood up, and the entire dark bridge was as bright as day.

I looked around to observe this rare scene, but I saw something that shocked my heart and even my soul.

It was a mirror, or at least it looked like a mirror. Huge, like an upside-down silver lake reflecting our own image above our heads.

"Don't look." Serafax warned me in a friendly tone as a hand pulled me back on track. "That is a gift from the Lord of Changes. You must not look directly at it, Bello."

"You are the last one among us who is still awake. I must rely on your reason, otherwise, even I will really become a servant of the gods. I serve them, but that is only temporary."

He put his hand on my shoulder, waved his left hand, plunged the surroundings into darkness again, and led me down the long steps.

"Remember what I said to you?" he asked.

Of course I remember.

“The opportunity to make it happen is not far away,” Serafax told me. "Right on Camas."

I looked at him and found that his only remaining eye was shining with a brilliance that I couldn't understand at all. I can only read pain and sadness in it. As for more things, I can't tell at all.

He noticed my gaze, so he looked at me, then raised his hand and took off my helmet, and met my eyes.

"Brother," he called me in his Legion tone. "Let us wash away our shame, from now on. The lamentations of Caliban and the Knights will be no more."

I bowed my head in obedience.