40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 667 49. The belated trial (18) (I’m back, let’s start with a big chapter to appetize)

As time went by, Leon El'Jonson became more and more aware that the dimension they had so firmly called 'reality' was moving away bit by bit.

Moreover, this process is irreversible. No matter how many times he and Luther walked out of the cave in the early morning and slaughtered the beasts, nothing would change.

"You're here, and the stakes are high. Time and space no longer matter, Leon. The only thing that matters is that we're here to swing our swords."

Between the killings, Luther, who was getting older, made this assertion. The lion was deeply impressed by that moment. He had never seen the old knight's eyes so calm, as if he had made some kind of determination.

Moreover, he said this with a smile.

The lion agreed with him, but not quite.

Swinging the sword vigorously?

From the moment he picked up the long sword until now, every time he wields the sword, he has never held back. As long as the lion sword is unsheathed, someone or something will bleed. He is not an executioner, nor does he regard killing as a creed of life, but he was raised in this way, raised and taught by Luther of Caliban himself.

At that time, the serious black-haired middle-aged man once told him earnestly in the training ground inside the fortress monastery: "The sword being unsheathed means that you have chosen to use force instead of other softer means. If you really I have been forced to this point and made up my mind, then don’t hold back - either don’t do it or do it, Leon.”

Either don’t do it or never do it. So interesting.

The lion raised his sword and slashed horizontally. The lion's sword buzzed and caused the deformed head of a giant beast to fly several meters high. He was killing, the blade in his hand cruelly devouring life, but his thoughts were chewing on memories calmly, and the violence from the outside world failed to affect his inner peace.

Eventually, Leon El'Jonson realized, somewhat uncannily, that Luther's teachings to him at that time had actually crossed certain boundaries - that's obvious, isn't it?

Only politicians need to choose between ‘do nothing’ and ‘do absolutely’. Others are usually unaware that they are torn between these two choices.

The lion swallowed this slightly cold thought, and more ripples appeared in his calm mind. Countless questions, he swallowed them all, and then swung his sword harder. It was not until late that night, by the fire in the cave, that he revealed them a little.

"Did you already know who I was at that time?" Leon asked confusedly.

Without raising his eyes, Luther used the metal hand to pull a grilled fish, turning his disability into a convenience that was not afraid of temperature. At the same time, he asked as if answering casually: "Who is it?"

"I don't like to play this stupid trick of asking questions knowingly."

Luther raised his head, and his eyes, which were sunk in the sockets due to the wind, frost and exhaustion, narrowed in an obvious way - he smiled, a very happy smile.

Then he nodded.

"It's a bit of a premonition."

The old knight spoke vaguely, nodding as he spoke, as if he were an old man reminiscing about the past. He even raised his other hand to make gestures.

"When I ran into you in the jungle, you were already this tall, Leon. But you were still very young, to put it a little disrespectfully. Although you looked like a dirty savage at that time, your skin was There are no scars or traces of time on your body. In my opinion, you are just like a baby who has grown into a teenager.”

"And how abnormal is this? I mean, just moments after we met, you fell from the sky and killed a giant beast with a crude stone spear in front of us."

"Other than it, you are unarmed and don't wear any armor. You are wrapped in smelly animal fur and your own hair, and you can't be seen as a human being if you are far away. Fortunately, I am far away from you. Very close, son, or I wouldn't have time to tell my comrades not to shoot."

The lion listened intently and quietly, saying nothing. The lion sword was leaning on his shoulder, and his cloak was taken off and spread under him. He was old, almost as old as Luther, but still much taller.

No one would associate them with father and son.

Luther paused, his smile faded, and suddenly he spoke in a very cold tone.

"Leon - I almost blurted it out. Remember? I stood between you and them, and the situation was so tense. Then I called you Leon. I said, Leon, you are not going to attack, are you? My tone It’s like I’ve known you for many years. Thinking back on it, isn’t it ridiculous?”

The lion actually thought for a moment as he said, and then slowly shook his head.

"I don't see what's ridiculous." Leon El'Jonson replied calmly and a little strangely. "All I know is that you stood in front of them and called me a quick, rapid word. I didn't know that word was my name until a day and a half later. And I accepted it."

Luther smiled slightly again, his previous coldness completely gone. This smile is very gentle and has a kind of calmness.

"And by then you had learned the language of Caliban."

The fire was burning, the wood was rustling uneasily, and suddenly there was a strong wind outside the cave. Just like that, they fell into silence that lasted for several seconds.

"The wind has risen," said the Lion.

"Yes." Luther answered slowly. "Normally, there won't be such a strong wind at night."

There was another silence.

"So I'm afraid that as early as that time--" Luther suddenly started talking again. "--I already knew that you were not an ordinary person, at least not from our world."

The tone of his voice was very interesting, and it could be said to be a little sarcastic. So the lion narrowed his eyes and immediately retorted.

"What? Am I not even a human in your eyes?"

"That's not what I meant." Luther shook his head. "But a normal person probably wouldn't be as alert as you are now. You smell something, right? This just proves my point."

The Lord of the First Army ignored the chattering of the stupid old man, just held the lion sword and stood up suddenly. At this moment, the sharp blade had already been unsheathed.

He threw the scabbard on the ground, turned around without saying a word, and strode towards the entrance of the cave. The wind howled outside the cave, and the only moonlight was obscured by the thick clouds that came from nowhere, leaving no light.

Then, the rain, as black as ink and as thick as mud, fell from the sky and hit the ground directly. It didn't look like rain, but more like a bombing or the "weapons falling from the sky" recorded in myths and legends, strange and indescribable.

God?

The lion silently changed the definition in his heart: evil things are haunting.

There are no gods in this world. He thought, and then he was stunned for a moment by this outdated old saying.

Maybe he was old, or maybe he was immersed in memories too much recently, and his thoughts were inevitably pulled back to a very special time point at this moment. The special stench emitted by the orc corpses when burned by promethium passed through the heavy time and hit him accurately.

Ullanor.

It was raining that time too. He remembered it very clearly, and then he thought of the Emperor.

There are no gods in this world. His father said. You must know that any power with a prefix such as "beyond imagination" can actually be decomposed by human wisdom, and then mastered and used. Remember this, Leon.

I remember, but.

The lion watched the forest slowly stand up, frowning and putting on a helmet.

Countless giant trees chose to become monsters at this moment. Their roots that were originally deeply rooted in the ground pushed away the soil, tied together, and turned into thick tentacles, and then formed a structure similar to human legs to support themselves to stand up.

The creepy creaking sound was endless, and countless corpses and bones were revealed one by one after the roots that had once entangled chose to leave. Some were already extremely fragile, while others were still fresh.

The treetops swayed and moved, and the leaves expanded to form abstract human faces, screaming and falling to the ground, adding terrifying momentum to the whistling wind and rapidly falling raindrops around them, and also became a new part in this ominous ensemble.

Just like that, in the rain, they stood up and made way.

A figure staggered at the end of the road.

Behind him, Luther sighed softly: "The plan went wrong, Leon. Someone found us before Zabril. And this is not the power of the Ouroboros."

The lion said without looking back: "I don't think it was a human who found us."

He jumped down the exit of the cave with his sword, and did not take the path, but fell straight down into the ground that had been turned into boiling mud by the dark raindrops.

The shockwave was completely absorbed, and the filth could not wait to climb up, trying to penetrate through the gaps in the armor, and gradually polluted the glory of this set of armor that had served for almost the same period of the Empire's history.

But the lion just took a step, and their greed turned into wishful thinking - high-temperature steam gushed out from the reserved gaps, melting all the evil that dared to offend Lion El'Jonson in an instant.

Continuous screams came faintly from under the mud and fell into his ears. The lion looked down, and the face behind the helmet showed more disgust.

Just some rain gave birth to this kind of thing.

The lion quickened his pace. And this time, the dark mud did not try to stop him. Wherever he went, there was only bare and rugged stones on the ground.

The soil and vegetation had been irrigated by the rain, but these stones buried deep underground seemed to have different opinions. Under the night, they still maintained their original appearance. This similar tenacity and stubbornness made the lion inevitably smile, even though he shouldn't smile at this moment.

"Assemble." He said.

His voice was low and penetrated the dark rain curtain without any hindrance. The mud that stood up as if threatened by him sprayed bubbles one after another, showing its threat to him like a beast, but no mud dared to pounce forward and stain half a piece of metal.

The leader of the first army slowly raised his sword and stood in front of him. The blue light suddenly appeared, illuminating his black armor. The roaring lion head on the right shoulder armor was so conspicuous.

Logically speaking, such a king should have his own lion group. At this moment, there should be an unstoppable black armor army standing behind him.

However, reality is always quite absurd. Now there is only one person standing behind the lion, and he is even an old, tired, white-haired old man with oil stains on his cloak.

He stood breathlessly behind the man he swore allegiance to, and after several seconds he stood up straight, raised his left hand, and pressed a winged sword emblem to his right chest.

"Attack." Leon El'Jonson ordered coldly.

Yes, they always attack after gathering, and the First Army will never be sloppy - but the question is, who to attack? Attack against what? To these mud?

The lion didn't think about these problems. He just waved his arms and then stepped forward, his steps showing a lightness that shouldn't be there.

The arm moved the wrist to decompose the force field and cut into pieces of the rain curtain. The dense blue light drew a wonderful arc and actually cut into pieces the mud wall that had been completely erected after being driven. But he still didn't stop. The first blow was followed by a series of completely non-stop slashes like flowing water. The arc of each strike was just right and extremely precise.

Looking at this scene, Luther stood behind him with his gun pressed, and there was some inappropriate emotion on his face.

In a past so long that only the two of them could remember it, he taught Leon El'Jonson many different sword techniques. Some focus on offense, some focus on defense, and some even find a different approach, completely abandoning defense, advocating the two extreme methods of speed and one-hit kill.

These sword skills come from the ancient knights of Caliban, who were the best swordsmen and greatest heroes of their time.

Only in this way can they be qualified to write what they have learned into a book that is not too thick and put it in Alduruk's library for later generations to study. But now, right before his eyes, the swordsmanship performed by the lion had moved away from the sword theory itself.

He wasn't swinging a sword, but more like...

"Leon!" Luther laughed and took aim. "Are you doing math with swords? Each sword must follow a calculated arc?"

There was a sudden flash of huge red light, and the lion turned calmly and made a tactical gesture to him - meaning silence - which he himself immediately retorted.

"You, an old guy who has been here for who knows how many years, had better not dictate my battle strategies." He shouted impatiently. But he still gave an explanation. "That swordsmanship comes from the sons of Mortarion and has proven effective in many battles."

"It works?"

Accompanied by some weird swelling sound and a gradually rising scream coming from the dirt, Luther shrugged and put his hand back into his cloak.

I don’t know what he did. In short, he miraculously pulled out another gun from the empty armed belt. It looks like an exquisite revolver hand cannon. It is huge in size, has a sealed magazine, and an extremely long barrel. The whole body shines with a beautiful silver light.

He aimed his gun again, and the lion came to him and defended him with his sword.

"Mind telling me about this working story?" Luther asked.

He was squinting his eyes, looking at the results of his victory. Not far from him and the lion, a huge gap had been created in the originally surging pitch black mud tide. It was roughly estimated that at least two Baneblade tanks could drive in side by side.

It may seem scary, but Luther knew very well that for a new demon based on the trait of "mud", the damage on the physical level was actually nothing at all.

Fortunately, although he has been busy going back and forth in history these years, he has not forgotten to take a moment to pray a few words. When he fired the gun just now, a self-made prayer he recited silently obviously injured the thing so badly that it even dared to ignore someone's order for a short period of time and hesitated in place.

As for what that prayer is, it's better not to care.

"There's nothing to say," the lion said calmly. "The devil is at work, has big plans, is extremely threatening, it's just an old story."

"If you really want to talk about it, it can be summed up in one sentence - Mortarion's stolen body destroyed six worlds in succession with six different plagues. The entire Death Guard team was dispatched, determined to destroy the seventh world in it It was completely destroyed before.”

"This set of swordsmanship was created during the war by Orm, the leader of the Death Guard Chapter at the time. In the following twelve centuries, it has been spread to hundreds of Chapters and saved countless lives."

"But I don't think it looks like any kind of swordsmanship, Leon. You seemed to pause when you used this word to call it. Did I hear you correctly?"

Luther asked briskly, a little teasingly, but not forgetting to get down to business. He closed his left eye and began to calibrate his target.

He had already seen a twisted figure walking slowly through the gap. Wherever he went, treetops drooped and faces wailed, as if the forests of Caliban were surrendering.

But don't get me wrong, he didn't just ask casually, but he was really interested in the matter.

He is self-aware enough to know that he is too old and probably very useless, but there is only one thing he can say with pride - he, Luther of Caliban, is quite knowledgeable. wide.

When the lion raised his sword, Luther saw the essence of that sword technique at a glance.

"This involves an ancient theory." The lion was silent for a few seconds before reluctantly answering. "You should know its name."

Luther twitched the corners of his mouth, pretending not to smile, and then asked: "Numerology?"

"Yes."

"It seems that Lord Mortarion is the heir." Luther pondered for a moment, and finally choked out a not-so-meaningful compliment. "It's better to be better than someone who is good at learning."

"There's no need for you to flatter him." The lion said calmly. "Your command below, ser."

Luther smiled slightly and immediately pulled the trigger, and a deep death light burst out from the barrel of the gun.

This is definitely not human technology. Realizing this, the lion couldn't help but take a closer look, and then felt a little confused - the weapon style of the Necrons is very different from the gun Luther is holding now.

Could it be that he had persuaded a Necron to forge a weapon for him?

With this question in mind, the suspicious Caliban savage roared and rushed towards the gap, and even continued to swing his sword along the way.

The muds, which had already felt extremely painful due to Luther's prayer, were hit hard again, and the decomposition field began to break up the mud in a serious manner.

It looks terrible, but what really makes the mud tide feel painful is not the blade or the position itself, but the angle deliberately chosen by the person holding them when swinging his arm.

It's nothing alone, but if combined, it becomes its natural enemy, causing it to instinctively feel pain and fear. Even if it has a life form far beyond the mundane, this newly born powerful demon cannot endure this pain.

Finally, when the lion's charge reached the fourth second, it retreated in fear. The man who summoned and shaped it didn't care much, just raised his left hand at the end of the road to block the green death light.

According to convention, he should say something at this time - but not this time.

His enemies don't allow it.

More death lights swarmed in, and in this man's eyes, they were not only the technological power of the Necrons, but also some real power of faith.

He saw it clearly, so he took it seriously immediately. A few wisps of ashes suddenly fell from between his fingers, and they actually dissipated all the power of faith that was very difficult for the big devil.

No, not dissipation, but assimilation.

Seeing this, Luther's face finally showed some shock.

"Those are ashes, and they must be voluntarily donated by people with extremely devout faith." He whispered very quickly, as if the lion who was about to rush to the enemy could hear what he was saying - and it was indeed the case.

Lion El'Jonson grasped this valuable information firmly, and then immediately changed his battle strategy.

The sword path that was originally intended to cut an arc was abruptly stopped in mid-air, and behind the scarlet eyepiece of the winged helmet, the lion's pupil suddenly shrank to the size of a needle tip.

The lion sword slashed across and sank deep into a person's rotten chest. But there was no blood spurting out, only dust. In a short time that could not be called "seconds", this person pressed his hands on the lion's shoulders.

"Primarch."

A murmur came out with the wind, and behind the helmet, the lion clenched his teeth without surprise.

He pulled back, almost wanting to use his unique power to kill the rebel on the spot. But he did not forget why he came to this chaotic time. In order to avoid being used again, he did not summon the forest after all-and this gave Serafax a chance.

Yes, Serafax, who else could the attacker be if not him?

However, the Ten Thousand Eyes Wizard looked extremely miserable at this time. His gorgeous robes were gone, and even his body became like charcoal, just like those poor people who were burned alive.

He just stared at his original body, and the pair of eyes embedded in his eye sockets like glass balls reflected the appearance of Lion El'Jonson in his youth - a tall blond giant, with wildness and majesty in his gestures, making people want to kneel and surrender.

The lion naturally saw him, and so did Luther.

At this moment, before Serafax's charred hands pressed into the lion's armor and touched his flesh, they attacked at the same time.

The lion raised his hands and pressed on Serafax's outstretched hands, intending to break them and then tear off the head of the charred corpse. Luther summoned the five silver lights again. As soon as they appeared, they tore through the air and whistled towards the crystal pair of "eyes" of Serafax, determined to smash the glass balls into pieces.

Their attacks were all successful. The corpse without hands and heads stood staggeringly in place, unable to resist, waiting for the final judgment.

The lion let go of the pair of arms and pulled out the lion sword from his chest with his backhand. Several sword lights whistled past, and he chopped the corpse left by the wizard into pieces without mercy.

It seemed to be very effective, but even if you don't look at the black rain in the sky that hasn't stopped, just based on your intuition, the lion and Luther would never think that this is the end.

They have dealt with chaos too many times, and the experience accumulated with blood and tears cannot be erased by a little bit of victory. However, what happened next was beyond the expectations of any of them.

No one could have predicted this, there was no possibility. Thinking about this precious thing that only exists in a few intelligent races requires the thinker to have rationality and the most basic intelligence, and must have a certain degree of understanding of the problem he is thinking about - even if it is the minimum, imagination and intuition can naturally play their advantages.

But what if there is no understanding, no preparation, and no room to use imagination?

In the highest heaven, the Lord of Change exclaimed happily.

"I told you, little sister - this paranoid, crazy, but still innocent human being will bring us a very interesting drama."

He stretched out his "finger" and pointed at the corpse of Serafax through a sparkling mist. His laughter became more sincere, but he began to chatter.

"Human beings are so complex that two opposing things can coexist harmoniously in them. Look, didn't Serafax do this? He is obviously a madman, but he naively thinks that he can really save everyone."

Beside him, the wanton mist lazily refuted.

"His naivety is based on your madness. You gave him the door, key and lock, and even helped him sneak into another world. Did he bring anything back? Huh? Tell me the truth."

The Lord of Change turned into a smiling man, bowed to the mist with his feet on the galaxy, and politely rejected this request.

"That won't do. You and I have waited so long, and finally we have finally come to the climax. How can we let this supreme enjoyment be reduced to a boring level in advance because of a moment of impatience? Please wait a little longer, little sister, I promise you that what comes next will definitely be exciting."

A bland laugh came from the mist: "You can keep it a secret as much as you want, I don't mind you making fun of me. But I want to guess."

"Three chances?" The man transformed by the Lord of Change asked carefully.

"Five times." The mist immediately retorted, but the tone changed strangely, becoming very high and very charming. "I want five chances!"

The smile on the "this" man's face froze for a moment, and then returned to a brilliant smile again. "How about I give you nine chances?"

"No, I want five times."

"Eighteen times, no more."

"Five times."

". The stupid thing you are doing now will affect our plan to a certain extent. Do you understand, Slaanesh?" The man asked unkindly.

A snort of laughter came from the mist: "Of course I know - but, this is what makes it interesting. Five chances, it's a deal, how about it?"

The man sighed and agreed.

"Very good. I guess you are going to play the same old trick again, intending to make him lose everything and be crushed to pieces at the last minute?"

"I won't really control the direction of everything." The man shook his head quite seriously. "And, as you said, this is already an old trick - if he really succeeds, it will be a good thing for me."

"Interesting." The mist laughed softly, with panting and seductive singing in between. "Then, the second guess: you don't know what he wants to do now, right?"

"Yes." The man said, frowning, his jaw twitching nervously, as if he was enduring extreme pain.

"Very good, the third guess -" The mist stretched out the tone, and the panting became more obvious. The singing became louder and longer, and the cruel sound of a blade piercing the body also sounded. "--Are you ready to bear the price of time reversal?"

".No." The man said with difficulty.

Before he finished speaking, one after another wandering bulges broke out under his face. They were obviously wrapped in this human skin, but they seemed to not exist in the flesh and blood. The wandering places either protruded teeth or eyeballs, making a good face as abstract as a sponge held in someone's hand.

Seeing his appearance, the existence in the mist finally burst into a high pitch. Then, there was a satisfied hum, and the lewd music sounded again.

"Very good, very good." He said with satisfaction, and just shut up, not intending to continue this speculation.

The man immediately clenched his fists, and the huge body covered under the human skin directly tore the disguise apart, and the momentum was so great that it almost set off a tsunami in the highest sky.

"Keep asking!" The Lord of Change screamed the order.

"Don't be impatient." The mist said in a relatively normal tone, with a smile secretly taking root, and a certain malicious desire was rolling endlessly.

"What I know now is enough to satisfy myself. You gave him authority, but did not draw a boundary. You let a crazy mortal master the authority that he should never touch."

"So you lost control of the future. You don't know whether your existence will be torn apart by time in the next second, and then replaced. This uncertainty about the future is almost tearing you apart."

"Isn't it, brother?"

An arm stretched out from the mist, bloody, with wounds rolling up the flesh, and it has not healed yet, as if it was just injured. This hand gently held up the nebula that the Lord of Change transformed into, and squeezed it sadly.

"It's delicious." Slaanesh whispered. "We are a pair of crazy bastards who are willing to do anything to satisfy ourselves. If they find out, what should we do?"

Nebula did not answer, but just spun. In the water curtain, countless giant trees had completely buried the figures of the Calibans.

Even the gods did not know what would happen next.