40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 67 66. The Eighth Legion (two, five chapters in one)

"What do you think they are doing?" Conrad Coates asked in disbelief.

Felzalost was silent for a while, lowered his head and told his Primarch: "They are dueling, uh, with Lord Khalil Lohars."

"."

Konrad Coates was also silent for a moment, but the first sentence he spoke was not to ask for details, but to correct him.

"Don't call him my lord, or any other honorific after that name, Fell. Just call him as I do, Khalil, Lohars—but don't call him my lord."

".As you command, Primarch." Fel nodded doubtfully.

Cozz took a deep breath and stood up from behind his seat.

Forty minutes ago, he completed his vow. He successfully memorized the names of every Eighth Legion soldier. It was a feat, but nothing to him.

After that, no one in the Eighth Legion pushed open that door again.

Therefore, you can say that the moment Konrad Kurtz saw Fer Zalost walking in, he was actually a little surprised.

However, he never expected that this surprise would develop into a shock so quickly.

"duel?"

As he walked towards the door, he turned around and asked Feier. He had just taken the time to read the detailed map of the Night Veil and remembered every detail firmly in his mind. So he doesn't need to lead the way.

"What's going on?" he asked.

The former third captain of the Eighth Legion hurriedly followed his original body and began to explain in a low voice: "It is said that it was Mr. Khalil who first made the suggestion."

"In the beginning, it was just hand-to-hand fighting, but it soon developed into free fighting with ground techniques. Now it has even turned into fighting with weapons, the original body."

"So, it's not actually a duel?" Cozz asked, ignoring the 'sir' for the time being.

"There seems to me little difference, Primarch."

Fell replied with a pale face - he now had a skin color scarier than some of the cave-dwelling mutants in the world.

"We all felt that it was no different from a duel. Mr. Khalil was holding a blunt training sword, but everyone else's weapons were edged."

".That's okay."

Walking in the dark corridor, when Conrad Coates heard the news, his shoulders sank as if he was relieved.

"Khalil must have acquiesced in this and maybe he asked for it."

"Yes, the original body, this is what Mr. Khalil himself requested - in addition, I also want to apologize to you."

Fer Zalost said uneasily: "To be precise, we want to apologize to you. Eight of our former company commanders were at the scene, but we failed to stop the development of the situation in time."

"It's human nature to want to see the truth, and I don't blame you. As for the former company commander, I will re-investigate the matter tomorrow and initiate a vote. It is simply nonsense for you to remove yourself from office."

Cozz frowned sternly, and used the tone closest to reprimanding to Feier during the trot while barely able to maintain his composure: "That is proof of your past military exploits and honors, how can you give up just because you say you want to? "

".I'm sorry, Primarch."

"Don't apologize to me. You, you, have nothing to do with me - now, let's get over it quickly."

Conrad Coates let out a long sigh. He was not worried about Khalil at all. He was more worried about other people.

He worries about everyone else.

——

I'm really not good with a sword, Khalil thought.

His opponent took a step forward and stabbed him in the heart. The blow was fast, accurate and hard.

But his opponent was obviously keeping his hand consciously - for no other reason than that his sword was edged. And what Khalil had in his hand was just a blunt sword.

Faced with his kindness, Khalil turned slightly to the side and passed by, perfectly avoiding this move. His opponent immediately changed his moves, and the blade came to life like a dexterous snake, stabbing his shoulder viciously.

This time, he still kept his hand.

Khalil couldn't help but smile.

His response was simple - the blunt sword rotated. He held the sword backwards in the way he was most familiar with, reversed his center of gravity and balance, and used it as a short sword to accurately knock away the opponent's sword.

"You don't have to hold back, Richter," he said softly. "I've said that if we're going to try to make the fight fair, we should give you more of an advantage."

".Is this some kind of insult?"

The young man named Richter replied, his expression was serious, his lips were bent downward and pressed together tightly. He seemed to make this expression often, and it was natural and serious.

"of course not."

"Then why do you say that? You are holding a blunt sword, and I am holding an edged, murderous weapon - I must keep my hand! This is an unfair fight!"

"This fight was never fair."

"Maybe, Khalil! You may indeed be able to defeat us in hand-to-hand combat, but sword fighting is different! The sword has nothing to do with height, strength, or anything else!"

Richter's words caused a crowd of shouts below the ring, which came like a mountain roar and a tsunami. The soldiers of the Eighth Legion applauded his speech and did not forget to cheer him on.

Khalil sighed softly.

Richter turned sideways solemnly, with his left foot placed straight in front and his right foot placed diagonally behind. He raised the sword with his right hand and then rushed towards Khalil.

As always, he kept a trick.

The blade flew up and down in the air, and Richter was so fast that it was dazzling, swinging, slashing, and stabbing.

He used simple and direct moves again and again, and his single hand became two hands without knowing when. If the air had a substance, it would probably be cut into pieces.

Khalil frowned and began to dodge these fine and continuous attacks.

Of course, he could use his sword to block these attacks, but he knew another thing better. If he resisted rashly, it would be easy for a swordsman like Richter to be drawn into their moves.

He couldn't let this fight that had lasted for five hours see blood, whether it was his blood or their blood. Otherwise, the result might be quite unacceptable.

Although, the development of this matter is now beyond his control.

"It's useless to dodge blindly!" Richter shouted loudly. "Come on, beat me fair and square, or be beaten by me!"

He used the big step at the beginning again, and the blade stabbed at Khalil's throat at an exaggerated speed-what's more terrifying is that even at such a fast speed, he still held back.

Khalil's observation ability allowed him to discover this. In addition to the desire for victory, the eyes of the Eighth Legion warrior named Richternar also showed a very obvious caution.

This kind of caution would not appear in a heart that is extremely eager for victory.

Interesting

At this moment, Khalil held the sword with both hands.

Yes, he is not good at using a sword, but it does not mean that he cannot learn.

The most basic and most important thing in weapon fighting is the pace. With the pace, these weapons can exert their greatest power. And Richter's pace just now is not difficult for him to remember.

He took a step to the left, raised his hands flat, and locked his wrists together. The sound of the blunt sword and the sharp sword colliding with each other came the next second, echoing throughout the wide arena.

This sound began to pass back and forth in the dark metal cage of the arena until it became a huge echo, even overwhelming the cheers from the audience.

Richter was stunned and stood there, forgetting to attack for a moment.

The young swordsmanship master was silent for a long time before asking: ".That's my step."

"Yes."

"Can you use a sword?"

"No."

"But, that's my step."

"Indeed."

Silence, silence again - after a moment, Richter dropped the sword in his hand.

What this gesture meant was self-evident.

"I admit defeat."

He said calmly, as if he was not ashamed of it.

"If you can do this, then I'm just humiliating myself if I continue to fight."

"No, Richterner."

Khalil shook his head and spoke sincerely. At the same time, he also dropped the blunt sword in his hand - or rather, threw it down.

"From the perspective of sword fighting, I have already lost. I don't know any sword moves, you can see this from my previous actions."

"And you, you didn't use your full strength every time you attacked. Therefore, if someone really has to admit defeat, then the one who admits defeat should be me."

Richter frowned, and for the first time he seemed a little anxious: "How can you say that? I will definitely lose if I continue to fight!"

"Does winning or losing matter?"

Khalil smiled slightly and shook his head.

"I didn't stand on this ring with the intention of defeating you from the beginning. I just wanted to understand you. Similarly, the first person who walked onto the ring to fight me, Aleister, didn't walk up with the intention of winning."

".Did you remember his name?"

"I remember all the people who told me their names." Khalil nodded calmly. "It's not difficult, is it?"

Yes, it's not difficult. Richter nodded silently and agreed with him.

"It may not be difficult to do this," he whispered. "But what is really valuable is this attitude. Who are you, Caryl Rohals?" He looked at him in confusion. "Why are you so calm?" Caryl did not answer this question. He just turned around as if he had foreseen the future and looked at a door on the second floor. This training room is sunken, with only one exit and one entrance. And there, now stood a pale giant. The discussion under the ring stopped in an instant. —— "Are you angry, Conrad?" "No." "You were silent for a while before answering me, and this silence was quite suspicious." "I was not angry about it." Conrad Coz said calmly. "At least the result is good. The moment you said you remembered all their names, their eyes changed." "But this cannot cover up the fact that my origins are still a mystery." Caryl smiled, leaned against the wall, folded his hands and shook his head. "How are you going to explain my origins to them?" "I don't know."

After another moment of silence, Konrad Coates spoke with a troubled expression. At this time, he finally looked a bit like a child whose biological age was one and a half years old.

"Tomorrow, I have a military parade to watch, Khalil. I can understand the meaning of the word, but I don't understand why. I already know everyone, why do I have to watch a military parade? There are formal speeches today. Do you think the speech is up to par, Khalil?"

The giant who was questioned laughed dumbly. He shook his head and answered softly. "How do I know? You are the leader of the Eighth Legion."

"But I know nothing about speeches."

"Why do you think I will understand it? I didn't have the environment to hone this skill when I was on Nostramo, Konrad. Is it possible that I have to chant to the corpses of gangs and nobles? Long sentences in Gothic?"

"So, can you at least give me some advice?"

".You are the leader of the Eighth Legion, Konrad Curze."

Khalil shook his head gently: "Haven't you discovered how important you are to them? On the first day we met, they completely obeyed you. Moreover, your speech today was very good."

"Really?"

"Of course. Although there is no battle cry that can be extracted from it, when you ask them if they are willing to accept you, many people almost cry."

".I didn't see that."

"Because you were about to cry."

"."

Khalil turned his head so that Curze wouldn't have to see his expression. After a while, he continued to ask: "So, let's get back to the topic, how about it?"

"good."

"How are you going to explain my origins to them?"

Facing his question, the leader of the Eighth Legion remained silent for a long time before speaking. He obviously thought carefully before answering, so this statement surprised Khalil.

"I'm not going to tell them who you are directly, that would be meaningless. No matter what I say, they will accept it. So, even if I do lie to them, they will regard the lie as the truth."

"But I can't lie to them, Khalil, I can't do this. You said it, didn't you? We should return double the kindness to those who are good to us."

"So, I want them to participate in the cleansing and transformation of Nostramo. Anyway, they will definitely participate. In the process, they will also be aware of the image you have created, and they will realize who you are. of."

Yes, they will. They'll discover a legend about a vengeful spirit. But that doesn't matter to me, kid.

Khalil looked at him gently. The Lord of the Eighth Legion was lowering his head at the moment, writing and drawing on the many documents in front of him.

They were delivered by servitors, so Konrad Curze is quite busy now. He didn't even realize what kind of complicated mood Khalil was feeling at this moment.

Fourteen days.

The giant who was once a ghost smiled slowly - fourteen days and he has grown so much?

You make me so proud.

"Caryl?" Conrad Coates raised his head. When he got no response, he had to raise his head to observe Khalil's reaction directly. But the latter just smiled calmly.

"I have nothing more to say, Conrad." Khalil replied with a chuckle. "Just say it as you say. This is a perfect explanation. However, I have one last question."

"What?"

"How are you going to explain to them that you didn't unify Nostramo? I mean...your age."

".I don't have to talk about it."

"You just said you didn't want to lie to them."

"Not telling is just concealing, not lying."

"Is concealing something better than lying?"

"You, you - you have hidden many things from me too!" Midnight Ghost hissed. "Don't you have a lot of things you haven't told me?!"

Khalil chuckled and raised his hands in surrender.

His eyes were very gentle, and they were not eyes that should belong to a ghost.

——

Khalil did not participate in the military parade the next day.

Of course he won't participate - why should he?

Was he going to stand below, or stand with Konrad Curze to review the Eighth Legion?

Either decision seemed unwise to him.

Konrad Curze is mature enough to take on the title of 'Lord of the Eighth Legion' by himself.

Khalil also felt that it was best not to interfere too much in the internal affairs of the legion.

Therefore, he would not give any substantive advice - in short, he intended to go to great lengths to avoid any situation that might involve him in the internal affairs of the Legion.

Of course, it is up to him to decide whether this matter will go as he wishes.

As for now, he's reading some books.

There are 20,000 soldiers in the Eighth Legion. Naturally, they cannot all be people like Siani or Richter who are obsessed with improving their martial arts.

Therefore, although it seems a bit strange to say it, the Night Veil does have a medium-sized library.

At this moment, Khalil was standing next to a window seat reading a book.

The seats were obviously designed to fit the Astartes' size. He couldn't sit in them, but he could stand in them just fine.

He was reading a book of poetry, and someone had added a line of notes in Gothic to the beginning of the ancient book.

The general idea is that this is a collection of poems from Terra with a very long history. Although the author is unknown, he hopes that everyone should read this book with a "pilgrimage" mentality.

After fifteen minutes of reading, Khalil chuckled and agreed with the editor.

"A pilgrimage indeed."

He began to talk to himself. "Her eager face, like the night rain, disturbs my dream soul to read it again. It is indeed a pilgrimage."

Putting down the book, his chuckle gradually turned into a wry smile.

At this time, two servitors came from the aisle one after another. One was responsible for sweeping the floor and the other was responsible for mopping the floor. The division of labor was orderly.

They quickly cleared out the entire library. It didn't even take more than ten minutes. Khalil watched the whole process silently, and he realized that the servitors also had jobs.

And he didn't.

It's better to find an opportunity to return to Nostramo in advance, although the fear brewing now is not enough.

He narrowed his eyes - yes, for the next nine days, the gang searched for him like crazy, but they never found any clues. There are only corpses, ruins and words written in blood.

Khalil almost watched their descent into madness for nine days, but that wasn't enough. He had to wait for the moment when this emotion spread to the most terrifying moment, only then

He raised his head, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

The steel stepped on the wooden floor, and the thick ground made an unbearable sound.

Khalil turned his head slightly and saw an Astartes wearing cold blue power armor from the corner of his eye. The latter did not wear a helmet. This allowed him to immediately recognize who the person was and what attitude he should adopt.

"Siani from Terra."

Khalil smiled and turned around: "What kind of wind brought you here?"

"Of course not these books." Siani also laughed. "I just wanted to ask why you didn't show up at the military parade."

Khalil raised his eyebrows slowly. "Why should I show up?"

"You are the adoptive father of our Primarch," Siani said solemnly. "Why didn't you show up?"

The conversation changed the atmosphere quickly, so suddenly that Khalil even felt a little stunned.

However, when he saw the cunning look in Siani's eyes, he realized that he had been fooled. Of course, it's not just that.

He also realized that Siani's question was somewhat sincere.

"Because he is the leader of the Eighth Legion." Khalil replied with a chuckle. Although he was smiling, he did not appear frivolous.

He is obviously much taller than Siani, but his attitude in the conversation at this moment seems very humble. If there was a painter here, he would probably paint them to be the same height.

"What you said is good, but it's not enough to convince me."

"Then you don't believe it." Khalil said lightly. "It doesn't do me any harm, does it?"

"But it's bad for me."

Siani of Terra laughed again, his teeth sharp--a distinctive feature of all Terran people.

However, Khalil actually captured more details. For example, he has a pale complexion, eyes that are darker than ordinary people, he rarely blinks, and he has no hair.

The characteristics of adapting to the environment are so obvious in everyone, even the Astartes are not immune. They are still human - or at least they can still be seen as belonging to the category of human.

But what about me?

"So, the parade is over?" Khalil asked. Pressed everything down in my heart.

He didn't mind chatting with Siani for a while, there was no harm in it anyway. As long as it didn't involve the internal affairs of the Eighth Army, he was happy to accept it.

For example, yesterday's alternating group competition. If you look at everything else, Khalil will admit that he actually had a lot of fun.

"Yes, happy ending."

Siani puffed out her chest proudly.

Although he uses Terra as the prefix of his name, he is also the warrior who has held the unarmed combat championship for five consecutive years within the Eighth Legion, but yesterday he spoke of these two things without pride.

Only now, when talking about a military parade that ended perfectly, did he look extremely proud and satisfied.

"How complete is it?"

"Very well, Khalil Lohars. We even showed the Primarch every detail we have learned in the past, such as stealth and stealth operations. Ah, but speaking of this, how did you do yesterday? Can you tell?"

"What do you see?" Khalil asked calmly.

"Stop pretending!" Xiani grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down.

The chair made of composite materials let out an overwhelmed whine as it bore his weight, but Siani seemed unmoved.

He smiled, raised his right hand and made a gesture: "They were so crowded by us yesterday."

"Are you referring to the five soldiers led by Captain Ariel?"

"There is no company commander now, but yes, there are six of them."

"Just a little luck," Khalil said softly. "I've always been very lucky."

Siani pouted: "If you don't want to say it, forget it, Master Khalil."

"Why did you suddenly add the honorific title?"

"Our Primarch delivered a brand new speech at the military parade today. At the end of this speech, he specifically mentioned you. His adoptive father, Khalil Lohars, also hoped that we would not be with you. Adding an honorific after his name. Considering that our original body also dislikes this matter, I made a little guess. "

With a sullen face, Siani said a lot of words in one breath using a formal grammar. And finally, he said the last sentence of this paragraph with an almost unbearable expression and a suddenly high tone.

".I think you hate this, don't you, Lord Khalil?"

"."

Khalil narrowed his eyes calmly and did not answer immediately. After a while, he suddenly chuckled.

"You can scream if you want, Siani from Terra, the Eighth Legion has been the unarmed combat champion for five consecutive years. It doesn't matter. Let's compare the length of the title. What do you think?"

Siani's face twitched at a speed visible to the naked eye.

".Consider me losing."

"So, who won? You don't sound like you want to admit that I am the winner here." Khalil asked deliberately.

He had noticed something.

Of course he would notice.

"Tsk, I really don't have much talent in using languages."

Annoyed, Siani stood up. After a few seconds, he changed his expression, looking serious and dignified, no longer as relaxed and natural as before.

"Lord Khalil Lohars." He spoke in a low voice. "In the name of Konrad Curze, and with the honor of the Eighth Legion, we are here to invite you to tonight's dinner."

Khalil narrowed his eyes and turned around.

Behind him, a dark shadow slowly appeared.

The soldiers of the Eighth Legion were completely surrounded here. They did not wear helmets, their armor was shiny, and military medals and ribbons of honor were flying on them. The expressions of each of them were extremely solemn and sincere.

They looked at him as if expecting something.

‘We should return double kindness to those who have been kind to us. ’

Taking a slow, deep breath, Khalil nodded expressionlessly.

"It's an honor to be invited by you, soldiers of the Eighth Legion." He said loudly. "I'll be on time for the dinner."

——

The Eighth Legion rarely held banquets - that was a fact, a fact that didn't even need to be argued.

Among the legion, there are many people who are gloomy and taciturn. People like Siani are aliens after all. However, everything has its cause and effect. The Eighth Legion was unfamiliar with the banquet, which led to their current predicament.

Fel Zalost lowered his head anxiously and looked at the few mortals on the Night Veil: "What do you mean there are no raw materials?"

"It just means there are no raw materials, Mr. Fell."

The man had a beard and his expression looked a little listless. He was wearing a crisp white robe, with a chef's hat hanging crookedly on his head.

“We can’t make food without raw materials.”

"How not?!"

"My lord"

The head chef sighed: "The menu given by you and your Lordships clearly includes Glocks steak, apples and peaches, herbal tea, buttered bread, all kinds of dangerous seafood, fresh fruits, and red wine."

"Isn't this wrong?"

"Yes, of course, in fact, this is even a little less for a banquet."

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Because our food supply warehouse only has six flavors of Astartes nutritious porridge, portable rations for individual soldiers, and ordinary beer, sir. Also, I would like to ask, which adult made a note on the menu to ask for sand?" Dried eel?”

".It should be Keger."

"That Kege from the sixth company? Well, alas. Please tell him that he ate all the dried sand eels a month and a half ago!"

Fel Zalost didn't know how he returned to the huge and bustling banquet hall - he really didn't know, he only knew that he seemed to be sleepwalking.

This strong warrior's anxious look was so obvious at this moment that almost anyone could tell that he was in a bad mood at the first sight of him.

The wise will avoid it, but the few who are not so wise, or the few who are brave, will rise to the challenge.

Such as Adebeman Basili.

He walked towards Feir, who woke up the first moment he saw him and subconsciously wanted to turn around and discuss countermeasures with the former company commanders.

After all, it was still some time before the banquet officially started. They should still be able to think of ways to remedy the situation. However, Adebeman Basili did not give him this opportunity.

"grown ups."

He stood expressionlessly in the middle of the road, blocking Feir's way.

"The banquet starts in thirty-five minutes, but why hasn't there been any movement from the kitchen? I didn't see any of the dishes on the menu being sent out from the kitchen in our banquet hall."

".Don't mention this for now."

"Why?"

"Just don't mention it for now, Adebeman, go back to your seat. We will naturally find a way."

Adebiman let out a long sigh.

"Ten hours ago I told you that having a banquet was a bad idea, but at that time you assured me that tonight's banquet would be a complete success. The Eighth Legion will definitely let the Primarch and Khalil... Lord Lohars feels at home."

"Now, I can make a bold guess. Are there no raw materials for the exquisite dishes on the menu in our supply warehouse? Moreover, even if there are, I am afraid that the quantity is not enough to support the consumption of such a banquet. wrong?"

".Your intuition is really accurate."

Felzalost said expressionlessly. "So, my wise former lieutenant, what can you do?"

"No."

Adebiman sneered and spread his hands.

"Not at all, my lord."

"I can't conjure raw materials out of thin air, and the supply fleet responsible for providing logistics and bringing officials will have two months to go through the Ultimate Star Territory and reach the Ghoul Star Territory."

"So, unless you go and tell the Primarch now and convince him to postpone this banquet until two months later, in my opinion, our banquet will definitely fail."

"You talk a lot, Adebeman."

Feier narrowed his eyes, his expression becoming a little dangerous. "Since you are so capable, why not tell the original body the news yourself?"

Fehr saw with satisfaction that his former lieutenant's expression turned horrified in the next few seconds, and he made a casual excuse and left quickly.

Feir stood there alone, thought about it in annoyance, and went to find the other seven former company commanders. After a brief meeting, they unanimously decided to tell the Primarch honestly about the incident.

By Fair, of course.

"why me?!"

Felzalost shouted angrily. "Why is it me again?! You have already asked me to bring bad news to the original body. This must not happen a second time!"

"Because it was you who came up with the idea of ​​the banquet, Fell." One of the company commanders said.

He has a rather gloomy face that fits the standard stereotype of the Eighth Legion.

Aquiline nose, high cheekbones, pointed chin. The whole person looked extremely fierce. And the stern look on his face at this moment added to his strong persuasiveness.

"But you also agreed!" Feier tried to argue and waved his arms. "Didn't we make this decision together?"

"The team captains outside the company did not agree." The man replied lightly. "So, why don't you go talk to them about this?"

"What does this have to do with them?!"

"That's right, it has nothing to do with them, it has something to do with us, and it has the most to do with you. So, Fair"

He patted Feier on the shoulder sympathetically and pushed him away: "Go ahead."

Ten minutes later, the stiff Felzalost stood in front of their original body, Konrad Curze, with his head lowered, looking very nervous.

What he didn't know was that Conrad Coates was actually very nervous ten minutes ago.

He had trouble choosing clothes suitable for attending the banquet, and he didn't know how to choose. Therefore, Feier's arrival ended his difficulties to a certain extent.

At this moment, he was wearing a black, blue and silver evening gown - this dress was cut by Fulgrim himself, and every detail was made by the Chemos.

In those fourteen days, he didn't just teach Conrad Coates. He made eight sets of clothes for his brother in one go, which happened to fit the number of the Eighth Legion.

"So, what is it, Fell?" he asked softly, Gothic echoing around the room.

".That's it, Primarch. The party may have to be cancelled."

Fel Zalost finished these words calmly with the most fearless courage in his life, and then buried his head deeply, as if waiting for the judge to judge the guilty person.

"Cancel?"

"Yes, we made a mistake and our logistical reserves were seriously insufficient. Almost all the dishes on the menu were not available."

Fehr lowered his head and added his explanation, expecting to receive a stern rebuke - in fact, he was also prepared for this.

After all, this was a banquet attended by the original body and his adoptive father. It was also the first banquet held by the Eighth Legion to welcome the return of the original body, so it naturally had great commemorative significance.

Therefore, even if his genetic father wants to punish him, he is willing to accept it.

But he didn't expect that he would hear a soft chuckle.

"Is that all?"

Feier looked up blankly and saw a smiling face.

"It's just that the food on the menu couldn't be served in its entirety?"

"Actually, none of the original bodies can be served." Feier said with difficulty.

"Well it's not that big of a problem."

Conrad Coates nodded thoughtfully. "So, what else do we have in the warehouse?"

"Uh, six flavors of Astartes nutritional porridge, portable rations for individual soldiers, and ordinary beer."

"Then, wouldn't it be enough to just use these?" Conrad Coates said as he tilted his head.

Feier looked at him in astonishment. After a while, he remembered that he should argue.

"But, but - but how does this deserve your status?!"

"My identity? What am I, Fell?"

"You are our Primarch."

Felzalost answered very quickly. "You are the Primarch of the Eighth Legion, you are the Emperor's son, you are a noble demigod."

"Demi god?"

Conrad Curze frowned. "The first three are all facts, but where did the statement about demigods come from? The Imperial Truth clearly states that there are no gods in the world."

"But your brother Lorgar Aurelion"

Fell simply said a name and nothing more. But this was enough for Konrad Coze to understand. He sighed, said nothing more, and just shook his head.

"I don't pick the food," he said quietly. "Appetite is indeed good, but in the end it's just temporary enjoyment, Feier. And these things don't mean much to me at all."

"We are far more powerful than normal, Fell."

"In my opinion, the meaning of our existence is to be their shield and their sharp blade. We are the flame that sweeps away all darkness, and the lightning that cleanses away ghosts."

"Our fight is not to allow ourselves to live a luxurious life where we can enjoy delicacies from the mountains and seas. Our fight is to allow all humans in the entire galaxy to have normal food, normal clothing, and normal life like normal people. of sleep.”

He raised his hand and placed it on Feier's shoulder. Looking at him seriously - in fact, he could almost call it staring at the moment.

"Do you understand, Phil?" Conrad Curze asked cautiously.

His attitude was not 'forcing you to understand', or 'you should understand', he was really asking worriedly, fearing that Fer Zalost would not understand his words and the meaning behind them.

The former third company commander of the Eighth Legion and director of the think tank had a sore nose and almost shed tears.

He nodded, then nodded again, like a machine.

Conrad Coates smiled.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Phil. It doesn't matter if you don't understand. There is still a lot of time. I will try my best to let you all understand my thoughts. However, since there is no food on the Night Vessel, we might as well change the dinner party a little bit. location.”

The dinner will be held as usual.

When the bell that signaled the start of the banquet rang, the Astartes of the Eighth Legion were surprised to find that the food delivered to their long table by the servitors was not the exquisite dishes that had been notified in advance on the menu, but nutritious porridge. Individual soldier rations and ordinary beer.

The last item is not even wine to them, it is more like water.

but

"I'm very sorry."

Conrad Coates used a improvised microphone to make his voice heard in a huge ballroom that could accommodate 20,000 people and even had room to spare. Soft and solemn, those who hear it will never forget it.

"But they are the only ones in the warehouse on the Night Veil, the soldiers of the Eighth Legion. Oh, and who is the former Kege of the Sixth Company?"

An Astartes wearing power armor stood up stiffly.

Konrad Coates smiled gently at him: "Chef Dorsto, I tell you, the sand eel jerky has been eaten."

"Understood, Primarch!" Keg replied loudly. "The eel jerky has been eaten!"

His reaction elicited a chuckle. The atmosphere within the Eighth Legion is such that not many people show respect. Ridicule was the most frequent greeting they used with each other.

Conrad Coates laughed too, but not in a derisive way.

He gestured gently for Keger to sit down, and then he spoke slowly.

"I see a Glock steak on the menu? Can someone explain to me what it tastes like?"

"It is delicious, Primarch," replied a young Astartes. His eyes shone with reverence, which, to Khalil, standing in the darkness at the edge of the hall, was a rather interesting sight.

Your Primarch may be younger than you are, Astartes.

He laughed silently.

"Delicious? Ah, I can't imagine what it tastes like." Conrad Coates replied sincerely.

"My impressions of food are nutritional creams, rats and the exquisite dishes on the Emperor's Dream. Frankly speaking, I doubted my palate when I found that the latter was not much different from the first two to me. ”

"But they are obviously fine, so I have nothing to say. And my imagination is very poor. You guys, I can't imagine what a Glock steak tastes like, but I do know what a Glock is. ”

He smiled, but the Eighth Legion did not. Their attention was focused on the primarch's description of the food. A sudden silent anger began to spread.

"I know that it originated in the Solomon Galaxy and was an aggressive animal, but its whole body can be eaten. It is delicious, nutritious, easy to raise, and can survive in quite harsh environments."

"I read this description from the notes of my brother Fulgrim, and I have to say that this passage reminds me of a beast that lives in the wilds of Nostramo."

"They can survive in harsh environments just as well, their meat is just as delicious, they're just as aggressive as sawtooths, hence their name."

"Unlike Glocks, their meat is a precious delicacy only enjoyed by the nobles on Nostramo. It is not sent to thousands of households like Glocks meat, even to herders on distant and backward planets. You can also get this delicious food by grazing.”

"On Nostramo, those people who are like herdsmen can't eat the meat of the Sawtooth, and they can't eat the meat of Grox."

"Do you know the reason?" Conrad Coates asked softly.

No one answered.

Twenty thousand pairs of eyes stared at him silently, waiting for his next words. This scene has happened many times in the past two days. For Konrad Coates, it was something he would never get used to.

However, every time, he would make himself behave like he was used to it.

"Do you want to know why?"

The owners of twenty thousand pairs of eyes nodded silently.

Conrad Coates laughed again, grinning with extremely restrained emotions.

Among all the people present, only one person could see his true emotions at this moment. The man stood in the darkness with a calm expression and shook his head. He was relieved, but also felt a slight and delicate complex sadness.

"I want to leave it up to you to find the answer yourself." Conrad Coates said softly. "Moreover, we can also change the banquet location and taste Nostramo's specialties, how about it?"

The sound of metal clanging against his helmet gave him an answer instead of words.

——

Felzalost felt a slight shiver run through the ends of his fingers, which was unusual.

He was a steady Astartes and a steady man. And if you are going to mention another one of his positions, he can also be regarded as a fairly stable one.

Therefore, his trembling at the moment was not due to physical reasons.

"You beast!"

His former adjutant Adebiman roared and threw a nobleman to the ground. He did so roughly but obviously kept his hands. Otherwise, the abominable thing will be shattered to pieces immediately.

Fair turned his head to stop himself from looking at him. He feared that he would be tempted to turn the Nostramo noble into a headless corpse with his power sword.

The Emperor is above.

How could they be so depraved?

Feier closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to look at the details that were hanging slightly in the darkness.

The Eighth Legion has faced terrible darkness.

They carry out punishment and are unconcerned with the classification of guilt and innocence. Until the return of the Primarch, they only took orders from the Emperor. Therefore, every time they act, they can see the sin lurking in the darkness.

And Fell could swear by his last name that the darkness on Nostramo was incomparable to the terror in Seragon's underground genetic laboratory.

The latter at least goes back to the reason that the Seragons were trying to breed psykers in order to cross a certain line drawn by the Emperor.

But what about here?

Why would one person skin hundreds of other people, hang them up, and let them bleed dry in the dark for no reason or reason?

Adebiman's eerie roar came from the other side: "You filthy monster, you act so wantonly! How dare you treat your compatriots like this? What do you think of them?!"

The nobleman answered in a hissing language, fear spreading in it. Feir opened his eyes, looked at him indifferently, raised his hand, and stopped Adbeman's next move.

"Do you remember what the Primarch told us before we set off?" he asked in a low voice.

Adebiman turned his head, his gloomy iron face shone in the darkness, and some blood stained by the killing was slowly falling on it. They had experienced a winding and rugged adventure, but this was far from the end. .

"Judgment." Adebeman replied in a low voice. "Judge them all."

"The Primarch gave us the right to act as both judge and executioner by his power of dominion by the Emperor, but we cannot simply drown these loathsome beasts in a pool of blood of their own making."

Feir stared at the nobleman gasping in blood and horror. He was the last one left in the mansion.

"They should be tried, and in full view of all the victims."

He repeated their primarch's words, his voice calm, but the breath grille turned his voice into a terrible noise.

The noble began to scream again. He did not understand the language used by these giants who emerged from the darkness. To him, every pause was like a blade thrust into his body.

fear.

"Take him away, Adebeman," said Fair. "Go to the center of this hive."

"What about you, my lord?"

"Don't call me Sir, I am no longer the company commander or the director of the think tank. Didn't you notice that at this banquet, we were all fighting separately?"

Adebiman stretched out his hand and skillfully made the nobleman fall into a coma, and then resisted him. At the same time, he even did not forget to contradict his former company commander.

"The original body only said during the military parade that he did not intend to abolish your positions. My lord, do you have to worry about it at this time?"

"Yes, I have to worry about it at this time."

Adebiman snorted coldly, turned around, and left through a wide open floor-to-ceiling window. His figure disappeared among the gloomy towers. Through the night vision device, Feier watched him go away.

Now, he stood alone among the many corpses and slowly took off his helmet.

If there is to be a trial, then a charge is necessary.

The strong smell of blood and the ubiquitous smell of hallucinogens in the mansion hit his face. His physical fitness made him immune to the influence of the latter, but there was no way to avoid the former.

Fel Zalost raised his head and looked at the hundreds of hung corpses one by one.

The eyes of his victims stared blankly at him from their eyelidless sockets, swaying in the breeze. The eyeballs also rotated slightly due to this slow movement.

At this moment, Fel Zalost of the Eighth Legion felt a sting in his eyes.

He could understand the Seragons, he knew their ambitions and the possible consequences of that ambition. Therefore, the Eighth Legion quickly destroyed them.

But what about Nostramo? What's going on here?

He has no answer.

The breeze blew by, from Prime to Quintus, from the upper nest to the lower nest, from the blue lighting strips in the luxurious mansions of the nobles to the dark yellow light sources in the lower-level gang stations.

It doesn't stay, it blows by.

Under its blow, under the gaze of eternal night, 20,000 black shadows brought something to Nostramo tonight that had not really appeared in a long time.

"justice."

Konrad Curze murmured to himself.

He turned his head and looked at the other giant. "Am I doing the right thing, Khalil?"

"You are the leader of the Eighth Legion." The giant replied with a smile. "Isn't it?"

"But I want to know if what I did was right or wrong."

Conrad Coates asked persistently.

"I sent them all out, a full twenty thousand, Khalil, twenty thousand Astartes are now operating on Nostramo. They were the Emperor's punishers in the past, and now, they intend to do the same My punisher.But"

"But what?"

"But I don't think this is right."

said the pale giant.

"The Emperor's punishment is ruthless and huge. I have read the past battle reports of the Legion. Every attack they made brought destruction to the sinners. But they themselves were indifferent to the sins of the people they were trying to judge."

"So, you think this is wrong?"

"...I don't know," said Conrad Coates. "That's why I asked you."

"Then, why do I know?"

Khalil chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know much more about the Empire than you do, Konrad."

"But the question I'm asking you doesn't require you to know much about the Empire."

Conrad Coates asked doggedly—he had done so often in the past, and now he had made probing into a common conversational pattern.

Khalil was not disgusted by this, and he was well aware of the tremendous courage behind such an act.

Too many people in the world are muddling through, like some within the Eighth Legion.

Others, like others within the Eighth Legion, drifted and allowed their circumstances to shape them.

But only a few people dare to resist the environment.

He stared at the ghost he had molded with his own hands, suddenly raised his head, his expression seemed a little relaxed.

"I can't tell you whether it's right or wrong, Conrad," Khalil Lohars said softly. "This is an issue that cannot be decided for the time being. It is actually meaningless to discuss right and wrong."

"No point?" Conrad Coates' eyes widened. "How could it be meaningless?"

"Because right and wrong and justice have no meaning in themselves. What kind of justice do you want to pursue, Conrad? Judgmental justice, punitive justice, or justice in the broadest sense? That word is equally vague, Conrad. "

Khalil chuckled.

"In my opinion, justice itself doesn't really exist."

Conrad Coates frowned slowly and refuted Khalil's words for the first time.

"Isn't what my legion is doing now an act of justice?" he asked slightly angrily.

"Of course it counts."

"Then why do you say it doesn't exist?"

"Because it's late," Khalil said. “And justice delayed is no justice at all.”

"It has been late for too long, and the reason for the lateness has nothing to do with you or the Eighth Legion. It is the Nostramo people themselves who gave up on this justice, and they did not have the soil for it to be born."

"But can you blame them? You can't blame them for those numb eyes, Conrad. Just as you can't blame yourself."

Khalil stepped forward, patted Midnight Haunter's shoulder gently, and spoke softly with a hiss.

"Don't blindly pursue justice, right and wrong, and look at the things in front of you, Ghost. For example, in the trial you are going to conduct tonight, you should pay more attention to those bystanders, those numb bystanders."

He sighed and lowered his hand. The ghost answered him after a moment, with a slight voice, like a complaint.

"But didn't you light the fire?" he asked in frustration. "I thought I could at least...keep it burning."

"The fire I lit is not the fire of justice." Khalil replied softly. "The image I created does not represent justice. Do what you should do, do what you want to do, don't imitate me, ghost."

He was silent for a moment, jumped off the spire with a smile, and disappeared into the dark far side. The ghost watched him go away, not following him for the first time.

I couldn’t stay motivated. I stayed up two nights in a row to revise the article. It’s hard to balance quality and quantity.

The remaining twenty chapters will wait for me to take a nap, and then I will revise them when I get up.

Kneel down and apologize(.)