40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 670 52. Belated Judgment (Twenty-one)

When Conrad Curz stabbed at him with his two bloody claws, Leon El'Jonson didn't think of anything.

His mind was blank, like a package that had been opened, and the things that made it valuable were quietly taken away by someone. Now all that was left was just an empty box.

But, no matter what, there was always some "feeling" left here.

It came from the irrational world, from the place where humans called "spirituality" and many other strange things lived. There, you don't need eyes to observe things, and you don't even need language to communicate with each other.

There, Leon El'Jonson was roaring.

Sadly, even this last bit of sound could hardly cross his mind, which had become an empty land. For now, the only thing it can do is echo here, echoing endlessly.

But he is still fighting.

To reiterate: Leon El'Jonson is still fighting.

His armor was stained with blood, and the damage to many joints was so serious that his power was out of balance, which forced him to pay more attention to the left half of his body when he moved, otherwise he would lose balance.

In addition, there were seven penetrating wounds. Starting from the chest, it spread all the way to the knee joint of the right leg. The most serious one was the abdomen, which was almost a laceration, and the bleeding has not stopped until now. In addition, there were countless abrasions and bruises.

There was no doubt that he was at a disadvantage in this battle.

However, Lion El'Jonson still held his sword tightly, as if it was part of his bones, as if he was born to hold this sword. Unless he was willing to let go, there would be no external force that could force him to give up the sword.

His enemies were furious.

"What else do you have to resist?"

The skinny monster asked in the dark between attacks, with anger, curiosity and a little sadness that he himself did not realize.

"Do you think you've won, Leon? I'm about to kill you, and the only reason that stops me from speeding up this is that I want to play for a while longer."

The lion didn't answer.

"Well, I knew it was useless to ask--"

The evil wind was howling, and the monster fell from the sky with a wild laugh, pressing him to the ground.

The two claws could have pierced the lion's exposed neck at this moment, and then solved the battle once and for all, but he chose another place to start. The black armor pieces flew everywhere, and the lion's breastplate was hit hard again.

The Midnight Ghost carefully and meticulously implemented his mid-course change of strategy, and once again extended his brother's life for a few seconds.

This so-called "good deed" brought him serious consequences. The lion pulled out the dagger at his waist and forced him to stand up and retreat.

The ghost narrowed his eyes, and a lot of saliva suddenly secreted from his mouth filled with the smell of blood, like a hungry beast.

He forced himself to suppress the rising murderous intent, stepped back a few steps, and waited silently for the lion to stand up.

"Leon, how about giving yourself some self-respect?" The ghost rubbed his claws and showed a restless smile. "You and I both know that I could have killed you just now."

The lion rushed towards him without saying a word, and a direct slash was coming. The ghost dodged nimbly, with an elegant posture like a dancer. Despite this, his expression became very distorted, and a seemingly inappropriate resentment was boiling.

"Pretending to be dumb won't solve anything!"

He hid in the darkness and screamed at the bleeding lion. The sound was extremely shrill, like the cold wind blowing across the face of the corpse at the alley on a cold winter night.

Then, he got a whistling dagger. It flew by the ghost's left cheek with a hair's breadth, outlining a deep wound. Flesh bloomed from the wound, as if someone had drawn two lines on his pale face with a flesh-colored pen.

After that, blood gushed out.

The ghost was a little stunned. In his past life, whether he was clear-headed or crazy, he had never encountered such a thing as this - but the facts could not be changed. The lion not only found him with a dagger, but also made him bleed.

Unconsciously, the ghost's facial muscles began to twitch, and he raised the corners of his mouth and forced a sharp smile.

"Very good, very good," he said sinisterly and hypocritically. "You really don't know how to treat other people's kindness, Leon, no wonder you let your legion fall apart. Tell me, how does it feel to kill your own offspring with your own hands?"

The lion ignored him and just ran over with a sword. The ghost immediately moved to another place, his eyes twitching.

"You Caliban bastard!"

The lion pulled out a bolter from his belt and began to fire at him. Each shot was extremely accurate and deadly. If it were an ordinary shooter, the ghost would have been fully confident that he could dodge every bullet, but this time it was not possible. At least four bolts hit him in this round of firepower, even if he kept dodging.

They seemed not to fly out of the barrel of the lion's gun, but from those unobservable and incomprehensible worlds. The most dangerous one even exploded on his neck guard, causing explosions, vibrations, and flying flesh.

The ghost screamed and slowed down his steps for a moment - and in just such a moment, a whirlwind blew him down.

The lion held the lion sword and trampled him under his feet, his expressionless face covered with blood.

The ghost looked at him in shock. There were two sword marks on the breastplate, and arcs of electricity jumped out of them.

The lion raised his hand again——

At this moment, Midnight Ghost's mind helped him understand one thing much faster than he imagined: defeat was determined.

No matter what, it was impossible for him to dodge the next sword. The foot that Leon El'Jonson stepped on his chest seemed to be extremely heavy, cutting off all possibilities of dodge. And if he blocks with his claws, the lion sword will immediately turn into a stab.

But how is this possible? Ghost couldn't help but feel confused. He didn't understand why Leon El'Jonson suddenly had such combat power. He had the upper hand just a few minutes ago.

The most crucial thing is that Leon El'Jonson seems to be familiar with the way he moves.

The sharp edge of the lion sword was reflected in the dark eyes of Midnight Ghost.

--"Bang!"

The blade missed, and the lion sword was buried in the black soil beside his ear like a cannonball, exploding countless things that were not flesh and blood, but more like flesh and blood.

The ghost slowly looked up, and along the shining sword blade, he saw a pair of eyes that were holding back pain.

This was not the look he remembered from Leon El'Jonson. The Caliban was to a certain extent the same as him, both cold-blooded and ruthless killers. They will not waver in battle and will never stop fighting until the enemy is dead

But now, those painful eyes were clearly telling him one thing.

I won't kill you. The lion roared and shouted in a place far, far away. I would never kill my brother.

Conrad Coze was speechless for a moment, even forgetting that his madness was urging: Seize this bit of mercy and kill him! Let this weak fool taste his own blood!

"you"

He was speechless and got up from the ground. He wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

The madness in his mind intensified again. The murmurs that had been tormenting him for the past ten years crawled out of the cemetery together with the ghosts of the past, stretching out their rotting claws, trying to get him to return to that barren land again. In the chaos of order.

They even promise this - as long as you come back and return to the darkness, there will be no more pain.

As long as you kill him, you won't have to endure any more torture.

Konrad Coates shook his head, and thick blood rolled down from his nasal cavity, accompanied by something else, like minced meat.

He lowered his head and clenched his fists vigorously, as if he was experiencing an epileptic seizure. A large amount of blood dripped from his closed mouth, and the sharp canine teeth had already sunk deep into the flesh. It was not until much later that he shook off this rigidity.

"Look at the good things you've done, Leon."

Curze said as if he was complaining, raising his hand to wipe his nose, and some brain tissue mixed with blood was smeared on his arm armor in a chaotic manner. “Okay now, how is all this going to end?”

The lion ignored him and stood quietly, holding the lion sword in his right hand with four fingers and his thumb in the air.

This was a relaxed posture where the weapon could easily be taken away. He should never show such a posture in front of the midnight ghost - but he just did it. Not only that, he even lowered his head and let the sticky Blood dripped down his mouth, nose, eyes and ears.

"Say something, say something." Kurtz told him patiently, and the electric current beating on his claws had stopped at some point. "I know this is hard for you right now, I can see it."

He suddenly came up to the lion and waved his left hand to him.

"But don't give in," whispered Conrad Coates. "Not once, brother. Remember who you are, remember this, and then take your time and don't listen to the voices, don't think about them, just remember who you are."

His face showed deep sadness.

——

"Don't give in"

Leon walked with a dry mouth and felt extremely painful listening to this familiar voice.

He seemed to know who it was that was speaking, that he knew him—or at least he should? But that didn't seem to be the case. He had never met such a twisted soul.

He just walked like this, in a daze, as numb as a walking corpse. He didn't know where he was or where he was going. He just walked with a simple and simple thought: I can't stop.

He walked until the nothingness under his feet turned into soil, fragments of the world came one after another, and the memory regressed wildly, returning to a certain day in the forest, where a savage-like boy was patrolling his territory.

Leon watched this scene from the perspective of a bystander, and a word faintly emerged in his mind: giant beast.

Then he knew that the boy was hunting a giant beast. But what's the reason? The boy didn't look for them for food or clothing, he simply wanted to kill them, as if he was born to oppose the giant beasts.

Then, there were more people in the forest. Wearing shining silver armor, riding horses, with swords hanging on their waists and guns in their hands, many flags danced behind them.

They were tense, antagonizing the boy, each wary of the other, just shy of becoming hostile until one stood between the boy and the others.

Who is this person?

Leon looked at him and saw fiery red hair and a young face.

One name popped out of his mouth: Serafax.

"Don't shoot, brothers!" Serafax shouted to the knights. "Trust me, he won't attack!"

Then he turned to look at the boy and whispered, "Is that right? You won't attack, right, Leon?"

Leon felt a splitting headache, and there seemed to be double images in front of his eyes.

At this moment, Serafax looked almost like another person, a dark-haired man with a beard, and a pair of deep-set eyes under thick eyebrows, serious and tired, but without any hostility.

Who are you?

No one answered, only more images came, and more Serafax.

In the winter courtyard, on the battlefield where the two armies faced each other, in the fortress, in the study, surrounded by the giant beasts-Serafax said something over and over again, sometimes serious, sometimes relaxed, and sometimes even earnest teachings.

But the double images did not stop, they kept flashing back. No matter what Serafax said or did, his face would change into another person's at a certain moment.

Leon tried to remember who he was. He always felt that this matter was very important, but he just couldn't remember it.

Why couldn't he remember it? He asked himself blankly.

There was no answer, only a voice telling him: Don't give in.

This voice was extremely weak. Several times, he suspected that this voice didn't exist at all, but was just a fantasy in his mind, but he always found new evidence.

When Serafax told him in the center of the battlefield: I will take care of your back, this voice followed closely with the double image. When Serafax was unable to join the Legion due to old age, this voice also came.

Even when Serafax was deprived of his command, this voice was still there. Countless moments, countless broken pictures that kept flashing, repeating, and constantly deepening his memory of "Serafax"

Don't give in. It said over and over again. Remember who you are.

Who am I?

In the forest of Caliban, the Lion asked himself this question. Coincidentally, he asked the same question in the study, on the flagship, and on Terra.

Who am I?

After this question was repeated hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, millions, and even an unknown number of times, a sigh finally sounded in his ears.

"I will leave for a while, Primarch." Someone said to him.

Then, there was a sharp pain, and everything returned to silence and darkness. The Lion thought it was the end, but he could still hear the voice.

Don't give in.

It came from the darkness, from a far away place. The Lion turned his head and looked over there, and saw a light and a person.

He was seriously injured, and it could even be said that he was about to die. A huge sword pierced his chest, and no one could ignore such an injury.

This man was extremely pale, with sunken cheeks and shiny black eyes. He was spitting blood, and fragments of his internal organs were constantly pouring out, but he was smiling. This smile was very happy, with a pungent smell of blood, and looked very ferocious.

Leon felt that he looked familiar. For no reason, his fingers twitched suddenly, and a heavy touch came into it, as if he was holding a sword.

Another voice sounded in the darkness, it was the person who spoke before.

"You really gave me a lot of trouble."

The pale man seemed to have heard his voice, and his smile became even more happy: "Then I am really honored. As a fabricated illusion, I seem to have exceeded the task?"

The person who spoke was silent for a while, and when he spoke again, his voice was a little surprised: "What do you know?"

"Oh, I know a lot of things, Serafax." The pale man grinned and said so, his sharp teeth glittering, and his black eyes were full of joy.

"For example?"

"For example, you threw him into many memories from other timelines, and I was just a shadow in one of them. You want to confuse him and make him unable to tell who he is, so that you can tamper with the memory of your own original gene. No, I think it's probably not just as simple as memory? You want to do something unprecedented and unparalleled, right, little traitor?"

The pale man couldn't help laughing wildly.

"What are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at you." The pale man replied, and the laughter continued. "Even a false illusion can see how stupid you are."

"At least I still have a chance, and you - frankly, in so many timeline branches, you are the worst Konrad Curze I have ever seen."

The pale man coughed twice nonchalantly and vomited more blood: "Really? So what?"

"This means that you are not qualified to judge what I did. You gave up your legion and your home planet. You had countless opportunities to set things right, but you chose not to do it."

"You are obviously a Primarch, but you would rather fall in those so-called nightmares and moral dilemmas, allowing yourself to become a madman and torture your most loyal son. What was his name? Yago Sevitarion? Thanks to you, he died. We caught him and skinned him, just like you often do to others. And I am different from you."

"So -" The pale man spoke slowly. "-What is the difference?"

"You are a coward, and I am not."

The light disappeared after the words were spoken. The voice that had been lingering in Leon's ears finally dissipated and no longer sounded. He sat in the dark, dull and numb, with no one around him, but his fingers kept twitching.

Don't give in.