40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 69 68. The Eighth Legion (4, 4k)

"We are here for you."

Fell said to the fat noble. His eyepiece was blood red, and small technical changes could bring huge benefits.

The latter screamed and fired in a language that the Eighth Legion could not yet understand. The bullets flew down from the high platform like whistling raindrops.

But the firepower of the automatic gun was too ridiculous for the MK2 power armor, and his death struggle seemed extremely ridiculous at the moment. However, no one present laughed.

They were just silent, that's all. Heart-stopping anger began to spread in the silence.

"Aleister." Fell asked slowly.

"Yes." A young voice sounded in the communication channel, with overwhelming anger.

He rushed out, and two minutes later threw the fat and ugly beast at the feet of his company commander. However, this did not relieve his hatred. The young warrior raised his foot and angrily crushed the noble's right leg bone.

The crisp sound and the dull grinding sound merged into one, turning into a terrifying sound that was almost unbearable.

"That's enough, Aleister," Fell whispered. "There's no point in torturing him."

"The pain will help him understand something," Aleister said in a low voice. "At least it makes him understand that his children should live freely and not be in his basement."

He stopped talking angrily and raised his feet again.

"For a person like him, what can pain make him understand?"

Fair raised his right hand sternly. "Torture is only an option during interrogation. Aleister, don't use him to vent your anger. He doesn't deserve it at all."

After a few seconds, the young warrior nodded silently.

He wears a piece of MK3 power armor, which can well help young and reckless Astartes like him survive in complex and changeable wars.

However, despite this, Fell does not actually think that recklessness is a shortcoming. In his opinion, sometimes, not acting impulsively will not achieve the goal.

"Take him to the center of the city."

Fehr ordered briefly.

"The trial will be in two hours and we still have time to find these monsters trying to hide."

He lowered his head and glanced at the wailing noble.

".The darkness belongs to us." Fell whispered. "They can't find any shelter in the dark."

Aleister nodded, picked up the monster, and quickly disappeared into the night with it.

At this moment, Feier was the only one in the courtyard of this luxurious mansion. After a while, he called his adjutant on the communication channel.

"Adbeman, where is the original body now?"

"Who's talking?"

his lieutenant asked, rustling through the channel. "Is it the third company commander Fel Zalost, or the former third company captain Fel Zalost?"

"."

Feir cursed a Terran slang curse in a low voice, and a successful ridicule immediately came from the communication channel.

Adebiman's voice then came: "The original body is looking down from the high tower in Area A-7. He originally wanted to act with us, but was persuaded to go back by a certain company commander."

"who?"

"Who else could it be, my Captain? Who else but First Captain VanCleef would dare to confront the Primarch and persuade him to enjoy this dinner and not take part in it and be stained with blood?"

Van Cleef

Fel almost sighed - the man he had sympathetically pushed to bring the bad news to their Primarch was the Captain.

He had to admit that Van Cleef's strange persistence at certain crucial moments did always work.

"I got it," he said over the communication channel. "Keep going, Adebiman, and make sure all sinners get the punishment they deserve tonight."

His lieutenant didn't answer, just laughed hoarsely.

Feier hung up the communication, turned around, jumped over the tall wall of the mansion, and started running under the night. His progress was so smooth and natural, as if he knew this place well.

Eleven minutes later, he accurately arrived at the only high tower in the A-7 area.

They did not call these places by their original names, but renamed them with cold numbers. This is in line with the Eighth Army's consistent style, efficient, ruthless, and rapid.

Fair climbed the tower and saw a tall figure. Their primarch gazed calmly and calmly below, taking in everything above Hive Prime.

"Primary body." Feier lowered his head and spoke softly. "How do you feel about this dinner?"

"I don't know how to answer your question, Phil."

Conrad Coates turned around with a smile and shook his head.

His pale face was as elusive as shining in such dim light. There was a calmness in those two dark eyes. Feier suddenly felt a chill in his heart. He felt something unexpected for some reason. of solemnity.

".I don't understand what you said."

"Honorary title." Coze said slowly. "Why did my third company commander forget my words so quickly?"

"."

Feier lowered his head without saying a word.

"I feel fine, Phil," Conrad Curze whispered quietly. "You don't know, but like you guys, this is my first time coming to Prime. I used to only move around Quintus."

He smiled and shook his head.

"But I've known about Prem for a long time. The weapons it produces are circulated in various hives, and sometimes they can even replace money and wealth and become another form of transaction currency. Isn't it amazing?"

".I don't understand where the magic lies, primarch."

"It's in the word itself."

Conrad Curze walked gently past Fell, turning his back to him to observe the scene on the other side of the spire. Some shadows jumped back and forth in the darkness, flashing lights and screaming. His smile began to grow.

"wonderful?"

"Yes, it's wonderful. You see, Feier, there is only one kind of order in Nostramo, and that is power brought by violence. However, even so, the nobles are still used to using interests among themselves. Divide everything.”

"Wearing the warm and comfortable skin of innocent people, they danced in the gloomy palace and drank blood, but they pretended to be followers of order."

"Don't you think there's a weird sense of absurdity in this?"

Fel Zalost did not immediately respond to his primarch's words. He was just thinking—thinking extremely hard.

After a long time, he answered Coze's words slowly and carefully.

"Indeed, Primarch," he said solemnly. "But this just proves that they are nothing more than a bunch of monsters who don't deserve any sympathy."

"Nobles do."

The leader of the Eighth Legion raised his head, with a ring of shining iron chains around his neck. They bind a gold-plated pendant.

"That's not what gangs are, Phil."

Curze spoke in a low voice.

"The general life span of the gangs in Nostramo's nest is between two and three years. Only the leader can live longer, but it cannot exceed twenty years."

"Gangs usually have two ways to recruit new people. One is to find the sons of workers, and the other is to obtain supplies directly from laboratories that clone embryos. Of course, in addition, there is a third way."

He smiled and turned around.

"I'm sure you've seen the third way."

Felzalost slowly clenched his right fist.

"Yes." He whispered. "Controlled Children"

"Yes, kids. So, the nobles are indeed monsters, but the gangs are not."

"They are monsters shaped by nurture, people forced to become monsters by suffering. They are now skinny and have weird faces, but they were not like this before."

Fel looked warily at his primarch, wondering what Konrad Curze would say next.

But Konrad Coates said nothing.

He was just silent.

A pale and tall giant stands on top of the spire, his evening dress matches the relief of the spire at his feet, and not far away there is a blood-stained statue staring blankly at the sky.

He stared into the distance without saying a word. In the darkness beneath his feet, there were many shadows that stopped in unison at this moment and stared at the tower.

After a long time, the leader of the Eighth Legion sighed.

"...But they can't be saved," he said sadly. "In other words, there is only one way to save them."

Fair pursed his lips.

There is no such thing as true empathy - yes, that's true, he agreed. But why did he want to cry at this moment? ——

"We will tell you everything we know, Khalil." Enric replied seriously.

He wasn't promising, and he wasn't going to hold back on some crucial detail.

He said these four words sincerely. It is true that for the current Eighth Legion, Khalil Lohars is still full of mysteries and doubts, but is this important?

Konrad Coates trusted him, and he has so far lived up to that trust.

This is enough, this is enough to make Enric honest.

"Don't be so nervous," Khalil said with a smile. "I won't ask you some questions that may involve the internal secrets of the legion. I just want to ask, what do you think of Nostramo?"

Enric didn't need to look in the mirror to know that his expression at the moment was probably very exciting - but he was wearing a helmet.

"Nostramo is a planet that should not exist."

His adjutant said so, his voice was low, and the voice changing function of the breathing grille had been turned off. Richter's own voice sounded clearly under the night, with his unique seriousness and seriousness.

Of course, his words also made Enric almost pull out his bolter.

Khalil nodded noncommittally. "What else? I believe you won't end like this, Richter? I look forward to hearing a wonderful narrative, even if it is a little lengthy."

"Khalil—shall I speak for him?"

The tall giant looked over in amusement and shook his head, his attitude so relaxed that it almost shocked Enric.

"Why are you so nervous, Captain Barbatos?"

He blinked. "I told you, I'm just asking some questions."

Before Eric could answer, Richter continued. He still held the hilt of the power sword with his right hand, his posture serious.

"Two days ago, we knew nothing about this planet. We only knew that the original body had been found, so we rushed here non-stop."

"We are lucky that we have no tasks to deal with. Otherwise, the time when we meet the original body may be postponed for a long time."

"In the empire, most of the legions have welcomed back their genetic father. Except for the 12th legion, the 19th legion and the 20th legion, we are the only ones."

"Unlike the highly disciplined war dogs, we hardly cooperate with anyone. Unlike the 19th Legion, although we are as proficient in infiltration behind enemy lines and small-scale group operations as they are, the sins we erase cannot be Make it public."

"Our honor is not less than theirs, but no one in the empire will compare us with the 19th Legion."

"The Twentieth Legion is extremely mysterious. They are almost only responsible to the Emperor. We are hardly needed, Lord Khalil."

"We are loyal to the Emperor, and we understand that sin should be eradicated. In fact, we are happy to hide in the darkness."

"However, I can't deny one thing. I believe my company commander can't deny it, and every one of my brothers can't deny it - we are always envious when hearing news about our cousins ​​in other legions."

"We do not know where our primarch is, nor do we know whether he is healthy. We know nothing about him, Lord Khalil."

"And now, we stand here, we stand on the primarch's home planet - we stand on a living hell. Now, we can all understand what our primarch is going through. what."

"And you, as his adoptive father"

Richtnar let go of his right hand, slowly raised it, and took off his helmet.

Two sinuous lines gleamed on his face.

"We really don't know how to thank you," Richter said hoarsely. "I know that my words may be far from the answer you want to hear, but this is all I can say. I am really not good at words."

He closed his eyes, wiped away his tears with the cold armor, and then put on the helmet again.

Silently, Khalil nodded slowly.

He remembered every word Richtnar said in his heart. These words were the blood flowing from a true heart. If he allowed them to scatter in the cold rainy night, he would despise himself.

"Your words almost make me not know how to answer you."

Khalil said lowly.

"You thank me, but I did not raise Konrad Curze out of kindness. I also have my purpose, Richtnar of the Eighth Legion. Do not think of me as a noble saint, I Not at all, actually.”

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the coldness came completely in the next moment. The raindrops were frozen, and the buzzing sound of the power armor almost stopped. Enric's eyes widened and a term popped into his head.

But the words Khalil Lohars spoke were very different from the words he had in mind.

"I am the vengeful spirit they call me."

he said calmly.

"I am the faith behind that cult. My hands are full of blood and I have killed countless people. Richtnar of the Eighth Legion, Enric Barbatos of the Eighth Legion, remember this."

"Never forget."

It's almost a rewrite. I choose between quantity and quality. I want both.

Today I updated it to 39,000. I will try to update to 15,000 or 20,000 tomorrow. Anyway, I will try my best.

However, it doesn’t seem to be easy to publish the chapters separately because the order will be lost, so I will continue to publish the big chapter tomorrow.

Good night.