40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 699 81. Interlude: Workaholics (Part 2)

Khalil looked up and saw a row of hanging baby bodies.

He was at the innermost end of a scorching hot processing workshop. All kinds of tools were scattered on the ground, the fire was extinguished, and the thick armored door had been opened like a drunkard's clothes.

The workers stayed outside the door and talked in a low voice. They didn't understand why an inquisitor would visit here, but they were smart. No, maybe it shouldn't be called smart, but wisdom.

Only those who are used to bending their waists and hunching their shoulders to do things can have this kind of wisdom. When the storm is coming, they are always the first to notice it, just like now.

Khalil took off his wide-brimmed hat, pinched the edge with his fingers, raised his index finger slightly, and stroked the emblem of the Tribunal.

The young victims were naked, their skin was swollen and pale. They were drained of blood, their internal organs were emptied, their skulls were pierced and hung with delicate craftsmanship, and hidden in a narrow and dark corner between machines, and then blocked with two boxes of parts and tool boxes.

It was a poor cover, but in a hot and busy place like the processing workshop, it was completely sufficient.

Khalil's index finger began to tap the cap badge. Click, click, click.

About seven or eight minutes later, the mute guard led a woman into the workshop, pressed the button, and closed the door.

The woman was strong, with thick shoulders, and wore a not-so-clean light blue uniform. The mark of Steele Ellis's First Steel Processing Plant shone silver on the right chest of the uniform.

This is a factory with a long history. A man named Steele Ellis announced the establishment of the factory in Fortress No. 175 in the middle of the 34th millennium. Today, it has become a behemoth, and 37% of the tax revenue of Fortress No. 175 is provided by it every year.

The woman brought here was the director of this workshop, named Nura Rita. She had joined the army in the past and was fortunately discharged after her service. The Military Affairs Department assigned her to be the director of the workshop here based on her military merits. She was paid a high salary and provided with a separate residence.

"I, I don't understand, sir--"

Her voice began to echo in the workshop. All kinds of production machinery that were supposed to run at high speed had stopped running at this moment, and the silence was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Soon, her voice mixed with the footsteps of her and the mute guard, forming an uneasy drumbeat.

She chattered to the mute guard, trying to prove her innocence and asking him why he asked her to come, but the mute guard remained silent.

Click, click, click.

Khalil looked down at the data board in his hand while tapping the cap badge.

He had handled twenty-six cases assigned to him by Malcador in the past twelve hours. Most of them were very difficult. Take the first one, the demon lurking in the Brar family manor.

One of the prophet of the Inquisition saw the starport burning in a dream. He reported the matter immediately after waking up, and the investigation process was launched.

However, in dozens of secret investigations before and after, two Inquisitors and more than 30 agents worked together to dig up the starport and turned it upside down, but still did not get any clues.

On the contrary, the prophet saw the statue of Abelard Brar in another dream. Thanks to him, the Inquisition was able to narrow the scope to the Brar family.

However, the loyalty of this family is beyond doubt.

Abelard Brar's three generations before him had all joined the army and died for their country; although he became rich because of his military exploits, there was no prodigal son in such a large family. All children were trained to be soldiers from birth, and they immediately joined the army as soon as they reached the age, without exception.

In desperation, the matter had to be sealed and the family's alert and monitoring level was increased, ready to deal with possible chaos invasions at any time.

Of course, it's not that no one has proposed to "clean up" the family directly, but it's hard to convince the public to do so, and secondly, they are not rebels or evil followers, and the Inquisition has repeatedly confirmed this.

Over time, this matter has become a time bomb. Everyone knows that it will explode one day, but there is no way to solve it in advance.

Although Khalil solved it very quickly, it was his method, and he couldn't expect others to do the same.

The mute guard finally brought Nura Rita to him.

The latter was speechless at this moment. Her identity as a veteran allowed her to maintain a little calmness and rationality, so that she would not fall to the ground with her legs shaking.

For any normal person, seeing such a scene with their own eyes would be a huge shock, not to mention that she was the director of this workshop, and safety issues were her responsibility.

Khalil turned his head to look at her, immediately grasped the key to the problem, and then gave an order in a deep voice: "Stand at attention, soldier!"

Nura Rita subconsciously straightened her back and her heels collided violently.

"Tell me, soldier, who did this workstation belong to in the past?"

Nura Rita took a deep breath to make herself fully awake, and then immediately answered the question: "Duknar, sir, he recently took a sick leave."

"How many days?"

"It's been four days."

"Four days, very good." Khalil said thoughtfully. "Thank you for your help, Director Nura Rita, you can leave."

"What, what? That's it?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes." Khalil nodded to her. "I know you want to tell me more information, such as where he lives, what hobbies he usually has, what he did in the past, what his personality is like. But I don't need to know these things, I just need a name."

He showed a gloomy smile, which made the retired soldier shudder. The mute guard raised his hand at the right time, pressed her shoulder, and turned away with her, while Khalil was still smiling.

A few small ghosts were reflected in his eyes. In the invisible world of ordinary people, they were surrounding him, full of curiosity.

They were not wronged souls. They were too young. They had no hatred in their hearts, nor did they know what it felt like to be wronged. They didn't even know that they were dead.

Khalil temporarily hid the gloom in his smile and waved to them gently: "Let's go, I'll take you home."

The door of the workshop slowly opened, he took down the baby's body, took away a box, put them in it and took them away.

Thirty minutes later, he found Duknar, also known as the Baby Eater, in a small hotel in the notorious fourth-to-last floor of Fortress 175, the "City of Chaos", who was completely unaware of his arrival.

Forty-six years ago, he committed multiple murders in Fortress 132, escaped the pursuit of the local Law Department and disappeared completely. This matter should not be reported to the Tribunal, but an investigator from the Law Department accidentally discovered in the follow-up investigation of the case that the Baby Eater was probably not an ordinary person.

He tried to persuade his boss to give him the power to investigate the matter, but not everyone was as persistent as he was. The investigator eventually died of depression, and when he died, his home was full of investigation reports on the murders and evidence collected from his illegal investigations, as well as a huge speculation map of the true identity of the Baby Eater.

His new boss was shocked when he learned about this, because according to these speculations, the investigator's speculation was true, and the Baby Eater was definitely not an ordinary person. In other words, he was a traitor lurking in the material world, who had changed his life form through sacrifice—and he was in the solar system.

This was intolerable, so he was immediately put on the wanted list of the Inquisition.

As for now, he was screaming.

The walls of the dirty hotel room were covered with tattered black wallpaper. It might have had other colors in the past, but the long time and the guests who came and went would not care about this.

Oil, vomit, alcohol, urine and even blood were all on it, mixed together to form an unspeakable nightmare. The ground was solid cement, full of potholes.

The dim light came from a bulb located to the right of the ceiling fan, which could only barely illuminate half of the room.

A man knelt at the edge of the light, his chest was wide open, but there was no internal organs inside, only many small skulls, covered by broken meat and blood, which made people feel indescribable anger.

"Normally, I should say something to people like you. But I think they are more qualified."

Amid his screams, Khalil took two steps back and reached out to turn off the light.

The baby eater was still screaming, full of fear and pain. Khalil turned around, blocked him, and walked to the door with the box in his arms.

The downstairs was singing a few drunks, but the corridor seemed quiet. Faint footsteps came from the stairs ten meters away.

Khalil lowered his head, smiled at the souls of the babies, and hummed a gentle ballad.

And the baby eater was no longer screaming.

In the darkness, many people were tearing his flesh and soul. There were ragged men, women with grief on their faces. There was also an investigator with a emaciated body and deep eye sockets.

He took off his hat and nodded to Khalil, who responded with a smile.

——

"It seems that I should assign you more tasks, Caryl Rohals."

The latest chapter of this novel was first published in 6 @9 Book # Bar. Please go to 69 Book Bar to read it!

The communicator lit up slightly, bringing a familiar voice to Caryl's ears. The person on the other end seemed to have his own things to do, and the rustling sound of the pen tip rubbing against the paper continued to come.

Caryl replied without raising his eyes: "It's up to you. I still have four days to work - of course, after four days, when Leon's affairs are dealt with, I can work all year round."

"You seem to be very enthusiastic about this?"

"Of course I will be very enthusiastic."

The writing sound on the other end of the communicator suddenly stopped, and then the person began to discuss this topic in more depth.

"People always need some savages with sticks to kill beasts for them at night. This has never changed. But this is no longer the era you are familiar with. Now, people will fear you or even hate you because of the violence you use to protect others."

"What do you want to say?"

"I want to say that you are so passionate about this job because you see the possibility of making the world a better place. I don't deny that your actions today have indeed allowed many people to sleep peacefully for the rest of their lives, but your humanity now is just a small flame. I hope you will keep it and do other more important things."

Khalil shook his head and threw the communicator to the mute guard. The latter took it in a hurry, and did not forget to use one hand to grab the support rod on the wall to maintain balance during the sudden turbulence of the shuttle. His expression was rarely a little overwhelmed.

"Did he throw the communicator, Sur?"

The mute guard nodded, then realized belatedly that the communicator in his hand could only transmit each other's voices, so he could only tap his fingers and make some noises to respond.

"Take the communicator away from my poor squire, don't embarrass him, Caryl Rohals. Besides, I haven't finished talking yet."

Caryl walked back quickly, picked up the communicator, smiled apologetically at the mute guard, and then threw the communicator into his arms.

I'm not embarrassing you. He said with his mouth. I'm embarrassing him.

The latter's bewilderment on his face gradually turned into astonishment.

".Did he throw it again?" asked the person on the other end of the communicator.

The mute guard stomped his feet hard.

"Okay, then I'll put it this way-listen carefully, I need you to put down the work at hand for a while."

"Why?" Caryl asked sincerely. "You can't deprive me of my right to work. If you don't work, you don't eat. I want to drink some mare's milk to taste for you."

"."

"Why are you silent, old friend?"

".Because a fleet will arrive at the edge of the solar system within six hours, I need you to be present at the welcoming ceremony, to represent me, and then do some follow-up overall planning work."

"Isn't this the business of the political department?"

The person on the other end of the communicator sneered, and his tone became extremely impatient: "Yes, but why do you think you are not part of politics? You have to know that there are more than just Blood Angels or Ultramarines in this fleet."

Khalil sighed.

"Why are you sighing?"

"Nothing, respected Sigillite."

"Damn it, Khalil Rohars!" The Sigillite couldn't bear it anymore and finally roared. "You have to make me get this straight, don't you?!"

"No, no, how dare I be so bold"

"Damn it! I tell you, I know why you are playing all these roundabout ways with me here - you don't want to meet Yago Sevitarion who came with you right away, right?!"

"That's not the case at all." Khalil answered quickly. "How could I hide from Yago and deliberately not meet him? If this happens again, he will definitely go crazy."

"You really know yourself. Then you go over and receive those veterans as the Grand Inquisitor, and give them a politically legitimate opportunity to return to the empire!"

"Yes, Lord Seal Holder." The Grand Inquisitor said very obediently.