40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 740 32. Interlude: Precious Future (Part 2, 7K)

When the dagger swung towards him, Ilyaan Natas did not dodge.

On the contrary, he still stood straight, looking as if he was prepared to take the blow with his flesh and blood. The sword finally hovered above his neck, in close contact with his skin, but without leaving any blood.

That speed, that power, plus the terrifying weight and sharpness of this killing weapon. With all these factors combined, it didn't hurt me?

Ilyaan Natas couldn't help but sigh silently in his heart, then immediately raised his head, looked directly into the eyes of the man wielding the sword, and slowly answered his question.

"He is not here now, my Lord."

Roboute Guilliman looked at him for a while before slowly putting away his sword. He put his hands behind his back and walked to the only window in the Eldar advisor's study and prison, looking up at a painting above.

Its brushwork is exquisite and its colors are magnificent, but what makes it unique and eye-catching has nothing to do with either.

“Interesting perspective,” Guilliman said calmly. “How long did it take you to paint this?”

Ilyan Natas, who was still sitting in the chair, rubbed his neck and replied in an almost meek tone: "Almost two months. But how can you tell that it was painted by me just by looking at it?"

"I don't think it's possible for humans to have the completely detached and extremely impartial perspective on the solar system today that is represented in this painting."

Guilliman turned around, still expressionless, but the previous hostility had disappeared, and there was even a smile on his face, as if nothing tense had ever happened in this beautifully decorated cell.

"It's a very nice painting," he praised. "I hope you can take it back and show it to your fellow tribesmen, Ilyan."

The advisor stood up and left the desk. He was wearing a brown robe that looked like the ordinary and durable robes worn by clerical clerks, with the rune gems unique to the Eldar hanging obscurely at the cuffs and waist.

If you don't look carefully, I'm afraid many people will mistake him for a scribe instead of a damn alien at the first sight.

He came before Guilliman, knelt on one knee, bowed his head deeply, and saluted formally. His movements were graceful and natural to the Eldar, but there was also a lot of caution and stiffness in them - he was not used to this kind of etiquette, but he did it anyway, and there was no arrogance at all.

Guilliman tried to smile in approval, but he suddenly felt a little tired. So he waved his hand, asked his advisor to stand up, pointed to the two chairs in the corner of the study, and walked over first.

One of them fits his body perfectly, and the other is just big enough for the slender Eldar. The two sat face to face, one in silence for a long time, and the other waiting quietly.

A full ten minutes passed before Guilliman spoke again, this time his voice was much softer.

"On our way back, you have proven your ability and the weight of your oath many times, Illyan Natas. I believe that you really want to be a bridge between the Death God Army and the Human Empire as you said."

In response to his praise, the advisor just smiled modestly and did not do much. I think it was because he knew that Guilliman had more to say.

“But this is bound to be difficult.”

"Even before I set out on my journey, many people came one after another and said the same thing to me, sir."

The consultant said, leaning forward slightly. There was almost no flesh on his face, which made every bit of his emotion clearly visible.

True, there was a risk that he might be lying, but Robouti Guilliman had the means and wisdom to discern the truth - and right now, the sincerity on Illyan Natus's face was absolutely genuine.

"Really? What did they say?" the politician asked calmly.

"Various, my Lord. So many that I almost gave up trying to understand. Our language is different from any other in the Empire, you see. A change in the way you stand, a subtle difference in your gesture, can make a huge difference in the meaning of a sentence."

"At that time, I stood in a large hall, facing the inquiries and tests of hundreds of people one after another. They all had their own opinions. Some sincerely wanted to persuade me to give up, thinking that this would not work; some spoke harshly to me, thinking that what I did was no different from betraying my compatriots; only a very small number of people agreed with me."

"But even they had to warn me earnestly that even if this matter could go to the end, the result might not be what I wanted."

"And what is your answer?" Guilliman asked.

"I didn't say anything." The consultant shook his head. "Warning, insulting, persuading... None of this will help me do what I want to do. I firmly believe that actions are far more credible than words. And I believe I have proved this to you."

Guilliman nodded slowly in reply - yes, Illyan Natus had already proven that.

A few years ago, the combined fleet regrouped in the Five Hundred Worlds and set sail for Terra, experiencing countless unexpected storms and wars along the way. However, this Eldar, who was alone in a hostile environment, repeatedly used his prophetic gift to help many people escape danger.

However, this is by no means the first time that humans and the Eldar have cooperated. Throughout the history of the Imperium, fighting alongside the Eldar was not uncommon, but none of these had a good outcome.

There is a general perception in the Empire about this kind of cooperation: the Eldar are accustomed to breaking their promises, and even if they want to cooperate, they must point their guns at the other party the moment the cooperation ends, otherwise they will be asking for trouble.

Who knew if this time would be different? Who knew if placing their trust in this courageous prophet who had helped them so many times would lead to even greater disaster?

Roboute Guilliman pondered.

Suspicion. He thought. But where did it come from? From deep hatred, from the lessons of blood and the long-standing hostility between the two races. What good will can this galaxy have room for?

Such a deep blood feud and history of mutual killing, can it be settled with just a bridge? It's really a foolish dream. Thinking of this, he couldn't help but want to laugh.

Not for anything else, but for the killing impulse that surged from the depths of his genes - hatred of xenos was the underlying code that the Emperor had written into the genes of the Primarch long before the embryonic stage. If he had not been able to control himself with reason, his so-called advisor would have probably turned into a pool of minced meat.

However, looking into the eyes of Illian Natus, Guilliman saw a familiar light in them.

Idealist.

This time, he actually laughed.

The consultant looked at him in surprise, confused and bewildered.

Guilliman ignored him and just glanced sideways at the huge light outside the window.

Today, the Astronomican was burning steadily and vigorously. The light that was devoutly praised by countless people had changed from its former fierceness to a calm pure white, and at this moment, it looked almost exactly the same color as his eyes.

He lowered his eyes, looked away, raised his hand and gestured to Ilyan Natas.

"Can you contact him?"

"Yes." The consultant nodded without hesitation, but then fell silent. "But I need time, a lot of time."

"Why?"

Ilyaan Natas smiled bitterly and said, "Because of the Astronomican, my lord - this is also the biggest reason why you put me in this cell that many people beg for, isn't it?"

Guilliman stood up and did not answer the question, but just smiled.

——

Belisarius Cawl raised his hand and knocked on his workbench. A mechanical tentacle extended from underneath it, and then lit up with a bright blue light, with the unique fluctuations and blurriness of a holographic projection.

It was not until several seconds later that the projection slowly stabilized, and the upper body of the Lord of Steel Perturabo emerged. He still had that famous expressionless face, his hands folded across his chest, and he seemed to be in a bad mood.

"Ah, my Lord."

"Don't be polite," Perturabo said bluntly. "I don't like your synthetic voice spouting compliments. Now tell me, how are you getting on?"

"Now? Well, to be honest, you are really impatient. I just finished my inauguration ceremony three and a half hours ago--" Kaul complained and raised his hand to knock on the workbench again.

The silver table surface suddenly began to fluctuate smoothly like the surface of water, and the metal unfolded like a living thing, showing a quality that was definitely not attributed to human technology, and also revealing a dazzling array of various prototype works underneath.

Belisarius Cawl, the Forge General who has not yet obtained a Forge World and has only a title but has become the most popular recently, smiled and pulled out a grenade launcher, slowly raised it and presented it to Perturabo's holographic projection.

"——Please allow me to introduce it to you!" The Casting General shouted loudly, but for some reason, his voice was very long. "My latest work——!"

Perturabo frowned.

"Destroyer!"

Perturabo frowned deeply.

"Mode!"

Perturabo roared unbearably, "Destroyer-style what? What's this gun called? Say it all in one breath, you arrogant, narcissistic, machine-headed bastard!"

"Why are you so impatient? Lord Rogal Dorn is not like that." Cawl muttered, and then immediately put on a sincere smile. "It's called the Destroyer Type 1 Bolter. Yes, yes, I know this naming method is very outdated, but I hope you will pay more attention to its internals."

As he was speaking, he suddenly turned around and roared, "Anazion!"

Wearing a full suit and with his hair combed meticulously, Shouzhu walked out of the darkness lifelessly, with his lavender lips curved downward in an extremely obvious arc.

"What's the matter?" he asked listlessly.

"Show our Lord the power of this gun!"

Kaul shouted and threw the gun to him, then waved his arm, and a tall alloy puppet rose thirty meters behind the First Cast. The tentacle carrying Perturabo's holographic projection also turned in the direction, giving him a better view.

This did not relax his frown, in fact, it even deepened - as if he were possessed by Dorn. But he said nothing, only glanced at the Firstcast, and continued to wait.

"Hurry up, kid, what are you waiting for? Open fire and let him see the goods! Otherwise we won't be able to get investment!" Kaul walked to Anazion happily and exaggeratedly, lowered his head and whispered to him.

The latter sighed, turned off the safety, raised his gun and aimed, then pulled the trigger all the way down in one breath - a flash of fire broke out instantly, and a bullet left the barrel at an extremely fast speed, spinning towards the alloy doll, and launched a second stage of propulsion at an even faster speed.

With a loud bang, it accurately hit the puppet's chest and directly blew a gap the size of an ordinary person's fist.

Kaul snorted and sounded like a violent maniac, then he rubbed his hands together—real hands—and told Anazion, “Now switch to full automatic mode and try it.”

Shouzhu did as he was told with an expressionless face.

A series of flashes of fire followed, and ten rounds of explosive shells rained down on the target, blasting it into pieces. When the shooting was over, the flashes of fire from the explosions dissipated, and the upper half of the puppet had even disappeared.

Cawl chuckled as he walked over, an appendage extended from his back, picked up the head of the puppet and handed it to him. The Cast General picked it up, shook it up and down twice in front of Perturabo's holographic projection, and then spoke in his usual tone.

"The defensive capability of this puppet is about two-thirds of that of ordinary adamantium. Of course, its power in actual combat cannot be measured by such a simple data comparison. However, sir, I think this can prove that its power is absolutely no problem."

"If I was simply pursuing power, I could prepare armor-piercing shells for my men, which would be even better than what you just showed me." Perturabo said calmly. "You'd better show me something new, Belisarius Cawl, and don't disgrace the name of the Forge General you just got."

Hearing this, Anazion immediately turned his head to look at his creator, and the smile on the latter's face had completely disappeared. The remaining emotion could even be described as gnashing of teeth.

“Very good, very good”

Mumbling with heavy breathing, Caul walked up to Anazion, reached down with his hind limbs, took the Destroyer I, and returned to his workbench.

He shook the appendage, unloaded it and removed the magazine, then flicked a button on the side of the magazine well, and there was a slight click inside the gun, as if something was activated.

Then, a silver color quickly spread outward from the gun body. When it stopped and took shape, the Destroyer I had changed its appearance. Its barrel became longer, at least 20 centimeters longer. There was also a vertical grip at the bottom for stability, with a beautiful arc and the unique solidity of metal.

"Destroyer II."

Kaurpi said with a wry smile, picking up another magazine from the workbench and replacing it. The new puppet quickly rose in the distance, slowly raising its gun with its appendages. After a dull sound, the puppet's chest had been shot through, the gap was not big, and the surrounding area was extremely flat, which did not look like the damage caused by a bomb.

The frown between Perturabo's brows finally subsided.

"Now, that's interesting, but you probably didn't make just two models - what about the third one? Where? Let me see."

"Oh, my Lord, you are such an insatiable man."

Caul smiled strangely and repeated the process of ejecting the bullet, pulling out the magazine, and pushing the button. The silver metal spread out for the second time, but this time it did not extend, but retracted. When it took shape, a bolt pistol with a shorter barrel and no stock replaced it.

The third target slowly rose up, but Kaul did not aim immediately. Instead, he turned his head to the holographic projection and began to explain.

"I believe you have seen my design ideas - the first type is good at fire suppression and can be used in a variety of situations; the second type is armor-piercing for snipers; and the third type is specially used for special operations."

The appendages lowered, handing the gun to his real hands. The skinny hands that looked like flesh and blood were as solid as a rock, and there was no shaking at all, even though the sight of him holding it with both hands was very funny.

He replaced the magazine, and a second later, he pulled the trigger.

There was no flame - literally no flame, and even the sound was so small that it sounded like someone beating a soft pillow.

The bomb whizzed past and hit the third puppet at a terrifying speed, and only activated the second-stage propulsion at the moment of impact to cause greater damage. It directly created a large hole in the puppet's chest that looked like a molten pit, and there was even green smoke and red light coming out of its edge.

"Very good, let's start production right now." The Lord of Steel took a deep breath. "In three days, I want to see 4,000 such guns - and 100,000 rounds of corresponding ammunition."

Hearing his words, even Belisarius Kaul couldn't help but twitch his face and lean back. The Casting General used a lot of effort to control his impulse to blurt out a curse, then smiled cautiously and changed his tone to a negotiating tone.

Of course, what he said didn't sound like a negotiation at all.

"Your request is simply unreasonable and inconceivable - do you really understand what you are talking about? Perfecting such an experimental work from scratch in three days and mass-producing 4,000 of them? Oh, Messiah! Any intelligent person should be able to see that I created this weapon specifically for elite warriors to use!"

"Every Iron Warrior is an elite among the elite," the Lord of Iron said slowly. "Therefore, I am only asking you for 4,000, which is already quite good, Belisarius Cawl. But if you think you are not capable enough, I can extend the time to seven days."

Kaul rolled his eye, his artificial eye flashed, and he shook his head violently: "No! No! This is not a matter of time! It is unwise to open a single production line and mass produce such a new weapon! I still have a lot of problems to solve. It's just a prototype!"

"I don't care," Perturabo sneered. "So what if it's a prototype? Four thousand guns, one hundred thousand rounds of ammunition, not a single one less."

"You are a robber!"

"What did I steal from you?"

"Then you are a bully!" Kaul shouted, unable to bear it any longer, and even sounded a little aggrieved.

"So what? Bring me the guns, Belisarius Cole! How about seven days? Seven days! As long as you deliver them to me in seven days, I can even put it in the newspaper as my new title!"

"You, you."

Sighing, Shouzhu silently took a few steps back. Of course he knew that he had no right to enter into such a conversation, but what if Belisarius Cole suddenly had some inappropriate thoughts?

Similar things haven't happened before.

He didn't want to be used as a shield by Cawl, standing between him and the Lord of Steel and bearing things that he shouldn't have to bear. At the same time, he sincerely hoped that this "unique" farce could end as soon as possible.

And his prayer seemed to be heard. A female voice came from the other end of the holographic projection. It quickly became blurred, and then a mortal face was brought into the conversation. However, this mortal's expression was very stern.

"Would you like to hear what you are saying, Perturabo?" she shouted mercilessly at the Lord of the Fourth Legion. "How can you embarrass a forging general like this? Hasn't he explained the interests to you clearly?"

"This is my business, don't--wait, how did you get into my study? Who let you in?"

"Don't worry about it. Do you think no one knows how to be kind to others?"

The woman called out to him, then immediately turned to Call and smiled so quickly that the First Cast wondered if there was something wrong with the holographic projection.

"You are the new Forge General Belisarius Cawl, right?" she said enthusiastically. "Nice to meet you. Seeing is believing. You look very professional!"

"Ah? No, this... I am indeed very professional, but, but who are you?" Kaul asked with a smile, very cautious and particularly puzzled.

"Please forgive my sudden intrusion. I am Calliphon, the tyrant of Olympia." She bowed slightly, her manners impeccable. "You have certainly never heard of me, but I suppose that does not matter, for I can now speak for Master Perturabo, am I not, Master Perturabo?"

The Lord of Steel's face turned livid and he said nothing. The Tyrant raised his hand, patted him on the back, and repeated it again.

"Isn't that right, Lord Perturabo?"

".wrong."

"You heard it." The tyrant turned around and nodded with her smile on her face. “He acknowledged my agency.”

"I don't."

"Anyway." Carlyfeng's smile was faint. "I think--"

Kaul suddenly raised his hand and slammed his artificial eye, as if to confirm whether he was dreaming. Then, he said weakly: "Forget it, forget it, don't do this, you two. Four thousand, one hundred thousand rounds, right? I will send it to you in five days, Lord Perturabo."

The blue light went out, and Cole grabbed the tentacle and broke it off. Then a string of binary language that was difficult for ordinary people to understand came out, like shouting or complaining. When he finally calmed down, something Shouzhu said softly beside him ignited him again.

"If the tyrant came in suddenly, why was there no sound of the door opening?" Anazion said cautiously. "Besides, she seems to know what you and Lord Perturabo are talking about."

Call turned stiffly and looked at him, saying nothing.

"Creator?"

"It's all right," said Call. "It's alright, Anazion."

"Really?"

"Really!" Kaul emphasized. "I said it's okay, it's okay!"

"But you don't look like you're okay. Also, I have a question. Isn't seven days more than enough time for you to improve the Destroyer, Creator?"

Once again, Call was silent. He really didn't know how to explain to Anazion that every Forge General had to make a trip to Mars after taking office.

And some other things.

For example, he had old grudges with some people on Mars, and he had planned to send them invitations one by one, inviting them to come to Mars to hold an inaugural banquet, academic seminar, and Belisarius Cawl's revenge meeting.

He had to finish this matter in the next few days. He didn't have much time left for himself in his schedule, and this period was the most appropriate time to hold the inauguration banquet. After seven days, everything will be too late. Who will care about him?

By then, his old enemies will have reason to say: You’ve been in office for a whole week, why are you still thinking about holding a party? We are not like you, Belisarius Cole. We have our own research to do.

Don't you have it?

I have, of course I have, I have a lot. Kaur thought with gritted teeth.

"Creator?"

"It's okay." Kaul gave him a subtle smile. "I need to get started right away. See you in seven days, Anazion."

Shouzhu had no choice but to obey his order, turned around and left this vast and deep space, leaving only Kohl and the workbench shining with silver light.

Suddenly, he wanted to be a great sage more than a forging general, so he supported the table with both hands, closed his eyes, and pondered for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again, a hole had appeared on the side of the workbench. A steel pillar with a sky eagle carved on it rose up. Tarasim, who was tied to it with only half of his body left, was shackled with chains. A faint green light was still emitting from his eye sockets.

"Ha, ha, ha." He slowed down his tone and deliberately used a mechanical voice to make a series of extremely slow laughs at Kaul. "I just seemed to hear some people down there say that their little plan has failed?"

"Shut up, you alien!"

"You only dare to be rude to someone like me who has no power to fight back?" Trazyn smiled happily. "Why don't you also yell at the primarch to shut up? You don't have the courage to do that, do you?"

"I don't want to argue with you. Listen, I have to find another way to make those bastards who have been trying to stop me in every way suffer."

"So what? What does this have to do with me?"

"Oh, of course," Kaur said grimly. "It depends on whether the expedition we set off in a few months can leave you with a museum of the original site. You will be your guide throughout the whole process, and you don't want the scene you worked so hard to restore to be completely blown to ashes, right?"

".You vile mechanical primate!"

"Same here, Tin Man - I want to improve the Empire's power armor. I'll make a new prototype design and hand it over to that difficult man in seven days so that he can help me put it in the newspaper. Do you have any suggestions from the alien side?"

"Yes, but you still have to study living metal first. I suggest you start with its thermal conductivity and integration. You stupid iron head."

"Thank you very much. Only the upper body of the one-armed mechanical skeleton is left!"

Call smiled and bent down to work. Trazyn sighed and shook his head.