40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 75 74. The Eighth Legion (9, 3k)

The deck of the Storm Eagle kept shaking under the iron boots, one after another, continuously, which was annoying but also extremely disgusting.

People who have never experienced it cannot understand it, but as long as you have experienced it once, you will understand how terrible this feeling is.

"If Banjolix doesn't finish his job, I will break his nose." Standing on the deck, Leonard, the captain of the Eighth Legion's "Retribution Blade" team, said.

His voice was gloomy, and he didn't rely on the voice-changing function of the breathing grille. His voice became what it is now due to the poisonous gas released by the enemy during a war. It is hoarse and gloomy. When he is emotional, it sounds like two pieces of metal being rubbed crazily in someone's hands.

Frankly speaking, he's one of the few Eighth Legion members who doesn't need a breathing grille to scare people.

"You can't control him, Captain."

One of the members of the team, Estonev retorted. "There are only a few dozen technical sergeants in the legion. If you dare to touch them, the company commander will dare to come and stab you."

"Do you think I haven't been stabbed before?" Leonard snorted disdainfully. "Van Cleef only dares to hurt me during training."

"You seem to be talking about something dangerous, Captain."

Estonev shook his head. "Regardless of the fact that we, as a dispersed team, will not operate together with the First Company during the war, what on earth are you going to do to make Captain Van Cleef stab you in the war?"

"Do you care?" Leonard snorted again, but did not continue. Instead, he turned his head and nodded to the other members of the team.

Eighteen pairs of quiet eyes flickered silently at this moment, and the scarlet color of the eyepieces was replaced with a mechanical click a moment later.

Estonev shook his head and silently put on the helmet.

The Storm Eagle can carry up to twenty people, while the Punishment Blade team only has twenty people.

"Quintus."

Leonard hissed the name in his newly learned Nostramo, then switched back to High Gothic.

"Old rules."

After he spat out these words, the only sound left in the Storm Eagle was the trembling sound of metal. Five minutes and thirty seconds later, they landed.

The hunt begins immediately.

——

Estonev knew that he was probably not the first to achieve results, but he actually didn't care much about it. After all, it's him who makes the choice.

Unlike others, he did not choose to hunt conspicuous prey, but instead chose to track those prey that were trying to hide.

This decision also coincides with the old rules of the Punishment Blade.

Hunt alone.

That's the rule.

As long as you join the Retribution Blade team, everyone will have to spread out during missions in order to achieve greater efficiency. Judgment is an undertaking that needs to be completed, and although it may never be completed, they will continue to work on it.

Crouching in the darkness, his eyepieces emitted a dull light. The upper nest is extremely quiet, even somewhat elusive.

But this is not difficult for Estonev. Every Astartes of the Eighth Legion has already deeply imprinted the maps of the five hives on Nostramo in his mind.

The purges and trials in recent days have frightened the nobles on Nostramo, but not everyone is willing to believe that there will really be a trial coming from the sky.

This is not the first time that Estonev has seen such a person. In fact, he has seen too many. People are always stubborn creatures, and they will not put down their sinful swords until their sins are completely reckoned with.

This is why we exist.

Estonev slowly stepped out of the darkness.

Tonight, the first sinner he killed was a guard.

When he realized his identity, Estonev was even surprised. He didn't understand why these nobles maintained such useless protection methods after reaching this point.

Furthermore, guarding is actually a signal. The mansions of other nobles who have been tried by them have long become empty haunted houses, with nothing left except the gloomy air of death.

However, the fact that he does not understand does not slow him down.

He used his combat dagger to cut off the guard's throat, even carefully choosing an angle that would allow the blood to spurt out better.

When the guard knelt on the ground because of the huge pain and the fear of his life passing quickly, Estonev picked him up.

He pulled off the man's shirt, stabbed it through his chin, and then moved forward, severing his chin and tongue.

A wail that was so broken that it was completely unrecognizable was born from the throat, and blood continued to spurt out. They did not care about the life of their master, they just wanted to be released.

Just like Estonev - he couldn't bear it anymore.

Just the thought of there being so many sinners in this world freely using the lives they took from other people already made him furious.

He picked up the guard, kicked open the door, threw the latter in, and then spoke softly in Nostramo.

"I'm here for you."

The soft tone became like an extreme shout under the influence of the breathing grille, and the hoarse tone brought about terrible fear. In the room illuminated by soft lights, dozens of men and women sitting nervously screamed.

They were dressed simply, even in rags. The face that had been deliberately cleaned still bore the terrible marks left by years of hard work.

Estonev immediately noticed something was wrong.

His dodge was so timely that when he dodged back into the darkness, he could completely see how the civilians trembling with fear were blown into bloody pieces by a bomb placed in the center of the hall.

And Estonev didn't even have time to feel his emotions at the moment. They struck through his heart like lightning, leaving burnt traces in it. However, this heart had been split so many times that the traces could not even remain intact on his heart.

He started running, jumping back and forth between the walls three times before climbing to the third floor of the villa, where a floor-to-ceiling window with curtains appeared in front of him.

With a low growl, Estonev chose to let the desire to judge sins cover his heart. He smashed the glass and rushed into it. What came face to face was not a sinner he could easily kill, but the roar and fire of the explosion.

Trigger bomb—the word flashed through his mind. There was a slight flash of annoyance, but his MK2 protected him, as always. Although he was not injured, the impact of the explosion caused him to fall from the third floor.

Several figures emerged from behind the door on the first floor that had been blown into molten and twisted metal. Lying on the ground that was shattered by his weight, Estonev could see the bloody face behind the broken door.

Then, he heard a dull and slight banging on the door.

He could help them—if he wanted to.

He could stand up and take a second to open that door and save them, or he could end their suffering with the bolter securely strapped to his belt. But Estonev did nothing.

He simply stood up, drew his combat dagger and turned around. A group of dark shadows were rushing towards him from the other end of the originally quiet street.

Each person's forehead was engraved with the words "vengeful spirit" in Nostramo language, dripping with blood, and the stench of sweat mixed with the smell of perfume filled the entire night.

They were once nobles, and now they are the remnants of a group driven mad by constant death. The only thing that makes them different is the faith they converted to in the last moments of their lives.

A vengeful spirit.

Revenge to whom?

Estonev actually felt a sense of absurdity.

He rushed forward, and the firepower of the automatic gun was not even enough to knock off his protective coating, but the nobles rushed forward without fear.

There were not many of them, and each of them had a kind of madness on their face that had been baptized by fanaticism—no, maybe it was fanaticism that had been shattered by madness, and no trace of reason remained.

Only madness.

But, there is no fear.

They were not afraid of him.

This incident made Estonev roar low, and he rushed into the crowd, killing like a tiger entering a flock of sheep.

The waltz of blood and minced meat came in the next moment. There was not much reason to explain, and they were all killed by him immediately. Standing among the corpses, he heard a dull sound coming from behind him.

It's like metal being knocked, or a heart being broken.

Estonev turned his head and saw that the molten door had been opened at some point. He squinted, the readings flashing across the eyepiece telling him nothing useful, but he had no choice.

He must continue, He must continue to judge, He must judge them.

His hands began to shake.

He approached the door. In the chaotic hall, broken human tissues were scattered illogically. Several bloody figures leaning against the wall looked at the ceiling with their eyes open.

They probably wanted to escape, but Estonev didn't open the door for them, so they died of pain.

Bloody and bloody.

He was indifferent and walked into the door numbly, vigilantly looking for the reason why the door was opened. He went deep inside, stepping on blood, broken glass, and ground shattered by heat and explosions.

Then, in the midst of the blazing flames, he saw a giant half-kneeling on the ground. The giant turned his back to him, stood up and turned around as if he had no idea. His body was filled with the breath of blood and death.

In an instant, the cold blue light flashed away. Cold silence fell in an instant, the flames were all extinguished, the light disappeared, leaving only darkness. But it was not difficult for the eyepiece. Estonev could see the giant's face, he could see it clearly.

He saw a flame that was beyond his imagination, and Estonev felt a shudder just at the sight of it.

"You are the thirteenth tonight." The giant said in a low voice. "You are all unqualified."

The next second, pain hit.

I'm not sure if there are still card text + back pain, I'll try my best to write another one.