40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 86 84. Nine (three, 3k)

Thinking is a virtue.

To be precise, it is a rare treasure. Very few people know how to use it, and very few people can use it actively themselves.

Even the most optimistic visionaries about the future of mankind will pessimistically admit one thing after scanning the human race.

Most people just go with the flow.

Most people are just following other people's actions.

If someone says one, they shout one without thinking. If someone shouts three, they will shout three together.

Sometimes, these people suddenly realize how ridiculous their behavior is, but only sometimes. They will realize it and then put it out of their minds.

Khalil put the book down calmly and did not read it again.

Sixtieth day.

He muttered the word silently, closed his eyes, let his thoughts fall silent, and cast them away to another world.

It's the sixtieth day and the voyage is coming to an end. As for the book, it ended just as well for Khalil.

Reading it makes no sense at all.

The words throughout the article reveal a ridiculous and terrifying self-esteem. The author despises almost everyone, but cannot give any specific examples. He is just criticizing, nothing more, and stops there.

There is never a shortage of thinkers in this world, but doers are truly rare people.

Just thinking about it, how much effort does it take?

Since evolution, the human brain has given its owner the power to imagine, just imagine, without having to do anything. There is no need to prepare, no need to go through a long wait, and no need to even break a sweat.

He wanted to spend the last hour of his landing reading, but this book didn't give him the chance. He had read it over and over again, and repeated reading and viewing brought a deeper understanding and disgust.

Lowering his head, Khalil moved the book and placed it on the edge of the desk so that it was completely against the wall.

He read against the wall. There was no furniture on the ship that fit his size. For sixty days, his most common way of resting was to stand against the wall.

Khalil didn't resent it; in fact, he even liked it.

Standing up, he lowered his head and bent his body and walked out of the door of the room. At this moment, a servitor staggered over from the end of the old corridor.

The way it walks is very interesting, it is not a walking method that any normal human would choose. Its knees do not bend and the soles of its feet barely touch the ground. The two legs were swung like knives. With such an unstable posture, it walked very fast.

It came to Khalil and took out a document that had just been printed out from a wooden storage box hanging on his chest. It came from the ground in Macragge via an ancient cogitator on the bridge.

Khalil reached out to take it and said softly: "Thank you."

He knew why the document had been delivered by a servitor and not by an officer or captain traveling with the ship. They have other things to be busy with at the moment, and besides, Khalil also specifically asked them.

The servitor didn't answer, but just walked away in silence. It has no sound function, so it does not speak like the servitors on the Nightfall. Khalil watched it go away, his eyes drifting to the far end of the corridor, and he frowned thoughtfully.

Lowering his head, he began to read the document.

A license.

Khalil thought as he read. Sent by Robert Guilliman's court, arriving on their ship.

The power of technology.

However, I am more concerned about another thing now.

The giant among giants calmly turned his head and looked towards the other end of the corridor. At the end of his sight, there was a tightly closed door on the side of the corridor.

Van Cleef, you have not left your room for twenty-four days.

He slowly narrowed his eyes.

——

Where? Where?

Van Cleef searched anxiously.

Where? In fifteen minutes I will lead the First Dalian Company to land. Where is it? He searched and kept searching. In his chamber he kept searching in his armor, forgetting even the open door.

"Company commander?"

who?

--who?

Van Cleef looked back.

Ah, it's Siani. Siani stood in front of the closed door and greeted him.

"Company Commander, are you okay?" Siani asked. He looked intently at Van Cleef's face, his pupils were dark, as black as the decayed teeth of the dead.

Behind him, in the hallway with the open door, more people were peering in the darkness.

Wait, open door?

Van Cleef wondered and tried to laugh.

But he didn't - he was a little annoyed.

"I'm fine," he said expressionlessly. "If you don't go to gather, why are you gathering here?"

"Because we want to help you, Captain."

Siani, whose eyes were as black as the teeth of a dead man, took a step forward, his movements slow but gentle. His steps - his steps were as light as a feather falling to the ground.

"Help me?" Van Cleef wanted to laugh again, but this time he laughed out of anger. he spoke sharply. "I don't need any help, Siani, I'm just looking for a piece of paper!"

"What paper, company commander?"

"My paper! What does it have to do with you, Siani? Go back to where you belong!"

‘Go back to where you belong? ’

What am I talking about? Is this my voice? Are these the words I should say? Why am I so impatient with him?

I have always liked Siani's vitality. He is my brother and my descendant. I have never been so angry with any of my brothers, especially this kind of unreasonable anger.

What am I doing?

This question emerged in Van Cleef's mind, and a vague panic followed, but it did not last long.

A cold hand grabbed his right hand, Siani grinned, and countless pairs of eyes began to peek behind the tightly closed door.

Vaguely, Van Cleef heard a satisfied chuckle.

"Siani?" The company commander raised his head blankly, his pupils rolled up. "Primarch? Lord Khalil?"

"They're not here." Siani said with a smile. He was wearing power armor, and VanCleef was wearing power armor, but he—or rather, it. Its icy coldness reached Van Cleef's heart completely.

This terrible chill from behind the curtain completely froze Van Cleef's heart, making him unable to pursue any possible traces.

There is only numbness.

"Company commander, where is your paper?" Siani from Terra asked with a smile. If Van Cleef could still 'see' and 'perceive', then he would definitely realize something was wrong.

But he couldn't see anything now. A soft blue light flickered in the depths of his pupils. There was some kind of ancient bird creature scratching the company commander's brain with its feathers, making it tremble and make it tremble. destroy.

"Paper" muttered VanCleef. "I do not know where it is."

"Here." Siani smiled and stretched out his left hand, and there happened to be a piece of paper on it. A piece of blank paper was created at the other end of the empire and traveled an unimaginable distance to get here.

The patterns on it flashed, and everything was as usual. Van Cleef stood up straight and took it blankly, instinctively feeling a little suspicious.

"Why do I want it?" he asked. "What do I need it for?"

He didn't look at the paper, but the twisted eagle at the top of the paper was looking at him. It has two heads.

The Imperial Skyhawk also has two heads. No problem. thought Van Cleef. He let it pass over him again, without a trace.

"You need it to kill a man, Captain Van Cleef."

"You were born to kill, weren't you? You've killed sinners, villains, villains, old people, women, men, children - you've even killed things you don't even know you should call human beings."

"So, what's the point of having one more today? What's more, you've always wanted to kill people along the way, right? You want a glorious battle."

Siani—Siani from Terra—his face began to boil.

Then he laughed.

Who to kill? Van Cleef called out instinctively, dazedly. I only execute the guilty, I am the judge, I will never kill the innocent.

"Kill Tarasha Euton," it said. "You have never met her, but you will kill her because she is Robert Guilliman's adoptive mother and Robert Guilliman wants his Ultramarines to infiltrate your Primarch's homeworld, so they are both guilty. ”

Van Cleef let out a grunt from his throat. It didn't sound like a human being speaking, but more like a human being coughing up blood.

"Kill her." The thing with Siani's face said. "Kill Tarasha Yuton, Captain VanCleef, and you will gain the glory you seek."

——There was a knock on the door.

"He came, but it was too late. He respected you, so he ignored too many things. Everyone is like this, and everyone can be used."

The thing smiled with satisfaction, like a monster looking forward to the completion of its plot.

Siani's flesh stretched out, and the skin slid and twisted. The disguised skin dissipated in an instant, leaving only a twisted essence. But it didn't exist for long, just for a moment, the laws of the real world came with huge pressure and drove it back to the place where it belonged.

But that's enough.

It has done its job, it has everything it needs in the palm of its hand. It contentedly returned itself to the blue light and left a trace in Van Cleef's mind. It is extremely obscure and cannot be discovered unless you cut open the heart with your own hands.

But now, the first company commander is starting to wake up.

He looked at the knocking door, walked over, opened it, and saw Khalil Lohars. The latter stared at him calmly, as if there were sharp knives scratching deep in his pupils.

"Van Cleef." He nodded in greeting. "There are still fifteen minutes left, are you ready?"

'certainly. ’

"Of course." Van Cleef nodded seriously and calmly, as always. "Are you still going to use the ninth formation for review as planned, instructor?"

"Yes," Khalil said thoughtfully. He stared at VanCleef, then nodded slowly after a moment.

"Yes," he repeated softly. "The ninth formation, that's right."

Sneak attack!