40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 9 9. Free Will

Sighing, Khalil thrust the blade into someone's heart.

He didn't care about his name or whether he was in pain or not. In fact, before the victim fell to the ground grunting, Khalil was running towards another target.

He ran while still avoiding the incoming bullets by sideways. They roared, angrily punching holes in the wall behind him. The moment the bullet entered the wall and produced powder, his blade also entered a body.

Then he cut, slicing open the belly with his left hand and slit the throat with his right hand. The human body is really fragile, and there are vital points all over the body.

"It's that ghost!" someone shouted in the darkness, with naked fear in his voice. "That vengeful evil spirit!"

He was definitely shaking. Khalil thought. Realizing this made him want to laugh.

Yes, I'm here.

And you.

In the dark and dark corridor, a low laughter sounded slowly.

Killing is too simple for Khalil. He did it so easily and naturally, even simpler than breathing, that it almost became an instinct.

To him, killing is like doing simple math problems. Is it true that one plus one equals two? Do we still need to calculate it carefully with pen and paper?

Of course not.

But that doesn't mean he likes it.

He didn't kill for the sake of killing.

Five minutes later, Khalil killed the last person in this long corridor by beheading him.

He stopped where he was, looked back at the corpses and pieces of meat on the ground, and took a few deep breaths. He tasted the blood-filled air and began to wait.

After sensing the tremor coming from the other end of the corridor, Khalil jumped up without hesitation and briefly climbed to the ceiling with the help of his blade.

There was gunfire, automatic guns, shotguns, machine guns—someone was even firing at the place with a laser gun. This made him couldn't help but narrow his eyes and lick his lips.

Half a minute later, after the deadly hail of bullets whizzed away, he landed again.

The sound of landing was slight, but it was still found. There was nothing he could do about it, he couldn't be as silent as the ghost, and the gangs were very keen.

In fact, Khalil felt, they were a little too sharp for a bunch of lunatics who spent their days smoking LSD, or anything else that could cause hallucinations.

After realizing that he was still alive, someone immediately yelled and threw a crude grenade over. Khalil kicked it back with a smile, his movements were very natural, like playing football.

The gang gives him a gift, and Khalil, who considers himself a polite man, responds with explosions and fire—and, of course, the chaos that follows.

This sudden explosion helped Khalil solve a dozen minor troubles that originally needed to be solved with blades and violence, but he didn't think this was a good thing.

It's too loud.

Hmm. Mistake.

He thought as he quickly ran away from the scene.

There is no room for argument on this matter. His job is like this, always surprising people when they are not prepared.

You never know what these gangs are going to come up with to bombard you with.

Homemade grenades are considered to be relatively low-risk among them. This kind of thing is better than a rocket launcher that can blow down a building at once.

Taking a deep breath, Khalil tensed the muscles in his legs and planned to leave.

He couldn't stay long, unless he wanted to experience a carnival like the ghost.

Half a second later, Khalil's eyes lit up with that cold blue light again.

Immediately afterwards, he jumped out of the window nimbly, bent his knees the moment he landed, his muscles bulged, and he instantly reached the top of a tall building a few hundred meters away in just a few vertical jumps.

During this process, the wind roared loudly in his ears, and the freezing temperature almost made his skin feel numb, but he still kept his eyes wide open.

The sights of Quintus passed through his eyes, and when they disappeared completely, he finally smiled.

A touch of ground followed, meaning he had landed.

Taking another deep breath slightly tiredly, Khalil slowly sat down against the wall. His back was a little uncomfortable and he needed to lean on something to relieve it.

There are more than a dozen air filters running quietly on the roof. They are in very good condition and have obviously been maintained recently. The people living in this building should have some relationship with the nobles, otherwise they would not be able to receive such living treatment.

Keeping this in mind, Khalil began to pay attention to himself. However, when he did this, there was always pain.

Every time.

After careful perception, Khalil noticed that his leg muscles were very sore and his bones were also whining.

It was obvious that after experiencing a fight like that and running away beyond normal imagination, his body was protesting against him.

In other words, his constitution was holding him back.

But that's not important.

The rain stopped.

Khalil shook his head and decided to tell himself a joke again with his most annoying sense of humor to ease his current bad mood.

"Look away," he said to himself. "At least you returned those two motorcycles, right? You have to be polite and honest. If you borrow something, you return it. It's not difficult to borrow again."

After telling the joke, Khalil waited three minutes.

He couldn't laugh, he never laughed.

My sense of humor is really terrible and I hate telling jokes. Khalil thought.

He sighed and then began to think. While doing this, he kept taking deep breaths.

The Great Purge is coming soon. he thinks.

Once in twenty years, it is almost a cruel law of nature - the nobles will profit from it. In fact, they are profitable regardless of whether the purge takes place or not.

What else can be said about this cruel thing that is more of a form of entertainment that provides diversion? In Nostramo, this is not unusual. At least it's more normal than sewing up a living person to use as a mattress.

There are still benefits to be gained from the former, but from the latter, if seeing wasn't believing, Khalil would probably regard it as a crazy imagination.

Khalil smiled.

There are nearly seven hundred gangs in Quintus, and he won't be able to kill them all, not until they die. As long as the oppression from the aristocracy persists, there will be more and more poor workers who choose to abandon their human identity.

The world has been changed, completely changed. How could he get everything back on track by himself?

He couldn't even build a decent organization to recruit helpers. The Nostramo people's way of thinking has been completely distorted, and there is no room for too much kindness in this world.

But killing to stop killing is not the answer, Khalil.

Yeah, I know.

Khalil closed his eyes, completely abandoned his distracting thoughts, and began to sink deeper into his mind, digging deeper and deeper. Trying to plan was difficult in a place like Nostramo, but he had to try.

The gang that Wraith killed all of their leaders is called the United Sons.

An incomprehensible name.

Like all other gangs, these people always like to be in line with the nobles.

Coming up with such a weird and awkward name is also part of it. They think that by doing so, they can one day join the ranks of the nobles. Only a few people clearly understand that gangs are just dogs raised by the nobles.

Sons of the Union - Khalil began to search for this name in his own memories, memories he was not supposed to have. But that doesn't matter, does it?

Soon, he got the answer.

One of the leaders of the United Sons recently joined Shivertooth.

very good.

Shivertooth, and Skolywok

These are two noble families with a long history, and now they should all be noticed by Quintus. What a good thing. I wonder if I will be lucky enough to meet those distinguished adults?

Khalil sneered.

The Scolewock family has a coroner's death, and although there may be hundreds of them like it, the death of one of them is still no small matter.

The Skolywok family is very similar to all other upper-class nobles, except for one thing that makes them special.

They attach great importance to 'rules' and 'honor'.

Ironic, right?

But, it's true.

Those who serve them can gain many things, and with complete loyalty, these people can get almost everything they want before they die.

This means that the Scolewock family will definitely try to find out who killed the coroner.

As for Shivertooth, they are a group of lunatics who like feasts of flesh and blood and stimulation of the senses. They will also not let go of this good opportunity to legitimately come to the nest to hunt.

Khalil opened his eyes and smiled.

He already knew what he had to do. If Trembling Tooth was going to join forces with the Skelewok family to hold a dinner party in Quintus in advance, then he would have already obtained the admission letter before the organizer.

Standing up again, Khalil held onto the cold wall and let out a long sigh with a trembling aftertaste.

The pain still made it impossible for him to stand freely. After a brief period of relaxation, there was an even greater and continuous wave of pain. It's like this every time, this power is really bad but also very useful.

There was a reason he chose to retrieve that tattered chair from the trash.

First, no one wants that chair, so he can take it away. Second. He really needs a chair.

There is no day in Nostramo, only eternal night. Standing on the edge of the building, looking at the scenery below, Khalil thought so.

All the cities on this planet are rotten, built from the very beginning using aberrant materials. He is just an ordinary person, he can't change them and them.

He also knew that his behavior of letting the ghost bear everything was extremely selfish - but, what choice did he have?

"Only now do I realize that that sentence is true."

Khalil smiled to himself. "Free will does not exist unless you swallow a gun barrel, turn on gas, or jump off a pier."

——

+He refused again. +

+Yes, my lord? +

+Yes. It seems that he misunderstood me deeply. +

+You cannot ask someone on the other side of the galaxy to accept your call request for no reason, my lord. +

+Maybe, but I'll try it a few more times. Conrad Coates' fate now hangs in his hands. +

+Well, good luck to you, Your Majesty. In addition, I remember you just said yesterday that the word fate is very absurd. +

"Yes, my friend."

A giant wearing golden armor opened his eyes and said so. "But, at some point, it does."

I don’t know what happened, but I’ll put a bowl here first.

Ask for everything - even for time.

I can’t see everyone’s comments and the author is going to die (sad)