40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 91 89. Traces of Killing (I, 3k)

Robert Guilliman slowly got out of the car.

It was already evening, and he usually didn't care much about the passage of time on weekdays. After all, handling various affairs was very time-consuming.

It was different today. He stood in front of the car door and rarely stared at the setting sun that was about to disappear completely. The dim light seemed to be some kind of obscure farewell, persuading people to go home.

A breeze blew by, and Guilliman lowered his head and threw all the useless philosophical thoughts into a corner. He would relive these delicate emotions before going to bed - if he could fall asleep tonight.

"Primarch."

His first commander Marius Gage spoke to him in a serious voice behind him: "According to your order, no one approaches, we are only guarding outside the school. He has been in for more than thirty-five minutes."

"What else?"

Guilliman turned around and unbuttoned the top button of his uniform. The temperature gradually became cold, but he wanted to let this coldness wash away his thoughts after handling official documents.

For no reason, he remembered the descriptions in those supernatural ghost stories.

Generally speaking, monsters only appear in the dark.

Why? Because they are afraid of the sun?

"No more." Gage answered seriously. "No sound of fighting, no screams, nothing. Even the communication channel was quiet, he didn't say anything."

Guilliman's facial lines became tense.

He began to walk and quickly approached the school gate that was completely empty. The huge and heavy iron gate was opened, and darkness had gradually fallen. Looking inside, there was a huge playground and some sculptures standing in the center of the playground.

The darkness swallowed up all the details. The trees on both sides of the road slowly swayed their leaves with the breeze, and there seemed to be something else mixed in the rustling sound.

"Where is he?" Guilliman asked.

"We don't know, Primarch." Gage said with a little frustration. "You ordered that no instrument be used to monitor or check his location, so we shut down all surveillance in the school." Guilliman stopped. "Do you think this is wrong?" "I think this is wrong." Gage admitted. "Absolutely wrong, my Lord." Guilliman did not answer, he just continued to stare into the darkness. After a while, he began to take off his uniform, and then took off the laurel wreath. Gage looked at this scene and had guessed what his Primarch was going to do. He sighed. "I really wish Lady Euton was here, my Lord." Gage muttered. "If she knew what we were doing in Macragge now, she would probably be the first to question you, my First Chapter Captain." Guilliman chuckled, and then gave the order in Gage's helpless expression. "All alert." "Are you really going in?" "Of course." Robert Guilliman, wearing a uniform shirt, nodded slowly and took out a pistol from his belt. That was his personal collection, the Messerian beam pistol, derived from ancient technology, powerful and reliable. The most important point is that it fits his hand well.

Just like that, he slowly walked into the darkness.

It's too quiet. Robert Guilliman thought. It's so quiet that it doesn't look like a school, but more like a

More like a cemetery.

He sighed and began to feel annoyed with his own thoughts - yes, that's right. He went to work after talking with Caril Rohars, or rather, he read ghost stories while dealing with paperwork all afternoon.

So it's reasonable to be slightly affected at this moment.

As for the latter, he went to the hospital to visit Captain Van Cleef first, and then started working. He inspected back and forth in the city, almost walked through Macragge, but it was not until the evening that he determined his first work place.

And this school, Jericho University, is famous in Macragge.

It is the cradle of philosophers and writers, and has produced more than seventeen winners of the highest awards in the literary world in the past hundred years. Robert Guilliman was very clear about these things, almost like he knew them by heart.

At this moment, he walked quietly on the playground of Jericho University, his boots touching the ground, and the grass made a slight sound between the friction.

The statues of the past sages stared quietly above Guilliman's head, and in return, Robert Guilliman silently called out the names of each of them in his heart.

In fact, it was not only that.

He had even read the works of each of them, and still remembered some of the controversial plots. Literature has almost no help in promoting technology, but everyone likes to listen to stories. Stories are the earliest literary carriers and no one can do without stories.

He scattered his thoughts endlessly and continued to walk quietly in the dark.

He held the gun, and its trigger quietly transmitted the cold temperature on his index finger.

This matter did not conform to the rules and regulations. When you are not sure whether to shoot, you should always keep your finger on the trigger guard. Guilliman knew this rule, but he had to break it.

His gun needed half a second to warm up before it could fire, which meant that if it was going to fire tonight, he would have to keep his finger on the trigger at all times.

It's almost like a preparation, a note for an uncertain future or an advance warning?

Guilliman smiled.

What am I thinking? Forewarned?

Roboute Guilliman, you are absolutely crazy. Not only did you believe the words, you even made him take action.

Look, what has become of the highest palace of philosophy where the lights used to be brightly lit and debates lasted all night long?

Deadly, gloomy, cold

cold?

Guilliman stopped and turned sharply, but there was nothing behind him. The playground was dark and stared at him, like a huge monster with its mouth open. The breeze blew, and his excellent hearing allowed him to hear the rustling of leaves again.

And that feeling is still there.

Cold – it’s everywhere.

Robert Guilliman stared seriously into the darkness. He could see through the darkness and naturally take in every detail. Half a minute later, he was sure again that there was no one else on the playground except him.

"Primarch?"

Gage's voice sounded in his communication headset. "You've been in there for five minutes, how's it going?"

"Everything is normal," Guilliman said. "Except I still can't find where the hell he is."

Gage sighed and said nothing, but it seemed like he had said everything.

"Be patient, Gage, this is not the first time you have dealt with the Eighth Legion, isn't it? They have always been elusive on the battlefield. Also, what is the temperature tonight?"

"Twenty-two degrees Celsius. What's wrong, Primarch? Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, I just wanted to know." Guilliman replied calmly. "Continue to be vigilant. I'll search for another ten minutes and I'll be out."

He turned around and planned to go to the teaching building to take a look, but at this moment, his movements suddenly stopped. Then, he raised the gun in his hand.

Behind him - to be precise, directly in front of him at this moment, there was a slender figure waiting quietly.

Guilliman lowered his gun after three seconds.

"Instructor Khalil." He greeted softly. "Good evening."

"Good evening, sir." Khalil Lohars nodded calmly and emotionlessly. He stood in the darkness with an indifferent expression, his hands hanging down naturally, and his posture relaxed.

And Guilliman was certain that he had not been here just now.

He's not here, Guilliman told himself calmly, and he definitely wasn't here just now.

So, where was he just now?

"How is your work going?" Guilliman asked.

"very successful."

Khalil said. Apart from this brief comment, he said nothing, not even a redundant explanation.

Guilliman frowned inevitably. He put the gun back on his belt, expressing his wishes with subtle movements. As he did this, he looked closely into Khalil's eyes, trying to read his reaction.

However, the giant standing opposite him was as calm as if he were dead. His eyes did not even move, and he just looked at Guilliman.

".Success? I see no evidence to support your statement." Guilliman decided to open the situation himself. "You came here to help me deal with the threat of Macragge. Instructor Khalil, you said you would kill every monster that dared to invade here. Where are the monsters?"

"Dead," Khalil said simply and clearly.

Guilliman almost laughed in anger.

"I gave you the greatest support, Instructor Khalil. I asked my legions to guard you, and asked the students and professors in the university to leave their research halls. I even went so far as to do it myself without getting a response from you. Entered your workplace instead of letting my army search for traces of you! And now, you tell me, they are dead, so where are the bodies?"

"In fact, if possible, Lord Robert Guilliman, I would rather you not come in." Khalil shook his head slowly. "Plus, they don't have bodies."

The corner of Guilliman's eye twitched.

He raised his right hand resolutely and waved it like a sword: "Enough, I have heard enough riddles today. I want to see the evidence now, Khalil Lohars, otherwise I can only treat you as a liar."

He glared aggressively at the giant, who stared back quietly.

There was a flash of anger.

That's it again. Guilliman thought angrily. There was this look again, as if I was a child who didn't understand anything and was throwing a tantrum. Why did he dare to despise me like this?

His anger went away just as quickly as it came. Guilliman did not remain angry for long. His rationality allowed him to quickly regain his composure. After a moment of silence, he made a gesture: "I want the truth."

The tone was firm.

So Khalil could only sigh.

"Follow me." He turned around.

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