40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 92 90. Traces of Killing (End, 4k)

Robert Guilliman was familiar with the University of Jericho, in fact, very familiar with it. From the library to the teaching building to the huge debate arena with many seats, he was so familiar with these roads that he could even pass them with his eyes closed.

The reason is simple, he has stayed here for a long time.

Jericho is famous for its debates. It has a huge debate arena transformed from a gladiatorial arena. Whenever a debate begins, many people will come from all over Macragge to watch the debate.

The sport is so popular within Macragge that almost every member of the Elders has to achieve some level of success here in their youth.

Robert Guilliman was no exception. Although he was not sure whether he wanted to enter Macragge's Elder House at the time, one thing was certain.

When he was a boy, he used to prepare for debates day and night like everyone else, hoping to win everyone in the debate field. He had a thousand victories here.

A thousand victories and one defeat.

His achievements led the University of Jericho to proudly hang his portrait in the Gallery of Honor even before he became Lord of Macragge. It was during this period that his eloquence laid a solid foundation.

However, defeats are sometimes more memorable than victories. The only person who defeated him was named Connaught.

But now, he was walking on the road to the debate arena, looking very silent.

The cobblestone forest path was broken by the footsteps of him and Khalil Lohars. Next to it was a quiet lake, which was sparkling with the breeze.

This night scene is so beautiful that no words are needed to describe it. This is a popular place for students to relax and unwind. This tradition has existed since the University of Jericho was founded three hundred years ago.

Guilliman thought about these irrelevant things in silence, his boots colliding with the stones embedded in the road. If it were another time and another identity, Guilliman would be happy to stop and admire them.

But not now.

Now, he just wants to know the truth.

He raised his head, looked at the giant walking in front of him, and calmly prepared to speak to adjust the atmosphere.

He had not walked this road for a long time, but his memory told him that they would soon reach the end, arriving at the ancient building that shared a history of blood and civilization.

So he had to be, and his brief emotional outburst before was very undeserved. As a mature politician, he should have used more natural means to make Khalil Lohars willingly tell him the truth.

Robert Guilliman thought he could do it.

So he spoke softly and asked gently: "Instructor Carrier, have you already visited Captain Van Cleef?"

Asking knowingly. Guilliman thought. Something every politician must do.

"Yes." Khalil replied calmly, the voice coming from in front of him. "He's still hanging on for dear life."

Guilliman pursed his lips as he hung on for his life.

To be fair, he knew the result early on, and the medical officers followed his orders and have been reporting to him.

The captain of the Eighth Legion was severely burned. The medical officers could not even remove his power armor without cutting open it. Most of his skin and muscles were turned into sticky blood, and his nerves had not healed. Maybe, the whole person is almost useless.

Frankly speaking, it's a miracle that he's still alive.

Therefore, if you want to fight again, there is only one way to go.

"But it doesn't need to bother you."

"What's the meaning?"

"He has told me what he wants."

Khalil walked calmly, without stopping, his footsteps gentle and soft.

"He asked me to fix him."

Repaired? Guilliman frowned. He was speechless for a moment because of the terrible determination revealed in these words.

".Macragge can provide a Contemptor Dreadnought."

"No, it is not necessary. Lord Robert Guilliman, I will no longer pass on my responsibilities to others."

Khalil stopped, and Guilliman stopped too. He knew they had reached the end.

His leader turned around and asked softly: "You want to see the truth, don't you?"

".certainly."

Guilliman nodded firmly after a brief silence, temporarily putting the matter of Captain VanCleef behind him.

"That's why I followed you here. Is this it? Debate arena?"

"No."

"But we're standing in front of its gates."

"Yes."

Guilliman's brows began to frown more and more. He got the answer. He stood outside the door of the truth, but could not get in. The feeling was almost unbearable.

He walked forward and forced himself to ignore the calm eyes of Khalil Lohars - he came to the heavy solid door of the debate arena and began to smell carefully, trying to capture the possible residue in the air. every trace of.

but none.

There was no smell, no smell of blood, no trace of battle remaining.

Guilliman turned his head and was about to ask again, but suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder at some point. Khalil Lohars stood behind him with a calm expression, staring ahead, his gaze focused on nothingness.

"."

In silence, Robert Guilliman followed his gaze and looked over again, but he could only see the two heavy doors that were closed together.

"You wish to see the truth, Roboute Guilliman. But I can only reveal part of it to you."

Khalil spoke in a low voice, his tone was as creepy as if he wasn't even here. The Lord of Macragge swallowed down the question rising in his throat and began to wait for his next words.

However, there is no next sentence.

His leader slowly clenched his right hand, his fingers sinking deeply into Guilliman's flesh like steel, and the cold blue light erupted violently in an instant. Guilliman's eyes widened and his muscles began to tremble.

He felt no pain, only a sudden feeling of fear.

Then, in the next second, something rushed out from the darkness of the ancient building that had stood for thousands of years.

——

It was cold, so cold that it was almost suffocating. Every instinctive breath caused the dead ice to enter the nasal cavity and respiratory tract, scratching them. Soon, Robert Guilliman felt a fishy sweetness.

He opened his eyes in silence and found that he was already standing in the debate arena. There are empty seats in all directions, and the place where the long table once stood is now empty, and the sand is waiting quietly under their feet.

What about Khalil Lohars?

Guilliman slowly turned his head, and as expected saw him behind him.

The giant among giants waited calmly. It would be inappropriate to call him expressionless, but it would be foolish to expect to see anything from above.

Guilliman stared into those eyes, and after a brief gaze, he once again found the answer he wanted.

Then, he suddenly realized something.

——With his permission, I can peek into his thoughts from his eyes again and again.

".What's the truth?" Robert Guilliman spoke slowly. "Even a part of it, I accept it."

Khalil didn't answer, just stretched out his right hand. His skin was so pale that it was almost deathly pale, and the color of his arms was no exception.

Robert Guilliman has heard too many riddles tonight and seen too many weird things that cannot be described with words or thought with the brain. But he still chose to believe in Khalil Lohars, so he is standing here now.

He should have reached out and shook his hand, as they had done in the study that afternoon. It's just a handshake, what's so hard about it?

But he didn't. Robert Guilliman stopped.

The Lord of Macragge stared at that right hand, silent. While on the playground, Khalil's hands were clean and pale, without any stains. But now, his hands are full of blood.

That's not human blood.

Absolutely not - human blood would not be so foul, not so scary, even hissing and boiling slowly on the skin. Human blood doesn't emit a hazy blue light that makes people feel dizzy.

Guilliman wanted to look away and free himself from these things, but he failed because the broken feathers stuck in the gaps between Khalil's nails had replaced the blood and blue light to attract his eyes. He looked at them and felt a chill to his bones as he breathed.

"Hold it," Khalil said lowly. "You can see the truth."

"What is this?" Guilliman asked softly, his voice as soft as the unconscious murmur of a baby in its mother's belly.

"The truth you want." His guide replied. "I killed nine, and here they are. Invisible shapes, monsters in the dark."

He raised his head, glanced at the lightless sky, then lowered his head again and laughed softly. At this time, Guilliman noticed that there was a hint of helplessness in his smile.

"Do you feel bad?" Khalil asked. "Such ambiguous and pretentious words. Do they irritate you?"

Guilliman admitted it, why shouldn't he? He nodded and answered simply and neatly: "Yes."

"Then, I apologize," Khalil said. "My intention was not to make you angry, or to be offended by your trust in me. In fact, the trust you showed in me even surprised me."

"During the day, you chose to come forward to talk to me after discovering Van Cleef's true intentions, and then ignored him. You were willing to talk to me alone in a room, and even believed that my words sounded like alarmism. "I express my apologies to you."

Guilliman pursed his lips, a hint of anger appearing on his face again: "I trust you because of what my brothers say about you."

"Rogg said that your determination is equal to his, Fulgrim praised your compassion, and Ferus said that you have an iron will. Roga was the most vague, and seemed not very willing to talk about you, but in my case After being questioned, he still admitted that you are morally superior because of them, so I don’t want your apology. Your apology is of no use to me.”

He took a step forward and took the hand without hesitation.

"All I want is the truth," Robert Guilliman said.

"Okay." Khalil Lohars nodded gently. "The truth is right in front of you."

As if struck by lightning, as if burned by fire, Guilliman's eyes widened, and a heavy sense of oppression swept over him. Day and night reversed, the heaven and earth shattered, and screams were heard endlessly. He blinked and it all disappeared. He blinked again, and it all happened again.

Like a tidal pattern, following his breath to and from the imperceptible sea of ​​the spirit world. In a daze, his vision became clearer.

Khalil Roharus' voice sounded softly but firmly in his ears: "Look, Robert Guilliman."

look.

What to see?

Guilliman held his hand blankly, a chill came over him, and then, he saw it.

Finally he saw it.

A huge creature with colorful feathers. It was nailed to the rough wall of the arena with its own bones. Its body had been cut open, and its bones and internal organs had all been torn out, leaving it in a state of aloofness from its skin.

Its eyes had disappeared, its sharp beak was wide open, and two blades burning with deep flames crossed the sides of its cheeks, tightly trapping its tongue.

Its wings were spread wide, but each feather was torn off by someone, and the heads of eight other bird creatures with different death shapes were nailed to its wings.

"What is this?" Guilliman asked at a loss.

He almost thought it was some kind of terrible hallucination. It wasn't a bird, absolutely not.

The bird's blood would not be twisted blue-glowing maggots, and the bird's body would not be so huge. Birds are creatures that fly freely in the sky, and are absolutely different from such ugly monsters.

He didn't wait for an answer. After thirteen seconds of silence, he heard an answer.

"The truth you want." Khalil Lohars replied softly. "The invisible form is before you, Robert Guilliman."

"I say, what is it—?!" Guilliman roared.

A deep hidden fear was revealed in his anger. His reason prevented him from understanding what these things were. In fact, his reason made him refuse to understand what these things were.

Even if he actually already has a vague answer.

"It's something you shouldn't have seen," Khalil said. "I stripped them of their polluting nature so you could see. In other words, I killed them so you could see."

silence.

Thunderous silence.

Holding his hand, Guilliman began to breathe hard, his breathing so violent that it almost seemed like he was sick. But he didn't, he was perfectly healthy, he just couldn't take it. After a long time, he closed his eyes and shook his head, his throat rolling.

".No, no, if that's really the case," he said. "So they are-"

"—They are nothing." Khalil interrupted, and a force forced Guilliman to open his eyes and look at him.

This power comes from reason and calmness, transmitted through the hand that holds his. Then Roboute Guilliman heard the last words he had heard from Khalil that night.

"It is time for you to rest, Lord Macragge. Stay rational."

The update is complete, and I will start posting big chapters starting tomorrow, so the update time may seem erratic. Tentatively it will be 8,001 chapters. If the number of words posted is too small, the amount of information will be insufficient, and it will be easy to quarrel between posts. Personally, I am quite afraid of seeing quarrels.