40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 98 1. Blood (3k)

Blood.

She could smell it, so clearly that it was almost disturbing. But the woman just made a low grunt from her throat and said nothing.

She was used to this smell, just like the other seven people around her. However, they actually know another thing better than this.

They knew it just as they could see the paint and blood on each other's skin and smell the stench in the air.

You can't change the truth, especially if you can see it with your own eyes. It is impossible for man to deny his own.

"When?" asked a man in a low voice. He once leaned on the blood-smeared rock wall and remained silent.

He wore a leather armor and had two short knives in his hands. Burning torches crackled above his head, and the smell of tallow was pungent. He leaned against it as if against his own coffin.

"Half an hour," the other man answered. "We will fight before the undefeated."

"With what?"

"A beast," the woman—or, Kleist said. "One of the many monsters created by slave masters, this time it should be a big one."

"Every battle before the undefeated must be bloody." The man who spoke first said. "This is a rule and a rule, so you can remove the should and be a big guy."

He was silent for a moment.

"But I always feel that we are sacrifices." He said softly. "We and the beast are all sacrifices used to summon him."

His words silenced the crowd, and they all began to think back to the giant. Then one of the crowd spoke. He was holding a spear with a sharp tip. This was a new weapon, which meant that he had entered this bloody arena not long ago.

"Have you met him?"

"Once," the man said. "I saw him kill a Morella with my own eyes."

There was an exclamation.

Even Kleist is no exception. She tightened her grip on her spear, not wanting to speak.

"Really? You're not lying?" the person who asked the question said doubtfully.

"What's the need? You'll believe it once you see it with your own eyes."

The man leaning against the rock wall laughed. The dark grease on his face covered most of his facial features, and his eyes were dimmed as well. He didn't look like a human being, but something else.

Afterwards, he fell silent, as did Kleist. Silence spread from them completely until the bell rang.

The rock wall trembled, the heavy door made of fine iron was opened, and the light from the outside suddenly penetrated, followed by hot air waves and huge cheers.

Kleist knew where the sounds were coming from, coming from above their heads and in all directions. The dignitaries who came to watch the battle of the undefeated roared with excitement, and Kleist stepped forward, ready to wait for the next bell.

Three minutes later, it came.

So Kleist stepped out of the darkness, joining the other seven.

She stepped on the hot sand with her bare feet, carefully avoiding the places where bones were buried.

One of her companions knelt down, grabbed a handful of sand, sniffed it a few times, and then gave a conclusion in a positive tone: "Many people died before us."

"Do you still need to say that?" Someone kicked him, a harmless joke. "The dark red color of the sand has changed again and we can see it."

"Stop talking." A man said softly. "It's coming."

He is right.

The ground shook, and opposite them, a black iron fence was slowly pulled up. Amidst the heartbreaking sound of metal hinges moving, a huge beast rushed out.

Its teeth sparkled in the sun, and Kleist's eyes stung a little, but not because of the sweat sliding into her eyes, but because of the head hanging on the spikes on the back of the thing.

The heads of the gladiators—their companions, with their eyes open and vacant, dangled slightly on the spikes.

"I'm going to kill this beast." Someone muttered beside her.

Kleist didn't know whether he meant it, or the people who had done it. She had little time left to think, because the beast was already charging towards them.

It was hungry, that much was obvious, for the beast would not have come so close to a human unless it was driven by hunger. There were traces of being whipped on the red skin, which was torn and torn, and blood was constantly spilling along with its movement, leaving more bloodstains in the sand pit.

The first person to meet it was a woman with a dagger and shield. She rushed towards it with a roar, trying to resist its attacks with her shield and stabbing its eyes with the dagger in her hand.

Her tactics were obvious, Kleist could see that she had even thought about how to cooperate with her. But she didn't expect that the beast could actually see it.

It turned sideways and swept past with its tough tail. A scream was heard, the shield was broken, and the woman fell to the ground. The right hand holding the shield was broken.

What happened next needs no introduction.

First. Amid the screams, Kleist thought. Will I be the second?

She had no answer, she just gripped her spear and charged forward with the other man holding the spear.

The beast, which was drunk in blood, did not respond to their attacks. It just tore at the flesh and blood and feasted. The internal organs, flesh and bones themselves were shattered in the sound of chewing, until two spears pierced its left forelimb. .

The thing roared, turned around at a speed that Kleist couldn't react to, and then struck violently.

She flew out upside down, her perception clearer than ever before. There was pain in her abdomen, something she could clearly feel, but that wasn't the point because she was about to land.

The air cut through her hair and dry skin, the heat was rolling, the roar in the stands was still obvious, and someone was laughing loudly. A thousandth of a second, or ten thousand years later - she fell to the ground, screaming.

"Get in the back!" a man passed her and shouted. From the corner of her eye, she saw a completely dark face, and what happened next was just a fragmented memory.

Blood, screaming, roaring, and some swearing. Someone threw ice-cold water on her from the stands. Not only did she feel no shame, she even wanted more.

The coldness eased her pain, but she was speechless.

What I wanted to pray for - she would shout: "Master! Master! All right! Give me some water!"

She had learned this cry from a dead gladiator who had a lively personality but would not tell them his name. Until his death, they didn't know what to call him.

And now - Kleist was lying on her side on the hot sand pit, the rough touch scratched her skin, and a raging heat wave followed.

She wanted to scream, but she couldn't make a sound. Instinctively, she made small sounds between opening and closing her lips using the words the man had taught her. But not to pray for water, but to pray for death.

"Master, please, please give me some water." She shouted weakly. "Master, please, please give me some water. Please give me some water."

The first time, the second time, the third time. Her memory turned into a broken abstract painting, but the smell of death was always so real. She could smell the increasingly pungent smell of blood, as well as the screams and fanatical shouts of her brothers and sisters.

The last one was the most violent, even overshadowing everything after a brief pause.

In a daze, she seemed to hear the sound of metal hinges moving again. The delirious woman raised her head and wanted to crawl back to their cell, but she did not see the cell, she saw a giant.

He is breathing.

This was Kleist's first thought.

He's breathing - yes, he's breathing.

She giggled.

The giant lowered his head and glanced at her. His face was twitching nervously, his expression contorting into some horrible echo. But he didn't kill her, at least not yet. He just bit his lip and let the blood spill.

"Climb to the back. If you want death, they won't give it to you." He said in a low voice, his voice like two sharp blades rubbing against each other. His face still twitched between words, as if he was being tortured.

Kleist's consciousness returned at this moment. She groaned in pain and felt dizzy: "Who are you?"

The giant made no answer.

He stepped over her, then corpses, corpses, corpses - he stepped into the center of the sand pit, between bones and dried blood, and raised his weapon.

Then he roared.

"come over!"

A thunderous sound erupted in the arena, overwhelming the voices of all the dignitaries cheering for his appearance. Their gathering seemed insignificant and feeble before him.

Looking from Kleist's point of view, she could only see his back, but this did not prevent her from observing him.

Is he human? Kleist thought. She didn't have the answer, but she wanted to know the answer, so she began to crawl hard, not to get to a safe place, but to get closer to the battlefield.

The beast paid no attention to the giant calling to it; it was busy eating - it was starving, which otherwise would have been completely inexplicable as to why it dared to do so. There was a roar like a mountain and a tsunami in the stands. It was chaotic at first, but after a few seconds, there was only one common syllable left.

"Anglonius! Angronius! Angronius! Angronius!"

They roared in unison, with a sound that puzzled Kleist. Her thoughts stopped again, but not for long.

Because the giant started roaring again, this time without words, just pure anger.

Then the thunder came again, and the storm.

"The Invincible," Kleist whispered.

She knew who he was.

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