40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 109 12. Revenge and Salvation

Night falls.

The night in Nuceria was longer than normal nights Khalil had known, and at [-]:[-] in the morning there was still no sign of daylight.

In the gloomy fortress poured in darkness, Khalil walked slowly.There was no light around him, and the arena had been completely abandoned three hours ago.

At this moment, both gladiators and slave owners have bid farewell to this place.The burning flames have also disappeared, leaving only the burnt smell still remaining.There were corpses covered with white cloth waiting to be contained on the ground, and the Ultramarines still gave them the most basic respect for the enemy.

Gazing at them, Khalil sighed silently.

When alone, he doesn't bury his emotions like he usually does.One should not lie to oneself.

He came to the bunker and squatted down.

A four-meter-high giant has many inconveniences in daily life. Even if you want to observe it carefully, you have to squat down.He stretched out his right hand, picked up a handful of rough gravel, and shook his head calmly, feeling the passing of them between his fingers.

The smell of blood still lingers.

He clenched his right hand tightly, letting the remaining sand stay in his palm.They can't hurt him, but they can make him feel a little bit of pain.

The rough gravel rubbed against the skin and the lines of the palm. After a short period of discomfort, Khalil let go of the palm and let it face down, but this time, there was no sand falling down anymore.

There was blood dripping.

Then, the flames lit up.The pitch-black rage, dancing wildly in the darkness, has contained unprecedented anger and hatred since the moment it was born, urging people or dead souls to do what they should do.

This flame is as heavy as the darkness, it obviously shouldn't be able to illuminate the darkness, but after being ignited, the darkness recedes spontaneously.This weird scene would make ordinary people incomprehensible, even shattering their sanity, but Khalil knew what he was doing.

Calmly and slowly, he stood up, stared at the huge bunker, and exhaled a breath of cold air.

boom--!
The huge roar that ordinary people can't perceive or even hear suddenly rang out at this moment.

Continuously, one after another, the rhythm as fine as a heartbeat is manically moving towards excitement in an unperceivable world.Like music, but more like a terrible cry.A deep voice sounded quietly in the darkness, echoing the singing, chanting their names in a low voice.

Khalil slowly opened his hands, closed his eyes, and stood still like a sculpture in the darkness.But the sound began to become more and more intense, until it became a manic movement resounding through the darkness.

Human voices crooned, screamed and shouted quickly, speaking the murderer's name in a dying voice.

The sound was continuous, simple and heavy, and it sounded like a real thing in the abandoned arena.

Khalil opened his eyes, and the cold light flashed away.

The bunker began to boil in the black flames, billowing endlessly like pitch-black magma.The strong wind gradually picked up, and the sound like thunder resounded suddenly. The sky of Nuceria began to change. Under the dark night, heavy clouds gathered.

The civilians looked up in horror, not understanding what was going on.The gladiators talked to each other in the barracks assigned to them, using their unique way to explain each other.The Ultramarines looked up at the sky, the color of lightning reflected in their eyepieces.

And Khalil laughed, and only he laughed.

The old anger and old hatred came back, entwined around him, wrapped in black flames, making him look as terrifying as if he was wearing armor.He smiled gently, but his dark eyes reflected the pale faces of those who died in vain.

They waited silently, standing in the dark like ghosts.

They came from the deserts of Nukeria, from the snowy mountains of Nukeria, from the forests of Nukeria, and from the plains of Nukeria.

They used to live a peaceful life, but they were taken away from their homes and families by the slave team, and forced to become bloody slaves, losing their freedom, dignity, and everything else.Each of them had fought as a slave in the arena, risking his life and that of his fellow men to entertain all in the stands.

Then they died, in the sandpit, becoming the dark red on the gravel, one of the bones.

anger.

hatred.

Thirst for revenge.

Lightning slashed across the sky, splitting the clouds into two halves. In the heavy rain, Kalil announced in a low voice, and his voice clearly penetrated the rain curtain, reaching the ears of every soul who died in vain.

"Then, revenge."

"On my behalf."

Then thunder rang.
-
Gazing at the sky through the eyepiece, Milo felt an unnatural chill.

The rain was drizzling, and together with the drooping night, it formed a strange oppression.Night and rain are like a harmony made in heaven, as if they should appear together so naturally.

He shook his head, put aside this thought, turned around and entered the simple board room built by the logistics staff, and took off his helmet.

He has a serious face, similar to most of the Ultramarines, but he is not handsome, even ugly.Three deep scars running across his face ruined everything, turning his visage into something that wouldn't be scrutinized.

Fortunately, in fact, not many people care about this matter.Those who can see don't care, and those who care don't see it.

"Captain."

His subordinate, his brother, Nshika stepped forward, showing a fleeting smile: "How is the situation?"

"The list of criminals must be completed within four hours," Miro said. "We have until 25:[-] to finish everything and throw these hateful scum where they belong."

"No more orders from the Primarch?"

"Yes." Milo frowned. "But I don't understand it."

Enshika looked at him in surprise: "This is not like your style, company commander."

Milo glanced at him, and spoke in a harsh tone.

"I also want to understand every word of the Primarch, and even the meaning behind every movement and look in his eyes. But this is impossible, and, as a member of the Ultramarines, what I have to do It's also very simple, I just need to follow his will."

"I knew you would say that." Nshika laughed. "But what else did the Primarch say?"

Milo was silent for a moment, then shook his head.

"I can't understand the meaning of that sentence."

"...Are you trying to trick me, Captain?"

"Do not."

"Then can you say that sentence?"

Milo sighed slowly.

"He keeps us calm," said the Captain of the [-]nd Company of the First Chapter of the Ultramarines. "But I don't understand why he would say that."

Enshika was silent for a while, shaking his head slowly, also unable to understand what their Primarch Robert Guilliman was talking about.But they were lucky after all, because this doubt didn't last too long.

Soon, they heard a low whistling sound coming from the rain curtain outside the barracks.Sharp but low-pitched, it made their eardrums hurt the moment it sounded.

Milo snapped his helmet back on, opened the door of the barracks and walked out.His right hand was already on the bolter on his waist belt, however, a few seconds later, he stood quietly in the rain and stopped moving.

"Company commander?" Enshika, who reacted a little slower, rushed out of the barracks and asked in a low voice to his motionless officer. "What happened?"

The second company commander didn't answer, but just stood there quietly.Nshika was about to speak again, but suddenly heard a loud thunder.

The bone-piercing cold suddenly struck after the sound, breaking through the protection of his armor, and buried in every corner of his body.In a trance, Enshika's consciousness also fell into a kind of stagnation. He stood still, staring at the darkness under the rain curtain, and a group of pale shadows were reflected in the eyepiece.

He can see them, but not feel them.The rain continued, hitting the armor of the Ultramarines and smashing them to pieces.

And then—there was a scream.On and on, horrible and heart-wrenching, interspersed with pleas for mercy.But the ghosts ignored them, they were just revenge, nothing more.

Come back from the silence of death, to bear the fire of vengeance and the flames of hatred that will no longer let any word stand in the way.

The gladiators grabbed the slave master, roaring their names and shaking their fists.Tortured slaves choked dignitaries by their necks, watching with hatred as they exhaled their last breaths.

Revenge, it happened in all parts of Nuceria, from the liberated cities, to those slave owners who fled in the wilderness, it kept spreading, kept going, following the firm will of the dead The earth runs like a natural rule.

At this moment, countless bloody cases are happening, but no one can stop them, and no one can stop them. When the law and justice cannot calm the anger of the dead, then revenge becomes the last choice.

Khalil stared peacefully at the sky as the rain fell into his eyes and shattered.The rain in Nuceria is natural rain, even if he calls it with power that should not be there, it is very gentle, the opposite of Nostramo.

The night wind blows slowly from the snow-capped mountains at the far end, reaching the edge of his fingers, bringing the thanks of the dead in vain.The lightning, thunder, and gale had disappeared, but the sound remained, like a death knell.

At [-]:[-] in the morning, the trial was over, and it was still dark.

He turned and saw hundreds of pairs of dark eyes.

All the other souls who had fulfilled their desire for revenge had already left, and some even had no desire to rest, and were broken and scattered in the rain.

But these were different, they endured the burning of the pitch-black flames, and forced themselves to stand calmly in front of Khalil Rohars.

They knew who he was, and they hadn't been able to since the brief resurrection.

But they have nothing to fear.

Khalil bowed his head and sighed.But one of the souls stood out at this moment. He had an old face with gray hair, and his pale face was looming in the increasingly sparse rain.

"Thank you." He said solemnly. "Thank you for your willingness to wake us up, let us calm our anger and complete our revenge."

"This is something I should have done a long time ago," Khalil said in a low voice.

indeed so.

He smiled bitterly in his heart—he should have walked here as a god, and the moment he arrived, he should have let the flames of revenge and hatred burn the entire Nuceria, but he didn't, because he still thought he was personal.If you are a human, you should behave in a human way and observe the whole world with your naked eyes.

This is the case even if he already knows his own essence, for this reason.He even went so far as to make a covenant with the Emperor to blur the line.

At this point, he is avoiding some kind of responsibility.

"There is no right or wrong," said the old gladiator. "You don't owe us anything. Before you, no one has ever tried to avenge us."

"It was you who avenged yourselves and completed your revenge. I am just standing here."

The old gladiator shook his head, apparently not agreeing with Kalil's words.

His pale face began to become more and more illusory, and the flames were fading away little by little.The same goes for other spirits, their desire for revenge has been fulfilled, so the black flame no longer provides the power to keep them alive.

However, apart from revenge, they have one more thing to do.

To be precise, they still have one more wish to fulfill.

"My lord." The old gladiator whispered. "My name is Oinomouth, and I'm from the desert."

Khalil didn't answer, just stared at him, to be precise, at him and the hundreds of spirits behind him.

"My name is Akar, from the forest."

"My name is Milkan, from Snow Mountain."

"My name is Janio. I was born in the arena. I am the child of a gladiator."

"My name is."

There were voices, one after another, one after another.No interruptions, no pauses, they knew their names and where they had come from, just as they knew what they were about to do.

The old gladiator—or rather, Oinomouth spoke again after a long silence.

"I am Angron's father," he said.

"And me." Another soul said. "I was his brother."

"Me too."

"I was his older sister, and I died when he was eight."

The voices of the spirits sounded again, they all knew Angron, and they all died here.They had been close to him in life, and they cared for him after his death.

Khalil was silent without saying a word.

Then the old gladiator, Oinomouth, Primarch's Breeder, spoke slowly.

"My lord. We are his kin. He has saved us countless times. In gladiatorial battles, in the punishment of slave owners, he took away our bitter tears and fed us with his own blood. He clearly There is a chance to escape and become a free man, but I would rather stay in the arena because I don't want to see us die."

"His kindness made him tortured into a monster, my lord. The slave owners forced me to watch the whole process of the operation. I saw with my own eyes how they implanted one nail after another into my son's skull. They Many people have been tortured with that thing, but Angron was the worst, and even if I die, I can still see it."

"We've been lingering in this bunker all this time, and I've seen him break, as we all have, my lord."

Oinomouth's pale face began to slowly dissipate, turning into spots of light.The pitch-black night finally began to change at this moment, and a misty light spread across the earth, arousing all living beings and everything.

Oinomouth—and the spirits—speak in unison at the first moment the sun broke through the clouds.
-
Angron panted heavily.

He sat in the far corner of the medical room without saying a word, leaning his back against the wall.His muscles were trembling, and the nail was still going deeper and deeper. The most unbearable part of this process was not the pain, but its extension.

Angron's perception ability is outstanding, so he can clearly feel every drilling of the nails.They made his skull swell, his brain tremble, and his nerves send a terrible pain.

He gritted his teeth and moaned from his throat, blood spilled from his lips and nostrils, and dripped down his white clothes.Names and faces flashed before his eyes, and he tried to remember them, trying to remember each dead person with what little sanity he had left.

He had to do this, the nail wanted him to forget everything and become a monster who only knew how to kill, but this was his resistance.

He will never give in.

He was silent, then breathed, silently recited the names of the dead with a broken voice between his bloodstained lips and teeth.He did this every night in the past.

Nail's fury spread, and Angron grinned grimly. He chewed the anger with satisfaction, let the pain continue, and then continued to read the next person's name.

Acar, Milkan, Janio. Men, women, old people, children. From deserts or hills, from snowy mountains or volcanoes, from beside rivers, from plains. They are his brothers, his sisters, his kin.

And then there's the last person.

Oinomouth.

His father.

The bruised giant slowly raised his head, the steel braid swayed slightly as he moved, the cable trembled, and the terrifying drilling continued.Angron wiped his face, the blood on his palm was stained red, he stared at his hand, thoughtful, but his vision suddenly blurred for a certain moment.

"Angron."

A voice sounded in the darkness.

He looked up sharply, but the darkness was empty.

"Who?"

Rather than a greeting, Angron let out a threatening growl from his quivering throat, his eyes widened, and he stared into the darkness with an almost pleading attitude.

"Who's talking? Is that you, Oinomouth?"

No one answered, only a second call, a third, a fourth—all of them.

470 a.

They called out in unison and chanted softly.The giant raised his hand in pain, grabbed the cables behind his head, and began to pull them out like crazy.He wanted to cry, but the Butcher's Nails wouldn't allow it.Along with his movements, the teeth-stinging sound of bones cracking also sounded, and he wailed in pain, but he just refused to stop.

Nail was furious, and the pain swept him away like a tsunami in the next instant, Angron trembled in a trance, and fell to the ground, becoming a person who was even breathing carefully, but his fingers were still on those Fiddling on the thick cables, non-stop.

"Stop, Angron." Suddenly, a familiar voice reached his ear. "This gladiatorial fight, we will fight with you."

In the dark treatment room, there is a golden light blooming.After a few minutes, the constant howling stopped and was replaced by broken cries.

　This chapter is 5.2k, to celebrate the leader's addition, today it is 7k, but I don't know if I can finish writing, I can only say that there is another chapter of 5k before twelve o'clock.

　　Just ask for a ticket.

　　Also, I really didn't expect that none of you would have guessed that it would be resolved like this.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)