40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 145 Extra Story: A Fantasy Dream

Written at the top: This episode has nothing to do with the main text, it is just a dream. In addition, please ensure that you have a basic understanding of Konrad Koz before reading, or read his biographies to get more information. Good reading experience.
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death, death, death.

kill.

The tormentor picked up a piece of flesh with his pale hands and stared at it blankly.He didn't seem to know where he was, he was indifferent to everything in the world around him, he just squeezed the piece of flesh with his fingers and squeezed out the sweet juice.

Then he smiles.

He knew which piece of flesh it was, it was the left cheek of a man.

But why is it under him?

The tormentor's expression returned to dazed, and his fingers began to exert force again, grasping the piece of flesh and blood.

It has been inactivated, but still has a certain grit that it should have, and that grit is rapidly being erased.There was a creaking sound, and the blood dripped greasy between the five fingers.

The tormentor smiled idiotically—the stench of death rushed into his nostrils at this moment, and the pungent smell finally reminded him of who he was.

Conrad Coates.

One of the Primarchs of the Imperium of Man, one of the sons of the Great Emperor, one of the demigods who walk among men
The only ugly monster in the world.

He grunted in disgust and began to wait for the vision to come.

He's used to it, and every time he wakes up with a headache, it's going to burst out of nowhere.Devour his reason, memory, emotion.Immediately afterwards, everything would be bleak, turning into the darkness he was most familiar with.

And the phantom has been waiting in this darkness for a long time, it will stretch out its sharp claws, pierce into his flesh and blood, taste his blood and pain.

but.

No phantoms, no darkness, no pain, just peace and the stench of death.

Conrad Koz noticed this inconceivably, he let out a roar from his throat, his face twisted, the dried blood that had stopped on his face peeled off, a slight sting came, his dirty hair stuck to the It slammed into the eye, bringing another pain, but he didn't care.

He stood up, propping his hands against the wall, his dark eyes gleaming in the darkness, and then he started roaring again.

"Say!" he yelled inarticulately. "Sevtarion!"

There was no reply in the dark, and then he began to read other people's names, those names that he could still remember and didn't hate—"Shen! Talos! Van Drord!"

Still no answer.

And Conrad Curz was still calling, and he couldn't do anything else.His thoughts were torn apart by the passing of the vision, crumpled, broken into pieces that couldn't be glued together.

He didn't understand what the disappearance of the vision meant, and he just let his thoughts wander wildly: it wanted to torment me, its brief disappearance was only to plunge me into deeper pain, as it had always done.

It's the same murderer as my father who threw me into hell
Conrad Kotz whimpered convulsively, his ribs protruding from his capricious eating habits heaving with his movements, his bony body bare but a few rags. Other things, blood and bruises spread all over his body, making him look like an abandoned and broken toy.

He fell to his knees, still not observing the darkness with his eyes, still indifferent to everything around him.He held the piece of flesh and blood in his right hand, weeping and scratched terrible scars on his body with his sharp nails.

The flesh turned over, blood gushed out, he roared in pain, but he continued to insert his fingers into it, trying to use the pain to evoke the phantom - he would rather be whipped by pain now than suffer greater torture later.

In a trance, he remembered the words of one of his brothers, and his voice.

"You think I haven't heard those whispers?" Leon El'jonson growled at him angrily. "But I don't care about those things at all, you are just weak!"

"No!"

Conrad Curz growled, his kneeling turned into a heavier fall, and he lay convulsed on the cold deck.

"Shut up, shut up! You don't understand what I've been through!"

His eyelids were trembling, and he could barely lift his head, saliva mixed with bloodshot splashes from his rust-smelling mouth.

His muscles spasmed, they tensed and relaxed, causing more blood to spurt out of the wound he had just inflicted on himself.As the mist cleared, he laughed in terror and screamed frantically on the cold metal deck, his limbs stained bright red in pools of blood he had made.

This terrifying state lasted for a full two hours. When he stood up from the pool of blood he created, he had already become a skinny walking corpse covered by blood.

He shook his head staggeringly, looked around, and easily saw through the darkness.The pain lingered, but his own thoughts were unfeelingly indifferent.This confrontational state made him enjoy it extraordinarily.

With doubts, he began to inspect the room - he saw eight flags clinging to the walls, a huge iron table with flickering lightning flashing on it, and three chairs of different sizes.

The ground was full of blood, presumably he did it himself. In fact, not only that, but the ground was full of horrible marks left by his fingers, as messy as a field that had been destroyed by a rake.

The smell of blood was everywhere, and Conrad Curz lowered his head thoughtfully, glanced at his hands, and saw nails that had been torn off or turned over as expected.

He sat down with a grunt and began to pluck the nails that were still on his fingers.As for the scabs, he no longer cared about them.

They will always be good on their own, and he won't.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but smile, that smile was terrible, like the livid and stiff smile on the face of a dead person who was suffocated by laughter.

After doing this, he stood up again, and his thoughts finally gradually calmed down.He felt no more pain, and his sanity returned to his body.

Konrad Curz began to observe the room again. Half a minute later, he searched his memory and fell into complete silence.

This is not a place he is familiar with, no doubt about it.No one on the Nightfall would dare to hang such an early company flag in their rooms, and even if they dared, those criminals and scum would not be able to face the eight flags with a positive attitude.

There are no good men in my regiment - Conrad Coze laughs again - yes, there are no good men, my regiment is full of criminals, full of scum, full of
No, no, wait.

Where is this place?
The pale and filthy monster frowned: Where was I before?
He began to recall, and successive fragments flashed through his mind, and they were not his hallucinations.They are real things that once existed.

He saw a statue of flesh and blood, its eyes weeping blood, and the blood slid down along the white bones and the broken pieces of flesh pasted on it.The statue is full of chewing and biting marks, which is normal because it was made by Conrad Coates himself.

With his hands and teeth he made this statue, the Emperor's statue.He spoke to this statue somewhere, made his last confession, his last vindication
and then?
He clutched his forehead blankly—and then?Then what happened?
He began to continue to think about it, and at this moment, the tearing pain surged into his brain, which made him growl. In the pain, he even wanted to ignore the extremely obvious sound of the door sliding open.

Conrad Koz kept the pain and tried to ignore it, but his instinct didn't allow it—his monster instinct urged him to turn around fiercely, and looked at the person who dared to disturb him at this time .

He swore that if this was one of his sons of criminals he would break the bones of the daredevil
But he didn't, and he froze.

The person who walked in was not anyone he knew who might disturb him at this moment.

Not Sevita, not Shen, not Talos, not these people who survived with faith, nor those outright scum.

The man who entered was a giant, with dark eyes and pale skin, like all Nostramos.But here is the problem, it is impossible for any of his heirs to be so tall.

And he didn't even know the man at all.

"Who are you?" Conrad Curz hissed, the threat in his words palpable.

He had adjusted his stance, hunched in place—yes, he was wounded, but that didn't stop him from disembowelling his unarmored opponent.

When that time comes, he'll grab the latter's guts, savor his pain, and torture every word in his blood.Curz has even figured out what to ask in the first sentence.

why are you so tall
"For some special reason."

said the giant in a calm, equally hissing voice, so fluent in Nostramo. "But... who are you?"

"My first question!"

With a low smile, Curz rushed towards him, not paying attention to why the question he hadn't spoken was answered. His right hands were clasped together into claws, and he swung towards the defenseless abdomen.A sneer appeared on his face, he waved his claws, and was thrown heavily to the ground the next moment.

The sky is spinning, and the back seems to be completely torn.This was followed by two merciless kicks, one to the chest, which made him breathless, and one to the forehead, which made him dizzy.

The strength of his opponent was so great that the primarch's constitution could not recover quickly from it, and that speed
He is faster than me?Who is he?no, what is he?Conrad Koz whispered in his heart, shouted and asked, wanting to know the answer.

Then, he got his answer.

"My name is Caryl Rohars."

The man's voice came from his ear, and his tone was even gentle.

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself to me?"

Curz barely opened his eyes, looked at the murderer with hatred, and spit out a Nostramo swear word intermittently.And the man who called himself Khalil laughed after that.

The laughter is still mild.

"That's funny." He said in a soft voice. "I hardly ever have a dream, especially one that looks so real."

What dream?You dreamy lunatic!
"I don't deny your accusation, but, compared to the appearance of the two of us at the moment, maybe you are the one who is more insane." The person who called himself Khalil Rohals said with a smile.

And Konrad Curz still looked at him with hatred, the hatred was so obvious that it even eased his pain.

His gaze came into focus again—Curtz squinted, trying to get a solid grip on the man's face so he could have a full form when he peeled off his face.He saw dark eyes and a face as handsome as most Nostramo nobles.

Cursed with hatred, Curz sneered, without saying a word, but silently made a killing plan.

He hasn't realized how abnormal his thinking is now.

He came to a strange place with confused memory and saw a giant with the height of the Primarch and was a Nostramo. There are so many mysteries, but he put them all behind him and only wanted to kill the other side.

why?

The answer is actually obvious, because of the unabashed compassion of Khalil Rohars.

"This is indeed a dream, Conrad." Khalil said softly. "Look at the porthole, don't you realize that the scenery outside the window is confusing and illogical? The scenery in the universe is not like this, unless we are in that dirty and vast ocean. But you and I both know that this is not Asia. space."

Yes.Conrad Curze knew he was right—this wasn't the Warp.

But that doesn't matter.

"I'll kill you," he growled. "I'll make you cry in your own blood and beg me—!"

"But you gotta get up first," Khalil said, the smile finally gone at this moment, but the pity was still there, and there was a strange emotion that Konrad Coates didn't recognize at all.

He looked at that person with hatred, not understanding where the hatred came from, but accepted it easily.He squirmed his muscles, propped himself up, barely stood up, howled and rushed towards his enemy.

This can no longer be called an attack, he has lost too much physical strength, and the pain just now was too great-now, the appearance of him rushing towards Khalil Rohars is simply ridiculous, no The slightest bit of ferocity.

Matching his appearance at the moment, it made him look like a corpse that was about to return to death soon after being revived, seeking to lean on the tombstone.

And in return, his enemies opened their hands.

It's hard for you to tell whether Conrad Koz had the urge to "seek death" in his chaotic brain when he saw this gesture.

He has always wanted to die, there is no doubt about it, but he must die in the right place and by the right person.He had seen his own death countless times, but maybe it would be nice if everything ended here?
He sneered, and crashed into a cage.His enemy wrapped his hands gently around him, one on the back of his head, the other on his right shoulder.Without any restraint, without exerting the slightest force, it made Conrad Koz stop thinking.

The pain and the sweet death that followed didn't come as he expected, he only felt a shiver, welling up from the depths of his bone marrow.

".What are you doing?"

"Hospice," whispered Khalil Rohars. "I'm not sure if this is a dream, Conrad, but I know you're real. Even though you're the exact opposite of who I remember. He's not as crazy as you are, not as scarred as you are , broken up to this point."

"who are you?"

Conrad Coates asked tremblingly.

Then, he got his answer.

A force gushed out from the void and hit his brain precisely.Thinking is stopped, pictures pour in, one after another.

The same childhood, the same mine, the same dirty acid rain.The sky of Nostramo is always dark, people howl in the night, gangs and nobles laugh silently.But this time is different, this time, he is not alone.

He didn't pull out the bullet on the top of the church, he didn't devour the dead body because of the need for food, he didn't even suffer from the illusion, his pain was driven away by one person.

Those things that waited for Conrad Koz in the dark, were driven away by one person.

He is not in pain, never has been.

He's not a monster, Conrad Koz is not a monster.

Conrad Koz began to tremble, and tears rushed down his dirty face, and the grief swept over him like a tsunami, destroying all depravity.His pure white skin glistened under the tear stains, and the nobility of loss was as visible as his grief.

He had glimpsed the truth, and it was a truth he could not bear.Conrad Curz the monster couldn't take it, he was still breathing, he was still alive.

And every second he lived had those truths screaming in his head, his own memory shrunk back in shame in another corner, afraid to compare with that other.He was a monster, and that Konrad Coates was something he couldn't even dream of.

He is who he once tried to be.

The monster broke free from the hug, fell to its knees, wept uncontrollably, shouted and twitched uncontrollably.His bones seemed to be snapped by the immense grief - and then he screamed and howled and whimpered.

"Why? Why? Why do you want me to see this?"

"Because I spy on your memory." Khalil replied calmly. "Although only partly, I still need to make amends. Besides, I will not lie to Conrad Curz. So, if you desire the truth, get it."

"Shut up!" Curz wailed and ordered. "Stop talking! Stop talking to me in that voice! You already know what a monster I am!"

"yes."

Khalil Rohars sighed and knelt on the ground: "I already know."

He gazed quietly, mournful in his eyes, like a caretaker of a cemetery.

"I..." Konrad Koz buried his head in tears, his voice suddenly turned calm at this moment. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Khalil didn't answer the sentence.

"You know what I long for."

The pale monster knelt on its knees, bowed its head, folded its hands together, and pressed its fingers against its jaw.Trembling, he waited for the verdict, in fact, begged for it to come.

"You know that, don't you?" he asked softly, hopefully.

"I only know that there is boundless self-loathing and guilt in your heart, and I only read a part of your memory. I know what happened to you on Nostramo, and I know your ending. Other than that, I am absolutely I don’t know. I don’t know why you became what you are now, in fact, I still doubt whether this dream is real.”

"But I'm real!"

Conrad Koz raised his head suddenly and urged himself to move with his knees. He fell to the ground in embarrassment, but without hesitation, he grabbed Karyl Rojars' hands and pushed them towards his neck take it on.

His eyes flickered with desire and pleading for death: "I am real! You can feel it! Kill me!"

Caryl Rohars still didn't answer.

"Kill me—!" Conrad Curz wailed again. "Don't let my filth extinguish his light! I'm a monster in the dark, I shouldn't live, I shouldn't exist!"

The hunchbacked, depraved beast howled and pleaded, weeping and agonizing at the sight of the alternative.

What made him even more painful was that he discovered that he had already begun to crave this kind of warmth that shouldn't exist.He longed to be protected, to be kept out of the dark—but he couldn't.

Because he is a monster in the dark.

He must reject this precious and shining feeling, he cannot accept it, otherwise he will usher in a more terrible end than death.

The monster clenched its fingers, and used its own strength to make Khalil Rohars's fingers close. He was panting, and the desire for death took over: "Hurry up, kill me quickly"

And his judge remained motionless.

"Don't you understand?"

said the monster weeping.

"I must die, I have done too many wrong things. I am self-righteous and run my own way in the dark, on the road of corruption. I am a cruel and tyrannical monster. I am not the person you know. I must be convicted! "

He widened his eyes—

"Yes, and not only that, you must completely destroy me, or they will find out. You have to use fire to burn me to ashes, you must do this so that no one can discover my existence, the night lord should be the night Inquisitors in the world, not a bunch of horrible killers made up of scum."

"It's just a dream here," said Khalil Rohars. "And you're already dead, Conrad. Come to think of it, were you waiting to be killed in fake armor? Did you confess to your father before then? So I don't have to kill you—"

"--you must!"

The monster raised his head suddenly, his dark eyes were full of fear, he shouted in disorder, with a silly smirk on his face, and deep in those eyes, there was still a last touch of pleading.

"Kill me." He lowered his head and pronounced his guilt calmly, without the slightest bit of madness. "It doesn't matter if it's a dream or not, but I long for death and destruction, and I beg you to satisfy me."

"This is my first wish." He said carefully. "Can you, father?"

There was silence, as quiet as a cemetery, and tears fell, never in his life had the monster shed so many tears as today.

Two minutes later, he heard a sigh.

"it is good."

The cold light flashed away, followed by a pitch-black flame of anger.
-
Khalil woke up from his desk, feeling no better from his brief sleep.The feeling of fatigue caused by correcting official documents still exists, but, besides that, there seems to be something more.

It was a lingering deep sadness.

He raised his hand thoughtfully, the fragments of the dream had completely disappeared, but there was a tear slowly dripping from the corner of his eye.Khalil took it off with his hands and stared at it for a moment, silent.

These are not his tears.

　This chapter is 6k, rest for a while, there will be more in the evening, it is the main text.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)