40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 382 111. Manpower will eventually be exhausted (6k)

Robert Guilliman could hear the warning signals coming from Macragge's Flare's engines, and a thousand other warnings coming continuously.

At this moment, the main bridge has been completely engulfed by the flashing red light, and everyone's face is illuminated by the light that represents danger. The rationality and order of the past have disappeared here, with high emotions, frantic steps, and expressions. Serious or eager.

There is only the most primitive and pure thought left in their minds.

rush out.

It must be so, at all costs.

The engine can be overloaded to the point of burning, the deck can be shaken to the point of nearly disintegrating, and the void shield can even be temporarily closed to provide energy for the overloaded engine. Even the screams of the navigators became an acceptable thing.

Since entering the Warp, three navigators on the Flare of Macragge have fallen mad and fainted while guiding the way forward. At first there were reports that the brilliance of the Star Torch was increasing. Then there were hallucinations, as if he were somewhere beneath Terra.

Finally, he screamed and chanted the name of Terra.
  Someone once asked carefully, but the answer was only one word.

combustion.

What's burning? Terra? As a result, the issue was quickly classified as a no-no. The fainted navigators were taken away and kept under strict supervision. This was subspace after all. Who knew what they saw?
  Some people have also raised objections, thinking that we should no longer follow the guidance of the navigators. Naturally, this proposal was rejected by Robert Guilliman himself.

The answer given by the Lord of Macragge left no room for argument - if we don't rely on them, how can we rely on the naked eye to distinguish the scene in the subspace?
  Of course, this was not the main reason, and Robert Guilliman did not reveal this reason. He trusts his own instincts, but others don't.

Go forward. Robert Guilliman thought. Keep going and don't stop.

He almost said this sentence in his heart with a plea. He was not weak, but the thing behind this plea was something that could completely destroy his sanity.

He was afraid of being late and afraid that they would end up somewhere else after they jumped out. He was afraid to see Macragge in flames, the civilians slaughtered, the defenders nailed to the ruins and screaming to death, and of course Tarasha Yutun.

The Word Bearers and the thing in the skin of Lorgar Aurelion would not let her go. In fact, they would not let any Macragge go.

This matter had already occurred to Guilliman when he entered the subspace. They had made so many cover-ups and preparations just to reach Macragge before Guilliman.

why?
  Because of that murder, because of that damn perfect city.

You destroyed the things that a group of fanatical believers once cherished most, and even brought shame to them in front of the gods they believed in at the time. Now that these believers have returned with the blessings of their new gods, they are even more fanatical. Do you think they will do what?
  Robert Guilliman no longer bothered to guess the answer.

He was thinking about these things so seriously that he suddenly didn't realize that the furnace in his chest began to stir again, and a bright light lit up from his eyes.

Marius Gage looked over worriedly, but suppressed his desire to remind him.

At this moment, a violent jolt came wildly from the right side of the ship. The force was so strong that it felt as if it was hit by ten battleship macroguns at the same time.

The crew members immediately staggered around, and turning on the magnetic boots did not help. Some people even suffered fractures due to conflicts between the excessive impact and the magnetic boots.

Even the original body inevitably tilted its body under this level of impact. The forges coincidentally jumped at the same time, and suddenly glowed brightly, as if receiving some kind of summons. The world in front of Guilliman also exploded in the light at this moment.

But in just a blink of an eye, he left the impetuous bridge of Macragge's Glory and came to a place of mist.

Then, he smelled something like burning, but the air was extremely cold, like a knife cutting his throat.

where is this?

Guilliman instinctively drew the dagger from his waist, his expression turning cold. No matter where this place is, he has to leave
  The power belonging to the forge began to accumulate, and even he himself did not know what this power was roaring in his chest - if he had not heard that voice, I am afraid that Robert Guilliman would not hesitate to kill him in the next moment. They blast out.

"Stop," the Emperor said. "Listen to me, Robert."

The man with cold anger turned around suddenly and saw his father - not a lie, not an illusion, not a deception by others. The Emperor stood here, in front of him, his armor made of gold covered with blood.

"Father?"

"You already know the answer, why do you call me again?" the Emperor asked.

He looked like he had just come off the battlefield, but he was still smiling and making a little joke. This did not comfort Guilliman, but made him even more uneasy. Never in his memory had the Master of Mankind behaved like this.
  reality.

"But I guess that doesn't matter anymore," the Emperor said, raising his right hand and the fog dissipated in an instant, at least that was the fog in front of them.

Then, a burning planet appeared in front of Guilliman.

His eyes are tearing apart.

"The Word Bearers are doing evil." The Emperor came to him, much taller than him, but his voice was rare and gentle. "They arrived at your hometown with the desire for revenge. They are very smart, but also very shameless. Fortunately, you still have help."

help?what help?
  The Emperor gave him the answer in the next second, and the fog began to be dispelled, and some people appeared in his field of vision. He recognized them, the Iron Warriors, the Death Guard, and the Salamanders.

In the burning Macragge, they fought desperately with death in mind.

Life had never seemed so cheap. The Astartes were dying, the Defense Forces were dying, and the civilians were dying - killed by daemons, killed by artillery, killed by stray bullets, killed by the Word Bearers. Cruelly cut open the heart
  All of this poured into the mind of the original body like running water. At this moment, he saw countless dead people. From the palace to the suburbs, from dilapidated ruins to burning forests. Rivers flow backwards, waterfalls flow backwards, and oceans dry up.

Macragge was dying, everyone was dying, sooner or later, that's all.

Two seconds later, Robert Guilliman's hands began to tremble.

"They-" he started, but his words seemed to be stumbling. "--them?"

"Yes," said the Emperor. "Three legions, two primarchs."

"two?"

Why only two?
  "Because Mortarion is dead," Neos said. "He calls himself the Lord of Death. He is such an arrogant child. But, in my opinion, he did it."

Guilliman stared blankly at the slightly unfamiliar golden-armored giant and his fleeting sad smile, but received no further explanation.

The Emperor simply waved his hand calmly, letting the mist clear again, and another image slowly began to take its place. In the ripples, Guilliman saw Perturabo.

His brother's gloomy power armor was no longer what it was before, becoming tattered. Every scratch shows how hard the owner has gone through, every depression is extremely dangerous, and the enemy will show no mercy.

And what about Perturabo himself? What about him?
  Before we get into that, you need to know that Robert Guilliman never liked the Lord of the Fourth Legion, ever. In fact, it's almost disgusting.

He didn't like Perturabo's reaction to his legions and other military forces, nor did he like his overly twisted character. And all these things have been forgotten by him.

Because he saw Perturabo fighting Luojia, facing countless demons, and facing the monster standing behind the demons using evil magic.

He refused to take a step back.

He would rather be covered in bruises than stubbornly protect the broken body lying behind him.

There was a purple flower that was shattering with the impact of his war hammer. It was a tulip from Macragge, and Guilliman recognized it immediately.

"That is Vulkan," said the Emperor. "You know what, Robert?"

Suddenly he talked about a legend.

"Long ago on Terra, people believed that creatures like dragons were immortal."

"Father," Guilliman interrupted.

"Ok?"

"Send me there," said Robert Guilliman, his eyes as bright as fire. "You must have a task to give me when you summoned me here. You show me these pictures, the cause and effect."

He slowly sheathed the Chicheng dagger, and the light in his eyes gradually dimmed, but a sound that didn't sound like the beating of a heart began to sound in his chest.

".So send me there, father." he said. "Before it's too late."

"Nothing is too late, Robert." The Emperor shook his head. "You can go there. In fact, this is indeed the purpose of calling you here at the cost. But you can no longer save Macragge."

"I can," Guilliman retorted stubbornly.

So the emperor raised his right hand again and cleared the fog in front of his son.

The burning Macragge appeared before Guilliman's eyes once more, and this time, it was different.

The planet is still the same planet, being ravaged by war, but it suddenly changes color, as if it is trapped in a world of black and white, and everything is simply divided into two opposite colors.

Then Guilliman saw the truth - he saw the power of chaos that was everywhere. So dark and so greedy.

It has sunk deep into the heart of Macragge, and the hatred of loyalists and traitors alike is perfect to fuel this power. There is only one opportunity, one lead, and the power of chaos will completely explode.
  Then, there is destruction.

"The Word Bearers came prepared, Robert. They wanted a new perfect city, and they came with a desire for vengeance. So, what could possibly compare to this?"

He did not say which event it was, but Guilliman knew. He had already guessed what the Word Bearers were about to do to Macragge through simple logic and his understanding of the subspace, but...
  "I created an anti-psionic force," he said hoarsely. "They might be able to—"

He could not finish the sentence. Under the Emperor's pitiful gaze, Robert Guilliman clenched his fists and slowly closed his mouth.

Yes, maybe, just maybe.

What use could a [-]-man counter-psionic force play in a disaster of this magnitude?
  The anti-psionic equipment specially developed to target psykers, and the Amatus necromancy technology devices exchanged from the treasure house of Ferrus Manus. What can they do to the death of a planet? Influence?
  The answer is, of no use or impact. "I've said all I have to say, Robert."

The Emperor spoke slowly, his voice low and unlike before.

"I have accomplished what I have to do according to the plan. I have to tell you here that the Great Expedition failed. However, the reason for the failure cannot be simply attributed to one person or one thing."

"There is no one for us to blame, no one for us to blame. This is a collective disaster, created by us together, but the ones who paid the most blood are innocent ordinary people one after another."

"The Empire is about to fall into darkness, and barbarism and superstition will return. I have seen them, but I must first welcome them."

He smiled, a smile full of pain and remorse.

"I once swore that humans would no longer have to live in fear, but I failed to do so. Instead, I caused greater terror. Coincidentally, my son, while Macragge was burning, Terra was also burning, and No. Stramore is also burning, Olympia, the Savior."

"Humanity's galaxy is burning."

"So, this is not a war anymore, I wouldn't use that word to call it, you know why?"

Guilliman couldn't make a sound. Tears filled his eyes and he could only shake his head.

"Because the war will end," said the Emperor. "Go now and save your brothers, your people. A man loses his land, as always. We will wait on Terra, and we will fight until the end."

He suddenly smiled. There was no trace of sadness or regret in this smile, only the purest anger.

He raised his hand, grasped the shattered false ambition, closed his right hand, made a fist, and calmly swallowed the blood-stained ambition in one gulp.

The Lord of Mankind's eyes were filled with golden light, and he ordered coldly like an emperor.

"Kill them all, Robert Guilliman."

The Thirteenth Son roared and pulled out his sword, and the light came and engulfed him.
-
  "Give up, give up, give up"

The voice of Lorgar Aurelion whispered in his ear, loud and foolish.

The demons descended upon him.

This time, the first monster that came up to kill him had a twisted figure, erratic, like a shadow. He turned a blind eye and smashed it to pieces with a swing of his war hammer.

What about shadows? Can be killed as well.

The second one was a strong demon covered in blood red and wearing armor. It muttered some words that he was too lazy to listen to, and rushed towards him with a wild laugh.

A formidable enemy, he admitted. It took a few minutes to fix it, and it left another scar on the breastplate.

It doesn't matter, who is the third one?
  He grabbed the demon's head, raised it high, and faced the dark demonic tide alone, with only calm on his face. He is the thunder pool, and any demon who tries to touch Vulkan's broken body through him will die.

Perturabo spoke slowly.

"who is the next?"

He dropped the head and crushed it under his feet.

"Come."

He raised his hammer and waved it in a demonstrative circle, scattering bits of flesh. Some weak ones in the demonic tide rushed over immediately, trampling, or being trampled, just to lick a little blood. So confusing, so annoying
  He laughed contemptuously, pulled a string of grenades from his belt and threw them into the demonic tide.

"Come on!" he roared in the boiling firelight.

The demonic tide stared at him with greedy eyes, and every glance contained evil power.

Perturabo felt a splitting headache, and the thick nosebleed was staining his pale lips red - it was Luojia, no. It was the thing that occupied Luojia's body, and it was its evil magic.
  This place has been completely surrounded by the power of subspace, so cursing has become quite easy.

The thing hid behind the swarm of demons he summoned, waiting unhurriedly for Perturabo to run out of energy. The Lord of Steel could certainly see its intentions, but he didn't bother to laugh.

For now, he's focused on just one thing.

"Brother!" Luo Jia called him from a distance across the demonic tide. This time it was itself speaking, not the nauseating spell. Finally, since stepping into the storm, Perturabo finally had a moment to get rid of the constant whispers ringing in his ears.

Unfortunately, what the fake said was still disgusting, cliche, and not enough to warrant even the slightest attention.

Perturabo glanced at him coldly, raised his warhammer, and smashed it down with a terrifying gesture. With one blow, five or six demons died at the same time. The minced meat tumbled, but their number still did not decrease.

Luo Jia spoke again, with a little more anger in his voice.

"Why are you still unwilling to listen? Damn it, you can't win! I'm tired of saying this. Both of you are so stubborn. What's wrong? You suddenly turned into Rogal Dorn? Why do you continue to fight when you clearly can't win?! I just want you to see the truth, that's all!"

"Save it"

In the midst of the killing, Perturabo finally responded.

"Keep your bullshit truth to yourself, you beast."

The Lord of Steel sneered and raised his war hammer towards it.

"I have always despised cowards, especially one like you."

"I don't know what happened to Lorgar Aurelion, but he is obviously not a loser like you who can't even deceive yourself. You are so stupid that you can't see your true face, and you are as weak as a puddle of mud, so You are nothing."

"Shut up and come here to die."

Luo Jia's expression finally turned into resentment.

"You'll pay for this, I swear!" it roared. "What do you know, how dare you evaluate me? Where were you when the Perfect City was burned down by the order of the false emperor? Do you think he will love you? No, he simply -"

"-Love? Is this what you crave?"

Perturabo sneered and grabbed a hound that was trying to attack him, twisted its neck with his backhand, threw it to his feet, and crushed its head under his feet. His ridicule was like a sharp knife, piercing deeply into the rotten and diseased heart of the person being ridiculed.

"How childish. A great child, self-righteous and powerful, but so mediocre that he doesn't even dare to have ambitions?"

"you--!"

"——Shut up!" With a louder voice, the Lord of Steel pressed forward. "Cowards have no right to confront me! Come and die!"

"I'm going to kill you——!" The fake roared miserably.

The body flew up, the robes swelled, floating from the dark distance, and the golden staff in his hand was raised high. The demons reluctantly escaped into the void because of its power. For a moment, only it and Perturabo were left standing here.

The Lord of Steel smiled as he wished. This smile was so sincere that it shouldn't have appeared on his face, but he was too happy now.
  He couldn't stop himself from smiling.

The next second, with a loud bang, the golden staff and the war hammer collided with each other.

The air was 'shattered', and the dust covering the ground instantly rose up, as miserable as being bombarded by a missile. The glazed ground was shattered again, Vulkan's body also shook twice, and a faint flash of light flashed through the charred black where his chest should be.

"Perturabo!" the thing growled his name. "You will suffer, you will perish, you will be tortured - the gods will taste every ounce of your memory!"

Steel closed his mouth and did not answer. He swung the war hammer wordlessly, overwhelming Luo Jia's golden staff with its majestic force.

The latter realized something was wrong and tried to leave in a flash, but was firmly grasped by an iron hand on the shoulder.

Smiling unknowingly, Steel dropped it to the ground, and then the hammer head fell, forcibly turning Luo Jia's right leg from the knee down into a puddle of flesh.

The Great Word Bearer waved his golden staff in shock and anger and left the place. With one missed blow, he appeared behind Perturabo, his magic already working as instinctively.

Vulcan's remains floated gently, and Perturabo had already turned around - but he was still a little late, Luojia's hand had already stretched out and was about to touch the body of the Fire Dragon Lord.
  From the smile slowly blooming on that pale face, you can probably tell his mood at the moment.

Everything seems to be going to the worst, irreversible, irreparable, and the oath is broken again. Perturabo seems to see the tulips being broken.

Until a bright light shines in the darkness.

Then came the high temperature and the pounding heartbeat.

A giant emerged from the golden mist.

His eyes were as bright as the blazing sun in the sky. His face was distorted, like a demon from hell. The teeth were clenched tightly, pieces were broken, the eyes were wide open and the blood was red. The sincere dagger in his hand turned into a majestic force like a beam of light at this moment, and just the whistling sound was enough to destroy all darkness.

Robert Guilliman, Lord of Macragge, has returned to his homeworld.

"die--!"

The sword blade fell, and a head flew high into the sky.

　The update is complete, please send more book reviews, the author needs some feedback. I don't know how well I wrote it.

　　
  　
  (End of this chapter)