40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 384 113. Interlude: The Aftermath of Destruction (End)

This was certainly not the first time Perturabo had dealt with a nightblade. In fact, this was not even the first time he had met Adebimane Basili. Robert Guilliman's introduction would even be considered completely redundant if you look into it carefully.

But this was definitely the weirdest meeting ever.

Perturabo glanced at Vulkan's body, then stood up and walked to Guilliman's tactics table.

He was already familiar with the use of the tactical table made by Macragge, but he would still compare it with the 'Olympian' style, or in other words, with the 'Perturabo style' made by himself.
  The result is always a 'Perturabo' victory.

He raised his hand and began to manipulate the star map. After a while, he saw the current situation of Five Hundred Worlds. At least a third of the world was sacrificed by the Word Bearers, which may explain why they were able to summon such huge warp storms near Macragge.

Thinking of this, Perturabo raised his head and looked around the porthole.

In that cold and dead vacuum, except for Macragge and the battleship group that were still gradually disintegrating, there was only a huge subspace storm. Brilliant colors, changeable shapes, huge, chaotic, and dark.

Frankly, it reminded Perturabo of another similar thing.

He withdrew his gaze and coldly began to inquire about the current situation of the fleet, as well as the battle reports previously classified and compiled by Robert Guilliman himself.

He didn't do this just to pass the time, he really needed the experience.

From ancient times to the present, the evolution of warfare has never stopped. When comparing bows and arrows to slings, bows and arrows will always have the upper hand, just like a cavalry unit wearing heavy armor facing a musketeer.
  Things in the subspace brought a new kind of war before his eyes. Those who could not adapt to the evolution of war would definitely be eliminated, and he would never be the eliminated party.

Time passed by second by second, and when Perturabo flipped through the forty-sixth battle report, Adbeman Basili finally ended his use of psychic powers.

The temperature in the room began to rise rapidly under the influence of the temperature adjustment instrument, and the adjutant himself shook his head tiredly.

Perturabo glanced at him and asked, "What did you find?"

"It depends on how much you can accept," Adebeman said with an intriguing expression.

His answer attracted more attention from Perturabo, who simply left the tactical table completely and walked slowly to Vulkan's body.

“Say it,” he told Adebeman. "Don't care if I can handle it."

At the same time, a dim black flame flashed in his eyes, with scarlet as the background, almost replacing the original color of his pupils.

Adebeman stood up straight in shock, and his expression became quite serious: "I'm afraid I need to ask you a few other questions first."

"ask."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Incalculable," said Perturabo. "I stayed in the subspace for a while, but if calculated using somatosensory time, it was one hundred and fifty-seven hours."

"That's about seven days." The adjutant took a deep breath. "Do you know what you're going through?"

"I have some guesses, but I don't care much." Perturabo nodded calmly. "What's more, I haven't actually experienced any big changes, at least not as big as yours."

He raised his hand and pointed at the tactical table behind him.

"From the battle report, I saw what happened to you, which further confirmed some of my guesses. And your current expression, Adbeman Basili. Tell me, Khalil Loha Who is Ers?"

Faced with his question, the adjutant of the third company just chuckled.

"Take out the herringbone, my lord," he said tiredly. "I have no right to reveal more. If our Primarch were here, perhaps he would tell you more information."

Perturabo narrowed his eyes - obviously, he was considering whether to press him, but he gave up this option in the end.

The third company adjutant's eyes had already told him the answer in advance, and he knew that pursuing the question would yield no results.

"So, is there anything I should pay attention to?" Perturabo asked again, considering the words. "Just like you, I probably have something I need to pay attention to."

Adebiman looked at him for a while and shook his head.

"No?"

"No, sir," said the adjutant. "Your situation is a little different from ours. You didn't swear an oath to a god."

His words made the Lord of Steel's expression freeze for a moment - Adbeman Basili did not answer his question directly, but told him some truth in a circumstantial way.

Although he was mentally prepared, Perturabo's expression inevitably became complicated.

He was silent for a full minute before speaking again: "He is like this, I mean, how long has this state lasted?"

"That's right from the beginning." Adebeman replied with a smile that was full of intriguing thoughts. "In other words, you are actually quite lucky."

Perturabo calmed down his emotions, gave him a neutral look, and said coldly: "Let's get to the point, Adjutant. What is the situation of my brother?"

"It's nothing serious," Adbeman said. "Lord Vulkan just died. For a being like him, a death is like a nap. However, I personally think that he may need an exorcism ceremony."

".What ceremony?"

"Exorcism ritual, my lord." With that ambiguous smile, Adebeman shrugged.

He began to push the envelope, at least when it came to communication. Perturabo could detect the change in his attitude, but had no time to pay attention to it for the time being. He just continued to ask, frowning.

"Exorcism? Here? How? What do you need?"

"It's best to be on our ship. The Night Soul has everything we need. As for other things, you don't have to worry."

The adjutant put away his smile, nodded towards him, and said softly: "We are professionals in this regard."

The Lord of Steel was silent for a moment and waved his hand in agreement, but did not walk out of the door immediately. The same was true for Adebiman. The adjutant raised his head and leaned against the cold wall of the command room, looking coldly at the subspace storm outside the porthole.

They would not leave until Robert Guilliman turned back.
-
  "My dear—"

Tarasha Euton bowed slightly and saluted.

"——Sir, I'm sorry, but the quarrel between Chapter Master Marius and I seems to have disturbed your conversation with Lord Perturabo?"

Guilliman was silent for a moment, but ultimately did not immediately answer the greeting. Even if he calculated with his superhuman mind, he didn't know what to say now.

Marius Gage looked at them and hurriedly left the corridor without saying anything.

For a moment, there was only silence. There was still continuous noise coming from the other end of the main bridge, but it seemed very small. Robert Guilliman lowered his head, trying hard not to look at Jotun.

A few seconds later, he heard a slightly rapid breathing.

".Your hair, God." Euton said hoarsely, and then couldn't say a word anymore, just kept breathing.

Guilliman raised his head and saw the slender old woman standing on tiptoes and raising her cane, trying to touch his white hair.

His throat rolled a few times, and he half-knelt on the ground in silence. He lowered his head again, carefully took Yudun's left hand with his right hand, and pressed it on the top of his head. "How do they feel, my lady?" Guilliman asked.

As he spoke, he tried hard to keep his voice from sounding too deep.

"I hope they don't tarnish my image too much. I don't have much time to take care of myself. You won't nag me about this, will you?"

Youdun didn't answer, and her touch was as gentle as a breeze. Guilliman wanted to know her reaction, but he didn't dare to look up at her face now, so he could only listen to Joden's breathing more carefully.

The old woman's breathing was rapid but not continuous. After a while, she finally spoke.

"Probably not, my lord," she said. "The color of your hair reminds me of the late king."

Guilliman was stunned.

"The only difference is that King Connuo's hair turns white due to age. He is old, so his hair turns white, just like me. What about you? Some people even worship you as an invulnerable god."

"There are many people like this in the Five Hundred Worlds. They think you can do anything. Well, let them take a look at Robert Guilliman now. Not only does he have a gray head, he also looks a lot thinner. "

The old woman put down her staff and rubbed Guilliman's cheeks with her hands.

".Your face is thin. How many days have you not had a good meal, Robert? And your eyes."

Guilliman quickly closed his eyes, regretting how he had forgotten this, but it was too late.

His action made Yuden smile slightly, and the laughter sounded unabashedly.

"It's no use now, my lord. I may be old, but I'm not blind yet."

"This is—" Guilliman closed his eyes and quickly explained. "——A kind of mechanized transformation. I asked a technical priest to help me do it."

"Really? Which technical priest can perform such transformation surgery on a original body?"

"I cannot reveal his name, ma'am."

"how?"

"He's very mysterious. I mean, he's a bit mystical, and he doesn't like his name being mentioned. I promised him not to tell anyone, and I don't want to break that promise."

The old woman sighed, let go of her hand, bent down with difficulty, and began to pick up her cane. She refused Guilliman's help and insisted on picking it up herself. Guilliman saw that she had been wiping her face with her left hand as she bent over.

Before she straightened up, he quickly lowered his head again and closed his eyes.

"You still don't know how to lie, Robert." The old woman straightened up and said. "Your lying skills are terrible, or do you think that for an old man like me, you just need to fool me?"

"I definitely didn't think so."

"In other words, you admitted that you were lying."

".Yes," Guilliman said. "But as the Lord of Five Hundred Worlds, I still have the right to lie, right?"

"Of course you do," Euton said softly.

Guilliman opened his eyes and looked at her. He didn't see a tearful face, only a completely calm housekeeper.

"Your duty brings you equal rights, my lord. Just as you ordered the bombing of Macragge, we have no right to object, and we will not. If it continues it will endanger the other survivors of the Five Hundred Worlds." , then let it be destroyed.”

"The loyalists and innocents who are buried today will cheer for this, as will our ancestors, and Connaught. He will be at the front to applaud your decision, my lord, he can never tell the difference. What are priorities. Just like you."

"But what price does it cost to always be upright and always stand on the right path, Robert?"

The housekeeper's mask suddenly collapsed after these words, and no tears fell, only red eyes and trembling lips. That is the saddest sigh of a mother. It is not tears, but it is incomparable and enough to break the heart of any son of man.

Robert Guilliman opened his mouth wordlessly, and two tears finally fell, hot and fiery.

He didn't cry as he watched Calth's future cut off. He did not cry after witnessing the numerous murders committed by the Word Bearers against innocent civilians. He also never cried when he witnessed the burning of five hundred worlds.

Even when the Emperor showed him such a dark and terrifying future, he never really shed tears, because he knew there was still hope, because he understood that humanity still had a glimmer of hope.

Because he is the Lord of Macragge, the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion Ultramarines, and one of the Emperor's children. He must be brave at all times, determined at all times, honorable and loyal at all times.

He must be like this, the meaning of his existence is to inspire others and win.

Not so now. Now, he's just Robert Guilliman.

Now, it's a son, facing his elderly mother.

Tarasha Euton tenderly reached out her hand and gently hugged such a giant.

"I watched you grow up, Robert," she whispered. "I know you better than I know myself. I remember every habit of yours, from handling government affairs to your love of sweets."

"So, I know how much pain you are feeling right now. Anyone in your position, going through what you are going through, would deserve a complete cry, but you can't. You only deserve this moment of peace. "

She paused.

"I am sorry for my cruelty. There is no doubt that you are my child, Robert, but I must be cruel."

"I am getting old and can no longer accompany you for much longer. I will eventually die, just like Connor. Sooner or later, you will be alone and continue to move forward. Life is like this, loneliness is the norm .”

"Not to mention you, you will outlive us all, which means you will be doubly lonely Lord Macragge."

"Your Macragge no longer exists today, but it still exists in your memory. Do you still remember? The appearance of the city, the forests, grasslands, and farmland outside the city. Your father argued with people to death. The flowing Senate House and large bathhouse”

"Do you remember those poets? They like to observe the night sky with astronomers and name every star they discover with poems. You also have such a night sky, but only you can see it, And Macragge is among them."

"It will always be with you, no matter when, no matter where you look up or close your eyes, it will be in your eyes."

Mother smiled.

"Just like us," she said. "You are the pride of Macragge, just as you are proud of us. You have a cloak, Robert, that no one can see, but I can. It is blue, woven with the starlight of honor." "

"It consists of us. We are one of the notes of your honor and one of the stars in your night sky."

She sighed gently.

"Take it with you, boy. Macragge will always stand."

　Update completed. Good card.

　　This chapter is 4.3k, including the previous chapter’s 3k, I still owe 3k and I will pay it back tomorrow.

　　
  　
  (End of this chapter)