40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 39 39. Light (Four, Two in One)

Fulgrim had thought he could see a city, but now he realized he was wrong.

He stood dazedly on top of the spooky spire, his brothers stood side by side with him, and only one of them squatted comfortably on top of the gargoyle's head extending from the edge, his posture was so natural that he seemed to belong here.

The stench coming from his nostrils and the gunfire from the street made the handsome demigod frowned uncontrollably.

He didn't need to turn his head to know the expressionless faces of Rogal Dorn and Ferrus, and the way Lorgar frowned thinking about their father's orders.

If they could endure, so could he.

"Conrad?" he whispered. "Where is this?"

"Quintus."

Crouching on top of the gargoyle, his brother replied in jerky High Gothic.

Hissing and sounding unrelated to High Gothic, the accent was still heavy.However, his voice was very soft, and there was a strange habit in it.

Fulgrim pursed his lips, and Konrad Curze's tattered clothes made him look away—the clothes couldn't hide the young Primarch's extraordinary physique, but it could represent something else.

"confusion."

A calm voice said so. "I don't see any order, not even a bad order. Conrad Koz, why is this here?"

Fulgrim couldn't help sighing, and he heard a calm questioning from Rogal Dorn's tone.

"Because the purge is coming," said their young brother. "Once in 20 years, Khalil said, the last time it was more chaotic than it is now."

"Purge?"

"Yes."

"Have you thought of doing something?" Roger Dorn asked.

"What?" Conrad Kotz asked, his tone calm.

Fulgrim was horrified, thinking that their new brother was about to start arguing with Rogg—this was not unusual, and it would happen to anyone who spoke to Rogal Dorn.

But he didn't want to see this happen to a one-and-a-half-year-old child.

Don, however, was silent.After a while, he said: "...you don't know what to do, do you?"

"I know," Conrad Coates said. "Khalil told me what to do."

"Why did you ask him to tell you what to do?"

Rogal Dorn's voice was still calm, but Fulgrim had already started blinking quickly - he turned his head to look at Ferrus, only to find that the latter was folding his hands and sighing silently.

Lorgar stood beside Ferrus, turned his head silently, and looked at Fulgrim with complicated expressions.

No one spoke.

"Why not?" Conrad Coates said. "At least, until now, Khalil has been right."

"You are a Primarch, Konrad Curze. You may not know what the word means now, but you will soon. You will have a great responsibility, a responsibility It requires you to think for yourself, rather than relying on a mortal."

"Khalil is not mortal."

"Yes, he's a psyker, but that doesn't mean much."

Conrad Curze stood up from the gargoyle—for a split second, Fulgrim thought there was anger or something on his brother's face.If anything, Fulgrim understood him.

but.

There is only one kind of peace.

He walked back to the top of the building, smaller than them all, but walked past them with poise, leaning against a humming machine.

Then, he smiled.This smile is very stiff, and some people even doubt the meaning behind it.However, the Primarchs present did not misunderstand.

They could see Conrad Curze's eyes and knew there was no malice in them.

Fulgrim pursed his lips, not understanding what kind of mentality Konrad Curze had when facing Rogal Dorn's words.

He thought, if someone communicates with me with the words 'Colin is just a worker', I'm afraid I will do some irrational things.

"You don't know him very well, Mr. Roger Dorn."

"Call me Rogue, or Dorne—you don't need to put such an honorific after my name. You and I are brothers."

"Not yet," Conrad Coates said quietly.

"."

The cold wind blows, and then, silence.

Of course, they couldn't penetrate the skin of the demigods. In fact, even if the temperature was much lower, it wouldn't make them feel uncomfortable at all.

However, in this cold wind, these tall giants were silent, only one of the smaller ones was still leaning comfortably on the air filter, calm and comfortable.

"What does it mean?"

Rogge Dorn asked, and then slowly frowned, a serious expression slowly bloomed on his face.Fulgrim watched his expression slowly change, feeling the atmosphere become stagnant for the first time.

Ah, something is wrong.he thought silently.

"Not yet," repeated Conrad Coates. "You are his sons, aren't you?"

"Of course." Lorgar replied quickly.

"But I don't know if I am," Conrad Coates said. "And if I'm not, I'm not your brother."

"You can't be," Ferrus whispered. "Blood connection, brother, can't you feel it?"

A pair of pitch-black eyes looked over, and then, the person being questioned nodded slowly, but shook his head again, his smooth black hair fluttering in the foul-smelling air.

He was obviously wearing a tattered patchwork shirt, but at this moment he was so calm that it should be taken for granted.

"How could you not be?" Lorgar asked anxiously, as if wanting to prove something. "Father said you were his son—"

"—Not yet, Mr. Blonde," said Conrad Coates. "Also, I'm sorry for interrupting you."

Fulgrim almost laughed.

He kept looking their new brother in the eye, so he knew that Conrad Curz was genuinely sorry for the incident.He interrupted Lorgar, calling him Mister Blonde, and apologized afterwards.

he did not do it on purpose.Fulgrim thought so after laughing.He is just that simple.

".My name is Lorgar, Lorgar Aurelion."

'Mr. Golden' said in a forced tone: "But, Conrad Coates, you are really his son."

He was silent for a while, and suddenly waved his arms sincerely: "If you are not, why are you so tall and powerful? Your agility in jumping and moving in the night sky is beyond the reach of ordinary people!"

".Why do you all use the word mortal?"

Conrad Koz frowned, this was the first time he showed such an expression of displeasure mixed with doubts: "I don't understand the way you use it—am I not a mortal?"

"Of course you are not."

Fulgrim explained softly, with a very gentle attitude, even so gentle that Ferrus on the side was a little surprised.

"You've learned High Gothic without a teacher, you can see in the dark, you can defy the cold, you can fend off hunger...and you know a lot by nature, don't you, Konrad Curtz?"

"Correct."

"Then you are not a mortal."

"But I'm going to get hurt."

Conrad Coates tilted his head. "I still bleed—I can hurt, those are the hallmarks of being mortal, aren't they? It hurts to be hit by a lasgun, it hurts to be shot by a bullet. Don't you?"

For a moment, Fulgrim could hardly answer the sentence.

He was silent, and a kind of astonishment suddenly flashed on his handsome and almost perfect face.He lowered his head, and when he raised it again, he had already changed his expression.

Now, he's serious.

"We will, brother," he whispered. "We will hurt."
-
"Here's where we live," Conrad Coates said.

He raised his hand and pointed to the small rainwater filter above the shelter, with a hint of joy on his face: "That's the rainwater filter, it can turn acid rain into drinkable water."

Roger Dorn stared silently at the terrifying building in front of him. Some of his insistence made him unwilling to call this thing made of rotten wood and iron sheets a house.

Then he asked, "May I go in and have a look?"

"Of course!" Conrad Koz nodded. "But please be careful when you enter the door, the door needs to be lifted to open - oh, and please don't sit on that chair, it belongs to Khalil."

".I will."

Roger Dorn walked to the door. He looked at the door, pinched the doorknob made of rusty bent metal with two fingers, and then slowly lifted it up.

Then, he pushed it away and saw an eerie darkness.It's not like a residence, it's more like a prison.

However, the darkness couldn't stop Rogge Dorn's sight, he could see every corner without hindrance.

There was no upholstery, soft beds, or anything to make the place look decent.

The walls are vibrating because the wind is blowing.There are several gaps in the ceiling which means that when it rains it leaks.

It neither shelters the wind nor the rain.

Don silently looked over a corner covered with rags, and then looked at a tattered chair.

It was clearly mortal-sized, and it took just a glance for Rogal Dorn to see what was wrong with the chair—it was structurally unstable, so the person sitting on it had to straighten their backs to hold it steady.

It's unqualified for a chair, and, on top of it, there's a plastic dinner plate with a black substance that smells weird.

Roger Dorn took a deep breath and obtained the information he needed.

"Is that food?"

He turned his head and asked Konrad Curz—the latter was being measured by Fulgrim, and his expression seemed awkward, obviously not used to such intimate contact.

And Fulgrim also felt uncomfortable when he was doing this, he kept pursing his lips with a complicated expression.

"Yes, nutritional cream, Khalil often eats it." Conrad Koz replied immediately.

"...that stuff doesn't have a lot of nutrients in it, and it's probably going to be tasteless."

"Yes!" Conrad Koz nodded repeatedly. "That's what Khalil said."

".So, you're going to eat this?"

"Ah, no!" Conrad Koz blinked. "Occasionally I catch some mice to eat."

".mouse?"

"Yes."

Don saw that their new brother smiled proudly, the smile was so clear that he almost gritted his teeth: "I know 23 ways to cook mice!"

"Is there no normal food?" Ferus Manus asked in a low voice.

"Isn't this just normal food?" Conrad Koz replied puzzled.

"."

Dawn lowered his head and didn't ask any more questions.He turned and came to the edge of the building, gazing at the scene below.After a while, he continued speaking.

"What do other people eat?"

he asked briefly and calmly, and added later. "I mean, the gang members -- the ones who are walking up and down the street."

"."

"Conrad?" Fulgrim asked in a low voice. "What's wrong?"

"...they eat meat."

Conrad Coates answered Dawn's question in a deep voice that, for a moment, hardly sounded like himself.

"Meat? What kind of meat?" Don continued to ask.

He was calm, but his hands were clenched tightly.Clearly, he's already aware of the answer—or at least part of it.

"...other people's meat," Conrad Coates said. "The commoners, the workers. But they don't eat their own, and they don't eat the nobles'."

Fulgrim's hands stopped - he was measuring the width of his shoulders, this job was very simple for him, he had already memorized a lot of data.However, at this moment, the data is scrambled.

His usually steady hand even trembled slightly at this moment.

"By the Emperor," Lorgar Aurelion muttered to himself. "What is this place?"

"Nostramo," said their pale brother quietly. "Quintus, lay down the nest."

silence.

A huge silence swept over again, easily knocking down these giants.No one defied its authority, and dark purple clouds spread and rolled over their heads.The foul smell wafted in the cold wind.

Lorgar Aurelion began to chant the scriptures in a low voice.Ferrus Manus folded his hands behind his back.Rogge Dorn remained calm as always, but his hands had already clenched into fists.

Fulgrim stopped shaking his fingers, calmly brushed his brother's shoulder, and patted him.

"Let's move on, shall we?" he asked softly.

"But, Fogg—"

"—Fulgrim."

"Mr. Forgan."

"No sir."

"Fulgan?"

"Yes, Conrad Fulgan."

"But I don't want new clothes."

"why?"

"Because I'd get my clothes dirty."

Fulgrim heard his brother say so. "Blood makes clothes heavy, and hardens when they dry. If you move, there will be blood scabs floating off the clothes. If I wear clothes like yours, I will stain them."

"... dirty, so what?" Fulgrim asked.

He didn't let himself sigh.He was afraid that he would misunderstand.

"Your clothes are beautiful."

Conrad turned his head and whispered. "Khalil told me that beautiful things are usually precious, and precious things should be cherished, right?"

"Yes." Fulgrim smiled. "Precious things should be cherished, yes, so I'll make you a... well, ordinary clothes, how about?"

"Ordinary?"

"Yeah, it's black, like the one you're wearing. But, it's water-resistant—so it won't be soaked by blood, too. How?"

".Would it bother you? Khalil said it's not good to bother other people."

"Of course not," said Fulgrim. "It's just a small thing."

"Thank you then?"

Don't thank me.

Fulgrim sighed and turned his head, meeting Ferrus' eyes.At this moment, the latter's eyes were churning with emotions similar to his.They exchanged a few glances with each other, and they understood each other's meaning.

Luo Jia was still chanting, his face full of compassion.But Rogge Dorn turned and walked towards the shelter.He walked to the door, stopped, bent down and took out a chair that was too small for him.

"You can't sit in that chair, Roger Dorn." Conrad Curz said hesitantly.

"I'm not sitting," Don said calmly. "I'm going to fix it."

"Fix it?"

"Yes."

Dawn nodded and lifted the chair, his strength allowing him to do it with ease.However, the way he holds the chair is careful.

"It's just a little bit of a structural problem, as long as there's some wood or metal, I can fix it."

".Well, there's an old-fashioned water filter that doesn't work behind the shelter."

Conrad Koz blinked, puzzled. "It might help you. But why did you fix it?"

".Because I want to express my apology." With his back to him, Rogge Dorn said.

"Sorry?" Conrad Curz asked blankly.And Fulgrim behind him was even more bewildered than him. Even Lorgar stopped reciting scriptures and looked over.

Ferrus raised his eyebrows slowly.

"Don't be surprised." Roger Dorn said with his back to them. "If you do something wrong or say something wrong, you should express your apology. And the best way is to do something to make up for it."

"You've never done this before," Fulgrim whispered.

"That's because I haven't missed it before."

"And you said that Magnus reading books all day is a kind of mental paranoia?"

"Yes."

Fulgrim finally laughed.

He patted Conrad Coates on the shoulder: "This is Roger Dorn, Conrad. This is him. You don't know what his apology means yet. But, believe me, when we all see each other After the meeting, this incident will surprise everyone."
-
"No. 17."

"No. 17?"

"Yes, No. 17." The pale giant nodded. "I'll number them."

Ferrus Manus looked at the gargoyle.

They had jumped many times from the tops of steeples and buildings, and Ferrus had seen many gargoyles.As far as he was concerned, this one was no different from all the others.

"Numbering them in the order you saw them?" Ferrus asked.

"Yes. But some gargoyles don't, and I don't want to number them."

"why?"

Fulgrim gave Ferrus a surprised look, not expecting him to be so interested in the question.

"Um"

Conrad Koz pondered for a moment, and said, "Because, they should have their own names, not numbers. I numbered those gargoyles because I don't know how to name them yet, but."

He frowned and paused, as if he didn't know how to express himself.

Fortunately, Ferrus did not pursue it.

"Indeed, if you value something, you should give it a name."

Fulgrim grinned.

The giant known as 'Gorgon' gave him a deadpan look, then continued.His voice was deep but powerful.

He asked: "There's one guy you keep referring to, Conrad. Caryl Rohars, can you introduce him to us?"

Lorgar looked over abruptly.

"Hmm." The pale giant nodded thoughtfully. "Okay, but I don't know where to start."

"What's his character?" Ferrus asked.

".what?"

"Has he ever lost his temper with you?"

"No," Conrad Coates said quickly. "Never—and he's always apologizing to me."

He frowned.

"I don't like this," he whispered. "No matter what happened, whether it was his fault or not, he would apologize to me. I don't like that."

He raised his head and looked at Ferrus, who nodded expressionlessly, as if encouraging him to continue.

"Then...he's smart, patient, tells me a lot, knows a lot...but, he's pessimistic."

"Is he pessimistic?" Roger Dorn repeated. "Why do you describe him like that?"

"I can't say why."

Conrad Coates shook his head.

"Khalil was always pessimistic. He never said it out loud, but I knew how he saw Nostramo. I told him once that the world was sick, and he didn't contradict me, he just laughed."

"From that moment on, I knew that he was pessimistic. He laughed because he felt that Nostramo's disease had no cure. He even wanted to burn the world with fire."

"But I can understand him."

"The workers in the shanty town who died on the side of the road because of lung disease, the children who chose to join the gang to eat cannibals, the noble meat miners who sold in the butcher shop, and those hallucinogens."

His voice began to become deeper and softer, and in the end, it was almost like talking in sleep.

"Those things made him miserable. He never said it, but I could see it hurt him."

"."

Silently, Ferrus shook his head—he was not very good at words, and he was even more terrifying compared to his brothers.

He is also very aware of his character, he is naturally aggressive and stubborn.But that was only the appearance, and among many brothers, only one could perceive his liking for conquering difficulties.

The man called him Gorgon.

Ferrus didn't hate this nickname, it could even be said that he liked it a little.He thought it fit, as fit as the hammer Fulgrim had gifted him.

And now—the Iron Gorgon raised his hand and patted Conrad Curze on the shoulder.

"You see his pain clearly," he whispered. "That's super important, bro, keep it up."

His brother looked at him blankly—and after half a second, Ferrus Manus smiled for the first time, a smile that was only good-natured.

Over the heads of the demigods the night continued.

　I saw that many readers are urging updates. The normal update time of this book is around [-] pm. If it is updated at other times, it means that I am carrying out the tradition of the Midnight Lords Legion.
　　Finally, push the book!

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(End of this chapter)