40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 391 120. Terra (8, [-]k)

"Push forward," Rogal Dorn said. "Put the third fleet into the Pluto space. No, reduce the number of fleets to half, and then start the simulation."

As he finished speaking, the complex tactical star map began to operate spontaneously. The light shines, the green dots and red dots collide with each other, and the sound effect of the explosion is fleeting. But sound cannot be transmitted in a vacuum, and this small error adds a bit of absurdity to the simulation.

It was a mistake left deliberately by Dorn. Occasionally, he would become so immersed in such tactical simulations that he needed something to remind himself of what was true.

In fact, anyone immersed in a long, solitary job should need this reminder that solitude makes a person wise, but loneliness is the enemy.

Is the stubborn stone lonely?

No one can know the answer. His eyes under his short gray hair are always ruthless. Who can find the answer they want from a pair of polished stones?

For example, at this time, he watched the enemy in the simulation swallow up Pluto's fleet without a single blow, but he still remained indifferent, and then continued to issue orders.

"Restore the number of fleets, put the third fleet into the edge of the Pluto space, and start the simulation again."

The tactical star map immediately followed the instructions. Half a minute later, along with another explosion, the red color representing simulation failure appeared on the star map again.

The reflected light flickered on and off on his face, and it didn't end until Dorn reached out his hand. He closed the star map without saying a word, returned to his desk, and began to deal with today's work.

Terra has a massive bureaucracy that, while bloated, is by no means incompetent. A document needs to be approved by ten officials before it can take effect. This system is certainly inefficient, but if the number increases, it can still run smoothly.

As long as those excessive departments are ignored, they are even qualified to be called "efficient", which is completely ironic, but it is a helpless move.

This bureaucratic system is already the result of the efforts of countless capable people. The current communication methods of the empire are not enough to establish a truly efficient bureaucratic system, so the only choice is this deliberate backwardness.

Dorn spent two hours working on the files, the stove burning steadily behind him, and the wind howling outside the window still loud.

Eleven days have passed since Fulgrim returned to Terra. The return of the Phoenix seemed to be some kind of omen, completely turning on Terra's "winter" climate button. Blizzards began to fall in many places around the world, which was extremely ruthless.

Even though many areas have independent climate systems, they are still affected by snow disasters. After all, snow does not necessarily fall, but this strong wind is a global disaster.

When the two are combined, they create an unstoppable and dangerous combination of punches.

All walks of life have expressed their opinions on this matter. The Mechanicus believes that this situation can be changed through technological means. The pilgrims chose to kowtow more devoutly in the hope that the gods will change their minds.

Donne felt extremely ironic about this sentence.

He sighed and ended today's document correction. One was because the work was indeed done, and the other was because he heard the rapid footsteps coming from the corridor outside and the constant dissuasion of some people.

"Lord Magnus, my lord is still at work, you can't just barge in like this."

"Damn it, Al, I want to see him!" Magnus whispered in the corridor. "I have something important to report to him, don't stop me, go back and do your own thing!"

Donn stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it open. He looked up at the crimson brother and began to speak to his temporary butler Al.

"Go get some rest, Al. Magnus is no fool."

At least not now. he thinks.

The butler bowed respectfully but also worriedly, then turned and left.

The next thing happened naturally. Dorn took Magnus into his study, closed the door, poured another cup of specialty tea from Macragge, and then asked him about his purpose.

"It's an important matter, brother." The Crimson King replied seriously.

He was wearing a white robe and a pair of weird sunglasses on his face. He did not wear the iconic headgear of the past, and his clothes were simply simple compared to the past.

"What?" Donne asked briefly.

He had a cup of tea in his hand, but he didn't drink it. The fingers were overlapped together, and the hands were placed firmly on the table. Magnus was holding the original-sized teacup in both hands, looking very solemn.

"About my legion," he replied. "I think you haven't forgotten the little privilege my father gave me. I can have a routine call once a week. With the help of the psykers of the Astropathic Chamber, I am able to communicate with my legion across the star sea. This matter It’s been going very well until today.”

"If there is a problem, the psykers of the Starwing Court will directly notice that something is wrong and report it to Malcador." Dorn calmly pointed out the error in his words.

"They are not just your helpers, they are people who assist you in communication. They are also your guards to a certain extent, Magnus. Any disturbance will be reported directly to Malcador, and then to father."

A wry smile appeared on the Crimson King's face. If it had been before, he would have been furious at Dorn's words. After all, it sounds like humiliation.

But it was different now. After Nicaea - no, since losing his sight and psychic powers, Magnus was finally at peace.

This is a pretty weird thing, but it is what it is. He lost two treasures, but gained more from them.

For example, his 'curse' is his endless thirst for knowledge.

Magnus was still one of the most erudite scholars in the galaxy, and his thirst for knowledge was still strong, but he could now go several days without reading a book, just focusing on relearning his psionics.

At the same time, he also expressed a great degree of tolerance for Malcador's unabashed surveillance. He allowed the psykers of the Astral Court to approach him, spy on him, and even occasionally chat with them.

"You are right, this is indeed a regulatory measure against me - to be precise, it is one of the regulatory measures." Magnus sighed. "But here's the problem, they didn't come today."

Dawn raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Although Magnus cannot see, he has gained a new way of seeing the world. He was also keenly aware of the expression on Dorn's face, so the bitter smile that still remained on his face came back.

"At the beginning, I was still wondering if this small privilege of mine was being taken away. If this was really an order from my father, I could understand it," he said in a low voice. "But I sent an inquiry to Xingyuting through the messenger server, and they replied and told me that tomorrow is today."

Donne was silent for a moment and made a guess: "Wrong date?"

"Yes." Magnus nodded. "They think tomorrow is the scheduled call time - but is that possible, Rogue? I mean, the whole Starfield."

"Be patient," Donne said. He stood up, walked to a meditator in the study and started using remote communication.

The headquarters of Xingyuting is located somewhere in the imperial palace, in a deserted and uninhabited land in the Himalayas. They were allowed to build a secret area here. On the surface, it was just an abandoned ruins with many black towers, but the real secret lay underground.

Psykers study their craft underground and contribute to the Imperium of Man. Of course, being allowed to learn and use this knowledge in an empire so openly anti-psionic came at a cost.

Psykers rarely see any sunlight on weekdays, and are not allowed to gather in groups to talk. They must keep quiet at all times. If that sounds acceptable to you, then why not take a look at their 'protectors', a special army called the Black Sentinels.

They are trained and professional anti-psionic troops, serving as the jailers and executioners of the psykers. The Emperor makes no secret of this, but strangely, no one within the psykers raises any objections.

A few minutes later, Dorn's question was answered quickly, and it was exactly the same answer as Magnus said.

"Tomorrow is the scheduled time." Nushi frowned and repeated this sentence.

Magnus was standing behind him at some point, holding the tea cup in both hands with a very worried expression.

"Now you see it, brother." The Crimson King shook his head. "What they said - with all due respect, in the subspace. No, psychic energy"

He began to sigh repeatedly.

"I shouldn't have said this, Rogue, but now I understand why my father was so resistant to the warp and psionics."

Dorn glanced at him, and while continuing to send letters to inquire about Xingyuting, he said: "It seems that your path of psychic study has brought you many things that I don't understand."

Magnus nodded heavily.

A few minutes later, Xing Yuting sent another reply. Compared to the previous one, this one was much longer.

The person in charge, who could not reveal his name, described the date in detail in a sincere tone, and enclosed the letter with the information about Magnus’s time under the supervision of the Star Language Tribunal from 001.M31 to 005.M31. A record of every psychic communication made.

Donn frowned and began to read through it carefully. The conclusion he came to did not reveal the answer to the mystery, but made the whole matter seem more complicated and confusing.

Because there is nothing wrong in Xingyuting, every record is recorded in detail and conclusively, completely transparent and can be traced back. Judging from Magnus's last communication, his next 'outing' time is indeed tomorrow.

However, a Primarch misremembered the time? Is this possible?

"How's it going? Brother?" asked the man who couldn't see.

"Xingyuting has enclosed the records of each of your phone calls." Dorn said. "The data is correct, therefore, what they said is correct. The scheduled call time is tomorrow."

Magnus was silent for a while, then suddenly took off his sunglasses, revealing his completely pale eye. Although he couldn't see with his eyes, he still used them to stare at Rogal Dorn closely.

"Is this true?"

"Unless there is an error in the Star Language Court's data," Dorn said while remaining calm. "But you also know that they will present everything to Malcador after every call. Only when the person holding the seal nods can the data be archived and saved."

Magnus pursed his lips: "So?"

"In my opinion, there are only two possibilities now. One is that they did have a problem with the preservation of the data, but they modified the data and tried to cover up the evidence. It is not difficult to confirm this. I will send the letter to Malcador, he can tell the truth from a lie just by looking at it.”

"So, what about the second one?"

"There's something wrong with your memory," Dorn said. "And this is simply impossible for a Primarch, Magnus. So, no matter what, I have to ask you to come with me to find the Markbearer."

The Crimson King nodded silently and put on the sunglasses. He didn't object, but his expression became more worried.

Dorn glanced at him and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't think too much, maybe it's just a small error in the data. The cogitators in the empire don't even have a specific model classification, whether advanced or old. Until the results are truly clear, you can relax. Because Unjust, false and wrongful convictions caused by outdated equipment are not uncommon in Terra."

"I appreciate your reassurance, Rogue, it flatters me, but" Magnus clenched his fists. "I'm afraid the situation of our legion cannot be delayed any longer."

Dorn's hand that originally reached for the cloak stopped in mid-air. He turned back expressionlessly and glanced at his brother.

The latter's imploring expression finally allowed him to continue the conversation smoothly. He asked a question, and Magnus responded instantly like a drowning man grabbing a life-saving straw.

"what's the situation?"

"My legions are dying!" Magnus hissed. "Azek Ahriman reported this to me in the last communication. Malcador also knows it. You can ask him. We originally agreed to do it this week-"

"——Don't be impatient." Dorn interrupted him. "Take your time, Magnus. Tell me first, what happened to your legion?"

".It's a curse, Rogue." Magnus replied heavily. "I believe you have not forgotten that my Legion was unknown in the early days of the Great Crusade. We joined the Great Crusade very late, but there is a reason for this."

He paused, a flash of shame flashing across his face.

"There's something wrong with my gene-seed," he said. "Most of the reservists will not be able to survive the transformation surgery. Even if they survive, they will lose control in a battle where psychic powers are used. Their bodies will undergo a change that they themselves cannot control at all. In other words."

He took a deep breath and forced himself to continue the conversation.

For Magnus, this level of honesty is simply a miracle. Dorn can detect the simple heart beneath his restless appearance, which is why he is willing to pause and listen to Magnus. words.

"They will become monsters." The Crimson King said seriously. "Flesh and blood loses its original appearance. In just a few minutes, a legionnaire will turn into a monster under the influence of his own power. For this reason, I went deep into the subspace and found a solution. I believe you have heard it more or less. it."

He raised his hand and pointed at his completely closed eye.

"Magnus—" Dorn shook his head. "——We don't have much time for you to reflect on the past now. You mean, that kind of curse broke out in your legion again?"

"Yes."     "How serious?"

"Very serious," Magnus said harshly. "Most of the legionnaires have not used their psychic powers since the Council of Nicaea and strictly abide by the ban, but this curse is still spreading."

"When Ahriman reported to me last week, more than half of the Legionnaires had to be executed. What's worse, this curse has even spread to my hometown."

Prospero. The name flashed through Donne's mind.

This is the home planet of Magnus, located at the very edge of the Ultimate Star Domain. It is so close to the Sun Star Domain that countless scholars have debated whether to include Prospero in the Sun Star Domain on the map.

It is also a rare psyker star in the galaxy, and all its inhabitants possess some degree of psychic power and knowledge.

"Roger?"

"...I'm thinking." Dawn replied with a frown. "Look, Magnus, no offense intended. If the curse does spread to your homeland, perhaps you need to consider whether your descendants are lying to you."

Magnus gritted his teeth and took several deep breaths before continuing.

"Yes, I have considered this possibility. In the past, any flesh and blood mutations were produced during the use of psychic powers. I also asked Ahriman why this curse would happen if they did not violate the ban. came back from the dead, and spread even on Prospero. But he swore to me by his honor and his life that they really kept the injunction strictly."

But this is just family talk, Magnus.

Looking at the Crimson King's face that was almost in tears, Dorn still didn't say these words. He shook his head and began to put on his cloak.

"I'm going to find Malcador," he said. "And you, brother. If what you're saying is true, you need to go straight to your father."

Magnus sighed heavily, but relaxed his shoulders as if relieved.
-

Some things often come one after another, giving people no chance to breathe.

For example, artillery bombardment is always one round after another. It will not stop unless all the enemies are completely dead. Another example is the confrontation between two armies, where tactics and strategies are closely linked.

For another example, in just half a month, two original bodies returned to Terra one after another.

For those responsible for the reception, the whole thing was glorious, but also nerve-wracking. Bureaucrats on Terra were notified of the Iron Hands' massive fleet while it was still passing through Uranus's Gate of Elysium.

Preparations began immediately, but the process had ups and downs. In just three days, six bureaucrats died suddenly on the job.

If the deaths were not continuous, a new bureaucratic joke about "one dies every two days" would soon begin to circulate among workers.

But something that really caused the bureaucracy to collapse happened today - because somehow, the huge fleet actually arrived near Terra a full forty-five hours ahead of schedule.

The Iron Fist, the flagship of the Iron Hands Legion headed by it, rushed towards the low-Earth orbit of Terra without stopping, facing the Phalanx and the Emperor's Dream parked in the distance across the sea.

Then now - the officials of the Ministry of Military Affairs moved their bodies that were not well-proportioned as soldiers at an unprecedented speed and began to stride around the office.

In addition to straining their arms and sacrificing the life of the servitor parts, the thick documents would also be used by them to beat each other. More than one person had already started using it to beat each other due to quarrels.

Interestingly, even though both sides would have broken bones and bleeding after the fight, they would still insist on finishing what they were doing before going to the doctor.

In this way, this huge and bloated department planned an extremely grand welcome ceremony in just seven and a half hours - although the return of the Emperor's Children was required not to be ostentatious or publicized, but this time the head office was fine, right?

Ferrus Manus and his invincible steel fleet finally visit Terra again!

The recent severe natural disasters and some rumors from the traveling traders have made Terra a little turbulent at present. At this juncture, promoting the return of a primarch to calm the people's hearts is simply a doorstep. political achievements.

However, right at Lionsgate Port, where the Iron Fist was moored and the boarding deck slowly opened, the bloated senior official standing among the crowd and the photographer he specially invited discovered An unexpected thing.

There were only a group of Morlock Terminator veterans wearing majestic armor on the deck, and the Iron Hand himself was not present at all.

After questioning, the official got the answer from the lord commander, Amadeus Ducaine.

The smiling Stormwalker told him in his characteristic humorous tone that their Primarch had gone straight to the palace via a shuttle thirty minutes ago.

"But you can take a photo with me." Du Kain said with a laugh. "how do you feel?"

It is natural to imagine how the officials reacted. Ferrus Manus didn't care about this at all, he just rushed to a secret residence in the palace with his guard Gabriel Santo.

Iron Hand and his guards walked together, and the momentum was very terrifying. More than one of the servants turned pale at the sight of them, and their two limbs trembled.

Gabriel Santo is terrifying enough. He is the captain of the Iron Hands. He takes the lead in every battle and suffers huge trauma for this. One of his eyes, half of his face, one arm and two legs were replaced with machines.

Years of war have naturally filled him with a terrifying murderous aura. However, compared to Ferrus Manus next to him, he is actually considered amiable - and this is indeed the case.

He would even take out his hand to show the servants that there was no need to worry, while Ironhand himself kept a calm face and strode forward. Finally, after passing through a garden, they arrived at their destination.

Ferrus Manus raised his head and glanced at the raised purple-gold flag. Not only did his face not improve, but it actually became more gloomy. Gabriel Santo looked at his original body and suddenly spoke in a very low voice: "The original body."

"I understand." Ferus raised his famous arm and used his right hand to stop Santo from continuing.

"I doubt it, my lord," Santo sighed. "You have never been able to maintain true sanity in matters related to Lord Fulgrim."

"Like you and Du Kain?" Ferus retorted, but he did not get angry and miraculously remained rational.

"He and I are not close friends, my lord," said Santo. "The respected Lord Commander regards me as a backward young boy. Even if I have become like this, he is still unwilling to let me go. I think he is an old stubborn."

"Wait for me here."

Ferus looked at him and said. Inevitably, he felt a little relieved by his captain's honesty. This would be good for the conversation he was about to have.

Gabriel Santo is always so indispensable. He can complete all the tasks assigned to him by Ferus, and he can also question Ferus's decisions, and even confront him face to face - this privilege comes from his outstanding ability.

There may be many people in the legion who can observe Iron Hand's emotions in detail, but there are very few people like him who dare to point it out in time. Coupled with his excellent command ability, in Ferus' mind, he was a perfect first company commander.

"Once again, I will oppose your decision," Santo told his primarch sternly. "I will accompany you the whole time. We agreed on the shuttle, Primarch."

Ferus growled impatiently, which was considered a positive answer. They walked into the station and saw a familiar, yet extremely strange person.

He was naked to the waist, holding two training sabers in his hands, and was practicing in the air. His signature handsome face and warrior braid reveal his true identity.

Whether it's Ferrus Manus or Gabriel Santo, they all know who this person is.

"Ah, sir." Akudona sheathed the sword and bowed slightly. "You arrived earlier than the time stated in the letter from the Ministry of Military Affairs."

"Akudona." Ferus called him in a low voice.

"Yes, I am here, my lord."

"What's with those scars of yours?"

Akudona raised his hands, looked at them, and smiled carelessly: "It's just a way of remembering, no need to worry about it."

Gabriel Santo stood silently, saying nothing.

"Memorial?" Ferus immediately asked, and he didn't realize what he had said until he spoke. The anger immediately flashed from his face, and Santo looked at his original body calmly, shaking his head slightly. Even if the amplitude was slight, he believed that his original body could sense it.

"Yes, commemoration," Acudona said.

He was still looking at his hands, and the hundreds of names densely engraved on his arms were lighting up with his breathing. This was definitely not a normal phenomenon, but Ferus did not pursue it.

He just walked up to Akudona seriously and observed him carefully. The Emperor's Son remained silent, allowing the Iron Hands to inspect him - seconds later, Ferrus Manus raised his hands of destruction and placed them on Akudona's shoulders.

"This is a blood feud." He said slowly.

"Yes," Acudona said. "So we need to keep that in mind - but you didn't come here specifically to chat with me, right?"

He turned sideways with a smile and pointed a way for Iron Finger: "Please, sir. He is waiting inside, but I need to remind you one thing first."

Ferrus Manus stopped walking and glanced at Akudona's eyes like lightning. This was not his intention, just an instinctive reaction. He is a born conqueror and maintains such majesty at all times.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"He is a little different from before. That's it. Sir, please pay attention." Acudona said softly.

Ferrus Manus responded with a nasal sound, and then strode forward towards the interior of the training hall.

Gabriel Santo looked at the back of his original body, but actually did not follow him, fulfilling his promise of 'accompanying him throughout the whole process'. He looked at Acudona and shook his head slowly.

"What have you been through?" he asked.

"Hell." Akudona replied with a nonchalant smile. "True hell, my dear Gabriel."

Although he got the answer, Santo was not satisfied. He fell even deeper into silence.

He and Acudona were old acquaintances, and if they were to be traced back, their friendship could even be traced back to the early days of the Great Crusade. They knew each other very well, and now Santo was a little unsure.

He saw through Acudona, and even felt strange. This feeling made him irritated, just like facing Du Kain who openly refuted his opinions in a tactical meeting.

After a while, he asked a question: "Is Solomon still alive?"

Acudona knew who he was talking about - Solomon Demeter, a sergeant in the Emperor's Children, and the first person among the Emperor's Children to befriend Santo.

"He died." Acudona raised his left hand and pointed out a name on his wrist to Santo. "Two dogs of Horus tore him to pieces, but he didn't make it easy for those two bastards either."

"I saw him disembowel one of them, and the remaining one wanted to kill him, but he held him in his arms. At the cost of his body being broken to pieces—"

He flipped his wrist again and pointed out another name: "——Kardu created a space for glorious death. If it weren't for their sacrifices, the heavily guarded hangar would never have been taken down by us so easily."

Gabriel Santo opened his mouth, but there were no words. He had a lot to say, but he couldn't get any of it out. Akudona glanced at him and suddenly laughed.

"Well, well, the great Gabriel Santo." He smiled and shook his head. "Don't make that expression, that's almost it. By the way, do you want to make a bet?"

"What bet?"

Acudona proudly threw him a boning saber.

"What do you think?" The chief swordsman jumped up nimbly and waved his sharp blade on the smooth floor of the training hall. "There happen to be two armor-piercing servitors in the armor room who are changing into training armor. How about we compete again?"

Gabriel Santo agreed to his invitation to fight, seemingly calm and relaxed. He turned around and walked towards the direction Akudona pointed him with his knife.

His back was turned to him, and it was only at this moment that his hidden anger finally appeared on his face. Coincidentally, when he turned around, the smile on Acudona's face disappeared instantly.

He waved the knife and warmed up, but glanced at the name on his hand and began to recite it for the [-] millionth time. This number will keep increasing, and sooner or later, it will become a number that is enough to crush his nerves.

And Akudona didn't care.

　Finally finished! Fifteen thousand successfully achieved! Have breakfast!

　　

　

(End of this chapter)