40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 409 135. Terra ()

Sigismund was trudging waist-deep in blood.

This is really a boundless sea of ​​blood, with broken limbs and arms floating in it. He waved his hand and pushed away a few floating heads, but his foot kicked something heavy. Judging from the weight, it should be fragments of armor.

Astartes have died here.

Sigismund lowered his head, bent down and reached for it for a moment, and caught a bright yellow fragment. He took one look at it, let it fall, and began to move on. Every step was taken with care to ensure he didn't suddenly fall into it.

The chains collided with each other on his wrists, making a dull sound. He slowly reached a door. This door is very tall, so it is not covered much by the sea of ​​blood. Only the lower half is covered, and that's all.

Sigismund could still clearly see the huge relief depicting the Emperor cutting off the enemy's head with his sword, as well as the thick sword and shield decoration.

From this point of view, the tradition inherited from ancient Terra still continues today, and every corner of the palace must be majestic, magnificent, and sacred.

In the past, secular kings took great pains to achieve this, just to add a bit of extraordinary magnanimity to themselves, and to make those who came to see them feel trembling in their hearts in advance.

The Emperor does not need this. He is not shaped by gold into an invincible king. He is the master of mankind himself, and gold only exists depending on him. The architects designed it this way, probably just out of their own cognition.

In the eyes of the public, the Emperor was supposed to be majestic, surrounded by gold, silver, and onyx, with a face that shone like a god.

Is that really the case? Sigismund had no answer, only the calm voice in that speech.

He began to observe the still majestic door, part of it stained with blood, like the entire palace.

This huge miracle has now completely become a battlefield, with blood everywhere. Unfortunately, some places are completely submerged in blood and have become a restricted area that cannot be entered.

Sigismund slowly moved his gaze to the top of the door, and not surprisingly saw an emergency button - this was certainly not a good design, but the architect still did it .

He, or she, places a start button on the top of a twelve-meter-high door that can be used as a backup means when the energy pipeline goes wrong and the door needs to be opened urgently.

Who are you asking to press this button? Titan? Sigismund cursed.

It wouldn't be a big deal if he could, but there was no Titan around him right now.

The Titans were fighting on the other side of the palace.

God's machines came out in full force, fighting against the demons that came in waves like a tsunami. Their number seems endless, but the Titans obviously don't care about this, they just pour destruction and protect the glory of the God of Machines.

But that was already three hours ago, and Sigismund was already far away from the Titan Legion.

He received orders from Rogal Dorn to come to support the palace, and with him was an Imperial Fist of five hundred men. The troops on the frontal battlefield are already stretched thin - no, maybe it cannot be described as such.

At this moment, the entire Terra is a frontal battlefield.

The support of five hundred people was not considered to be the number of support soldiers in normal times, but now it has become a hard-won and precious resource.

In a hoarse communication that occasionally stuttered, Rogal Dorn told Sigismund that he was going to the Star Hall in the palace to support the defenders there.

The brilliance of the star torch must never be extinguished, not even a little bit shaken.

Sigismund understood this, so he rushed to the rendezvous point as soon as he received the order, and rushed with this team to the desperate fortress in the Himalayas - so, logically speaking, he should not be alone now one person.

The reason? Why?

If Sigismund could answer, he would take a map and draw a simple, straight upward line on the impossibly intricate map of the Fortress.

He would ask the person who asked the question to walk along this line the way they came, and then the answer would appear by itself.

He was the only reinforcement left.

The fallen Imperial Fists warriors along the way can attest to this, as can the empty bolters, the broken chainswords, and the mountains of corpses and seas of blood that flood corridors large and small.

However, if Sigismund didn't say it himself, I'm afraid no one would believe that a team of 500 people could fight all the way from the bottom of the Fortress to the top. But that's the fact, they did it—— The cost is obvious.

Just by observing Sigismund at this moment, one can easily understand the price.

The missing helmet, the dented breastplate, the hole pierced in the left shoulder armor, the empty armed belt. And the huge sword in his hand that was covered in blood.

There is no doubt that this is a feat and a miracle. However, that's all. Anyone with normal intelligence can understand that a single reinforcement will not be helpful on any battlefield.

But that doesn't matter. If you can't reach the support location, you can at least die on the road.

Sigismund bent down and began groping in the sea of ​​blood. He searched for a moment and finally found a fragment of sufficient weight. He picked it up, and a severed hand still wrapped in a steel gauntlet appeared in front of him, holding a bolt gun in his hand.

Sigismund removed the bolter and checked the magazine. Seventeen rounds left, which is good. With an expressionless expression, he hung the bolter on the belt around his waist, and then began to move his already stiff fingers little by little.

The process is slow and patient. It wasn't until the bright yellow severed hand stained with blood became a real fist that he slowly raised it.

A whizzing shadow hit the emergency button at the top of the door heavily the next second.

The button that was deliberately placed on the Skyhawk's chest was dented, and the heavy sound of hinges and mechanical gears began to be heard from inside the door. During this period, hot steam was also discharged from both sides of the door.

The sea of ​​blood began to boil, but Sigismund remained indifferent. He wiped the bloody hair away from his forehead, looked at the fist that happened to be stuck on the button, and smiled rarely.

Two minutes later, the door opened and darkness fell behind. The sea of ​​​​blood naturally slid inward, and the corpse fragments, armor, weapons and other objects hidden in it were also exposed and piled up on the ground, shining in the darkness.

Sigismund didn't look at this, just picked up his sword and walked inside.

He did not choose to hold the gun in his hand, firstly because there were not many bullets, and secondly because the war had already started for fourteen hours. During this period, countless experiences of fighting demons had been passed on to the soldiers.

In a bloody summary, they concluded that swords are better than guns—weird, counterintuitive, but true.

Explosive bombs might stagger those demons, causing the more vulnerable among them to die instantly. But if you want to actually carry out a killing and have a possible impact on the battlefield situation, you must use a sword, an axe, or any melee weapon.

The chain saw can tear through the flesh of those things smoothly, and the disintegration force field can easily cut off their thick skin and the bones underneath.

It is ironic that strength and barbarism can kill these ugly things more than the progress brought by civilization.

However, this is not always the case, such as the bombing of gunships, the artillery of the Titans, and the various tanks and cannons carefully manufactured by the Mechanicus.

When a radiation flow with a diameter of more than three meters and a plasma ball hit a demon together, it could no longer be called a demon, but could only be called a ball of ashes or minced meat.

But Sigismund now had only one sword, and himself. So he chose to use the sword first, and he began to walk alone in the darkness. Facts have proved that his vigilance and preparation were correct.

The first attacker arrived soon. He was at least three meters tall, with bulging muscles, two horns on his head, and could even speak human words——

"Blood sacrifice to the blood god!"

It roared and rushed over, its eyes glowing with blood in the darkness. Instead of a sneak attack, he chose to let him know of its arrival with a roar before launching an attack.

This was not the first time that Sigismund fought against these demons calling the name of the Blood God. He didn't know what kind of god they were talking about, but he knew how to kill these things. .

The evil wind blew, and a giant ax fell towards Sigismund. The captain took two steps back without blinking, dodging the vicious blow. It is impossible for him to wrestle with this thing, and his agile play style is obviously more suitable for winning.

The demon roared and began to pursue, the blood-stained plate armor on his body clanking as the flesh moved. It slashed three times in a row, one was a forward slash, one was a teasing slash, and the last one was an insidious surprise attack from diagonally below.

Sigismund dodged all of them and didn't even collide with the thing's axe with the blade in his hand.

He plays cunningly, and that's not his fault alone.

The demon stopped, holding an ax in both hands, and glared at Sigismund in the darkness.

"Coward!" it spat out a disdainful scorn. "Escape, dodge, like a mouse!"

Sigismund was completely indifferent to its insult, but suddenly took a step forward, and while rotating his wrist, the giant sword thrust out fiercely. The demon anticipated the blow and laughed excitedly.

Judging from his posture, he must have planned to take Sigismund's thrust and trade his injury for his life. The giant ax in its hand was raised high, and at this moment, the blade of the Imperial Fist suddenly retracted.

The giant ax fell, and the devil's eyes glowed with blood - it had realized that this was a trap, but it was too late.

The old strength has gone, but the new strength has not yet arisen. No matter how strong it is, it is still a humanoid creature, and there are naturally gaps between each attack to steal. Sigismund looked at it coldly. The giant sword swung round and slashed down hard, and a head flew up high. Blood spurted out and splashed all over Sigismund.

And this was just the beginning. More things in the darkness began to notice his presence, or in other words, they were attracted by the smell of blood on his body.

There was greed in every glance, they longed for his flesh, his soul. Sigismund was calm about it - if you want it, come and get it.

He raised his sword with both hands and gently held a sword flower against the darkness. The demons immediately rushed out and surrounded him. Most of them are muscular and strong. The strange thing is that they did not swarm him and kill him.

Sigismund felt a sense of absurdity. He saw some clues from their surroundings and the behavior of hammering the breastplate with weapons or fists. A guess was born in his mind - they wanted to have a one-on-one fight with him. duel.

Is this common sense? Is it really possible for these demons to do this?

Doubts crossed his mind, but Sigismund quickly put them behind him. He had no time to think, for his enemy was already standing in front of him.

The first demon to step out from among the demons, like Sigismund, also used a giant sword. It looked excited, obviously getting the honor of opening the battle.

It was about four meters tall, wearing studded soft armor, with layers of metal spreading down from its left shoulder, shining with silver light. It had a ferocious face, but what it did next didn't seem rough at all.

It growled, raising the sword slightly, covering half of its face. Sigismund narrowed his eyes and responded to the demon with the same courtesy.

He still felt absurd in his heart, but he would not avoid the etiquette of fighting. He knew this type of combat all too well and, to put it with a hint of pride, it was impossible to find another Astartes in the galaxy who could match his experience in the matter.

The demon laughed lowly, bringing hot blood mist between his breaths. The surroundings were no longer dark, and the blood in the eyes of these demons illuminated the battlefield.

They shouted, urging the two sides to start fighting with curses or encouragement. This environment is no different from being in a cage or a duel pit, the same fanatical atmosphere, the same one-on-one combat, the same

Sigismund woke up with a start - what was he thinking?

This was not a fair fight waged by an Astartes against his cousin, to determine the superiority of skill, strength and courage. This is a real battle of life and death, and his enemy is the devil.

He raised the sharp sword in his hand vigilantly and took the lead in attacking.

The stabbing attack started, and the slash followed closely. The demon waved the sword in approval. The bloody weapon with jagged curves on the sword ignored the effect of the decomposition field and was easily destroyed with the power of the demon. Sigismund's first attack.

Not only that, it even forced him to lose his balance a little. Naturally, the demon did not miss this opportunity. He immediately raised the giant sword and then slashed it down fiercely, aiming at Sigismund's head.

The First Captain of the Imperial Fists had long been wary of this. It was only natural to attack the enemy's weak points in battle. He retracted his sword and raised his sword to defend.

Two blocks, one dodge. As the footsteps rotated, the shouts of the demons began to become more and more fanatical, almost turning into a dizzying loud noise, full of fanaticism.

"Kill it, Imperial Fists!" a demon roared behind him. "Go and get honor! Warriors should be tempered and sublimated in blood! Your sword will become sharper because of its blood!"

It doesn't lie.

In the sixth round, Sigismund slashed the demon's sword-holding right hand. Blood began to beat on the sword wrapped in arcs, and the sound continued like a war drum.

His enemy was furious at this and rushed forward with his hands raised in a roar, intent on exchanging wound for wound and life for life. It was naturally impossible for Sigismund to exchange with it like this. He extended the sword from bottom to top with his backhand and immediately retreated.

He completed the counterattack and dodge in the same second, a superhuman skill that would have been impossible for those who had not experienced many battles - blood spattered out again, and the devil's studded soft armor was struck with such force that it shouldn't have been. A cautious stroke cuts through instantly.

Sigismund was briefly bewildered by his own success.

How could this be? Their armors were terrifyingly hard, and they looked ugly, but they were far more useful than ceramics. How could they be cut open by him so easily?

However, this is not the end. The demon took two steps back and covered his abdomen with his hands. The organs whose specific functions could not be seen were sliding down the gaps between his claws. It looked down at them, and a look of boredom flashed across its ferocious face.

The next second, it violently tore out all its internal organs and threw them on the ground.

The demons shouted for this, the smell of blood began to intensify, the ground boiled, and the blood turned into shining magma.

The demon smiled lowly. It was about to die, but the will to fight still continued in its eyes. Sigismund wordlessly raised the blade in his hand, and instead of dodging, he charged towards it.

The blades clashed, and the first strike ended with the weapons clashing against each other. Sigismund turned around quickly, and the blade sliced ​​through the demon's back in an elegant arc.

It was slowed down by its injuries and couldn't dodge, so it lost its life. The huge body crashed to the ground, blood gushing out, and the etheric flesh hissed and quickly turned into flesh and bones.

The demons shouted again, began to praise him with fervor, and began to fight one another savagely to choose the next one to fight him. During this period, there were even many demons chanting Sigismund's name.

Where did they learn my name?

The first company commander clenched his sword vigilantly, not understanding what was going on now - he wanted to think about it, but the demons watching did not give him this chance, and the second demon immediately stood up.

This one uses a sword and shield. The shield was huge, with a metal protrusion in the center, and bones on the edges as points for pulling. The center of gravity of the one-handed sword was clearly a heavy slashing weapon.

It was almost as if it was done on purpose, deliberately not giving me any room to think.

Such an idea vaguely flashed through his mind, but he was unable to grasp it. The battle had already begun, and Sigismund instantly entered a fighting state, with no other focus and only the existence of the enemy in his eyes.

He fought the demon for more than four minutes, finally ending its life with a stolen leg followed by a stabbing blow.

Sigismund stood there holding his sword, panting gently, calming the heat in his chest, and preparing for the next battle.

He was ready for a hard fight, and he would definitely win - with this thought, he didn't realize that the smell of blood around him was getting stronger.

It was simply more terrifying than the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood he was in not long ago.

The roars of the demons were so intense at this moment that they seemed to come from the ancient times. They were restless and fanatical, covering everything Sigismund could perceive. He could only hear their roars and cheers now, so he was completely unable to notice the subtle sounds coming from the dark distance.

The demons noticed, but they didn't care as long as the battle could continue. However, the people who are coming here from the other side of the darkness obviously don't think so. Their purpose here is to wipe out the demons.

This was not the first time that they rushed out of the Star Torch Hall and launched a counterattack towards the outer fortress. There are not many of them left, but this is already the result of receiving support.

Fortunately, the support brought not only ammunition supplies and more loyal and reliable Skitarii, but also a small torrent of steel formed by a dozen Predator tanks and assault armored vehicles, which mixed together and followed the speeder. The rear is rushing towards this place.

The artillery that had not completely cooled down quickly opened fire, and the machine gun with a caliber large enough to break the Astartes' waist also spit out tongues of fire, ruthlessly tearing apart the flesh and blood of the demons. They turned around angrily and began to fight with this Armies collide head-on.

But Sigismund, who was in the middle of the battle, knew nothing about it.

He still wields the sword, each movement getting faster and stronger each time - he came here because of a mission, but now he has forgotten this mission and is stuck in the quagmire of the war.

The blood spilled on the ground began to accumulate infinitely due to death, and gradually formed a stream amidst the roars of the demons and the shouts of the loyalists. Countless fanatics with sickly faces were mingling with the demons, waving their weapons and silently shouting the name of the Blood God.

The place they were in was filled with endless bones, and what they collided head-on with was not some divine heavenly army—in fact, it was quite the opposite.

Most of them even have incomplete limbs, and the boiling rage replaces their missing bodies, driving them to pounce on their enemies with endless hatred. Their general is a huge and scarlet blurred soul with a ferocious face, as if he chooses people to devour.

Of course Sigismund knew nothing about these things, but he didn't need to know, because the flames had been pushed back to reality.

It rose from the sea of ​​​​blood, accompanied by biting cold temperatures, a thunder suddenly struck, and black lightning jumped out from the sea of ​​​​blood, chopping the demon Sigismund was facing at the moment into charcoal. Its remaining power remained unabated, and it instantly jumped in front of Sigismund.

The Imperial Fist's eyes suddenly widened, and he instinctively tried to block and dodge with his sword, but the lightning ignored him and passed by him in an instant, piercing the chest of a golden-armored giant.

"For unity!" The man roared and waved the giant sword in his hand, and began to kill the remaining demons with an absolutely cruel look.

The Skitarii and the priests followed closely behind, and the auxiliary troops sat on speed boats and helped them fight with burst fire. Some of them were very unfamiliar, and it was obvious at a glance that they were civilians not long ago.

Sigismund was stunned.

What was I just doing? He asked himself. Why should I fight them, no, why should I sink into that battle? I'm here to--

"—Captain Sigismund." A voice said. "Nice to meet you."

The Imperial Fist looked up speechlessly but humiliatedly, and saw an acquaintance.

"Saul Tarvitz." He whispered, stretched out his right hand, and tightly grasped the aquila on the other person's arm. "I am glad to meet you too."

　Updated, this chapter is 6.3k.

　　Maybe another chapter? Not sure, not recommended, etc. Fifteen thousand tomorrow, considered a gift for the Emperor's Ascension Day.

(End of this chapter)