40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 433 159. Interlude: The experiences of a messenger

He runs.

All the time - running.

The bottoms of the boots were sticky, probably from blood. But this is not a problem. After all, his ankle, which is also problematic, deserves more attention than the socks that have been integrated with the sole of the foot.

Every time he landed, his ankles would feel heartbreaking pain, but he still had to keep running. He had no reason to stop.

If you want to make it more realistic, more indifferent, and more in line with the reporting standards of the Ministry of Military Affairs, then this paragraph can be expanded into the following long sentence.

The corporal of the 12th Company of the 12th Company of the 62nd Infantry Regiment of Terra, the "Brave Man" Company, the messenger Ognyan Trantev must dutifully deliver every order to the various combat positions, and in his life He is not allowed to stop until the end of his duty.

Ogonyan has no problem with that. Communications had broken down and were difficult to repair, at least in their part of the country. So, in this case, the ancient position of messenger naturally represents an honor.

He is always eager to achieve glory.

He stretched out his legs without bending his knees, running through the bloody and muddy trench like a servitor with an error in programming.

The password was memorized in his mind and the document was tucked away in the pocket of his military coat. He was holding a MK2 light gun produced on Mars. It was not a very good weapon, but he liked it very much.

He replaced the handguard, stock and grip, and even added a special muzzle focusing ring from the black market with permission. He loved this gun so much that even now, he wanted to hold it in his arms.

Dark snow was still falling from the sky, falling on his military coat and helmet, and also on the ground. The snow was consistent and kept falling, but there were not many living people left in this trench.

The last time he came here, it was still full of people. Now, most people have become corpses. However, some of the remaining soldiers are still organizing a counterattack, waiting for support that they don't know when they will arrive.

If Ognian was in the mood to think, he would probably wonder why these people refused to retreat, just as those people wondered why he continued to run.

But they didn't have the mood or time to think. They just performed their duties and were loyal to their duties. So they live, and then they wait to die, and that's it.

Ognyan ran past them and spat out words with blood foam from his throat.

"The Angels of the Imperial Fists are coming soon!"

Logically speaking, it is not allowed to leak any form of orders. He should inform the commander of the 33rd position in the east area of ​​the palace of this order, and then the commander will inform his soldiers of the order. This is in line with the system in the Ministry of Military Affairs manual.

However, Ognyan believes that now is no longer the time to strictly abide by rules and regulations. Furthermore, the Ministry of Military Affairs' manual is more suitable for wiping one's butt.

The commander of the 33rd position had died the last time he came. Therefore, Ognian made his own judgment and spoke the order loudly.

With every step he took, he spoke a few words. By the time he reached the end of the trench, he had shouted this order fifty-five times. All the soldiers still alive heard his words, but he had no time to observe their reactions.

In fact, the only response most people could give was a few cheers between shots, and that too was muffled by another voice.

There is still half a loyal artillery squad on their position, and the artillery is still firing. In the positions where the infantry is stationed, the sound of artillery is always the loudest.

If Ognyan stopped at this moment and peered out from the observation hole of the trench, he would be able to see some flaming spheres falling from the sky, hitting the dark fog, smashing or igniting some ferocious and twisted shapes.

That was the masterpiece of the artillery team on the 33rd position. They fired very accurately. Ognyan didn't know this, but he always hoped that they would hit accurately.

In this way, the messenger Ognyan left the 33rd position and came to the 36th position next to it.

He had a hard time coming over, the thick dust grabbing at his boots and almost causing him to stumble. If he hadn't been quick-sighted and used his elbows to support himself, he might have landed on his face.

The messenger awkwardly propped himself up with the butt of his gun, pulled out his right leg from the dust that was at least ten centimeters thick, and then stood up again.

Only then did he realize that his military coat had changed color. It used to be a beautiful white gold color, but now it was a thick wet cloth intertwined with black, white, gray and dark red.

It was once perfectly tailored and could even add a bit of imperial military might to his not-so-strong figure, but now it looked empty, as if it was hanging on his body, and there was actually nothing under the coat.

Not only that, but the biggest bad news was that the medals hanging on his chest were also missing. It was probably lost in a fall. The messenger shook his head, not feeling sorry for himself, and started to continue running.

Compared to Position 33, there were more soldiers in Position 36, and it seemed that some officers were still alive. They were in pretty good shape, with three complete artillery positions and a functioning field medical system.

Ognyan turned sideways and made way for two medical soldiers who passed him carrying a stretcher. Lying on the stretcher was a soldier with a broken arm and a stab wound in the abdomen. Obviously, these two men had just returned from the front line, and this soldier was one of the survivors they found

The messenger felt a little inspired by this incident. Regardless of the swelling and pain in his knees, he forced himself to speed up his pace and ran towards the center of the position.

Before he even got close, he heard the violent voice of his target, the company commander of the 26th Company of the 63rd Infantry Regiment, Sig Grimm, known as the "Tank Breaker". This standard-issue veteran is still alive and kicking out rude curses in his trademark loud voice.

"Fuck, no retreat! No retreat! Do you understand? Go back and tell your damn company commander who grew up eating the shit of the gangsters in the hive city, and let him not even think about it. The 26th Company will never give up its position. , unless every soldier in the 26th Company dies here!"

He sounded furious.

Ognyan was approaching quickly, something he didn't want to miss. As he approached, he soon saw a man without any armor, his chest and back covered with blood-stained bandages. He held a helmet in his hand and was cursing loudly at another messenger. .

After seeing this, Ognyan quickly changed his mentality.

He stood ten steps away from Sig Grim, then clinked his boots, performed an eagle salute, and began to report his purpose of coming and the orders he had brought - he didn't want to watch any more dramas now. , and I don’t want to have any more delays.

"In the name of the Emperor and the Aquila, and by the will of Captain Fafnir Lane of the Imperial Fists—"

he yelled hoarsely, this was certainly not the first time he had dealt with Sig Grim. He had to yell like that for that damn loud voice to notice him.

"—I brought his orders!"

Sig Grim turned around.

"The Emperor bless you, but who?" he asked. "Who the hell - no, the honorable Captain of the Imperial Fists? Why the hell are you talking so loudly? You bastard Ognyan."

"Captain Fafnir Lann wants me to deliver a command to the major positions on the east side of the palace." Ogonyan said without blinking. "There is an Imperial Fist strike force of two thousand people crossing the battle line from the west side of the palace."

"They have brought support, as well as a skitarii and supply servitors. Captain Fafnir Lane asks you to stay brave and stay loyal. They will be here soon."

"Fuck yeah!"

Sig Grim immediately roared, raising his right hand high and waving his helmet frantically. Then, he immediately turned around and smashed the muddy helmet at the feet of another messenger.

"Look at Ognyan, then look at you! Damn it!" The man sighed: "It's useless for you to be angry with me like this, Commander Grim. It's the company commander who wants you to retreat. It has nothing to do with me.”

"Pick up the helmet!" Sig Grim said, glaring at him.

One second, two seconds, three seconds - amidst the roar of artillery and the sudden sound of the horn, the messenger bent down and threw the helmet back to Sig Grim.

Tankbreaker put on his helmet, picked up his uniform jacket from a rock, and picked up a bolter. The whole movement was startlingly fast, and six shiny medals exploded. The butts of the shotguns rocked and bumped against each other.

He grinned and yelled: "Then I apologize to you! Just do what you have to do! Don't care about the dirty words of an old bastard like me!"

The messenger saluted, with a helpless smile on the young face. He and Ognyan nodded to each other, and then turned around and left. Ognyan did not leave immediately, but continued to speak.

He still had nothing to say.

"Besides." Ogonyan approached the tank breaker and took out the document that was wet with his blood and sweat from his coat. "You still need to sign this document."

"What the hell is this?"

The gray-haired Sig Grim glanced at him, and while turning off the safety of the bolter, he took a soldier's nameplate hanging around his neck into his mouth and pressed it under his tongue.

He asked vaguely: "Didn't you say that Captain Lann told you the password?"

"This is the secret order of the master of the seal." Ogonyan said. "He asked me to bring this order to you by name, so it is specifically for you, Captain Grimm."

"Then I'm really honored." Sig Grim said sinisterly. "Read it to me."

"I don't have such authority."

"Read it to me!" Sig Grim roared.

His voice even overshadowed the charging horns and the people's war cries at such a close distance. Ognyan was very determined and was not bothered at all.

He faced the Tank Breaker's murderous gaze and thrust the parchment roll into his face.

"You can see for yourself, Captain Grimm." The messenger said very firmly. "I said, I don't have such authority."

The veteran was silent for half a second and glared at him impatiently, but in the end he said nothing. He raised his hand to straighten the helmet that was crooked on his head, and then reached out to take the parchment roll.

His reading lasted about thirty seconds and was divided into two times. The first time, he took a quick glance, the second time, he concentrated on it. Ognyan waited until he was lost in thought for more than a minute before slowly speaking out a reminder.

"Do you have any orders for me to bring to other positions, Captain Grimm?"

"No more," the veteran said thoughtfully. “But—Hey, Ognyan, have you ever heard of Zephon the Herald and Jophiel Demukia the Beheader?”

"I'm sure I've never heard such a majestic title in our ranks."

"Does that mean they are Astartes?"

"Probably." The messenger said. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing - have you ever heard of Orr Persson?"

"nor."

“And where is Sad bin Salah ibn Rashid Al Latib?”

"."

Ognyan looked at him silently and shook his head slowly: "Captain Grim, if this is a joke——"

"—I swear to the Emperor this is not a joke." Tankbreaker said seriously.

The messenger glanced at him, but Sig Grim's eyes were serious, without any smile. Some veterans were indeed keen on playing tricks on the messengers, but he had never heard of this one doing anything similar.

In retrospect, the commander of the 26th Company of the 63rd Infantry Regiment was at best just a grumpy character. I had never heard of rumors that he liked to joke around regardless of the occasion.

So Ognyan nodded. A burning fireball fell not far from them, throwing up a pool of dust.

"I've never heard of the first three, but I know Major Iben. He's the commander of the 21st Infantry Regiment, I mean, the current commander. Why do you ask that?"

"Because they are coming to my position soon." Sig Grim said in confusion. "The Seal Master asked me to lead these five people on a secret mission."

"This is not something I should hear."

"who cares?"

Sig Grim asked rhetorically, and then continued talking on his own.

"And he also has requirements for the start time of this mission. He hopes that I will start this mission in, uh, fifteen hours, and requires me to arrive at combat position No. 10 before then. The palm printr said that I will start this mission in, uh, fifteen hours Find Orr Persson there."

He shook his head, opened and closed his lips, and uttered a silent curse. The messenger pretended that he didn't see it, and asked again: "This is your business, Captain Grimm, do you have any other orders?"

"No, get out of here!" Sig Grim replied roughly.

He turned around, climbed to the top of the trench with his gun in his hands nimbly, and began to charge. Ognyan stood in the slightly empty trench, hearing the wails of the wounded, the roars of the soldiers, and the never-ending sound of firing various weapons.

There was a lot of noise in his ears, and his legs and body were in terrible pain. He fell to the ground in a daze, stretched out his hand to touch his chest, and felt a fist-sized hole, and then he fell into a coma.

Five minutes later, he stood up again.

He kept running.

　The update is completed. It's much better today. It will resume normal updates tomorrow, with a daily guarantee of 8k.

　　

　

(End of this chapter)