40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 451 177. Terra (thirty-eight, crossing hell with two feet)

First, I want a gun, one is enough.

The caliber of the gun doesn’t have to be great, and the overall design doesn’t have to be perfectly ergonomic. But it has to be a gun, a live weapon, and I don't want a damn laser gun. Give me a live weapon and—

Orpeson heard a wet sound.

He turned his head and happened to see a shadow buried deep in the ashes, an ugly and skinless inanimate being.

Muscles, nerves and blood vessels danced around its smooth body. It bit a human arm, and Orr's own face was reflected in its two scarlet fly compound eyes.

It tilted its head and regarded him, acting like a wary canine creature, but it was anything but a dog. Dogs don’t have such slender and twisted limbs, and dogs don’t eat people.

Oh, no, that's not right. Dogs can eat people.

Orr Persson raised his gun.

But dogs that eat people all die.

He pulled the trigger, and a strong reaction force came from the gun body, but Orr's hand was as solid as a rock, and the effects of force and force were mutual. This should have been an indestructible law, but it suddenly disappeared in his case. .

Fire burst out from the muzzle, time was stretched and slowed down, the thing opened its mouth, its bloody hand slowly fell, and three explosive bombs spun towards it.

All hits.

The thing was staggered, but not dead. It opened its mouth wide and let out a silent roar, and what happened next became the one Orr Persson was most familiar with.

He rushed forward and began stabbing and hacking at the thing's body with a bayonet. It tried to bite him, incredibly fast, but never really hit him.

Orr is not a super human, he just lives a long time and can live forever. So he knows how to protect yourself when faced with this kind of thing - the most important thing is that you have to be full of courage.

Orpeson didn't have the courage, not necessarily, maybe he did, but he was very angry and tired now.

Moreover, the gem on his chest was very hot.

He spent several minutes dismembering it.

Sitting among the pool of blood and twitching limbs, Orr slowly stood up. He walked back, picked up the gun he had dropped, and started moving in a certain direction again. There was no one around him, it was his own request.

This is what he told the Captain of the Imperial Fists named Fafnir Lane.

"You mean I have to go through about four positions and then walk on a bridge to get to my destination?"

"Probably so." Fafnir Lane lowered his head and said to him. "The question is, how are you going to get there, Orpeson? We have people here to help you."

He gestured to his brother, and to himself. The bright yellow armor, stained red by blood and covered with dust, has long lost its former luster. The faces of these soldiers are covered with blood stains and wounds left by the war.

And they all looked at Orpeson as if he were some sort of savior.

You are Astartes. Ol Persson thought at that time. Do you think of me as your savior?

He would have asked directly, but his orderlies interrupted him, as did the men he had pulled back from the trenches and the shell-spattered battlefield, who came wordlessly and gathered behind him.

Everyone has obviously been tortured to the point of being completely numb by this hell, but still, a kind of expectation and brilliance burst out from this numbness.

They looked at him. He didn't say a word.

"There are still us, sir." The orderly soldier was the first to salute him, with a hollow under his coat. "We are willing to accept your command."

And Orpeson said: "No, you stay here and continue fighting."

He said these words very easily, but also very resolutely. He made a choice, so now he lowered his head and bent forward in the trench where only the dead were left. He held the gun tightly with both hands and breathed. Like a whisper, it created a small ripple in the air.

He carefully jumped over a corpse and pulled him up easily. He didn't like to see a soldier lying face down in the mud. Because as time goes by, the dead people's faces will be frozen hard and encrusted by the cold mud, and the things in the mud will get into their blood and flesh that has no temperature and start to taste the feast.

Orr would rather put in some effort to keep his face facing the sky.

He continued walking, his toes in his boots no longer felt, and the surroundings were dead silent and extremely cold. The mist dispersed and mixed with the darkness, blurring the vision. Even if the flying needle gun is still in his hand, the scope may not be of much use anymore.

Very good. Orr thought. Look what you've turned Terra into? Is this what you want to do?

What a great ideal, I told you long ago, your ambition and impatience will kill us all. I don't care about death, but what about these people?

You left them dead, old friend. You let them die and then have to be eaten by dogs.

He sounded like he was complaining, complaining, and condemning, but that was not the case. Orpeson knew who turned Terra into this state, and who turned these living people into bloody corpses one after another.

But he still had to blame him.

He turned left, used his gun to support himself and climbed up the two-meter-high trench, and left here.

The battlefield was covered with thick ashes, and everything looked gray, the color of war. It's gray and foggy, and even if it bleeds, it's still gray blood.

Orr continued to walk with extreme vigilance. He actually doesn't know the way, but he has a special guide - the gem on his chest.

It will erupt with a burst of red light when Orr takes the wrong path, driving away the darkness that is trying to engulf him and leading him back to the right path.

But the problem is that the right path is usually not the easy path.

Orr stopped, looked at what was in front of him, squeezed out a low curse from his throat, and then a question.

How do I get there from here?

The gem didn't answer, but Orr's face was illuminated by a surging red-orange light. The light was so bright that his eyes began to hurt.

He bent down wordlessly, spat into his hand, grabbed a handful of thick ashes, and shaped them into a small ball. He raised his hand and threw the ball straight away.

It drew a beautiful arc, fell silently into a gurgling hot magma, and was melted in an instant.

Orr looked up at the golden light in the sky.

"How do I get there?" he asked sincerely. "Tell me, how am I going to get there?"

There was no answer, just the rolling mist and the whining wind.

He stood there and waited for a while, but still no answer. So he turned around and left, but the gem on his chest suddenly erupted with a temperature so strong that he almost suspected that he would be scalded.

Orr couldn't help but scream in pain. He reached out to grab the chain and pulled out the gem, his face full of anger. It floated up and dragged his neck forward forcefully.

Thus, a funny picture is formed. There are few things in the world that are so ridiculous, and it's not even easy to describe - how do you describe a man fighting a gemstone?

Let’s start with the details.

The gem glowed like a burning flame. It was inlaid on a rough metal base and fit tightly. The chain was made of scrap iron and was quite piercing. It had already created a few bloodstains on the man's neck.

The man's back was turned to the gem. He tried to walk back, holding a gun in his hand. His whole face was completely tense, but the gem tied him with a chain and floated in place, trying to lead him towards the boiling and burning place. lava lake.

The entire standoff lasted for twenty minutes.

Orpeson finally turned around exhausted.

"What do you want?" he asked again. "I have no way out, can't you see? You gave me this task without any explanation. Do you think it's fun? Okay, okay, I'm here, I'm back on Earth, and then what? "

He raised his hand indignantly and pointed at the lava lake, his tone becoming extremely irritable.

"I'm not one of those supermen you created, and I don't have the protection of power armor. I can't ignore this kind of magma. Accept the reality, old friend, you and I both know that this magma is not naturally formed, they put it here. .”

"They probably knew that I was coming here tens of millions of years ago, so they put this magma lake on the only path I must pass through. There is only one way, but I can't get through. I gave up, that's it. .”

The gem still didn't answer, but quietly dispersed its brilliance. It is colorless and should be transparent and clear, but sometimes it looks like a mirror, like right now. It reflected Orr's face, so that he could see a pair of tired, lifeless eyes and a long, chattering, complaining face.

Orr was so angry that he grabbed it and pulled it violently, completely forgetting that the chain existed. He was pulled by himself and staggered, falling into the thick dust in a ridiculous manner.

For a long time, he lay there as if dead, unwilling to get up again.

It wasn't until some sounds that he shouldn't hear floated from the mist and reached his ears that he reluctantly got up. The gem lit up again at this moment and floated, leading him towards the direction from which the sound came.

It's almost like they found another way for me. Orr thought. You are really kind-hearted, sir.

He deliberately ignored the fact that he actually took this path on his own initiative.

He held the gun, stuffed the glowing gem into his chest, walked in the mist, and became certain of one thing bit by bit - the sound that woke him up was definitely not a sound that could be made by nature.

Of course, there is probably no such thing as 'nature' on Terra now. Orpeson listened to the sound attentively and distinguished it carefully.

The first sound he identified was the tiny sound of a blade scraping across flesh, then the continuous screams, and because of the distance, he finally identified it as the muffled sound of a bolt gun.

You want to take me to another battlefield?

The gem still didn't answer, but it didn't burn to announce that he was on the wrong track, so he kept walking.

Orr stepped through the thick ashes, climbed over two burned-out Titans, and walked almost a few kilometers on the torn-down servitors before he saw any color other than gray.

It was an eerie blue with streaks of flickering lightning on it. Of course, there's also jet black, scarlet and a tiny bit of gold. Frankly speaking, this is such a gorgeous color scheme that it seems a bit over the top even on armor.

Especially considering they were fighting a war between two armies.

And Orr knew who they were, and who their enemies were.

——It's the Word Bearers, of course it's the Word Bearers. Besides the Word Bearers, what other beasts in the galaxy wear scarlet armor?

However, they looked a little different from the traitors in his memory.

Most of these Word Bearers have no human form. Their armor does not have the cold hardness of ceramite, but has smooth arcs like flesh. Their hands no longer held weapons, instead they were replaced by claws, pincers, or blades formed by extended arms.

Many of them looked like giant alien bugs, with green eyepieces like eyelids that were blinking behind the slender, hard hairs.

Orpeson closed his mouth in embarrassment, his throat rolling.

He has seen many disgusting things, such as men or women being cooked alive, or poor children being sacrificed to the so-called gods by ignorant priests armed with sharp knives.

These things and another thing fundamentally destroyed his expectations and desires for human society. If it weren't for some changes, I'm afraid he would have found a place to bury himself and not care about the world.

However, these Word Bearers are different, they are another kind of thing that should not appear.

Orpeson accepts that there are evil people and demons in the world, but he cannot accept that evil people and demons merge into one.

This is blasphemy.

He picked up his gun, smashed the fog with his boots stained with mud, blood and dust, and walked into it with himself.

The first person to notice his arrival was a Nightblade Captain who was wearing his helmet properly. He was probably a company commander, Orr could never tell their specific military ranks. The man looked at him for about half a second before turning his head and continuing to shoot with the bolter in his hand.

Orr didn't care what his meaningful gaze meant and just pressed the trigger.

His chosen enemy was a flesh-winged Word Bearer, and as always, he hit with accuracy. Unfortunately, the bolter he had in his hand wouldn't do much against that thing.

The bombs streaked across like water and exploded on its fleshy wings, staining it with deep blood and scorching black spots in many places. The mutated and twisted traitor roared angrily, jumped up from the chaotic battle, and rushed to Orr.

It seemed that he couldn't tolerate being hurt by a mortal in his eyes - but that was all he could do. His claws had just been swung out, and before he could get close to Orr, he was already struck by a knife. Precisely split in two.

A dark blue shadow flashed past, followed by roars, blood, and an unbearable scream. The whole process only lasted two seconds, but in Orpeson's eyes, it could be divided into several specific steps.

The Word Bearer roared and hurt the company commander. He clearly saw the thing stabbing his chest with its other sharp claw, but the company commander seemed indifferent to this. He didn't even bother to pay attention to the damage and just swung his sword.

The power sword was extremely precise and powerful, slicing open the Word Bearer's abdomen, shoulders and glowing green eyes. Blood spattered out, and dark flames ignited, burning wildly on the mutated body.

The company commander raised his hand again, cut off the sharp claw, and took a step back. The Word Bearer fell to the ground without his claws and began to scream with a scream that almost made Orr wonder if he was deaf.

He stared blankly at the thing crackling in the flames, its body melting and escaping like grease, and felt a shudder.

"Hello, Captain Orr Persson." The night blade called affectionately in his ear. "It's time to come to your senses. Don't keep staring. The firelight is not good for your eyes."

Orr raised his head to look at him, then struggled to regain his senses as the man said, and immediately asked a question.

"Do you know who I am?"

He nodded, and the voice from the breathing grille sounded like a smile but not a smile: "Your tone sounds very interesting, Your Excellency, Company Commander. Lower your head."

Orr Persson bowed his head.

A sharp, armor-wrapped finger slowly tapped his chest, to be precise, it tapped a piece of white knitted fabric on the upper left corner of his chest.

It was sewn onto the uniform and had his name and rank written on it.

However, as early as when the military uniform was just issued to him, he tore off the knitted fabric. The piece of cloth with his name and rank written on it had been burned to ashes while he was still aboard the Macragge's Glory.

And now.

"I am Adbeman Basili, the adjutant of the third company of Night Blade." Night Blade introduced himself. "You look confused, Orr Persson, where are your troops?"

".I don't have troops, but shouldn't you be a company commander? If I make mistakes, please forgive me. I have never been able to distinguish your military ranks from the armor painting." Orr reluctantly came back to his senses. , so answered.

He tried to make his tone more natural. This was of course to bring him closer and closer to the company commander, so as to pave the way for his next questions. However, Orr got an unexpected answer.

"I'm not the company commander." Adebeman Basili said softly, his tone was quite gentle.

He lowered his head and reached out to pull out the sharp claw stuck in his chest. Behind him, the figures of the Word Bearers were gradually obscured by the fog, and soon disappeared.

A hoarse voice sounded from behind him, anxious: "They ran away again."

"Let's just keep chasing." Adebeman replied without looking back, his scarlet eyepiece still staring straight at Orpeson. "Just do it before they make the next sacrifice. Don't be anxious, Aleister."

"Understood, company commander."

"I am not the company commander, Aleister. The commander of the third company can only be Fel Zalost, and I am still only the adjutant."

"Whatever you say." Night Blade, known as Aleister, shook his head and walked away. Adebiman Basili chuckled and shrugged at Orpeson.

"My brothers have always offended me a lot, but it's still better than being alone, Captain Orr Persson. A soldier fighting alone is a bit too pitiful, don't you think?"

Orr was a little nervous for no reason. He always felt that there was something in this man's words, so he nodded stiffly and followed Adbeman Basili's words: "Yes, I think so too."

Then, a hand reached out and put it on his shoulder.

"Then, I suggest you act with us first." Adbeman Basili said. "You don't have any objection, do you?"

Orpeson looked down at the stone that showed no movement, and nodded even more stiffly.

　This chapter is 5.3k, and there is another chapter before twelve o'clock, so I can write as much as I can.

　　

　

(End of this chapter)