40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 51 51. Gift ([-])

Khalil waved his arms expressionlessly.

The excessive strength and speed turned his punching action into a terrible omen of murder, and the tearing sound caused by his arms slicing through the air even overwhelmed the gunfire for an instant.

Immediately afterwards, a head was beaten into a misty blood mist.

Khalil's expression finally took on some disgust.

But he had to.

The headless corpse spurted blood continuously from the horrific wound, and the huge wound brought a huge amount of bleeding.Even when it fell to the ground, the blood didn't stop gushing.

Khalil stepped past him and tiptoed the automatic gun that had fallen by the corpse.This weapon is of no help to him in combat, not in the past, and even less so now, but he needs them.

To be precise, he needed them for one thing.

He stepped past the body, throwing the automatic into a burlap sack slung over his shoulder.It was huge, even big enough to cover part of Khalil's current body.

last trip.Khalil thought.

Standing by the bullet-damaged gate, he took one last look back at the mess inside the house.He was carrying a bag and was covered in blood. If someone who didn't know saw it, he might think he was here to rob.

But he is not.

And doing this... also to some extent violated a rule he had set for himself in the past.

He entered the darkness with an indifferent expression and quick movements.There was nothing waiting in the darkness, only acid rain and neon lights cutting the sky, a chaotic sound coming from a block 800 meters away.

Khalil was indifferent to it. His work for the night was done, and this was the last trip.He jumped lightly to the top of the low building and started running.

After 5 minutes, he returned to the shelter.

Five such huge sacks have been piled up on the top of the building, filled with firearms.

Self-made soil guns, high-end products made of all-metal casting, automatic guns, shotguns, and even a third of them are deadly laser guns-Khalil knows the number of them, 740 three.

That amount of guns might have meant a war of some size, but in Nostramo it was little more than the combined inventory of six gangs.

With a wave of his arms, Khalil unloaded the bag from his back, and it fell at his feet.The murder weapons inside collided with each other and made a terrible sound, but none of them went off.

It was a sort of luck—a single shot or ricochet would have been enough to bring down everything in the shelter except the gate.Khalil thought to himself mockingly.

He smiled, and then, his eyes lit up with a cold blue light in the next second.

Firearms weapons.They collided and flew out of the burlap pocket twisted by building materials, forming a spectacle that obscured the sky on the top of this unattended building.

They stayed in the air silently, and the acid rain fell vertically, but none of them fell on their surfaces.These beasts stand quietly, some of them are well-maintained, some are rusted, but without exception, they are all waiting.

Khalil closed his eyes and began to explore every corner carefully.His mind sank into a deep tunnel in which he knew exactly how many they had killed.

"It's terrible," Khalil said in a low voice. "But what sin is the weapon itself?"

So he raised his right hand and slowly closed it.

The tooth-piercing sound of metal twisting came suddenly, and the beasts wailed as their bones and muscles were twisted.

The spring popped out, and the bullet still in the chamber caused a small explosion, and the lasgun's special ammunition turned into scattered dust.

The cold temperature began to stagnate acid rain, and the raindrops falling from the sky turned into countless tiny ice edges at this moment, fell vertically, smashed into pieces, and continued.

Khalil clenched his right hand and sighed.

I swore to use this power sparingly, and now I have to use it, time and time again—first, I used it to kill, and now, I actually use it to make a gift.

Khalil Rohars. You're going to die on this one day.

He smiled mockingly, opened his eyes, and spread his right hand suddenly.

The temperature changed again at this moment, the inferior metal and the high-quality metal all turned into boiling molten iron, and the bright temperature brought by the high temperature made the darkness fade away.Khalil looked at this spectacle created by himself, and once again felt a certain kind of real coldness.

There is no doubt that he distorted an established fact, and without breaking a sweat.

But—why?
With a sigh, Khalil cut off his thoughts.

When he's not busy teaching Night Haunter or Conrad Curze, his mind is always racing.

Sometimes they sprawl in good directions, but sometimes—or, most of the time—they're a steep downward spiral toward the abyss.

Tonight, he wasn't going to let them waste his time.

The molten iron continued to boil, Khalil closed his eyes, and began to draw a sharp and straight shape in his mind.Its grip is straight and dangerously lined, with a silver gauntlet
a sharp knife.

a promise.

A weapon reborn from the bloodied beasts - and a gift.
He opened his eyes, and pulled out a blade from the frozen edge.It clings tightly to Khalil's palm, cheers and shouts in a low voice.

"Do not."

Khalil held it up and gazed into his own eyes through the reflective blade.

He whispered: "You don't belong to me."

The ice edge fell and shattered.
-
"Gift?"

Conrad Coates stared wide-eyed, sat in his chair and repeated: "Gift? For me?"

Ferrus Manus and Roger Dorn nodded expressionlessly. The speed of the two was the same, and even the vague movement of the eyeballs looked so similar.

"But."

Conrad Koz put down the pen in his hand and tilted his head: "Why?"

"Because you are our brother." Roger Dorn said expressionlessly.

His tone sounded like a math teacher declaring that 1+1=2.

Curze blinked, turned his head as if asking for help, and looked at Fulgrim.The latter was leaning against his desk to check Curze's notes, and the Chemos looked at them seriously, even covering his face with the notes.

——Of course, it is also possible that he simply does not want to see Ferrus Manus and Roger Dorn.

But
The Chemosian sighed, but put down the notes anyway, with a soft tone.

"If you want to take it, take it, Conrad. It's nothing, anyway, what is a weapon to Ferrus Manus? He can make one in a few days Come."

Conrad Coz turned his head silently and looked at Ferrus.

'Gorgon' shook his head expressionlessly. "It took me ten days just to design the sketches."

"Oh, ten days?"

Fulgrim sneered, his tone now quite different from when he spoke to Curze. "Only ten days?"

Don frowned.

He originally wanted to refute Fulgrim's mistakes in weapon design—in fact, ten days to design a weapon is already a very terrible statistic.

But then he thought of Ferrus' furnace breaker.That warhammer was forged by Fulgrim himself, and it was absolutely impossible for the Chemoth to make such a low-level mistake.

"."

Silently, Rogal Dorn took a step back slowly.

Seeing this scene, Conrad Koz couldn't help but become more puzzled, but he didn't have time to say anything.

"Yes, ten days."

Ferrus nodded calmly and spoke quickly.

"You are not ignorant of blacksmithing, Fulgrim. My warhammer can deal a blow to anyone who thinks so. So, I beg you, don't ask questions that will take away your brilliance."

Dawn raised his eyebrows slowly, showing a rare surprise.Curz looked left and right blankly, not understanding what happened here.

Fulgrim narrowed his eyes, then nodded.

"The brilliance fades away. That's an interesting statement, Ferrus. I take it."

He looked down at their pale brother: "So, here's the thing, Conrad. Ferrus wants to send you a gift, a weapon, a power sword—but he doesn't know if you would like it."

"Power sword?"

Curz blinked: "I have never used a sword, let alone a power sword. But why do you think I don't like it?"

"Because Khalil Rohars obviously can't use a sword."

Rogal Dorn calmly said these words in Fulgrim's ghostly expression—not only that, he even added the next sentence amidst the rapidly changing expressions of the Chemoth talk.

"And we think you're likely to emulate his fighting style."

Donne nodded expressionlessly. "Based on the above, we think you might not like Ferrus' sword. That's why we're asking you, so that Ferrus will have time to reforge it before your Legion arrives."

Conrad Koz blinked and didn't speak immediately.

"Conrad, Rogge didn't mean that." Fulgrim said very quickly.

"What do you mean?" Curz raised his head and asked.

Meeting his gaze, Fulgrim froze again. "He's not—at least not in the sense you think."

"But." Conrad Koz laughed. "I'm just learning from Khalil, he's very efficient."

"and"

He stood up and changed to a solemn tone: "Kalil said that a gift is not about whether the recipient likes it, but about the giver's heart, isn't it? I don't judge by whether I like it or not. A Gift."

Fulgrim breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to speak, but Dorne preempted him.

"But it's a weapon, and it's normal and serious for a fighter to pick a weapon he likes. For some, a hammer is better than a greatsword."

Rogal Dorn shook his head slowly, calmly, and completely indifferently at Fulgrim's stare: "So I think you should think again."

"Um"

Curz turned his head in trouble, and glanced at the Chemos.The latter quickly changed his expression, gave him an encouraging smile, and then continued to glare at Dawn after he turned his head away.

As for the caster himself, Ferrus Manus, he was very calm, but his eyes had become a little strange.

"Would you like to take a look at it?" Ferrus asked suddenly.

"what?"

"Your gift, it is only one step away from being complete."

A dry smile appeared on Gorgon's stern face: "I can tell, you don't know if you like a power sword, so, are you going to have a look at it?"

A few seconds later, Conrad Koz nodded emphatically.

"Thank you," he whispered.

(End of this chapter)