40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 69 68. The Eighth Legion (4k)

"I'm here for you."

Fell said to the fat nobleman.His eyepiece is blood red, and a small technical change can bring huge benefits.

The latter screamed and fired in a language that the Eighth Legion could not yet understand, and the bullets rushed down from the high platform like howling raindrops.

But the firepower of the automatic gun is too ridiculous for the MK2 power armor, and his dying struggle is extremely ridiculous at this moment.However, none of the two present laughed.

They're just silent, that's all.Heart-pounding anger began to spread in this silence.

"Aleister." Fair asked slowly.

"Yes." A young voice sounded in the communication channel, with great anger that could not be suppressed.

He sprinted out and threw the fat, ugly beast at his company commander's feet two minutes later.However, this did not relieve him of his hatred. The young warrior raised his foot and angrily crushed the nobleman's right leg bone.

The crisp sound and the dull grinding sound combined into one, which became a terrifying sound that was almost unbearable.

"That's enough, Areister." Fell whispered. "There's no point in torturing him."

"Pain can make him understand something," Aleister said in a low voice. "At least it can make him understand that children should live freely, not be in his basement."

He stopped talking angrily, and raised his foot again.

"For a person like him, what can pain make him understand?"

Fair raised his right hand sharply. "Torture is only an option when interrogating, Aleister, don't use him to vent your anger, he doesn't deserve it at all."

After a few seconds, the young warrior nodded silently.

He wears a piece of MK3 power armor, which is very good for a young and reckless Astartes like himself to survive the complex and changeable war.

But, having said that, Fair doesn't actually see brashness as a shortcoming.In his view, sometimes, not acting impulsively will not achieve the goal.

"Take him to the center of the city."

Phil ordered briefly.

"The trial will take place in two hours and we still have time to find these monsters who are trying to hide."

He lowered his head and glanced at the howling nobleman.

"The darkness belongs to us." Fell said in a low voice. "They can't find any shelter in the dark."

Aleister nodded, picked up the monster, and quickly disappeared into the night with it.

At this moment, in the courtyard of this luxurious mansion, only Fair exists.A moment later, he called his adjutant on the comm channel.

"Adbeman, where is the original body now?"

"Who's talking?"

asked his adjutant rustling through the channel. "Is it the third company commander Phil Zalost, or the former third company commander Phil Zalost?"

"."

Fell cursed a curse word in Terra slang in a low voice, and a successful ridicule came from the communication channel immediately.

Adbeman's voice came later: "The original body is overlooking the tower on the A-7 area. He wanted to act with us, but was persuaded by a certain company commander to go back."

"Who?"

"Who else could it be, my Captain? Besides First Captain VanCleef, who else would dare to confront the Primarch and persuade him to enjoy this dinner, not to participate in it, to be stained with blood?"

Van Cliff
Fell almost sighed—this was the same captain he had sympathetically pushed to deliver the bad news to their Primarch.

He has to admit that Van Cleef's odd insistence at certain critical moments does always work.

"I see," he said over the comm channel. "Keep going, Adbiman, and make sure all sinners get what they deserve tonight."

His adjutant didn't answer, just smiled hoarsely.

Fair hung up the call, turned around, jumped over the tall walls of the mansion, and started running under the night.His movement is so smooth, so natural, as if he knows this place well.

Ten minutes later, he accurately arrived at the only tower in the A-1 area.

They didn't call these places by their original names, but renamed them with cold numbers.This is in line with the usual style of the Eighth Army, efficient, ruthless, and fast.

Fair climbed up the tower and saw a tall figure.Their Primarchs gazed down peacefully and calmly, taking in all that was going on in Prim's hive.

"The Primarch." Feil lowered his head and spoke softly. "How did you feel about the dinner?"

"I don't know how to answer your question, Phil."

Conrad Koz turned away with a smile and shook his head.

His pale face was as unpredictable as a flashing light under such a dim light, and there was a calmness in those two pitch-black eyes. Suddenly, Feier felt a chill in his heart, and for some reason, he felt a kind of suddenness. solemn.

".I don't understand your words."

"Honor." Curz said slowly. "Why did my third company commander forget my words so quickly?"

"."

Phil lowered his head without saying a word.

"I feel fine, Phil," Conrad Curz said calmly and softly. "You don't know, but I'm actually the same as you, this is the first time I came to Prime. I used to only work in Quintus"

He smiled and shook his head.

"But I have known Prim for a long time. The weapons it produces are circulated in various hives, and sometimes they can even replace money and wealth as another form of transaction currency. Isn't it amazing?"

".I don't see where the point of wonder lies, Primarch."

"In the word itself."

Konrad Curz walked past Fair gently, and observed the scene on the other side of the steeple with his back turned to him.Some shadows jumped back and forth in the dark, flashing lights, and screaming.His smile began to widen.

"wonderful?"

"Yes, it's amazing. You see, Phil, there is only one order in Nostramo, and that is power brought about by violence. However, even so, the nobles are still accustomed to using interests Divide everything."

"They danced in the gloomy palace in the warm and comfortable skin of innocent people, drinking blood, but they pretended to be followers of order."

"Don't you think there's a weird sense of absurdity in it?"

Fair Zalost did not answer his Primarch's words immediately.He just thinks - thinks extremely seriously.

After a long time, he answered Curz's words slowly and carefully.

"Indeed, Primarch," he said gravely. "But it just proves their pompousness, that they're nothing more than a bunch of monsters who don't deserve any sympathy."

"That's true of the nobles."

The Lord of the Eighth Legion raised his head, with a gleaming chain around his neck.They bind a gilded pendant.

"Gangs aren't, Phil."

Coz spoke in a low voice.

"The general lifespan of the gangs in Nostramo's nest is two to three years. Only the leader can live longer, but it can't exceed 20 years."

"Gangs usually have two ways to recruit newcomers. One is to go to the sons of workers, and the other is to obtain the supply directly from the embryo-cloning laboratory. Of course, there is a third method besides this."

He turned around smiling.

"I'm sure you've seen the third way."

Fair Zarost slowly clenched his right fist.

"Yes." He whispered back. "Kids Under Control"

"Yeah, kids. So, the nobles are monsters, but the gangs aren't."

"They are monsters made by nature, people who have been forced to be monsters by suffering. They are now skinny and have strange faces, but they were not what they used to be."

Fell watched his primarch cautiously, wondering what Konrad Curze would say next.

However, Conrad Coz said nothing.

He was just silent.

Pale and tall giants stood on top of the minaret, their tuxedos matched the reliefs of the minaret below them, and not far away were blood-stained statues staring blankly into the sky.

He stared into the distance without saying a word. In the darkness under his feet, many shadows stopped at the same moment and stared at the tower.

After a long time, the Lord of the Eighth Legion let out a sigh.

"...but they can't be saved anymore," he said sadly. "Or, there's only one way to save them."

Phil pursed his lips.

There's no such thing as true empathy—yes, it does, he agrees.But...why, he wants to cry at this moment? ——
"We'll tell you everything, Khalil." Enric replied seriously.

He's not promising, nor is he trying to hide some crucial nuance.

He said the four words "knowing everything without saying anything" sincerely.It is true that Khalil Rohars is still full of mysteries and doubts for the current Eighth Army, but does it matter?

Conrad Coates trusted him, and he has lived up to that trust so far.

That's enough, it's enough for Anrik to be honest.

"Don't be so nervous," Khalil said with a smile. "I won't ask you some questions that may involve the internal secrets of the Legion. I just want to ask, what do you think of Nostramo?"

Enrique didn't need to look in the mirror to know that his expression was probably very exciting at the moment-but he was wearing a helmet.

"Nostramo is a planet that should not exist."

His adjutant said so, his voice was low, and the sound changing function of the breathing grille had been turned off.Richter's own voice sounded clear under the night, with his unique seriousness and earnestness.

Of course, his words made Enric almost pull out his bolter.

Khalil nodded noncommittally. "What else? I believe you won't end it like this, Richter? I'm looking forward to hearing a wonderful narrative, even if it's a little lengthy, it doesn't matter."

"Khalil—shall I speak for him?"

The tall giant looked over amusedly, shook his head, and his attitude was so relaxed that Enrique was almost stunned.

"Why so nervous, Captain Barbatos?"

He blinks. "I said it all, just asking a few questions."

Before Eric could answer, Richter continued.He still holds the hilt of the power sword with his right hand, with a serious posture.

"Two days ago, we knew nothing about this planet. We only knew that the Primarch had been found, so we rushed all the way here without stopping."

"We are lucky that we have no tasks to deal with, otherwise, the time when we meet the Primarch may have to be pushed back for a long time."

"In the empire, most of the legions have already welcomed back their genetic father. Except for the No.12 Legion, No.19 Legion and No.20 Legion, we are the only ones."

"Unlike the war dogs with strict military discipline, we hardly cooperate with anyone. Unlike the No.19 Legion, although we are as proficient in infiltrating behind enemy lines and fighting in small-scale groups as they are, the sins we have erased cannot be wiped out. Make it public."

"Our honor is no less than theirs, but within the empire, no one will compare us with the No.19 Legion."

"The No.20 Legion is extremely mysterious. They almost only need to be responsible to the Emperor. We are almost not needed, Lord Khalil."

"We are loyal to the Emperor, and we know that sins should be wiped out. In fact, we are happy to hide in the dark."

"One thing, however, I cannot deny. I am sure neither my captain nor any of my brothers—we are always envious when we hear of our cousins ​​in other regiments."

"We do not know where our primarch is, nor do we know if he is healthy. We know nothing of him, Lord Khalil."

"And now, we are standing here, we are standing on the parent planet of the Primarch - we are standing on a living hell. Now, we have been able to understand what our Primarch is going through what."

"And you, you as his adoptive father"

Richtner released his right hand, raised it slowly, and took off the helmet.

Two meandering marks glistened on his face.

"We really don't know how to thank you," Richter said hoarsely. "I know that my words may be far from the answer you want to hear, but that's all I can say. I'm really not good at words."

He closed his eyes, wiped away his tears with his cold armor, and put the helmet on again.

Silent, Khalil nodded slowly.

He remembered every word Richtner said in his heart. These words were the blood that flowed from a heart.If he let them be sprinkled in the cold rainy night, then he would hate himself.

"Your words almost make me wonder how to answer you."

Khalil said quietly.

"You thank me, but I did not raise Konrad Curtz out of goodness. I have my purpose, Richtner of the Eighth Legion. Don't think of me as a noble saint, I Not at all, actually."

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Senhan's coldness descended completely in the next moment.The raindrops were frozen, and the humming and running of the power armor almost stopped.Enrique's eyes widened, and a noun popped up in his mind.

But the words that Khalil Rohars uttered were very different from the ones in his mind.

"I am the vengeful spirit they call."

he said quietly.

"I am the faith behind that cult, with blood on my hands and countless kills. Richtenar of the Eighth Legion, Enrique Barbatos of the Eighth Legion, remember this"

"Don't forget."

　It’s almost a rewrite. I choose between quantity and quality.
　　I updated it to [-] today, try to update it to [-] or [-] tomorrow, anyway, I will try my best.

　　However, it seems that the separate development of the chapters is not very good, and the average subscription will be lost, so I will continue to publish the big chapter tomorrow.

　　good night.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)