40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 99 2. Friendly Communication (3k)

Robert Guilliman could smell blood.

He cautiously walked through the darkness without saying a word, his iron boots rolling over heavily on the ground.The sound of the fine construction slag being crushed was so obvious, and he was holding his dagger with a posture so careful that it was almost incomprehensible.

The ruined fortress is already full of corpses, and the blue emblem stubbornly stays on the power armor.The murderer deliberately preserved every emblem, all the corpses were killed with one blow, and there was no extra action other than that.

He observed these details, took them all in, and began to sigh silently.

He wouldn't have walked into the fort himself if he had any ground man he could mobilize—not even a troop carrier.

If he dies, then he loses.

But he had no choice, he had to walk in here himself.Darkness spread across his retinas, and nothing could stop them, any more than Khalil Rohars could.

His final squad of 170 men entered the battered fortress, armed to the teeth, and died in just four minutes.

The communication channel was always terribly quiet, he could only hear short and hasty screams, other than that, there was nothing else.

a ghost.Guilliman could not help letting his thoughts wander for a moment in that direction.But he didn't neglect to investigate the battlefield environment. He passed a corner, and the corpses on the ground stung his eyes.

Guilliman forced himself to ignore them, and continued on, until he entered the darkest depths - a broken hall.

The doors and windows collapsed, and only three of the eight long columns used to support the hall remained.The broken ceiling ushered in the baptism of moonlight, gentle but weird.A giant stood with his back facing him among the ruins, with an elegant posture, as if he was just a bird of prey resting.

Guilliman tensed his muscles, and the armor began to emit an eerie hum.

"One-on-one?"

His adversary, the monster in the dark—the titan who survived the six-hour bombardment unscathed and killed three thousand Ultramarines, Khalil Rohars asked in his calm voice.

So Guilliman replied.

"One on one." He said in a low voice. "There's no other way to win."

"You still have air power," Khalil said pointedly. "Those gunboats, why not use them?"

"Because this is already an extremely unfair battle, a pair of three thousand, I can't let the balance tilt to my side anymore."

Guilliman said with a wry smile: "But I still don't understand how you did it."

"Fear," Khalil said, turning around with a calm expression, blood all over his shirt.

This strange contrast sent a chill down Guilliman's spine. He knew the character of the other party, but he still inevitably felt the needle-like sensation on his back, which hurt him deeply and made him frown.

"fear?"

"Yes, fear."

"My Legion has no fear."

"Are they human, Robert?" Khalil asked. "If they are, they will, it's just a matter of how much they can take."

"You mean, you defeated my three thousand warriors with fear?"

"Yes." Khalil nodded lightly, calmly as if he was really just narrating a fact without any waves.

Guilliman shook his head, hiding his irritation well.He didn't want to say any more, after all, he knew very well that his opponent wouldn't lie.

"Ready?" Khalil asked curtly.

"Of course," Guilliman said.

The next second, the arbiter he held in his left hand fired.

The highly modified bolter was no longer what it had been, the miniature atomic compression warhead ripping through the air as it charged furiously at the moon-bathed giant.

Guilliman's shot was accurate, there's no doubt about it.He fired three times, one in the head, one in the left rib, and one in the right chest.If he can hit, his opponent will lose all combat power.

But the bullets didn't hit their target, they smashed up some of the collapsed building material of what was once a fortress, that's all.As for his opponent.
Guilliman swung his right hand violently, and the short sword drew a beautiful arc in the air.

His swordsmanship is superb, otherwise he would not use this dagger as his melee weapon, but it is not enough compared to his enemies.

Between the interlaced blades, sparks burst out, like burning flames, a pale face flashed away, and in the next second, Robert Guilliman lost his balance and fell to the ground.

what happened?

He couldn't understand, but his opponent didn't pursue the victory, so he climbed up again, and the blade slashed towards the enemy's place that the retina caught before it fell-he didn't cut through, but hit a solid palm.

consternation.

Is it because I didn't activate the decomposition position?

"Hmm interesting." His opponent looked thoughtfully at his bleeding left hand and nodded. "Some details are still incomplete. If this is a power sword in reality, my hand should no longer exist."

"you"

Guilliman wanted to say something, but his adversary didn't give him the chance.Khalil Rohars calmly grasped the stiletto of sincerity, and snatched away the weapon that had accompanied Guilliman for so many years.

His hands were bleeding, but Guilliman acted more like the wounded man.

"You can choose to surrender," Khalil whispered.

"no way!"

Guilliman fired, howling, not aiming, not expecting the Arbiter to hit Khalil, he just needed the bolt to go off, that's all.As long as he can distract Khalil a little bit, he will have a chance of victory.

An eerie hum began to accompany the clenching of his left fist—the dominant hand, his power gauntlet.

surrender?He still has the strength to fight, and he will never surrender.

"Ah."

Facing the coming storm-like attack, his opponent just nodded thoughtfully.

Then, he disappeared into the darkness with an elusive speed.Guilliman's eyes widened, unable to understand how he did this, but he found a fleeting black shadow in the corner of his eyes.

He raised his left fist and swung it in that direction—and then, a sharp pain came from behind him.

"See you outside," said his opponent.

Guilliman fell to the ground, cold, and a familiar irritation.He sighed and answered Khalil's words in his dying moments.

"See you outside," he said dejectedly.
-
There was a sound of electric current buzzing in the back of his head. Guilliman opened his eyes, almost dazed by the sudden light stimulation.

He sat up with a sudden, drowning panic—he would do it every time he used the machine.

He can only get used to it and cannot change it.It wasn't until after a while that the dreams woven by the meditator gradually faded away that he sighed, took off the magnetic headband covering his head, and saw a giant standing in front of him.

He smiled at Guilliman and handed him a cup of hot water.The Primarch of the Ultramarines subconsciously reached out to take it, and the just right temperature made the feeling of drowning fade faster, but he was not happy, only annoyed.

"Why do you wake up so quickly every time?" Guilliman asked puzzled. "This machine that does simulated combat makes my limbs feel stiff every time I use it up."

"I don't know," Khalil Rohars replied softly, smiling. "But I'm surprised you're still so obsessed with letting the Ultramarines strike first."

"I know what you want to say." Guilliman shook his head. "Our score is ten to one. I only beat you once. If I use that method, I will keep winning, but what's the point?"

"and"

He narrowed his eyes. "I also really want to beat you once in close combat."

"You won once."

"Not alone, my regiment created opportunities for me. If you don't get a direct hit from a sniper from a distance, I can't win."

Khalil smiled without saying a word, and after a moment of silence, he made a suggestion.

"Your thinking is stuck in some kind of misunderstanding," he said. "You want to fight me fairly, so you reduce the number of your legion, limit air power, and even bomb the number less and less every time"

"It's just a simulated battle, but you don't need to pursue any glory or fairness in it. In it, I am your enemy, and you should do your best to win. In fact, if I were you, I would directly turn the fort into a sea of ​​flames."

Pursing his lips, Guilliman nodded.He didn't want to admit that Khalil was right, and he didn't want to admit that he wasted a lot of time these days chasing glory and fairness in mock battles. But he had to.

Because he knew Khalil was right.

"Why are you always right?" Guilliman complained, with a natural familiarity in his attitude—one and a half months into the voyage, they met almost every day, and it was hard to think they were not familiar.

"I dare not say that." Khalil chuckled. "Even a machine cannot always be right, just like your thinker, if I keep asking it what 1+1 is equal to, it will collapse sooner or later."

Guilliman looked at the thing and shook his head slowly.

"Maybe." He stood up noncommittally. "The machine itself does have a lifespan, but my Thinker is not an antique."

He raised his head, drank the hot water in one gulp, and then called the instructor of the Eighth Army out of the room.

"It's almost six o'clock," said Robert Guilliman. "Instructor Khalil, we are going to have a regular meeting."

Khalil sighed slowly.

"Tell me, Robert, did this tradition of meeting and handling paperwork within your Ultramarine Corps come into being after I came?"

Guilliman didn't answer, just pushed open the door and walked away quickly.

　There is also a chapter of 2k. I am afraid that I will not finish it, so I will cut it off in advance and release it first.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)