40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 136 39. Mourning and Funeral (End)

As if his blood was frozen, Robert Guilliman used his extreme rationality to prevent himself from punching the darkness the first moment he heard the sound.

He turned his head, his eyes piercing the night without any hindrance. He saw a pale face, a pale face that belonged to Khalil Lohars, and it was even smiling.

His cheek began to twitch again.

"Khalil?" Angron frowned. "You-you're still alive?"

"I can produce a physical examination report to answer your question." Khalil smiled and shook his head. "But that would be too much trouble, so, yeah, I'm still alive."

"But Kahn said you were dead." Angron stared at Khalil closely as he spoke. "He said even your bones were burned to ashes."

"."

Khalil shook his head dumbfounded: "Kahn. The last words I said to him were that I will be fine. Obviously, he regarded these words as my last words."

"How did you arrive in Nostramo?" Robert Guilliman asked seriously, his expression very tense. The breeze blew by, causing his short golden hair to sway slightly in the dim light of the tarmac, but the eyes underneath were extremely solemn.

"I'm afraid I can't answer that in a way you can understand. But, as Conrad said, we all have him to thank for that dagger."

"What does this have to do with that knife?" Guilliman continued to ask. "I know it looks dangerous, and I can tell it doesn't belong in the 'normal' world, but what does that have to do with it?"

Khalil sighed, then slowly extended his right hand.

"Well, do you really want to know?" he asked curtly. "It's not like we can't do it again if you want."

"What's coming?" Angron asked.

"Handshake," Khalil replied. "A ritual that has been twisted from its original meaning to your brother Roboute Guilliman."

Angron turned his head, glanced at Guilliman, and began to use his gift.

He felt a tense heart, and all the windows that could be observed were closed by its owner. But just closing the doors and windows was not enough. Angron could still observe the light that overflowed through the gaps to capture Robert Key. Some thoughts from Liman.

‘Doubtful’, ‘Is he real? ’, ‘Fuck Imperial Truth’.

What does this have to do with Imperial Truth?

Angron frowned, turned his head and looked at Khalil Lohars.

The latter was smiling, fully aware of his prying eyes, and even allowing him to observe. Staring into those completely dark eyes, Angron suddenly felt a strong impulse, and the next second, his talent began to operate abnormally.

'Some truths are destined to remain unsaid, Angron. They are cursed knowledge, pages soaked in venom by monsters in the dark. At some point, the words on these pages will curl up and become murderous weapons, hurting those who know them. ’

The Nucerian shook his head. It was the first time that he had received such complete words from his gift. This feeling was quite strange.

It was almost as if someone was speaking to himself in a voice that belonged to no one else, inside his skull.

But that's not the point.

The point is - he's confirmed something.

Angron stepped forward and held the right hand. Khalil glanced at him in surprise, and Guilliman let out a cry of surprise from his throat.

However, it was too late.

Angron's vision has entered a higher level.

Someone personally opened a door for him in front of him that was empty and should not exist. From this door, golden light leaked out. This brilliance is not dazzling, but makes people feel warm and welcoming. Then, a voice came from inside.

"Come in, my son."

Angron turned back wordlessly and saw a face that became increasingly pale in the golden light. Khalil Lohars, who had donned a ghostly black robe at some point, was smiling at him silently.

"This is not what I intended to show you or your brother, Angron," he said softly. "But it would actually be better to let him tell his own story. Do you want to go in and talk to him, Angron?"

The Nucerian nodded silently, then straightened his chest and stepped into the door of nothingness.

"What did you do to him?" Guilliman rushed forward. "who are you?!"

Khalil sighed and did not answer the Lord Macragge's question immediately. He supported Angron and let the Primarch of the Warhounds sit down against a metal slope on the tarmac.

Angron's eyes were closed tightly, and although his breathing was steady, he suddenly fell into sleep. Therefore, Robert Guilliman's nervousness is completely understandable.

But this also raises a new question.

+You really give me trouble. +

+It will take me three more days to arrive. First of all, I have to talk to him. +

+What? Are you afraid that you won’t be able to speak after meeting? +

+No. +

+Really? +

There was no answer, and the psychic communication was disconnected.

Khalil stood up helplessly and gestured to Robert Guilliman, who was tensing as if he was about to attack—or rather, he gestured to behind him.

"Whatever you are going to do, I hope you don't do it, Conrad." He said softly. "Robert has no ill will towards me."

Guilliman did not turn back at the first time. He was not sure whether this sentence was a simple trick to deceive him, until his extraordinary perception heard a slight breath. Turning his head, he saw Conrad Curze with a very calm expression.

"He just hasn't confirmed who I am yet." Khalil said slowly. "So, stop turning your wrist. I didn't give it to you to use it for this kind of thing."

"What kind of thing?" Konrad Curze asked softly. "I don't understand."

Robert Guilliman's brows slowly frowned, and then slowly relaxed-he looked at Conrad Curze, then turned his head to look at Khalil Rohals. After repeated confirmation, he finally relaxed his tense muscles with relief.

He is not a slow person. Although he had fallen into some weird misunderstandings before, it did not prevent him from realizing the truth.

"Don't give me that." Khalil said in an almost ruthless manner. "You'd better apologize to your brother now."

"What? No, no need--" Robert Guilliman hurriedly withdrew from the place where their eyes met and stood at the other end of the road. "--Conrad's behavior is completely understandable."

The Lord of the Eighth Legion gave him a silent smile.

"Yes, it can be understood, but it cannot be forgiven just like that." Khalil said seriously.

"This farce itself should not have happened. It was my indulgence in him that led you into such an embarrassing misunderstanding, and what he just wanted to do was beyond my tolerance."

He looked at Conrad Curze: "I don't remember telling you to do this, Conrad."

".What?" Conrad Curze pursed his lips and asked.

"Hurt someone who is good to you."

"I didn't."

"What would you have done if Robert had just rushed at me for Angron?"

"."

"What would you have done?"

"I would have - I would have made him bleed a little." Konrad Curze whispered, his eyes fixed on the tiles under his feet.

Robert Guilliman was not surprised to hear this answer, and even felt a little relieved - he smiled bitterly to himself, thinking of the assassination of his adopted father and his reaction afterwards.

Talasa Euton said that she almost thought Guilliman was crazy at that time.

She didn't see any of the rationality of the past in her adopted son. This beautiful quality was gone, leaving only the purest anger. A kind of anger beyond the scope of human cognition, this emotion, made him look extremely terrifying at the time.

Robert Guilliman was glad that he finally learned to resist that kind of anger, but his brother obviously didn't. Guilliman would not blame him for this, but the current situation was developing in a direction he didn't want to see.

So he spoke again.

"It's nothing, Khalil, you're too hard on him."

"Really?" Khalil asked softly. "But I've actually been indulging him, Robert, otherwise this farce wouldn't have happened. He's still angry with you, otherwise he wouldn't have made such a joke. Of course, he's probably still angry with me."

"Isn't it, Conrad?" He smiled slightly.

Robert Guilliman didn't see any displeasure or other emotions on that pale face.

Realizing this made him feel an urge to leave here, Guilliman knew that he was caught in a family dispute.

He looked at his unconscious brother.

I envy you a little now, Angron.

"Yes." Conrad Curze finally said this after a period of silence. "I'm angry."

"Are you going to say this to me as Conrad Curze?"

"What else?" A hissing voice sounded, Guilliman sighed silently, raised his head, and tried to get his attention away from here. He couldn't understand Nostramo, and now, he actually began to feel lucky about it.

"Midnight Haunter is a two-year-old child, so he can be angry and do irrational things, because these are all forgivable."

Khalil shook his head and began to speak in the same hissing language.

"But Konrad Curze can't. Konrad Curze is the master of the Eighth Legion. You are not just representing yourself, you are also representing Nostramo and the Eighth Legion. Ghost, your behavior just now is equivalent to attempted murder."

"I won't really kill him, I will just make him suffer if he attacks you."

". I'm sure I never taught you this, Ghost." Khalil frowned. "Besides, I don't need you to help me deal with this."

"Then what do you need me to do?" Ghost asked hissingly.

The little box in his heart was finally opened at this moment, and the accumulated emotions burst out completely, making Nostramo sound almost like a fierce roar.

Robert Guilliman turned his eyes away and began to observe the chaotic night of Nostramo. If possible, he hoped that he could be deaf for a short time. Although he could not understand Nostramo, the emotions in his words were obvious. Khalil was silent.

"We'll discuss this tonight," he said. "As for now - back to the identity of Konrad Curze, the gathering of the three primarchs should be celebrated with a dinner."

So twisted

One more chapter