40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 161 22. Eternal

Enrik Barbatos has lost count of the number of aliens that have died under his hands, and his hands have turned a pure scarlet color. This is true of everything, everything will turn to its extreme, and too much killing will also add certain marks to people.

For the members of the Eighth Legion, they have long been accustomed to this.

When it comes to the killing itself, they are already numb and indifferent. But if the target of killing is added to this discussion, the nature of the matter will immediately change.

Take Enric's current behavior as an example - he is not judging.

He is seeking revenge.

You can see his true emotions at the moment by the speed at which he flies through the darkness, and you can also see it by the alien screaming in his left hand. The latter's skin and flesh were mutilated, and he screamed, his voice echoing in the darkness.

Enric remained unmoved and just started running coldly. He jumped over the towering earth slopes and the strange altars built by these underground aliens. In his eyes, the world lost its original color, leaving only pure black and white, with clear distinctions. He kept on running, but never forgot his original duty.

"The third area needs support." A voice sounded in the communication channel, that was Richtnar. "We've fought off an attack, but they've just used a sorcery to weaken us, Captain."

Great, one hour ago they were gun-wielding aliens, and an hour later they degenerated into primitive tribal aliens using witchcraft?

Do they still eat meat?

They'd better be carnivorous as well.

Enric raised the corners of his mouth mockingly.

He stopped, briefly gathered strength, and jumped up from the edge of the broken bridge, the sound of wind whistling in his ears. He landed and noticed that the alien's screams had become much weaker, and the blood loss was depriving it of the little life it had left.

He was happy to see it die, but it couldn't die now. Enric took an injection from his armor belt and injected it into the alien. They have hearts and circulatory systems throughout their bodies, which means stimulants can still have an effect on them.

After doing this, he began to make tactical adjustments.

"I will dispatch two hunting teams from Area 5 to provide support for you."

As Enric spoke, he quickly walked around the radiating magic circle, altar, and some alien corpses nailed to them on the ground. He does not want to and will not enter these areas, and would rather take the long way around to do so.

"These things are desperate, you understand, Richter? They need to get into the Spire, and we're not going to let them."

"I understand," Richter said calmly. "However, more and more brothers are showing such symptoms, company commander."

"You can add me too."

".What?"

"You can add me in, Richter. I also have those symptoms." Enric said. "That's it. I'll be back soon. Our plan worked."

He was right - six minutes later, he was back in the third zone.

This is a very large underground space. The bodies of the aliens were scattered everywhere. Many of them had been made into booby traps, and bombs were tied underneath the bodies.

Enric could tell this with just one glance, and he nimbly jumped over them and returned to the rear of the temporary fortifications. Richtnar was the first to discover his return and the first to ask him questions.

"Are you the only one coming back?"

"Yes." Enric said. He let go of his hand and threw the alien that should have died long ago to the ground.

It grunted weirdly and tried to get up from the ground, but in the next second Richter stepped on its back with an iron boot.

From the appearance point of view, this alien is no different from its kind, but it is wearing a gold-rimmed robe. Even if it is stained by blood, the clothes still show a kind of nobility.

The eighth company commander took off his helmet and smiled strangely: "The six brothers who went with me all died. This bastard has a lot of bodyguards."

He lowered his head, stretched out a finger, and used the sharp edge to meaningfully scratch the surface of its skin, paying special attention to the damaged areas. Richtnar frowned, and the force that originally only stopped its movement suddenly became stronger in the next moment.

There was a crisp sound and he stepped on it and broke its back. An unpleasant scream followed, and the alien's limbs fluttered a few times before falling into coma.

"You are so cruel." Enric laughed. "Richter—I thought you wouldn't do such a thing."

"I am a member of the Eighth Legion." Richtnar replied calmly.

"Where is the instructor?" Enric did not answer this sentence, but changed the subject.

"In the minaret." Richter picked it up and handed it to two other Eighth Legion soldiers who came over.

When the spire fell into the ground and there were already two standard Terras, the 8th Company always garrisoned the spire, but slightly expanded the range. The aliens attacked one after another, almost recklessly trying to get closer to the spire.

Even if they don't have facial features that can reveal their expressions, these things look extremely fanatical when attacking. They didn't care about their own lives at all, they just pounced blindly on the soldiers of the 8th Company.

Some of them even had explosives strapped to their bodies, frantically trying to use explosions to wipe out the crude defenses in front of them.

Frankly speaking, this incident was puzzling to the soldiers of the Eighth Company - there was no doubt that this was a premeditated and organized act.

Enric was the first to realize this, and according to the experience of the Eighth Legion, any enemy thrown out as cannon fodder must have a cruel master behind him.

Now, the cruel master has been found - and will there be more? Enric believes that the answer is yes.

Since the war began, not only have their original questions not been answered, but they have also encountered new questions one after another. If I had to say it, it was like being dragged into a quagmire.

The weird technology used by these underground-dwelling aliens, the altar, the sudden collapse of the spire itself, and that... symptom.

Enric lowered his head thoughtfully, raised his helmet, closed the eyepiece, and saw his current eyes through its reflection.

The dark eyes belonging to the Terran disappeared. At this moment, what was surging in his eyes were two dark flames, with only a touch of scarlet in the deepest part.

He sighed and put on his helmet: "Continue to be vigilant. They should organize another wave of attacks soon. Although I captured that bastard, who knows how many there are?"

"Where are you going, Captain?"

"I have some questions to ask the instructor." Enric Barbatos answered calmly.

——

Khalil clenched his hands and exhaled a breath of cold air.

The war continued, the death spread endlessly, the authority in his chest beat with the heart, the power itself was being called, and Khalil handed over these animated powers by his own will. Some other people.

Some people who don't call them.

What are the consequences of doing this? Khalil didn't know, he only knew that he couldn't let an army of the dead really appear on Harkossus One. The Eighth Legion had already shed enough blood today, and he didn't want to see any more.

Khalil senses the situation everywhere on Harkossus 1 through the connection of power. The spire itself as a medium is still functioning, and the aliens living underground are still charging it.

Once a war begins, it will never be deflected by individual will. Khalil is determined to end it, but the other side of the war is not. Or, in their eyes, this is not a war at all, but a happy sacrifice.

Realizing this made Khalil sigh. He closed his eyes, and the blue light escaped, wrapped around the armor, and began to beat continuously.

The steeple yielded obediently to his will, willing to do anything short of halting the sacrifice. In the next second, he came from the top of the steeple to the first floor. Opening his eyes, he saw the silent Enric Barbatos.

"Instructor." The Eighth Company Commander greeted him in a calm voice without using the breathing grille's voice change. "We have set up five defense zones outside the minaret. In a short period of time, they will not be able to reach the minaret."

"Well done, Captain Enric." Khalil nodded gently to him. "But I think you have more to say besides reporting to me."

"...I do," Enric Barbatos said. "But I'm not sure you'll answer."

"I will." Khalil raised his head and looked at the top of the steeple. This towering building actually stayed on the surface from the 70th floor, so he could also 'see' the sky of Harkossus through perception at this moment.

The smoke and firelight had covered up the original blue color without a trace, and what was left was completely incompatible with peace.

Enric was silent for a moment, then took off his helmet, and his burning eyes were completely exposed to the air. Khalil lowered his head and looked at him.

"Did you want to ask that, Enric?"

"Yes, instructor. I want to know what it is, and I still want to know." Enric pursed his lips. "What are you."

Darkness gathered, the skeleton stared at him silently, and a sharp scream gradually came from Enric's ears. His vision gradually blurred, and in this vision, he saw a storm.

"In the eyes of some people or things, it is a blessing and a reward for loyalty. But in my eyes, it is a curse. And I, Enric"

Storm spoke in a low voice.

"I'm Khalil Lohars."

As the words fell, the ground began to tremble.

There is still one chapter left, so I don’t recommend waiting. It’s probably around 12 o’clock.