40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 17 17. Communication is important

It took nearly an hour and a half for Khalil to slowly return to the shelter. The fatigue and pain caused by overusing that kind of power was one aspect, and the more important factor was that he had collected a little information about the prey.

A hunter should always master these things, at least to catch some traces. Otherwise, how can he hunt?

Pulling up with both hands, he came to the top of the building. As he expected, the ghost was squatting on the top of the shelter staring at their rainwater filter.

He liked to drink the slightly bitter water after filtering, so he treasured the rainwater filter very much.

The cold wind blew, and the heavy rain poured down violently. The cloak could no longer stop such violence, and Khalil's clothes were already soaked. Nostramo on a stormy night was very difficult even for him.

He was very cold, and his skin soaked by the rain was also painful, but it didn't matter.

A flash of blue light, Khalil appeared on the roof.

"Ghost."

The huge black shadow squatting on the top of the shelter turned his head suddenly, then rushed down, breaking the rain curtain: "Khalil! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern, ghost. Also, go inside. Didn't I say that you should stay inside when the weather is bad?"

"But." The ghost made way and came behind Khalil, saying hesitantly. "If I'm inside, I won't see you coming back."

Khalil paused, then he continued as if nothing had happened: "You can hear my footsteps coming back, right?"

"It's raining hard." The ghost said. "And the wind. I didn't hear you coming back just now."

"."

Khalil didn't say anything, just came to the door of the shelter, then gently lifted the new door of the shelter up a bit, and then pushed the door open.

Compared with its predecessor, it is a little more complete. Although the degree is limited, it is enough.

There are always few choices.

Walking in slowly, Khalil took off his cloak and threw it into a corner. The rainstorm had washed away the blood, so it didn't need to be cleaned, and it couldn't be cleaned anymore.

It was about to break down.

The ghost quietly closed the door, skillfully returned to his corner, and began to poke his wooden board with his nails. Seeing this, Khalil couldn't help but sigh.

"Khalil?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you sighing?"

The ghost's tone was a bit obvious, which made Khalil, who had his back to him, silent for a moment.

".Because, I'm in a complicated mood now, ghost."

"Is it because I didn't do my job well?"

"No, no, you did a good job. I saw it when I came back, and every sentry post was cleaned. You did a good job, ghost."

"But."

"I'm fine, ghost."

Khalil turned his head and smiled at the ghost. He sat on the tattered chair and saw the chipped tin cup beside him.

A cup of bitter filtered water was waiting.

He reached out and took it, sipping it. His body was in a bad condition, and he really needed a glass of water or a piece of nutrient paste. Compared with the latter, Khalil would rather choose the former.

"Thank you for preparing the water for me, Ghost." Khalil said. "In addition, our plan was successful, thanks to you."

"Really?"

"Of course it's true."

"But." Ghost said hesitantly. "I feel that clearing the sentry is of no use to the whole plan. The key is the people of the Scolavik family, and they are your target."

Khalil did not answer this sentence immediately, he just drank the second sip of water. In the bitterness that spread from the tip of his tongue, he asked: "How does it feel?"

"Ah?"

"Your first free play. How does it feel, Ghost?"

The Ghost was silent, as it should be. Khalil was not surprised by this result-he didn't expect a one-and-a-half-year-old child to express his feelings. Even if the child is more than two meters tall and can tear apart armored vehicles with a wave of his hand.

Strength and mind have never been linked.

However, communication like this is necessary.

There is no real empathy between people, even between relatives. Perfect communication ability is one of the most precious things evolved by humans, and Khalil will not waste it.

"I"

The ghost looked ahead blankly. At this moment, his eyes were not on Khalil. He looked at the darkness, and the darkness stared at him with the same intensity.

Khalil waited patiently.

"I feel bad." The ghost said slowly.

"Because you killed them?"

"No, because."

"Because?"

"Because they all cry." The ghost pursed his lips and said. "Khalil, they are not human, but why do they cry?"

Good question.

Khalil put down the water glass.

"Because of fear."

"Fear?"

Khalil smiled slightly.

"Yes, because they are afraid of death. Just like anger, fear will also drive people to do things they may not want to do. Let me guess, someone begged you for mercy tonight?"

".Yes." The ghost whispered. "Barry, his name is Barry."

The ghost was silent for a moment, and Khalil just listened quietly, without trying to interrupt or ask questions.

He has always been a good listener.

"He cried and begged me for mercy, saying that he was forced by the Skolewock family to oppress the workers. Just like you said, I asked him."

The ghost raised his head and looked at Khalil. He could see in the darkest of nights, so he could see the calm on Khalil's face right now.

"I asked him if the Skolewock family allowed them to eat cannibals, open butcher shops, murder, traffic people, kill people on the street, and rob wantonly. He was stunned."

"I also told him that since he has accepted himself as a servant of the Skolywock family and has enjoyed the benefits, he should not complain anymore."

"He then said he joined a gang because he wanted to survive."

The ghost pursed his lips: "He didn't lie, Khalil, he really thought so. But why? Do people have to rely on oppression and violence to survive in Nostramo?"

Another good question, and one that deserves an all-night talk to explain.

"That depends on how you define alive, ghost." Khalil leaned on his chair and raised his head.

The clothes that were completely soaked by the rain continued to sting, and he could not take off his clothes, otherwise, the clothes that had become heavy due to the acid rain might peel off a layer of his skin.

Khalil doesn't have the extra power to heal himself now, and he doesn't want to use it for such a thing.

Furthermore, in his opinion, this tingling feeling was actually a good thing.

Pain wakes people up.

"Living, doesn't it mean living?" Ghost asked puzzledly.

"No, no, everyone has their own answer to this question. Since you asked, I will tell you my opinion, Ghost."

"You can listen and you can memorize them, but don't regard them as your own ideas. In the future, you will have your own answers to these questions."

Khalil spoke softly.

"In my opinion, there are two definitions of living. The first is to be like a saw-toothed beast outside the city. It only desires full food, a cave to live in, and a partner to mate. Other than that, it doesn't think about anything else."

"The second one is different."

"Pursue delicious food. Pursue a home that can not only protect you from wind and rain, but also be exquisite and warm. Pursue what you love, your lover and the continuation of life, your children."

"Can you tell the difference, Ghost?"

Once again, the ghost gave Khalil an answer with his characteristic blank expression.

The ghost couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the sanctuary. The wind outside the house was howling miserably, and his laughter was mixed in, but it didn't make people feel terrible.

".I don't see the difference, Khalil," the ghost replied with some frustration. He was so easy to read, all the emotions were written on his face, like an open book.

Khalil was still smiling and shook his head: "It's normal that you don't understand, and no one would ask a one-and-a-half-year-old child to understand this, but I hope you remember one thing."

"What's up?"

Khalil spoke softly: "The man named Barry is pursuing the second type."

The ghost's eyes widened in surprise - Khalil described the second kind of life as very beautiful, which made him confused, why could Barry be related to the second kind?

"Actually, Ghost. All the gangs and nobles on Nostramo are pursuing the second type. But this does not mean that the second type is bad. They just used the wrong method, and it is very wrong. horrible."

"method?"

"Yeah, we can't blame them entirely for the method. There's something wrong with this world, Ghost."

Khalil raised his head, closed his eyes, and sighed slightly tiredly. His voice became softer next, like a whisper before going to bed or a murmur in a dream.

“Everyone wants to live a better life, and everyone wants to live with dignity. No one wants to endure the harsh environment of working in a factory for eighteen hours, and then drag his tired body back home, in a smelly and cramped environment. Coughing up blood in their shacks and bringing illness to their families.”

Ghost saw rain streaking across Khalil's face.

"No one wants to endure that, and no one should have to endure it. But they have to endure it. They only have two choices, join a gang, or die late at night."

"Those who choose the latter can only swallow everything, swallow the suffering, sadness, anger, and despair. Some people have resisted, but their resistance is nothing in the face of automatic guns."

"It shouldn't be like this, Ghost." Khalil said in a low voice. "This world shouldn't be like this."

"Are you sad, Khalil?" the ghost asked cautiously.

"No."

"But, you seem to be-"

"—Wake me up in seven hours, okay, ghost?"

"ah?"

"I need a break." Khalil opened his eyes and smiled calmly. "We have one final step to take in our plan, so wake me up in seven hours, okay?"

".Okay, Khalil." Ghost replied in a low voice.

For some reason, Ghost felt a little sad at this moment.

But not because of Barry.