40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 605 123. Dark Crusade (Forty-four)

"Let them cease fire!" a voice roared in the joint communication network of the Red Tear fleet. "There must be some kind of misunderstanding!"

Misunderstand? Gabriel Seth almost laughed.

No misunderstanding, absolutely not. Moreover, no one would call a light spear that penetrated the center of the fleet a misunderstanding.

Why?

Because this weapon is not a handheld firearm or a machine controlled by a gunner in a heavy vehicle, it is a sophisticated, large and dangerous weapon, and misfire was not in its design language from the beginning.

The captain gave the order, the machine was delivered, and the light spear was warmed up - the whole process even took several minutes or even ten minutes. To put it another way, if a light spear really started to warm up without receiving an order, the alarm would immediately sound on the bridge.

Everyone will be aware of this unexpected situation and react accordingly. Therefore, there is no misunderstanding, this luminous spear is aimed at them.

The battleships of the Ultramarines were fired at the combined fleet of Blood Angels, Blood Knights, Lamenters and Flesh Tearers.

Robert Guilliman's son attacks Sanguinius' son.

is it possible?

Gabriel Seth's face suddenly twisted, and rage spread across it, but he miraculously resisted the urge to roar.

Not far away, the blasphemous sounds made by the demons sounded incessantly behind the closed solid steel door of the main bridge, similar to a terrifying symphony.

Several temporarily rescued communication instruments are flashing red, and sweaty maintenance personnel and servitors are debugging them in order to gain the ability to communicate in real time - at least, to pass commands to the nearest few. battleship.

The Sons of Angel firmly occupied this place and guarded it heavily. Soldiers coming from all decks surrounded the place. Machine gun positions have also been established. The brave and fearless Marines were even one step ahead of the Sons of Sanguinius. Reorganized the organization, recovered from the raid, and fought all the way from the end of the ship to here.

Seth looked around and took all this information into his mind, but his rage did not diminish by half.

He dropped his gun, threw it into the hands of a Blood Angels battle-brother, motioned for him to take aim at Callistarius in the middle of the ritual for him, and then strode towards the Lamenter's battlefield. Head of the group Malakin Flowers.

The anger on the latter's face was no less than his, but it was not as brutal, and there was no madness that Seth had hidden and had not yet revealed. The Weeper still retains his sanity, and most of it - all of this is probably inseparable from the knife he is holding in his hand.

Seth glanced at it and said, "We have to find a way to pass on the order - and, where is Dante?"

"At the stern," Malakin said simply and clearly. "It is said that a new demonic tide broke out there, and Centor has already rushed there. They want to try to close the portal before the demonic tide forms a climate."

Seth nodded coldly and turned to point at the few huge instruments: "Based on this efficiency, it will take us at least forty minutes to restore ship-to-ship communication capabilities. We can't wait. Get up, Malaki."

"what you up to?"

"The Red Tears still has eight artillery positions to maintain combat effectiveness."

The Flesh Tearer cruelly grinned his lips, opening his mouth to reveal a complete combat strategy that made Malakin more and more frightened as he listened.

"Moreover, they have a manual control system. Skilled gunners and loaders can put the firepower they are responsible for into a firing preheating state within three minutes. As for how to aim after losing the auspicious instrument and rangefinder instrument. I think we You don’t have to be too precise, just send a signal.”

He raised his right hand and made a fist.

Malakin had fully understood what his unspoken words meant, but he was still worried about something else. He was silent for a few seconds, coming up with a conjecture that Seth didn't even bother to think about.

"But, what if-"

"——I know what you want to say."

Seth said, his jaw tensing again and his fangs poking out of his thin lips, creating a palpable sense of menace.

"But we can't bet on that, Malakin, and I don't believe that Robert Guilliman's Ultramarines warships could go off. Blood and Throne, this is a fucking joke."

"Do you believe it? Do you believe that those schizophrenic war maniacs and scribes would let their warships neglect maintenance, cause their instruments to malfunction, and even go so far as to cause their light spears to misfire?"

Malakin didn't answer, just took a deep breath.

Seth suddenly roared: "Counterattack! The entire fleet, immediately! Otherwise, wait for death!"

Two minutes later, his order was carried out. The Red Tears responded with a salvo, and the voice in the communication channel quickly fell into silence. Immediately afterwards, the fleet began to disperse and move in an offensive formation.

The destroyers and carrier-based aircraft rushed forward, followed closely by the cruisers, ranging from light to heavy, weaving a dense firepower net. The battleships and battle barges began to warm up their weapons, and the shuttles and boarding torpedoes were fired together, rushing towards the fleet belonging to the Ultramarines.

Indeed, there were still people who were hesitant and did not give the order to fire. But more people have realized the meaning behind the Red Tears' counterattack. Like Malakin, they did not believe that the Ultramarines would attack them indiscriminately.

Eleven minutes after the war began, this was verified again, because the Ultramarines fleet did not respond to any communication requests and began to counterattack.

So the war officially started.

This time, there was no room for rebuttal.

——

"What have you done!" roared Sergeant Isis 'Exemplar' Tachar of the 117th Ultramarines Reserve Company.

He lost his left hand, which disappeared completely from the shoulder. The wound had already stopped bleeding, but no medical treatment was done, and the wound with obvious teeth marks was exposed nakedly.

Dark red blood spread on his armor. This glorious MK4 was not the first time it was stained with blood, but this was the first time it was stained red with his own blood.

He was unarmed, and even the most basic combat dagger was missing. There were 329 Ultramarines who were in such a terrible situation like him.

Half a natural month ago, this number was 1,294. A week ago, before they were captured, the number was 544.

And a day ago, the number was 417.

In just one day, they lost 88 people. They were not casualties in combat, not killed in the void sea battle or the war against demons, but were eaten as food.

Without honor or dignity, they were put on the table, their armor was torn off, and then they were cruelly eaten alive. This process is extremely bloody and often accompanied by screams.

This is unbelievable, because those screams are full of fear. Astartes do not have such an emotion, at least that is what the sergeant who is known as a model thinks.

He has been in the army for 29 years, and he has never felt this emotion since the transformation operation was completed. He understands why, it is a dual transformation of physical and mental.

The operation suppressed their emotions, and the acquired training and the atmosphere within the chapter made them truly fearless.

Until they met that monster.

Robert Guilliman smiled silently, his lips stained with blood, his face handsome, and his golden hair fluttering gently in the breeze.

"It seems that I was right to only enjoy your left hand, Isis." He said softly. "I admire your courage, so I will answer your question."

He moved the bench away and strolled among the corpses. Suddenly he bent down, gently picked up a leg bone, and knocked it on the table that had been completely stained with blood.

"What did I do? This is a complicated question. Since I was truly born, I have done many things. At first I ran away, then I rested and looked for a suitable source of food."

"Don't worry, my son, I know what you want to know most. You want to know what the strange tremor just now was caused by, right? The answer is actually very simple."

He smiled and threw away the leg bone, shook his head, and tapped his temple with his right hand. The brilliance of psychic energy flashed and disappeared.

"I ordered the warship to fire."

He whispered, but his voice echoed throughout the banquet hall. All the Ultramarines heard his words, and everyone trembled to varying degrees.

As early as eight hours ago, they learned about the existence of the descendants of Sanguinius through the porthole and the monster's narration.

"Who to fire at?" Robert Guilliman asked again.

He began to walk around the long table, like a teacher giving a lesson, with a calm and rational tone. His clothes dragged in the blood and corpses, and had long been stained red, just like his hands, but his face still had a childlike innocence.

Isis felt an uncontrollable nausea, something was breaking through the muscles inside his throat-finally, it resounded in this hell.

"You will die, you will definitely die. No matter what you are, Robert Guilliman will kill you, we will kill you!" The sergeant roared with hatred.

The thing smiled and returned to his seat.

"I am Robert Guilliman." He supported his left cheek and said so.

"You're just a monster!"

"Yes, but isn't that the fool destined to be devoured by me?" He asked back, with a gleam of reason in his eyes.

Realizing this made it increasingly difficult for the sergeant to control his emotions. He couldn't understand, absolutely couldn't understand.

If he looked like a simple monster, if the eyes were shining with pure malice at this moment, then the sergeant might not be so emotional.

However, at this moment, this evil thing with the face and physique of the Primarch really looked exactly like Robert Guilliman.

Completely the same.

How could it be? How could it be possible?

"He is also a monster. Don't say you haven't felt it, Sergeant. You have seen him, haven't you? I saw it in your brother's memory. Your nickname comes from him."

"He praised your contribution in the war, shook your hand, patted your shoulder affectionately, and told you your past life story one by one. He performed perfectly, just like the father, general and leader you imagined."

"But is it really so? Is there really a person who is so consistent with your imagination? You actually noticed it, Isis, you know what your Primarch hides under that amiable face."

"When you shook hands with him, you briefly felt his power. When you talked to him, you noticed the tip of the iceberg of his huge thoughts. And his memory, his adaptability, and even his manners when he walked-"

Robert Guilliman sighed and stood up again, with his hands behind his back, and walked to a porthole, his voice low.

"- all tell you that he is not a human, but a monster."

He turned his head, and half of his profile looked terrifying and natural in the firelight burning outside the porthole, handsome as always.

"Just like me." He said so. "It's just that I choose to face myself, while he chooses to tie his own hands and feet and indulge in lies, that's all."

"You are not him." Isis gritted his teeth and answered, but his voice was very light. "You are definitely not him."

"Yes, I am not."

Robert Guilliman turned his head, walked towards him, and then pressed the unresisting sergeant onto the dining table. All those who tried to rescue him were bound by a powerful psychic force, and the sergeant himself was the only one who did not fall into this prison.

However, facing the shouts of his brothers, he said nothing, as if he was already dead.

Robert Guilliman reached out to wipe away his tears and blood, and shook his head gently.

"Don't worry." He comforted. "You will understand everything soon."

He opened his mouth, bit off his left index finger, and then inserted it into the sergeant's eye socket. Blood splattered, and the broken index finger slowly sank into it. The sergeant was silent, only trembling and convulsing.

In some strange sound that made people's teeth ache, his body began to deform. Guilliman stood aside patiently, using psychic power to help him calm down, and even quietly changed the shape of the power armor to make it fit the sergeant's changed body shape.

A few minutes later, unknowingly, the sergeant's empty left hand returned, but he stood up from the table as if he didn't notice it and walked out of the banquet hall.

There were many things like him standing there.

Robert Guilliman smiled and looked at the other Ultramarines. They said nothing and fell into a dead silence, but no one's expression wavered.

"Now, Sergeant Isis has understood the necessity of my action. As for you, if we still have time, I will change your minds one by one, but we are in a war, so-"

He walked towards them, his mouth was full of saliva, and his bright red tongue began to lick his lips constantly.

"-I need strength." He spoke gently.

"Otherwise, how can I face the sons of Sanguinius? I can't fail, my sons. I have spent a lot of effort to get to where I am today, to control these warships and worlds. And you, I believe you are ready to die for me."

"For the Emperor." Someone said, the voice was extremely firm.

Guilliman sighed regretfully, and then rushed in with his index finger moving.