40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 652 35. Belated Judgment (VIII, Plot)

Lion El'Jonson has lived for many years. In the material world, he has spent 10,000 years. Even in myths and legends, this is not a small number.

Many people call him the Son of God with awe, and think that he is another kind of god, a demigod. A living proof that is much superior to them and can fully prove why the Emperor is God.

There are so many such people that they can be lined up from Caliban to the farthest end of the galaxy. Anyone in the Empire who believes in the "Emperor of God" will also believe in him and pray to him at some point.

And the Lion has never heard it, not even once. He can't hear it, and he doesn't want to hear it. Therefore, he will not take a day off every year on the Emperor's Ascension Day to listen to the prayers of the people like Sanguinius.

The fact is that even if he can hear it, he won't answer it.

For 10,000 years, he has long learned that silence is golden.

That's why he chose to keep silent about Azrael's question - there was no point in answering. Only young people like him and Asmodai who still had hope would have hope in the lion, thinking that he would reveal the answer.

People who were more familiar with him and the world, like the Angels of Absolution, would not ask for answers. They would only do their best to save, kill, and execute orders.

But then again, how precious is the hope in the hearts of these young people?

This cold world has not yet extinguished the enthusiasm in their hearts, and the lion does not want them to lose it.

After all, although this impulse makes them want him to say "I will wait for you" instead of "I will act alone", it will also make them secretly hope to save more people when they run towards the bombed convoy.

They always want to save more people, but this world does not allow it.

This world basically only allows one thing.

The lion grasped the lion sword tightly and strode into the burning forest. Although it may seem a bit disrespectful to say this, after getting rid of the duties of a guide and leader and being alone again, his speed was several times faster than before.

It has always been like this. No dark angel dared to say that he could keep up with the lion in the forest. He almost merged with the forest, even though it was full of choking smoke, visibility was extremely low, and all he could see was ashes and jumping red flames. This inhumane horror had no effect on him.

Long before he met Luther, he had learned to coexist with the forest. It was not a kind companion. In fact, it didn't want Lion El'Jonson to be its companion at all, but it had no way to refuse.

Few people could refuse him.

The lion swung his sword and cut off a fallen giant tree.

There was something - something he couldn't even describe - that was filling the air.

How should it be described? Smell? No, the smell was not enough to describe its full picture. Although it had a strong smell of decay, it was just an appearance.

If the truth beneath this decay is to be described by a most appropriate word, then the lion would use the word evil.

Expanding on this, pure evil.

It is like cancer. It suddenly appears in a happy family, without any signs, and comes unexpectedly. It will destroy the life of a husband, wife or child for no reason, making the loved ones miserable and tears dripping on cold and stiff faces.

This is an evil that must be eliminated, and the lion is very familiar with it.

He has fought it more than once.

Serafax.

The Lord of the First Army began to swing his sword with an unprecedented killing intent, and everything that blocked him from reaching the old site of the Order Knights along the way was destroyed. This was just the beginning, and his speed was even gradually increasing.

Of course, this move was risky, but he did not think of hiding his whereabouts, firstly to allow the Angels of Pardon to catch up with him better, and secondly, it was also a degree of declaration to inform Serafax of his arrival.

He didn't believe that the traitor would come here unprepared and empty-handed. In the lion's heart, he was even ready to see the old site of the Knights transformed into a blasphemous and corrupt fortress.

In this case, Serafax would definitely monitor the surroundings to deal with his arrival with the Angels of Absolution. He was cautious by nature. As the son of a hunter, he had only made one mistake in hunting in his life.

This fantasy, which had not yet been confirmed, caused more anger and made the lion's blade colder. The extraordinary skills burst out along with the cold and fully controlled anger.

At this moment, the lion didn't know that he had actually surpassed himself when he cut off the fake shoulder armor in the court of Rupercal.

Three minutes and twenty-six seconds later, he used his sword to cut open the solid door of the old fortress.

The door collapsed, dust splashed, and a desolate scene was seen.

Memories of the training ground, stables, and the scattered courtyards where the servants lived came back along the wild grass growing in the courtyard, but they failed to drown his thoughts, but made the lion calmer.

He looked around, and an inspiration suddenly flashed in his heart, and a feeling that surged from the depths of his bones immediately aroused his vigilance - it felt almost like someone was scratching his marrow with a feather.

He clenched his sword and heard a familiar voice.

"Do you miss this place, Primarch?"

The lion shifted his gaze to the statue in the center of the courtyard, where the blindfolded knight was still guarding his fallen companion with his shield. Unseen threats were lurking in the darkness, and he was old, tired, and alone.

He took off his helmet and hung it on his belt.

"You wanted to see me here, and now I am. Come out and die."

"I'm sorry, my lord--"

Serafax's voice came faintly from the inner court with the door wide open, with a strange tremor, as if he was being boiled or cooked. And his trembling tone proved how correct the lion's perception was.

The pain was self-evident.

The enemy was suffering, which should be a good thing, but Serafax was not an ordinary "enemy", he was a wizard.

He embarked on this road of no return as the genetic offspring of Lion El'Jonson, and the blessings he received were enough to change part of his existence in the material world.

This proved that he had fallen into the clutches of Chaos. For them, suffering often meant sacrifice, and the pursuit of more power from the gods they believed in.

The lion pulled out three fragmentation grenades from his belt. They fell into his hands, tightly squeezed together, and firmly connected by a wider metal wire.

The lion pulled out the safety pin and threw them. These three grenades, which carried the piety of the Mechanicus and the destructive power they carefully prepared, tore through the air and roared into the inner court.

Fire and vibration broke out at the same time, and the flying shrapnel and sharp metal pieces flew back at a rapid speed, with a terrifying momentum.

The lion did not even look at it, raised his sword with one hand, and slashed it horizontally, and with one slash, he completely destroyed these fragments of different sizes, speeds and positions at the same time.

There is no doubt that what he did was far beyond the limit of swordsmanship.

Half a second later, the flames burst out from the inner court. Serafax followed closely behind him, striding out.

The wizard's vestments were no longer the simple ones before, but became like flowing silver, shining with dazzling light. Nine human skulls with chaos octagonal stars engraved on them surrounded him, with sharp teeth and dark eye sockets, screaming silently.

Without any words, the lion rushed towards him.

The wizard's first spell hit him accurately after he took the second step. The twisted light blue snake shook the air with the crackling sound of lightning and attacked the lion.

This attack was exactly what it was, as fast as real lightning, but still not faster than the lion sword. The twisted and violent lightning snake was cut open, and the aftermath fell to the open space without slowing down, and sank into it, and began to make terrifying sounds and movements underground like a living thing.

The lion himself was unharmed.

The sword flashed, and before time really began to elapse, the lion sword's sharp edge accurately hit Serafax twenty-five times in a row. The last blow was fierce and determined, causing his head to fly horizontally and land accurately at the lion's feet.

The wizard's headless and incomplete body stood there, shaking, blood overflowing from the severed flesh and bones, with a sweet smell that shouldn't exist.

He looked like a piece of meat with holes all over it, but it was filled with precious wine. The pale bones were the wine glass, and the internal organs rolling out of the cut chest and abdomen were the essence of the solidified wine.

In a flash of light, Serafax stood there intact, the silver-hot vestments were eroding his flesh, and the half of his face that had not yet burned was full of real pain.

He exhaled deeply, deeply, the air that still smelled of blood. The blue light shone in front of him, and the Lion Sword's attack was firmly blocked by the shield. Its strength was far beyond the price he could afford.

"Can you listen to me, Primarch?" Serafax asked with a little hope.

The lion smiled coldly on the sword.

The battle continued.

This battle had nothing to do with knights, flags or any honor, but it had its own purity. The lion was the kind of person who would not hold back once he made up his mind. He would use every bit of strength in his body to kill the enemy - note the difference here, it is to kill, slaughter, and destroy, not to win.

He was doing this with all his heart, and no matter how Serafax used magic to resist and resist, it was useless. These invincible warp evil magics were nothing in front of Lion El'Jonson. They could only cause him a little trouble, and then they would be completely destroyed by the Lion Sword.

Between life and death, Serafax clearly saw the eyes of his original body, and the deep green glowing in them was captured by his own eyes. So Serafax began to retreat, acting as if he was losing in this battle.

But he had the power of Tzeentch and many blessings of Chaos, so the victory or defeat on the physical level was just an appearance.

This world is so cruel, doing good and accumulating virtue may not be rewarded. But if you do evil, even the smallest evil, the benefits will come to you, and you can't even refuse it.

Some people are so corrupt that they become apostles and agents of Chaos without realizing what they are doing.

But Serafax is different.

He is prepared, he has always been like this.

When he was about to pass the assessment of the Knights to become a real knight, he spent a full half month investigating the places where the behemoths appeared and read every related book. When he made up his mind to establish the Ten Thousand Eyes, he did the same thing.

He first visited some men or women who lived in seclusion in the wilderness. Most of them were liars who pretended to be gods, and only a few of them had the "real stuff". As expected, these people were extremely afraid of his appearance.

And this is exactly what Serafax wanted. Through torture, he got some basic knowledge of mysticism, and then years of study.

The psychic guidance book officially published by the Empire played a considerable role in this regard. Although it almost destroyed Serafax's nascent warband, it was still worth it. The knowledge in that book made his attainments in psychic power and the warp advance by leaps and bounds.

Nine centuries later, he began to contact demons. Countless time and life passed for this, and he became what he is now, with a ten thousand devil bound to his life

It will do anything he asks.

"Bang!"

The lion sword pierced through the shield, and the lion's faded beard and hair fluttered in the air. His eyes were bright and sharp, and there was no sign of hesitation.

Serafax's retreat suddenly stopped, and his chest was pierced by the lion sword.

The lion did not miss this rare opportunity. He turned his wrist and immediately slashed the blade horizontally to tear Serafax into pieces - however, the lion sword failed to cut the wizard's flesh and blood again as he wished.

The lion looked closely and found that there was a skinny bird claw covered with blood on the chest of his traitor son, and the lion sword was captured by it.

"Devil!" The lion finally spoke, and the hatred on his face was not concealed.

This extreme emotion became the second force beyond anger, making the originally balanced wrestling process suddenly one-sided. The lion sword successfully penetrated the wizard's body, and the bird claw curled up in pain.

A cry burst out from deep in Serafax's chest. He stood up straight with an expressionless face. A straight crack suddenly appeared on his pale neck, extending all the way to his belly.

Then, something came out of it.

Serafax fell to the ground trembling, and the burning fire finally went out.

The lion roared and raised his sword.

Time stopped at this moment-the trembling wizard, the bloody demon stretching his body, and Lion El'Jonson who had been wrapped up in murderous intent and anger and turned into a destructive machine.

And Caliban who was disintegrating and burning.

All these things fell into Conrad Curze's eyes, making him tense his body in the quiet cemetery, and terrifying blue veins emerged around his face.

A demon half-kneeling beside him waiting for orders immediately raised its head, and the ferocious beast head showed some anthropomorphic concern.

"Primarch?" It asked in a cursed and terrible voice. "Are you okay?"

After a few seconds, the Night King stood up. He scratched his chest with the sharp fingers of his right hand thoughtfully, leaving five faint bloodstains.

The soft light that the Moonlight Crown had been emitting began to change, becoming scarlet, ominous, and full of violence. The wind that had always blown in the cemetery suddenly stopped, and countless heavy sarcophagi began to creak, as if the resurrected dead were knocking in them.

"Primarch!" The demon called out in shock.

Before it could finish its words, Curze quickly grabbed the crown on its head and threw it into the darkness. Without it, the only light in the cemetery disappeared immediately, but this was not a problem for the demon and him.

The demon with the beast head looked around carefully, but no longer saw half of the trembling sarcophagus. At the same time, the wind blew again.

"That was a close call."

Curze smiled and spoke, calling its attention back. The demon looked at him in confusion and fear, but only got a shrug.

"You look like you don't trust me, Keg?"

"What? Of course not, Primarch! I just..."

"Okay, okay." Curze hugged it intimately. "I'm fine, go back and do what you should do. I have something to leave for a while. Tell Fell that since Van Cleef and I are not here, he will take charge. Don't let the dead souls go too far."

The demon nodded, raised his hands, and made a sky eagle on his chest. The burning golden light whistled from the other end of the chaos along with its movements, and immediately began to punish this daring demon, burning on its claws.

It should have been destroyed by the ubiquitous darkness in the cemetery the moment it appeared. However, with Curze's tacit consent, this scene did not happen.

It was not until the flames burned for a full thirteen seconds, and the demon's claws were almost exposed, that Curze stretched out his right hand and extinguished it lightly with one hand.

The demon stood up and saluted him solemnly, using an extremely simple etiquette that belonged to an era that had long passed. The Lord of the Eighth Legion nodded to it, and there was no attitude on his pale face.

Then, in front of the demon, he stepped into the darkness without any warning.

Countless voices began to echo in his ears, welcoming, reporting, calling. It was so noisy that even a well-trained psychic would become a walking corpse without mind the moment he heard these voices.

However, this was nothing new to Curze. He was used to their company, and if he returned to the darkness without hearing their voices one day, he would probably feel uncomfortable.

Responding to their words one by one, the Night King walked towards a path specially reserved for him.

He walked towards his father.

——Okay, which one?