40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 657 39. Belated Judgment (XII) (Daily Updates Resumed)

The cave was dark, and the fire was burning. The firewood surrounded by stones was crackling in the flames. The sound was pleasant, and the warmth and light it brought could soothe the body and mind - but if you think about it, the firewood itself might not be willing to make this sacrifice.

But they had no choice. When Luther chose them from the dark forest with his calloused hands, their fate of becoming firewood was already determined. They were destined to use everything, sacrifice everything, and illuminate the darkness with their own death.

And the crackling sound of burning that brought warmth and stability was actually just the last words of the firewood as it howled and screamed in the fire.

From this perspective, this bonfire was really chilling.

Lion El'Jonson stared at this horror with an indifferent expression, his armored hands seemed to be resting on his knees, and his lion sword was tightly against his chest. His shadow twisted and swayed on the wall, and there were bursts of wind sounds like wailing outside the cave.

He was familiar with such sounds. He had heard them countless times long ago when he wandered naked in the forest and looked for a quiet place to rest every night.

Now thinking about it, it was almost like Caliban roaring at him.

Get out! Get out of here!

The lion raised his head indifferently.

The light and darkness cleverly cut his face. The artist in charge of this work was obviously not a very careful person. His work was clever, but it was completely without any harmony.

The lion's face was like a rugged territory, being fought over by two completely opposite forces that could be symbolized.

However, I am afraid no one would care about this little discordant sound - he only needs to sit here to be a king. Moreover, he is a king who can be extremely brutal and powerful when necessary, and truly holds unstoppable power.

But Luther said, "You are old."

He put the matter on the table quite bluntly, and the cave seemed to help him. The rocks that had arrived here after thousands of years of hard journey absorbed Luther's rough voice, improved it, chewed it, and then spit it out again.

His voice turned into an eternal whisper between stones, continuously colliding, continuously telling the fact that "old age" is difficult for most people to accept.

When they finally stopped echoing, the old knight's voice had become like the sparks bursting between two flints colliding with each other.

The lion frowned and chose to remain silent.

Of course, he knew that he was old and didn't want to argue about it - although there was surprise in Luther's voice, and the meaning contained in it naturally needed no further explanation.

How can you be old?

A hand reached out from behind him, holding a leather water bag. The surface was mottled and scratched, and the emblem of the winged sword gleamed on the edge of the screw cap that had faded to bronze.

It inevitably attracted the lion's attention. He glanced at it and then took the water bag, which represented good intentions. His action was not polite, and even had an undue rudeness.

Luther laughed it off. He walked past the lion without caring and slowly walked into the depths of the cave. There were many dry wood piled up at his destination. Unlike the fire, they had not yet been chopped.

A not-so-big wooden-handled stone axe was casually leaning against the wall on the side, and several animal skin backpacks were piled up in another corner, empty and sunken, probably nothing was left inside.

The lion retracted his sight and slowly unscrewed the cap of the water bag. His nose twitched, and he covered his exploration behavior with the action of drinking water - he knew that this matter could not be hidden from Luther, but it was an old habit after all.

Once a person gets old, it is difficult to change anything about him, whether it is a shortcoming or an advantage.

He swallowed the cold water mouthful by mouthful. At the same time, the lion also confirmed one thing through the smell left in the air, that those animal skin backpacks were used by Luther to store food.

He judged that it was probably something easy to store, such as pickled meat. As long as the temperature and environment were right, the dried meat itself could even be preserved for more than a few years.

Any wanderer living alone in the wilderness should learn this skill, but the lion wanted to know what kind of situation could make a person like Luther fall to the point of having to rely on these basic and primitive things to survive?

He knew Luther very well. The former Grand Master of the Knights was a disabled version of Astartes, but he was also one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. And now the man in front of him was really as embarrassed as a tramp.

The many speculations triggered by this idea gradually took root in his mind, and in a very short time, it turned into a towering tree full of fruits. Each fruit was telling something, thousands of different ideas, most of which were full of doubts.

The lion suppressed his thoughts and drank another sip of water, but saw Luther holding the axe and actually started chopping wood. Very focused, very efficient, like an experienced lumberjack.

Not only that, he even chose to do this work with his back to the lion. On a large flat rock, he crushed piece of dry wood into pieces.

After a while, the bodies of the trees that had been dismembered into small pieces were scattered on the ground at his feet, with sawdust flying like pale yellow or pale white blood spatters. Seeing this, the lion finally decided not to remain silent anymore. He had gotten enough gold these days.

"I have something to ask you." He said in a deep voice, still maintaining an aristocratic reserve that he should but should not.

"What's the matter?" the old knight asked without looking back.

"Have you ever hunted Eldar?"

Luther bent down, picked out a small piece of wood from the pile, and placed it on the workbench with one hand. He's still working on it, but he's not shying away from the Lions' issues.

"Yes, did the Seal Master reveal this to you?"

"No." The lion put down the water bag and placed it not far from the fire.

Luther groaned in understanding, raised his ax, and dropped it heavily.

"Then you are the one who took the initiative to find him. It seems that our Lord Sealmaster, who has worked hard for a long time and is destined to continue to work hard, did not abide by some of the rules and regulations he should abide by as one of the founders of the Tribunal."

He put down the axe, turned around with a smile, walked back to the fire, and sat down next to the lion without hesitation.

"What did he show you?"

"Your hunting record," the lion said. "I'm particularly interested in those targeting the Eldar."

Luther seemed indifferent to the heavily bitten word 'hunt' and just continued to ask questions.

"Why?"

The lion lowered his head and gave a mean sneer. The light and darkness changed again, and his dark green eyes were now reflecting two blazing flames. The light was dazzling, like the light blue flames spurting out from the spacecraft engine, which was enough to burn a person's eye membranes.

Luther stared at them and smiled back with a perfectly calm smile.

"If you don't tell me the reason, Leon -" the old knight shrugged. "——I'm afraid I can only express my complete helplessness about your problem."

The lion frowned and threw aside his reserve. He didn't let his temper control him, nor did he let his past habits with Luther affect him now.

Leon El'Jonson asked rhetorically calmly.

"Do you still need a reason in this matter?"

The old knight smiled gently.

"Everyone needs a reason to do anything, Leon, even those scum and thugs who can pull a bloody baby from the mother's belly for a little money are no exception."

"What can money bring to such depraved and shameless beasts? It's nothing more than food, clothing, transportation, pills, hallucinogens, and physical pleasure. So, if the most base and evil part of our race All things need reasons to behave as they should, and a noble sir like you will only have more reasons.”

The lion narrowed his eyes again.

"I want to know." He finally responded, although there was an obvious threat in his voice. "That's the reason."

Luther smiled and regarded his threat as a breeze: "This reason is not enough for me to violate some principles that I must abide by, Leon. I only have them left."

The second half of his words silenced the Lion for a full half minute. After a long time, he finally spoke again.

"What have you been through?"

No change could be seen on the old knight's face. The smile had solidified. His face looked like an eternal rock, cold, hard and rough. But his answer really made the lion feel a long-lost irritation.

"This is already the second question, Leon. I haven't answered the first one yet."

"Let those damn Eldar die, they deserve to die anyway." The lion said coldly. "Now tell me what you have been through, what time it is here, and why you are here. I want to know everything, Luther. I don't have the time or energy to waste any more riddles with you."

He raised his left hand, placed it on the scabbard of the lion sword, and growled quietly.

"I still have people to kill."

Luther looked at him steadily for a while, and after a few seconds, he nodded.

"Well, since you want to know, I'll start from the beginning."

——

The moment he stepped into the portal, Zabriel felt an unspeakable tremor that he hadn't seen in a long time. This feeling that surged from the depths of his bones and spread rapidly was no stranger to him - the Dark Angel's heart sank, and he already understood that he had stepped into the subspace.

He doesn't want to think about why this is true, he doesn't care about the fascinating and seductive secrets of reasons, causes or conditions. He has a mission. Although the mission is unclear, he has made a decision.

Zabriel will do everything in his power to ensure that this mission is completed.

But now, he needs to think about a brand new problem.

Where is he?

Well, first, look around.

The built-in analysis function of the eyepiece told him a series of complicated data such as air humidity. With the instinct tempered by the fire of war, he disassembled it all in just half a second, and then swallowed it in one gulp, as if he hadn't seen it in a long time. A bloody man-eating monster.

A familiar feeling was slowly coming, causing him to instinctively hold his sword.

A lush forest came into his sight, as well as a clearing full of evil things. Twisted monsters whose specific shapes were difficult to describe were having fun among countless corpses.

These corpses were all wearing what Zabriel thought were very simple clothes. Long before he entered the Knights, the Calibans no longer wore this way.

A glass-like altar stood tall like a sharp sword in the deepest part of hell, reflecting the dazzling sunlight, and the flames that alternated between brilliant and deep blue burned blazingly at the top of the tower.

The forest surrendered and became a loyal slave, blowing up the wind for its power, and the demons shouted a name beneath it like its subjects.

Serafax.

Zabriel looked up and saw a familiar figure.

The man seemed to feel something. He lowered his head and looked down. Then he extended his left hand to him, making an ancient tactical gesture that could only be used by the Dark Angels.

It means: come to me.

Zabriel drew out his sword without saying a word and strode towards the demon community.

This is undoubtedly a suicidal move. No soldier with a clear mind and has not received relevant orders would make such a choice - charge alone towards an enemy force hundreds of times larger?

This can no longer be described as courage or stupidity, only madness can be used to describe it. But Zabriel was sure that he was not crazy. On the contrary, he was now more awake than ever.

The Primarch and the Legion. These precious things that he had lost and longed for for a long time were back, so he would never again deliberately seek self-destruction in order to be freed as in the past.

But at this time, why did he dare to face these hungry demons? What can he rely on?

The answer will be revealed at the edge of the sword.

The first demon that died in Zabriel's hands was short in stature. Before the power sword chopped it into pieces, it was hunched over and running towards the Dark Angel with four claws on the ground.

Its claws are sharp and its desires are insatiable. Mortal flesh and blood are not enough to soothe its crazy body and mind, and the memories hidden in mortal minds are not enough to quell its thirst.

But this hybrid could, it believed.

This stupid, mad, eternal slave born of the evil star beneath its feet would feed its hunger, and it was not to be. Zabriel killed it easily, and under the point of the sword's edge, the bright golden light bloomed without reservation.

A winged sword emblem was held tightly in his palm.

The demons changed color. At the top of the glass tower, the wizard sighed unsurprisingly. His voice floated down the wind and quietly reached the Dark Angel's ears.

"Whatever you try to do, I'm afraid it's too late, my brother."

"For the Emperor and the Lion!" Zabriel roared and charged with his sword.

Under his sword, the situation quietly reversed, but the flames on the glass spire never dimmed. It burned, pouring the power of an unspeakable evil god deeply into Caliban's crust.

There was something interesting, even though Zabriel didn't know it. In this 'now' he lives in, Leon El'Jonson has not yet appeared on Caliban. In other words, he has appeared, but no one has discovered him yet.