40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 101 4. The Undefeated (3k)

blood.

Kleist could smell it, clearly, but she didn't care much.She just sat up and covered her stomach on the hard bed covered with animal skins.

The pain was like a shadow, and the injury that the beast gave her three days ago has not fully recovered yet.

The slave owners had already treated her. They threw her into an apparatus, and when she came out, the bloody wound on her lower abdomen had disappeared, leaving only an ugly scar.But that doesn't mean she won't be in pain.

Who doesn't feel pain?
This question was born, and a giant covered in blood flashed in front of her eyes.

He might too.

"Can't sleep?" a man asked under the burning torches.

Kleist recognized him, the man fighting with two short knives.

His upper body was bare, and there were five ugly scratches on his chest. The scars were thick and thick, like some kind of flesh-colored bug writhing under his skin, forming a terrifying outline.He was scraping his forearm with the short knife.

"What's your name?" Kleist asked.

The man smiled—among gladiators, it was a sign of respect to ask each other's names.Most would die within two or three battles, so exchanging names was an unnecessary act.

"Karellian," he said. "From the Nuoer Sands."

"Sand? I'm from the forest. I'm Kleist," Kleist said. "But I don't know what the name of that forest is. I was captured by the slave arresting team."

"It's okay if you don't know." Karelian shook his head. "Sooner or later we all forget that the bunkers of the Colosseum will bury everything."

"It can't bury me."

"Maybe." Karelian replied, his voice was very soft, with a kind of indifference.What followed was silence, none of them spoke, and Kleist actually knew that many people had already woken up and were waiting on their beds with their eyes open.

The stone wall is quiet, not trembling, it is already late at night, they have no battle to fight, the dignitaries have already left the arena
Quiet.

But not so quiet - because, in the deepest part of the rock wall, everyone could hear a creeping roar.

"The Undefeated." Karelian said softly, with a certainty in his voice. "It's him, it can't be wrong."

"Do you know him well?" Kleist asked.

"I've seen him five times, if you count the one three days ago, it's six times." Karelian shook his head, turned around, stretched his body on the rock wall under the torch, and showed him A cord of triumph wrapped around the waist.

It's not long, but most are red and only six are black.

Staring at it, Kleist fell silent.

The Rope of Triumph - Tradition of gladiators, it is a scar running from the spine down the waist.

Before each fight, they would make a small cut along the previous scar. If they won, it would grow back naturally and turn red.If they lost, they would put some dirt in the scar so that when the scar formed, the node would turn black.

Karelian's triumphal rope proved that he had failed six times, and that he hadn't died meant that he was lucky enough—or unlucky enough.

Gladiators who escaped death again and again are also favored by slave owners in the arena, and those who are favored by them will not end well.

"Six failures?" Kleist asked.

"Six failures." Karelian turned around and nodded with a calm expression.

There was still that terrible roar coming from the depths of the rock wall. He leaned against the rock wall and tapped his fingers lightly in response to the roaring sound, as if he was accompanying the angry man.Watching his movements, Kleist suddenly had an impulse that came from nowhere.

She jumped out of bed, found some leftovers from the long table beside her, and picked out the edible parts.She poured them into a crock and staggered out into the darkness.

The place where the gladiators live is an underground cave dug out by humans, extending in all directions. Everyone has their own bed and room, but only one person can have a separate room.

"Are you going to find him?" Karelian's voice came from under the torch.

"Yes." Kleist answered briefly.

"Then, I'll go with you."

After a while, they arrived at their destination.

Kleist didn't know how long time had passed, she just felt that her eyes were going to be blind as she stared wide-eyed in the darkness looking for a route, everything became a blurred outline in the darkness,

Even Karelian was the same.Fortunately, he was much calmer. He didn't say a word along the way, but he could always help Kleist when she was about to fall.

But now. They stood at the entrance of a cave, and there were two torches burning quietly on the rock wall, bringing the only light.However, despite this, the darkness inside the cave is still deep.

"Angelonius?" she called. "I brought you food."

There was no answer in the darkness, only a low, slow panting, as horrifying as a man about to drown in his own blood.

"Angelonius?" Kleist continued to call, but there was still no answer.

Karelian, who was standing beside her, shook his head: "That's not his name."

"what?"

"That's not his name," Karelian repeated, then reached for the crock of food and took over from her.

It's just that he didn't call out that long and complicated syllable, but a short syllable word.

"Angron." Facing the darkness, he called out.

And then—the ground began to tremble, Kleist straightened his back, and suddenly smelled an extremely strong smell of blood.

She stared at the darkness at the entrance of the cave without blinking for a moment, and the pain that had been invaded by sweat returned before, even more intense.Seconds later, a giant smashed through the darkness and appeared before them.

His face twitched nervously. Three days ago, Kleist couldn't see his face clearly, but she could see it clearly now.

She saw cables made of black iron, with their barbs piercing deeply into the flesh of the giant's head, and extending behind.His eyes were a kind of cloudy light blue, sunken deep in the eye sockets, and the details below were all submerged in blood.

His nose was bleeding, not a trickle, but a flood, washing his chin and his entire neck into scarlet.His expression was a mixture of terrible threat and hatred, and he bared his teeth, like a beast waiting to eat flesh and blood.

Kleist felt a sudden fright, but the giant called Angron didn't look at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a voice like rubbing a file against each other. "I told you not to come to me again."

"Here to bring you food."

Karelian raised the crock in his hand - Kleist began to regret why he didn't choose a larger utensil. This jar was big enough for them, but for the giant standing in the dark bleeding It is far from enough.

"I don't need food."

Angron answered bluntly, his face began to twitch again, and the cables buried deep in his flesh began to glisten, and the scarlet color was fleeting.Kleist, on the other hand, was pretty sure she had seen them twitch just now, and even though it was only for a split second, she couldn't be mistaken.

"Did it bite you again?" Karelian asked.

"Ask knowingly." Angron sneered, but after this brief smile, he let out a low growl, and raised his right hand to cover his face.

A low gasp followed, and a low, almost shuddering howl.Kleist's legs went limp, and he couldn't help kneeling on the ground, terrified by the terrible sound.

After a while, Angron let go of his hand. He grunted and stared at his bright red palm thoughtfully, but he didn't speak, just remained silent.

After a while, he raised his head, and there was confusion in his light blue eyes, as if he couldn't quite understand what happened just now.Then, he glanced at Kleist.

"You're afraid," he said in a voice as heavy as a hammer on iron felt. "But it's okay."

"Are you alright?" Karelian asked.

Angron smiled, his devastated face contorted and twitched, his teeth protruding from his lips, looking horribly against the blood, and that was the limit of what he could do.He sat cross-legged and shook his head.

"It's never going to be okay," he said curtly, raising his hand and pointing to the wires running down the back of his head. "It's eating me."

"Don't talk nonsense." Karelian stepped forward and handed the crock pot to the giant's ferocious eyes. "That thing can't beat you, you are undefeated."

Angron let out a low, cold snort, as if he was laughing, but also seemed to be making an uncontrollable noise because of the pain.He picked up the crock and retrieved a bone among the dry bread and slimy broth.He put the bone in his mouth and crushed it lightly with his teeth.

Click, click, click.

"Let's go." Angron said while chewing. "If you don't want to end up with old Oinomouth."

Karelian sighed: "Oinomouth's death has nothing to do with you."

"Related!" Angron growled in a low voice, not like a rebuttal, but more like a terrible sentence. "His death will be blamed on me!"

Karelian shook his head, and he pulled Kleist up: "This is Kleist, the person who proposed to deliver your meals."

Angron stopped eating and glanced at her again.At this moment, Kleist felt extremely nervous.She stared into the giant's pale blue eyes, afraid she'd see a disdain in them, but she didn't.

All she saw was a fleeting complex emotion, like sympathy, or pity -- neither of which she could comprehend.

However, they only appeared for a brief moment.Then, there was only bloody anger in those eyes.

Bloodshots climbed on it, he let out a howl, his upper and lower jaws collided violently, broken bone stubble spewed out between his lips and teeth, and blood flowed out of his nasal cavity again.He rose to his feet with a snarl, and Kleist almost thought he was going to jump on her and kill her—but he didn't.

The giant named Angron just turned and walked back into the darkness, before saying his name: "Angron!"

"Leave!" Then he roared, the sound was like the loud sound of a gravel hammer hitting the ground, so terrible that people could cover their ears without reverberation.

Karelian sighed and pulled Kleist away without saying anything.

　And 5k.

　　By the way, I took a closer look at the combat power problem that you gave feedback in the previous article, and it is indeed unreasonable.Now that the changes have been made, six hours and three thousand Ultramarines should be more reasonable.It is not good to write updates in the middle of the night, and many things are easy to make mistakes.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)