40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 171 32. The world is always cruel, but I accept it (7k)

Someone was whispering, and he was very weak.There must be something wrong with his body, otherwise how could a normal person fall into such a bewildered illusion?

He felt himself floating naked, between dying stars and the vast ocean.These two images should not be linked at all, but they are.

He is drifting.

drift.

lonely.

Alone.

fear.

The boundless darkness envelops everything. As he walks through the darkness, his perception has long since disappeared. There is not even the whistling wind in his ears, only a kind of pure nothingness.

He didn't know how long he had been wandering, time had lost its meaning, and everything became like an endless torture.

He passed by a burning sun and was scorched to the point of bruises all over his body.But in the next second, he will pass through the extremely cold storm and be thrown into the broken glacier to suffer and sink. The cold water scrapes away his flesh and blood like a knife.

He had forgotten many things, even his name.He drifted, and then saw the stars, dying stars innumerable--they watched and stared in the storm, stared at him, longed for him, breathed out their putrid air greedily on him.

An extremely sickly beige color hit him from somewhere in the rough in the next second, grabbing him.

He doesn't resist, he has forgotten the meaning of resistance, he just wants everything to end.

This never-ending torment had to end, he couldn't take it anymore.The light flickered and quickly changed from beige to a pitch-black flame that enveloped him.Severe pain hit in the next second, occupying all consciousness.

His blood began to coagulate in his veins, burning, his heart beating violently.

He screamed, screamed, screamed—and he fell.

He landed.

He opened his eyes and saw a man—wait, man?He was so confused by the concept that he didn't know what the word meant, only that he was supposed to call it by that word.

He looked at each other, and more words came out of his mind.Giant, horror, skeleton, dark, hideous. Monster.

"What do you remember?" asked the skeleton, whose jaws did not move at all when it spoke, but the voice came out naturally.

This incident was captured by him, and a kind of creep rose from the bottom of his heart.He crouched back, trying to stay away from the skeleton asking him questions, and he refused certain things out of fear, such as thinking about why he understood the skeleton's words.

The skeleton stood there and looked at him, seeming to be sighing, but he didn't seem to be.He stepped back, and the world began to change at this moment.

The grass was soft and pressed under him.The breeze blows from afar, fragrant and cool.The trees broke free from the earth and rushed to the sky, shaking their leaves to shield him from the sun's gaze.

He was bruised and instinctively seeking shelter, so he backed away happily, hungry for more.

The skeleton stared at him from the other side of the world, as quiet as the dead.The world under its feet has also begun to change, but it is not beautiful, and it can even be called cruel and unbearable to look at.

Worlds wrapped in clouds appeared one after another at its feet, and without exception, they were all burning.Black flames blazed, people screamed and wailed, and endured eternal torment in the darkness.

Just staring at it made him feel terrified.He trembled, pleading with the skeleton in broken syllables that could not be spoken, begging it to stop all this, he didn't want to look, he really didn't want to look.

But the skeleton was completely indifferent, the eyes under the hood were shining with fire, it stood where it was, slowly shaking its head.

"Robert Guilliman," it said. "Don't back down any more."

He didn't answer, he didn't dare to answer—he didn't even dare to look at the skeleton, and in a trance, there was a chuckle of satisfaction in his ear.Low and comfortable, like an old man, an old man sitting beside him.

He turned his head tremblingly, and indeed saw an old man.

He is very old and fat, but still healthy.His cheeks were rosy, and he was smiling warmly at him at the moment.The old man spoke with a very kind voice, completely different from the hoarse skeleton.

"Do you want to listen to him?"

Do not!of course not!
He hunched his back in fear, retracted his shoulders, raised his pale and feeble hands slightly, covering his face.The old man smiled more happily and patted him on the shoulder kindly.

"Don't be afraid, boy, it won't hurt you."

Who are you?
"Is it important?" the old man asked back, still patient. "Names don't matter, kid."

really?
"of course it's true."

The old man smiled kindly at him, and that kind of patience made him uncontrollably put down a lot of guards.The old man was so gentle that he was worried that he would be punished for asking too many questions.

"The name itself has no meaning, it's just a title, a title used to refer to yourself." The old man said gently. "So, you just have to—"

"—Enough." The skeleton whispered.

Its voice is distorting, and there are bursts of humming echoes, and the black flames suddenly rise from the cloak that floats like a living thing behind it, hissing, and hissing at the old man like a monster roar.

"Let him choose, Nurgle."

Nurgle?He looked at the old man suspiciously, and the old man smiled and nodded at him, blinking his eyes: "Yes, Nurgle, that's my name."

What about my name?he asks.

"Robert Guilliman," said the skeleton. "That's your name."

He glanced at the skeleton quickly, not daring to look further, his distrust was palpable.He looked at the old man again, but the old man nodded slightly and admitted the matter with a smile: "Yes, you are Robert Guilliman."

"Let him come here, Nurgle." The skeleton spoke again. "Let him choose."

"Hasn't he already chosen?" Nurgle asked in surprise. "He came here by himself and you like it here, don't you?"

The old man raised his hand, plucked a leaf for him, and showed him the blue sky.Everything is so peaceful, so beautiful.The green grass is swaying, white birds are flying, and insects are singing in the distance, with rhythm and rhythm, like a ballad.

He suddenly felt a deep drowsiness, which came without warning and knocked him down almost instantly.He couldn't help trembling, and his eyelids slowly closed.However, in the next second, there was a thunderous sound, overwhelming everything.

"Boom--!"

Incomparably violent and terrifying.All his drowsiness disappeared in an instant, and the smile on the old man's face disappeared for an instant, and he seemed a little strange at that instant.

He shook his head and questioned the skeleton: "I thought it was just a matter between you and me."

"No, this is between you, me and him. So, let him come over and let him choose." The skeleton said in a low voice. "Make him remember his name."

The old man narrowed his eyes slightly, and the sound of insects that had stopped sounded again.

His muscles immediately convulsed, and the pain swept over him like a tsunami, but there was still a name wrapped in the pain.Like a victim of a shipwreck, the body was washed up on the beach by the waves, swollen and white, lifeless.

Robert Guilliman.

His his name?

He raised his hands in doubt and covered his face, confused and helpless.The thunder sounded again, and an angry roar loomed in it.When he put his hand down again, the old man had disappeared, leaving only the vibrant grass and the skeleton standing not far away.

It stared at him, still in terror at its feet, and then spat out the name again.

"Robert Guilliman," it said, as if calling. "Do you remember?"

remember what?
Instinctively he began to think, he felt as if he hadn't done it in ten million years, but he could still do it naturally if he wanted to.

He thought, Robert Guilliman, Robert Guilliman Robert, Guilliman.

my name?

He widened his eyes.

Yes, how could he forget?
He is Robert Guilliman, the son of Conor Guilliman and Tarasa Eudon.They are not husband and wife, they are his adoptive father and adoptive mother.He was a Macragge, and Macragge was his home, an ancient, beautiful, and proud world.
But why am I here?
Robert Guilliman looked at the skeleton in bewilderment. The name returned, and so did more things.He no longer flinched like before, but was suddenly full of courage.

Tarasa Euton had taught him that one must be brave.Conor Guilliman had told him that the brave are not without fear, the brave just ignore them.

So, at this moment, he ignored the cruel world beneath the skeleton's feet, forced himself to look into the skeleton's eyes, and asked, "Who are you?"

"Khalil Rohars." The skeleton replied in a low voice, spitting out a name.

Robert Guilliman was sure that he had never heard the name before, he looked at the skeleton suspiciously, and started to observe it.He carefully memorized every feature of it and began to analyze it.The skeleton didn't give him this time, but said again: "I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" Guilliman frowned, and he spoke with an arrogance that came out of nowhere.That arrogance belongs to every teenager who doesn't know the heights of the sky and the earth. He raised his head and his jaw tightened: "What can you help me? I'm fine."

"really?"

"Of course it's true." Guilliman shook his head amusedly.

"You are really weird. Wearing such a weird armor that doesn't seem to have any real defense capabilities, and even made your own helmet into a skull. Are you an assassin or a clown in a strange costume? You want to use this Are the clothes intimidating?"

He stared at the man defiantly, ready to wait for his next answer, and to analyze something more.He looked calm, but his back was already wet with cold sweat.

These insulting words are of course just a bluff, the man may indeed be an assassin, but this cannot explain the strange and terrifying scene under his feet.

Robert Guilliman didn't know where he was, he only remembered that he was sleeping in the room, but why would he come to such a place after waking up?

He has no answer.

Before he knew it, he had forgotten all the nightmares he had experienced before, and even forgot the existence of Nurgle.He only knows one thing now—he must escape by himself.

He will never sit still.

"I'm an assassin sometimes," said the skeleton. "As for fancy dress. I did wear dirty rags once."

"So, you're not a court jester?" Robert Guilliman asked in a deliberately arrogant tone.

"In the eyes of some things, I may be more ridiculous than that."

"Something? What are you talking about?"

"What do you think?" The skeleton asked back, and took a step forward.

Those burning flames in him rushed forward, and the grass itself began to sear and crackle.This is definitely not normal, what kind of grass makes this noise when it is being burned?

Guilliman stared down at them, tense.He thought about it, but instinctively ignored more problems.As the flames spread, he raised his head and had to speak again: "Do you want to use this flame to burn me to death?"

"It can't burn you."

"Stop kidding, you—"

Robert Guilliman stopped his voice abruptly. Black flames blazed across the grass, jumping like living creatures. They approached him in an instant, and before he even had time to react, he was already enveloped in flames. Body.

The world began to change, and he couldn't control his eyes, so he could only watch all this compulsively, full of horror.

Grasses are gone, trees are gone, and rotting dust is floating around.The air turned into a fetid miasma, in which pale yellow powder danced, and the ground sank, turning into a swamp full of corpses.The beautiful scene is gone, and the sheer ugliness and filth make everything so horrible.

Guilliman was about to retch, he clutched his throat in pain, and fell to his knees, there was a strange itching in his throat, he coughed, and blood mist floated in the air.

The ground at his feet began to gurgle continuously, and some maggots crawled out of it and gathered around him, as if guarding and guarding him.He watched all this in shock and horror, and instinctively tried to escape, but he was already too weak, too weak to drive his body to respond accordingly.

Half a minute ago, he was perfectly healthy and strong, and now he is so weak that he is dying of illness.

It's all wrong, and he finally realizes something, but he can't grasp the idea that is floating in his head.

He wanted to scream, and the ground began to sink, dragging him down, as if about to fall into an abyss—

—until a hand jerked him out.

Guilliman fell to the ground in embarrassment, but the hand did not let go, pulling him up little by little.

The flames were burning, and the sound of crackling could be heard incessantly. He seemed to hear the anger of someone or something vaguely.And the sound was more than he could bear, Guilliman screamed until a cold hand fell on his shoulder.

It's the skeleton.Can't go wrong.

Guilliman turned his head to look at him, the bloodless and tearless bone-skeleton face remained calm and unchanged.There was still a pitch-black flame in the eye sockets.

"Who are you?" Guilliman asked weakly.

"Is it important?" The skeleton asked back. "Assassins, killers, court jesters who show their stupidity to make people laugh--is there a difference? Stop thinking about who I am, Robert Guilliman. There's only one thing you really need to think about right now."

The skeleton grabbed him and forced him to bow his head.The cruel star river rushed in frantically, and 1000 million stars disappeared in an instant. Guilliman's eyes widened, his neck was stiff, as if he was beheaded.

Millions of things he'd long since forgotten were rushing back now, crammed into his mind.Confused and terrifying, there is no doubt that this is not something anyone can bear.

He screamed—a real scream, but the skeleton just stared at it calmly, only clenching its fists slowly.

The man in front of him was as shriveled as a walking corpse, his strong muscles had long since disappeared, and he looked like skin and bones.His skin was pale, without a trace of blood, and dirty and filthy blood spread all over his body.

Even in the heyday of Robert Guilliman, he could not necessarily survive this kind of salvation called punishment.And now, he has been tortured into this appearance, can he really survive it?
Khalil didn't have an answer, he couldn't figure it out.He had exhausted his means, and so had the Emperor—if that thunder had not sounded, Nurgle would still be here.

As long as he was still here, it was impossible for Robert Guilliman to be pulled out of the grass by him.

Now, it seems, is a moment where one can only hope for a miracle.

However, will miracles really happen?

No one knew the answer, including Khalil.All he heard was a sigh, a sigh that belonged to the Emperor.

+ After all, I can't hold them back for too long, I can only force them to look away for a short while, and then, you are the only one fighting alone. +
Khalil calmly looked at Guilliman, looked into his closed eyes, and heard a whimper in his throat.

+Maybe I'm not just fighting alone+
Sigh away.

A vast and terrifying figure slowly approached from the sky at the other end of the grass, the shape was extremely frightening, extremely terrifying.

It looks like a huge creature composed of countless rotting corpses. Its skin is rotten and has countless holes. Maggots can freely drill in and out of it. Pustules are constantly produced, shining like diseased stars, and a strange liquid that gurgles is flowing in the thick blood vessels. .He has three scattered sharp claws, and the terrifying skin covered with dense holes is covered with strange marks in the shape of three leaves, which gather together like a honeycomb to proliferate and destroy, without stopping.

Like cancer.

"return--!"

He roared, screamed, and the voice swept from the other side of the chaos: "Come back to me—!"

Robert Guilliman opened his eyes with a jerk, not of his own volition, but of his own body moving.Something lurking in his blood drove him to this act.

Guilliman opened his eyes in pain, raised his head, and looked up at the sky.The world changed again, and the kind old man floated in the air and smiled pitifully at him, as if he could understand his pain and despair at the moment.

"Does it hurt?" he asked in a fatherly tone. "Son, does it hurt?"

Robert Guilliman had a sore nose and was almost in tears.He has lost his ability to think, like a programmed machine.

Whatever a person asks, he will answer and act accordingly.The old man asked with fatherly love, and he actually wept.The darkness still burned on him, helping him resist.

But does he really want to resist?
Does he really want to endure this endless torture?

"Come to me, boy." The old man held out a hand to him gently.

"You will be born again, you will be given a new name. In the tumultuous future of destiny, you already have a brother waiting for you. Together you will be my princes, and you will rise from death and torment. You will Don't have to suffer any more because you will be the source of pain"

"Come on." He whispered earnestly, tenderly.

Robert Guilliman closed his eyes in pain, the black flame searing what was lurking in his blood, preventing him from looking at the old man again.

He closed his eyes, and those things and people he had forgotten were turning into a storm and attacking his brain.At this moment, every second he experienced was an unimaginable torment.

His muscles were dismantled, his blood vessels were cut out with a knife blade, his bones were bent, his eyes were pulled out, and his tongue was cut off.He seems to have died a thousand times, and he seems to have lived for 1000 years—he sorted out his memory with an alienated and strange perspective.

Macragge, the Emperor, his Legion. His brothers, his sons. Every name, every scene.
In the end, the picture was fixed on two people.

Conor Guilliman.Tarasa Euton.

Father.Mother.

what should I do?He wept and asked—he wept and asked blankly.

His perspective is heightened, he tries to grieve, but he can't.The thing that had forced him to forget everything before had come back and started to haunt him again, trying to make him forget these precious treasures, trying to make him a blank sheet of paper with a new name.

Does he want to do it?

He didn't know it, but he did want to be free from pain, free from torture.He wants peace.

In the midst of bloodshed and decay, Robert Guilliman, a child of Macragge, heard a voice.

"I have been afraid of you sometimes, my son." The voice spoke slowly, and it felt extremely familiar to him.

"Because you are too tall and outstanding, you are the best of us. However, in the silent night, I would actually doubt it. I would think, are you really human?"

"Medical tests show you don't age, Robert, and you'll probably stay that way forever. You're an anomaly, I'm sure of that, but you also have a heart, you're kind, you're sane, you're wise. You're full of compassion. But we No, Robert, we are not."

"One day, everyone you know will die and become an inconspicuous wave in the long river of time. But you will always exist, and you will go farther than us. You were born to bear some responsibility I don't like to say it, but if there is such a responsibility, who else can take it except you?"

The voice let out a long sigh, and an old man slowly appeared in front of Robert Guilliman's eyes. He was transparent, like an ember in the wind, about to disappear completely.He was crying, and he had his right hand outstretched, on which a coin waited quietly.

"I used to dream a lot. Before I met you, I had this dream at least 1000 million times."

"I dreamed that I was riding alone among the cold mountains. It was cold, dark, and lonely. I could only hear the hooves of the horses and the howling wind. The sky was empty, there were no stars, and the river was frozen Feng, the trees were forced to die. I rode a horse and roamed here, and finally, I found you beside a meadow."

"You were a baby, Robert, and you smiled at me countless times in your dreams. I wasn't brave, I even feared the sights in my dreams, but the bravest thing I ever did in my life was to call the men Go find you in the forest. I never believe in prophecy and those so-called magic, but I believe in a dream and I believe in you, Robert."

The old man smiled and nodded to him, his face frozen at this moment.

Behind him appeared the blue sky and forest of Macragge, the river began to flow, the trees grew again, the sky was full of stars, the frost was gone, and the sun was just right.A middle-aged man was happily holding a baby, on the grass, on Macragge.

The baby was laughing too.

And Robert Guilliman was crying.

He opened his mouth, clenched his teeth tightly, and wept silently, everything in front of his eyes was already blurred, and tears that were extremely salty and extremely bitter ran across his face.Everything was silent, except for the sound of a coin falling to the ground.

Robert Guilliman swooped down and picked it up.Consciousness was quickly restored, and pain screamed.But he forced himself to open his eyes, his right hands clenched tightly together, the shape of a coin piercing his flesh and blood.

He looked up to the sky, where the thing was still waiting eagerly, smiling, as if it thought it had won.He noticed Guilliman's gaze, and spoke again.

However, this time, His voice was no longer gentle in Guilliman's ears, and He could no longer deceive him.

"Come on, child." He opened his hands and waited. "You will gain everything, you will no longer suffer, you will no longer have to face that cruel world, and everyone will love you from the bottom of their hearts."

Robert Guilliman stood up little by little, trembling.The skeleton stood beside him, not speaking, not even supporting him.The smile on the old man's face began to become more and more obvious, as if he was sure of victory.

Robert Guilliman, on the other hand, just shook his head slowly and forcefully.

"No," he said hoarsely, in great pain. "No."

He lifted the coin as Conor Guilliman lifted the baby in the grass.He held it aloft, and it began to shine brightly.How intense is that light, and it has already started to change the color of the world in the first second of appearance.

The rotting grass began to melt little by little, like a melting wax figure.His smile faded, followed by a roar, and Guilliman looked at him without fear.

He's still crying, but he's got nothing to fear.There was an instinctive rage on his face, and it was this rage that drove the light.It wasn't the power of the Emperor or Khalil Rohars, it was Robert Guilliman's own power.

It is the rawest, heaviest, most turbulent rage that a Son of Man can unleash after seeing his father's death again.

Now, here, in this unreal but real place, it trumps everything.

"I only have one name."

Robert Guilliman roared, with tears in his face, rage boiling beneath it, but always mastering his own emotions.

"Did you hear that?! You filthy monster, I have only one name, and I will only have one name! I am Robert Guilliman of Macragge, and I will drive you all to extinction!"

The voice fell, and he disappeared into the light.The skeleton remains in place, the skull visor gone, smiling.

"Don't be too complacent," said Nurgle darkly. "You can't save everyone, don't forget your price."

"Yeah, the price, yes, I can't save everyone, but." Khalil lowered his head, and the laughter resounded piercingly. ".I didn't save him in the first place."

He laughed.

"He beat you."

　Two in one, more than 1K, the update is complete.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)