40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 178 3. Malcador

Outside the building, the world is unusually cold.The temperature has passed and there is nothing left.

Nature has always been so cruel, poets or writers often praise all aspects of nature in their works, but few people will mention the real cruel side of nature-it is cruel because human beings are looking at it with sensibility.

If people were more rational, they would discover the real reasons why nature behaves cruelly.

- It doesn't care.

It has no sensibility, it doesn't care what every link in this huge ecological chain thinks, it just acts according to some naturally formed rules, that's all.

Khalil slowly lowered his head to look down at the entire Nostramo.This place has become unfamiliar, and the violence and darkness that he was accustomed to in the past seem to have completely disappeared.

He crouched on the top of the building, his sleeves flapping in the cold wind.He was waiting, waiting for a signal from the other side of the galaxy, some hint, or a voice to be heard.

Two minutes later, he heard a rhythmic sound, like a scepter falling to the ground, mixed with almost imperceptible footsteps.

Khalil closed his eyes, letting his sensations fill the air.The cold wind howled, and every corner of the world was so cold, but his consciousness formed a fine and continuous giant net in the wind.Then, it began to rise, rising into the starry sky.

And the footsteps finally became clear at this moment, along with it came an old man in a dark green robe who looked like a civil servant.

He was very old, and the face under the hood was almost terrifyingly old. The skin was like a rough parchment roll, revealing a dry texture, weather-beaten and haggard.He clasped the double-headed eagle scepter tightly in both hands, its top was burning with flames, and his eyes were also burning with flames-the fire of psionic power.

"Terra has nothing to do today." Malcador said in a low voice. "So I finally took some time. I'm sorry that I left suddenly last time. Terra is busy with affairs, and all aspects of the new empire need one person to take care of. And he is not in Terra."

"You sound like you're complaining," Khalil said noncommittally.

"I'm just complaining," Malcador said. "I have so much to complain about and he usually doesn't listen to me."

"Is it because he doesn't listen, or do you just want to complain, but you don't want to really complain to him?"

Malcador did not answer the question.

He raised the scepter, and a vague shock swept across it, and the originally dark starry sky was completely new at this moment, becoming a small room with simple decoration.There were books and scrolls in every direction, piled up in a mess, and it was obvious that their owners didn't want to clean them up.

In the center of the room was a wool rug, and there were two chairs and a table, which looked rough, but were obviously used a lot.

Malcador walked over and put his scepter down against the table, the floor creaked, and the air was filled with an old and unique smell.

Khalil also walked over, and his figure began to become smaller and smaller until he became the original tall and thin appearance.

He took his seat, and Malcador handed him a book.

"Some other spells." The handprinter said in a low voice with his characteristic hoarse voice. "Maybe it will help you with what you're going to do later."

Khalil reached out to take it, and the book felt strange to the touch.He rubbed the pulp of the index finger of his right hand, and quickly determined the raw material of the book.

"Human skin?" He shook his head. "It's like this again, why do they always use human skin to write this knowledge?"

"A cruel and absurd coincidence." Malcador leaned back, as if he was lying on a chair.

He was still thinking, and the look in his eyes showed it.

"I've been trying for a while to figure out where this coincidence came from and if they were behind it."

"So, have you figured out the answer?" Khalil asked softly, turning the first page of the book at the same time.

The crooked and twisted characters reveal the writer's cultural level, while the excited and trembling brushstrokes reveal his or her excitement at the time.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and smelled a strong smell of blood.He ignored it and continued to flip through it at a very fast speed, not like reading a book, but more like a librarian checking whether there are any missing corners in the returned book.

"No." Malcador said. "And he wouldn't tell me."

"You won't even tell me?"

"He said he was afraid that I would lose confidence in humans." Malcador snorted coldly. "As if I had so much faith in humanity—tell me, Khalil Rohars, you know how stupid our race is in most cases, don't you?"

"It depends on how you look at it."

"I used to look at it with hope, but now I'm afraid I have become a complete pessimist. I almost don't have hope for anyone, even his so-called sons."

Malcador shook his head.

"Hope is shaky, Khalil Rohars, like man himself. And here is the funniest point, and I can't quite deny man, for there will always be some shining among us, Some heroes."

The old man's expression looked intriguing, and Khalil's smiling expression at the moment was also intriguing.

"You act like a cynical old man." He closed the book and handed it back to Malcador, who took it with a disapproving expression.

"Did I said wrong thing?"

"First, I am an old man. Second, I am also very cynical." Malcador said. "So, can you stop thinking of me as an idealist like him?"

Khalil smiled silently.

The Handprinter sighed—he stretched out his hand and grasped the heavy scepter again.

The world changed again, the quaint rooms and piles of books disappeared, replaced by a broken glacier.

The sky was a sullen and ominous light blue, very pale and thin.The glaciers crumbled, and the sea water sank to the extreme, rolling in darkness.They sat on this glacier, letting the cold wind howl.

"You don't have much humanity left." The handprinter warned in a serious tone. "Take care of your anchors, and watch your strength, Khalil Rohals."

He turned his head, his eyes sparkling under the hood: "I wish I could always call you by that name."

"I'll find a way," Khalil said. "But I can't do what you said, 'watch over' them. They have sworn an oath and will devote themselves to an almost impossible task. I will not interfere with their free will."

"Pedantic." Malcador said coldly. "It is necessary to make sacrifices for the future of the entire human race, and you have already sacrificed enough, why not replace others? No sacrifice is unacceptable."

"You're talking like you already have a list of victims."

"I do have."

"Is he up there?"

"He is the number one." Malcador retracted his gaze, looking up at the gloomy sky with a calm expression. "And the one who sacrificed the most--Come back to the point, Khalil Rohars, enough small talk."

The bearer stretched out his hand, and the scepter jumped from the edge of the table and into his hand.The double-headed eagle began to shine brightly, and a rough face appeared in the light.He had a gloomy expression, and although he was young and handsome, his brows and eyes were filled with a strange sense of anger.

"Perturabo, son of Olympia." The stamper turned his head. "A irascible, stubborn kid who craves approval but wants to trample it underfoot. And this kid not only has great power, he even leads an army."

Khalil sighed.

"Please tell me you're not trying to start another conversation about 'primarchs having character flaws', Malcador, I don't want to talk to you about that anymore - yes, I admit they're afraid More or less there are some small problems, but you will not be so resentful."

Facing his words, the palm-printer behaved very calmly, so calm that he even vaguely gloated: "You haven't realized the seriousness of the problem, Khalil Rohars. You haven't seen them get together scene, it was a disaster."

"A group of powerful children staring at each other indignantly, tables and chairs trembling under their emotions, let alone mortals. Their father is completely indifferent to this, and even wants them to solve their own problems. This is It's like hoping that a blind person can regain sight by himself, it's just a fantasy."

"If you have experienced these things like me, you will no longer behave so peacefully as you do now. Moreover, the ones you saw last time are already the ones with more normal personalities. At least they will listen. say something."

"Okay, okay, okay." Khalil nodded with his lips pursed. "I get it, I get it—please tell me what you have to say, Malcado, what do you want me to do when you specifically mention this Perturabo?"

"Support him." The palm-printer said seriously. "Support this idiot who is stupid enough to pursue maximum casualties to gain his father's approval."

"Your comments are really harsh"

The handprinter smiled sarcastically: "I'm just using words to sarcastically, but I'm afraid you will do it yourself when the time comes, Karyl Rohars."

Shocking waves swept over again, and the world blurred. Kalil calmly opened his eyes and saw Nostramo again.Malcador ended the meeting, but still left him a message - or, a reminder.

+Relevant orders have been dispatched by a fleet, get ready, Khalil Rohars.+
"Prepare?"

Khalil sighed and shook his head.

　There are still two chapters, and one more chapter will be added today on Qixi Festival.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)