40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 416 142. Terra (seventeen)

Dissipate, everything is dissipating, becoming nothingness that cannot be observed or touched. The light is swallowed up, then the shape, and finally the sound dissipates.

Amidst the loud noise caused by the falling battleship, the things in front of Rogal Dorn began to distort.

He was not in the center of the fall, or even just on the edge, but this incident still caught up with him. Stubborn stone opened his eyes, watching the darkness fall, and then the flames ignited.

The ground shook, and obsidian polished so smooth that it could be used as a mirror covered the muddy flesh. Narrow walls suddenly rose from the scattered dust, turning into narrow corridors to surround him. The mutated skull hangs on the stone wall, with the top of the skull wide open and a torch stuck in it. A putrid smell began to spread from their burning.

Dawn lowered his head and saw a blurry silhouette.

The smooth obsidian reflected his own appearance, but presented a distorted spectacle. The flames on the wall were leaping, and his appearance also changed along with it.

The skin dissolved, revealing the true face underneath, which was the face of a demon with two ferocious spiral horns on its head. A highly abstracted skull symbol sparkled on the forehead, reaching deep into the bone marrow. The bloody light was terrifying and scarlet, and the eyes were like torches.

Dorn raised his foot and ran over it.

A hoarse hissing sound came from the communication channel. Someone was trying to contact him, but was unable to do so.

The instrument is reporting an error and has been doing so for a while. Judging from the repeated error codes, there is only one reason why the communication line cannot be successfully established, and it is very simple - signal disorder, nothing more.

Dorn didn't care about this, just holding the Storm Fang and moving forward slowly.

This chain sword comes from his hometown of Inwit. It was patiently forged in the ice and snow by those hard-working craftsmen. It is a truly terrifying weapon.

Only the Primarch could wield such a massive weapon with one hand, and its teeth and motors were specially designed to shred virtually anything, including adamantine. Therefore, if an enemy appears, he is not worried.

Even if he is alone now, even if the fortress he built has been completely destroyed.

Of course Dorn recognized the fallen battleship, and he could also determine the central location of its fall. Its destination is the Royal Palace, which is most of the continental plate occupied by the entire Himalayas and the Royal Palace.

It has fallen, so the palace has become ruins, and those carefully prepared fortifications and fortress buildings have naturally turned into nothingness.

But it doesn't matter.

He is the fortress. The last fortress.

Dorn turned around, and he smelled a rotten stench that was far worse than before.

"Hello, brother." Horus Luperkar greeted with a smile.

Stubborn stone slowly put down the chain sword in his hand.

"Huh?" Horus raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Why did you lay down your weapon?"

Donne looked at him indifferently and said nothing. The contempt in his eyes almost turned into substance.

"Ah, you are still so sharp." Horus shook his head nostalgically. "Do you know, Roger? On the way back, I kept thinking about what brought us to this point. I couldn't figure out the answer, but I saw you - to be precise, you."

"I saw the tragic situation of Terra before I ordered the impact. Although we were floating in the subspace at the time, I still saw it - how could you let those civilians go to the battlefield with guns?"

He asked seemingly questioningly, with a bit of anger in his eyes.

"Where's your backbone, Roger?" he asked. "This is a battle of honor, and this battle belongs to the real warriors. I can tolerate you filling your battlefield with mortal auxiliaries. Although they are weak, they are still part of the war after all, but why do you want to let them fill your battlefield?" Are civilians also involved?”

"Why not?" Dorn asked calmly.

"What use are they in a war?"

Horus asked the same question, and then immediately started talking non-stop, as if he hadn't had such a peaceful conversation with someone for a long time.

"Most of them don't even know how to shoot correctly. It's a waste of weapons in their hands. They have zero tactical gestures and tactical literacy, not to mention their poor combat qualities."

"You're basically sending them to die, Roger. You put a gun in each of these civilians' hands, then rush them onto the battlefield and let them go to the most dangerous place to be killed. That's so shitty, bro. , so shitty. This is not something you would do in the past, what on earth have you experienced?"

He asked sincerely, his eyes filled with regret.

He acted as if he still considered himself an older brother and an excellent general. It was as if they were not in a hell now, with brothers killing each other, but in a quiet room having a debate about war.

Just like before.

"Go to hell," Dorn replied unusually calmly.

The phantom of the counterfeit laughed and dissipated, and he turned and moved on.

He had already learned from Fulgrim what happened on the Vengeful Spirit. Horus Luperkar had long been dead, and his essence, soul and memory had been destroyed by the evil in the subspace. Devour everything completely.

The thing standing across from him just now and talking to him was just an impostor. What exists under the skin is endless evil power of chaos.

You can easily detect this without seeing, smelling or feeling.

And none of these things matter.

It could steal his brother's body, steal his name, steal everything about him. It can use this to start a war, displacing countless people and shattering their bones in flames.

But Rogal Dorn would avenge his brother.

He would avenge Horus Luperkar.

In the darkness, the stubborn stone walked alone with its head held high.
-

"Farea Freer!" Fulgrim roared heartbreakingly.

Then he swung his sword - the sword burning with angry flames smoothly cut off dozens of demons in half. The flames immediately began to burn the flesh and blood, clinging to them and bringing their souls to the gods for judgment.

Phoenix is ​​still not satisfied with this.

His skin, which was once as white as pearls and dazzling, was now so pale that it was frightening. Veins popped out on his face. His handsome face had been completely distorted. There was no trace of civilizational elegance, only the barbarism brought about by violence.

He clenched his teeth, blood and saliva dripping from his mouth, like an unconscious, mad beast. Angry flames boiled in his eyes, burning his soul all the time. His burning white hair was spinning with the movement of his footsteps, and ashes spilled from the ends, hanging upside down and floating into the air.

There are endless ghosts of injustice, returning from hell, whispering, wailing, crying, screaming, urging, and roaring softly in his ears.

Avenge us, avenge us. This is your destiny.

So he roared out a name again.

"Sepatas!"

The sword blade fell and black flames billowed. The ground melted and cracked. Ghosts climbed out of it, with millions of skeletal hands holding hideous fragments of white bones.

They rose quietly, raised their hands high, and handed the fragments from the bottom of hell to the human world, and handed them to Fulgrim's head.

They were just a little short of being able to put these fragments on his head and forge a crown, but they were forced back into the world of the dead by a ray of darkness hidden inside the Phoenix Armor.

It roared at them threateningly, warning them not to do this, not to put the crown that only belonged to the Avenger on the human named Fulgrim, even if it was still broken and incomplete.

Although it really wanted to see this scene, it had promised Khalil Lohars, so it would definitely fulfill its promise.

The ghosts sadly retreated. After all, they were unable to resist the demon named Lalhe.

Fulgrim knew nothing about this, and he still fulfilled the oath he swore when he made the contract. He will avenge every wrongful death until the end of time.

Their names crossed his mind one by one, and their grievances and endless resentment poured into his heart. Under all kinds of pressure, Phoenix had already forgotten where he was.

This is why he is indifferent to the fall of the Spirit of Vengeance. If he was still a little bit awake, he would notice changes in the environment, but he would not be able to wake up on his own.

The spiral of hatred had already enveloped him.

Malcador was extremely sorry for this.

The spiritual energy of the Seal Holder carried his soul in the air. The Soul of Vengeance fell just a minute ago, but during this period, he had already seen the entire Terra and seen tens of thousands of deaths, and he didn't even Perceive any burden.

He had never used his psychic powers so boldly. In the past, he had suppressed himself out of caution. Until now, until his Lord demands it.

The palm bearer sighed and stretched out his hand, gently clenching his fist in a gesture that transcended the world. The light of psychic energy suddenly erupted, and the power that was enough to make a mortal temporarily upgrade was revealed between his fingers, but the blue light was mixed with half of the golden color.

Malcador saw this scene speechlessly, knowing that his master was still helping - he had asked him not to care about these things anymore, but the giant in golden armor just shook his head weakly.

The light bloomed, like the scorching sun meeting the snow, melting all the demons. Their skin and flesh hissed, tumors appeared in their bones, and their nerves spread. The corpses were surging and twisting, forming a huge web of flesh and blood.

They want to continue to exist in this way until Malcador has to leave, so that they can continue to drag Fulgrim into revenge, so that he can never wake up and do what he really wants to do. The palmer's eyes narrowed, and the anger hidden in his heart finally burst out. Even though it was only a short moment, it completely dissipated them - but his power could not truly kill these evil spirits after all.

They are fragments of the gods, born to turn the world into hell. His current behavior can only be regarded as driving them away.

But it was enough, he had bought time.

The Seal Holder clenched his fists again and used all his strength to dig deep into Fulgrim's heart, just to find the last piece of clarity. His efforts were not in vain. Among the highly abstract and terrifying pictures, he found Chemo. Sri Lankan people.

He was sitting in a dark corner, staring silently at his memory. There was a stone wall in front of him, and various scenes flashed across it. A giant bathed in blood was furiously attacking another giant with an ax in one hand.

That was Angron, and the holder of the seal could tell it at a glance. He sighed, feeling bitter in his heart. Although I have long known about the sacrifice of the Sons of the Mountains, I still feel shocked and saddened when I see it with my own eyes.

"Fulgrim." The palm bearer called softly. "It's time for you to wake up."

Phoenix turned back suddenly, white hair flying, and angry flames dancing in his eyes. The dull red and sinking black turned into entangled angry flames, and there was no longer any trace of the violet color before.

He bared his teeth, and it took him a while to recognize Malcador. The person who was once as pure as a gem is now like a wild beast, extremely frantic.

"What happened?"

He asked hoarsely, blood and tears were slowly flowing from his eyes, sliding down to his chin, forming a winding blood path, just like the terrifying patterns that the ancient Nordic berserkers of Terra only smeared on their faces before going into battle.

The only difference is that the berserkers do this to instill fear in their enemies, while Fulgrim does not.

He just hated his own incompetence.

Malcador saw all this, but did not give any comments or advice, only simply told it.

"The Spirit of Vengeance fell on Terra, bringing Chaos magic with it. It was originally an altar, and now it resonates with Terra. It has been integrated into Terra, and is gradually becoming Terra a part of--"

"——Is it there too?" Fulgrim interrupted him suddenly. "Is it here, Malcador?"

"Yes, and right here." The person holding the seal told the truth. "In a few minutes, the Spirit of Vengeance will be completely integrated into Terra. The altars will be superimposed on each other. From now on, there will be no distinction between Terra or Spirit of Vengeance. But you can't see it."

"Why?" Fulgrim asked.

His expression was calm, without any dissatisfaction, as if he was just asking a simple question.

A wry smile finally bloomed on the face of the person holding the seal.

"Because it doesn't want to," he said.

"I'll find it."

"No, you can't. And even if you can, you can't defeat it. It is the common choice of the four false gods, and it is also a door of chaos that exists in our world. The spiral of revenge that now affects the entire galaxy is caused by it. Creation, from which the spiral of hatred begins.”

"so?"

"So you can't beat it," Makado said. "You need reason to fight it, just like humans need reason to fight beasts. But you will completely lose your reason the moment you see him, and those people who died unjustly will completely crush you."

Fulgrim was silent for a few seconds, blood and tears still flowing, staining his wrinkled lips red. However, when the silence ended, he laughed.

"Maybe, maybe things are really what you said, Malcador. But, you got one thing wrong."

"what's up?"

"Human beings do not rely on reason to fight against beasts." Phoenix said.

He raised his hands, black flames ignited, and the sharp blades gathered into shape. A strong wind swept in, blowing his white hair, and the end began to flicker like a burning fire. In just a blink of an eye, they returned to the real world.

Phoenix gasped and fell to his knees, feeling unprecedentedly weak and strangely full.

His hands were too tired to lift, but the strength in his body was endless.

The more tired he felt, the more he could detect the inhuman cold power - as if a call, earnestly hoping that he would throw away his human skin, throw away his memory and everything, and become a real beast just for revenge. And the wild beast that exists.

No, not now. he said to himself.

He raised his head and saw a floating shadow.

"Makado."

"I'm here." The person holding the seal replied, his voice changed, but the Chemos people seemed not to notice anything.

"How did it and the Spirit of Vengeance get to Terra?"

"They started preparing for the subspace jump early in the morning. They jumped directly from the far end of the solar system to Terra's low-Earth orbit, and then began to fall."

"And it will never come alone," Fulgrim muttered, standing up from the ground. "In other words, in addition to facing its attacks, Terra also has to deal with attacks from the sky."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about at this point," Makado said. "The Phalanx and the Emperor's Dream have already been prepared, and the major cosmic defense lines deployed by Rogge in advance can also attack to support."

There was a golden glow in his eyes. Fulgrim saw this scene clearly and could no longer pretend to be calm. He closed his eyes and bowed his head among the burning corpses.

"Father."

The light flashed away, and Malcador's form quietly dissipated, revealing his true appearance. A pair of tired and sad eyes looked at Phoenix. The light was warm and shone on his shoulders, like a response.

Fulgrim knew that the Seal Bearer had already left the moment he woke him up, and it was actually the Emperor who answered those questions on his behalf.

"I'm sorry, father," the Chemos said with his eyes closed. "I accomplished nothing and I failed everyone."

"Don't blame yourself," said the Lord of Mankind. "No one can blame you."

Phoenix didn't answer, but stretched out his hand, seeking support like a blind man. The Emperor instinctively extended his right hand to give him support. The Phoenix grasped that hand tightly, like a drowning man grasping a straw. He lowered his head, unwilling to say anything more.

After a while, hot tears fell slowly.

"They are coming." The Emperor spoke quietly, gently, yet extremely weakly. "Your brothers will be here soon, but I can't see where they are. Especially Russ, this reckless wolf. He should have acted according to my orders, but now he is off the reins."

"What did he do?"

"Sacrifice," said the Emperor. "Probably so."

"Then he's just like us, Father, and I don't think you should blame Ruth for this."

"I never blamed him," said the Lord of Mankind. "I was the one who made the mistake, and I alone can bear the responsibility - so go ahead and kill, Fulgrim."

His support gradually faded away, and so did his voice, like thunder above the clouds, containing infinite anger.

"Kill it," the Emperor ordered.

Phoenix opened his eyes and smelled a terrible stench. There were colorful wing membranes slowly opening and vibrating in the darkness.

Two cloudy white eyes appeared in the darkness, and a giant wrapped in rotten armor slowly appeared in front of him. There was a huge wound on his waist, as if he had been injured by a knife. He seemed weak and surprised to see Fulgrim here.

"Ah, this is beyond my expectation." He took a deep breath, and a hoarse echo came from the respirator, as if he was speaking in hell. "Brother, long time no see."

"Don't call me that." Phoenix raised his sword, black flames burning.

"Why not?" Mortarion asked.

Phoenix answered with his sword.

　This chapter is 5.3k, and there is still one more chapter left.

　　

　

(End of this chapter)