40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 440 166. Terra (thirty-four)

When everything starts again, when the river of blood soaks him again, Azek Ahriman can put the thought of 'I am superfluous' behind him.

He heard roaring.

They make this sound every time they arrive, and then, the stench of the air being set on fire.

Ahriman knew that if he still had eyes, he would probably see the true appearance of those inanimate beings. They burst out of chaos, tendons and bones intertwined with each other, and their bodies slowly took shape in the endless blood.

They come in all shapes and sizes. It doesn't matter. They just need to be strong enough to hold a blade or an axe. Otherwise, they can simply replace it with sharp teeth and claws. After all, they come for killing. The difference between weapons and claws Not big.

Barbarism is barbarism.

And every time at this time, Ahriman would hear the roar of thunder.

"Victory after death!" he roared.

Ahriman breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that he had won again.

After a certain battle, Bjorn made a bet with him. Every time a war starts, the Thunder will shout a lot of slogans. Of course what he shouts most often is for unity, but sometimes he also wants to win after death. He rarely shouted for the Emperor, but often for Terra.

No one asked why, no one cared, they all knew whose side the Thunder were on. However, Bjorn is a member of the wolf pack after all, and all Fenris people seem to be like this, always possessing a kind of innate and terrifying optimism.

He came up with this particular pastime, which resulted in him losing four times in a row, with Ahriman seemingly being lucky enough to pick the correct answer each time.

"You lucky bastard!" Bjorn yelled not far from him.

Of course he wasn't really jealous, but he needed to shout this out in order to gain a sense of reality.

Sol Tarvitz jeered mildly behind them, while Sigismund continued to chop calmly. Thunder didn't care at all. His roar and his footsteps were fading away. It was obvious that he was rushing into the enemy group again.

Ahriman noticed all this, and said nothing to Bjorn's words, but smiled softly.

Who says it's not? He sure is one lucky bastard.

The blind man took a deep breath, lowered his head, hunched his waist, and already held a book in his hands.

Compared with the other four people who are still fighting, he also has his own things to do.

He started walking with a limp, and the pain in his ankle was no longer so severe. His bones seemed to have acquired an acquired secondary growth in such difficulties and torture. In contrast, disability actually began to slowly lessen his punishment.

This was incredible. Ahriman did not know why, and he had no time to care.

However, the book in his hand suddenly became hot and began to burn his palms and fingers. The flesh was hissing, but his face was calm, and there was even a hint of comfort in his heart.

He welcomes them, always welcomes them, every time

Ahriman calmly turned the pages and limped across the bloody battlefield.

It was a miracle that the demons ignored him. The reason may be attributed to the red blood that dyed him red. They came from the ground, from the endless river of blood that was always as hot as lava.

The blood of the war dead and demons turned the crimson king's descendant into a bloody man. His robe had turned into a torture instrument, clinging to his skin and burning his internal organs directly through the flesh.

This pain is similar to the burning of the book in my hand, but completely different. However, in the final analysis, it can still be endured, and this pain is nothing compared to burying the Primarch and the Legion with his own hands.

Furthermore, it could bring positive benefits to Ahriman after all.

He continued to limp, and the other three followed closely behind, starting to take steps in a wonderful tacit understanding, always keeping a distance between themselves and him.

The flesh and blood was crushed into mud under the steel boots, and the roar of thunder still resounded in the darkness, but Ahriman kept his calm and kept turning the pages of the book that he had no way of reading.

He kept walking until he almost felt like he had died many times.

The demons cannot see him, but the swords have no eyes, and the brass bulls among them will show no mercy. He was slashed, trampled, and melted by the scalding river of blood. But, somehow, 'he' still existed.

Ahriman didn't understand why 'he' existed at the moment. If it had been in the past, his terrible thirst for knowledge would have prompted him to immediately drop everything and start research, but not now.

The blind man today only wants to do one thing.

"Found it!" He stopped somewhere and shouted hoarsely.

His hands had lost all feeling, but the weight of the book was still there. It was a shadow, a responsibility, weighing heavily on his heart. So Ahriman knew that he had found it.

Once again, he found the crack through which the demons leapt.

Then four other roars sounded immediately.

"Sigismund!" Thor Tarvitz roared. "Go to support!"

"As you command," the Imperial Fist said.

He said he was obeying, but the reality was that he had already started moving in the direction of Ahriman seconds before.

The gaps in the chain connecting his sword to his wrist were filled with scraps of flesh, as was his bright yellow armor. Every place that could be spared by flesh and blood was covered with debris, almost staining his armor red. His helmet was missing again, but there were no marks on his face.

"Bjorn, flank!" the Emperor's Son roared again. Ahriman could almost imagine what he looked like at this moment. Tavitz was probably still struggling to move forward in the demonic tide in the same way as chopping wood. He listened attentively and heard a wolf howl, followed by a wild roar. laughing out loud.

"For Ruth!" Lone Wolf shouted with a smile.

The ax and fist blades in his hands were no longer sharp, so each blow required more effort, but he still insisted on attracting the attention of the demons on the flanks, and no one could make him change his mind.

Ahriman didn't understand how long they had to stay here before these two power weapons had so-called 'wear and tear'.

"Thunder!" Tavitz called again. "Do what you should-"

He couldn't finish his sentence and stopped abruptly. Ahriman was not anxious, but waited a moment. A few seconds later, he heard Sol Tarvitz let out a long sigh, as if returning from the land of the dead.

This thing is really strange. Although they are hundreds of meters apart from each other, they can hear each other's voice accurately.

"—What to do?" Lei Lei asked with a smile.

His voice was distant and truly accompanied by lightning and thunder. Every time he spoke, lightning struck, forcing the ground to shake. Ahriman only wished at this moment that he still had eyes. He wanted to see the dark lightning described by Bjorn.

The Emperor's Children made no reply, but returned to the fight. He didn't need to say anything because his mission as commander was accomplished.

At this moment, Sigismund had already rushed in front of Ahriman. There is no mistake, that kind of sword storm accompanied by the sound of waves in the blood river can only be done by him.

So Ahriman stopped waiting and immediately picked up the ancient book in his hand. At the same time, he took out the rusty blade that was the spine of the book and inserted it into the raging river of blood.

He knelt down to complete this task, and at this moment, the blood level had already risen due to the killing. In this position it almost engulfed his neck.

The temperature that was more terrifying than lava began to make Ahriman clench his teeth, but his right hand still held the rusted blade. Sigismund was guarding behind him. Amidst the roars of the demons, the Imperial Fist quietly uttered a word that was not muffled by any sound.

"Do what you have to do and I'll kill them all."

I know. The blind man smiled. I've heard it many times, Sigismund.

The blood river began to roar and stir like a whirlpool. The stump of the broken arm turned into a terrifying sharp blade at this moment, cutting Ahriman's flesh and blood, but he could always feel the existence of his right hand.

There is no reason, he just exists. Not to atone for sins, not to prove himself. He exists, nothing more.

The rusted blade began to tremble in his hand, and in the deepest part of the blood river, an unstable subspace crack began to be closed. Ahriman did not use his psychic powers, but he could clearly perceive the event.

In fact, he could sense much more than that. He could also smell the greedy breath of the inanimate and the gentle scraping of feathers from behind the thin door. He knew that He was still watching him.

Just take a look. Ahriman thought. I am no longer your door, I am blind.

He tightened his grip on the blade and jerked it out. He couldn't see what his body looked like at the moment, and he didn't need to know about it.

The roar of the blood river suddenly stopped, and then came the ravings of the innocent souls.

Ahriman lowered his body and respectfully inserted the blade back into the ancient book in his hand.

It is still the same as before, no page has fallen off, and the surface is silent and cold, as if it had never been hot. The surroundings were frighteningly quiet. The roars of the demons and the terrifying snorts all disappeared, leaving only the whistling of the wind, as if coming from somewhere in the void.

A hand pulled him up.

"We have won," said Sigismund, and Ahriman heard him thrust his sword into the ground. "How many times is this?"

"I don't know," Ahriman replied coughing, his nostrils now filled with the smell of blood.

"Does the number of times matter?" Sol Tavitz asked not far away.

"The times are meaningless, but we won." Bjorn added. "This is the meaning. Maybe we never really kill them. Maybe we will die here. But until then, the star torch will shine brightly."

After he finished speaking, they all fell silent, as if waiting for someone who had not yet spoken. This was a tacit understanding developed over a long period of time, but that person did not follow this rule at the moment.

Ahriman suddenly felt that his two hearts had stopped. A terrible suspicion arose in his heart, forcing him to suddenly raise his hand and grab Sigismund's gauntlet.

The Imperial Fist was silent for a while and then asked: "Thunder?"

It took a few seconds for them to get an answer.

".I seemed to hear the sound of bombing." Lei Lei said.

He was standing far away, and his voice sounded almost like an echo from somewhere, and there was a confusion in it that had never been there before.

They couldn't help but look at each other.

　Update completed, it’s too late, go to bed (slip away)

　　

　

(End of this chapter)