40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 456 182. Interlude: Calling

Malcador——

Someone is calling.

The Palmist opened his eyes, his thoughts stretched out like lightning, and he began to search for the location of the person calling him on the chaotic Terra.

This was not difficult in the past, but it is different now. Today's Terra is hard to even call it a world, it has many forms.

She was still the old water star, but she was also a completely arid planet, the throne world of Mankind, upon which the Palace of Terra shone with the other hive cities, ruling them all just as its master had. status.

But neither perspective comes from the 'now', at least, not from the present that Malcador wants. He threw away the 'past' and forcefully used his spiritual power to clear away the layers of fog in front of him. There was only one thought in his will - he must find the present.

He must find the present where someone is calling him.

So he passed through Terra when the Spirit of Vengeance had just fallen, Terra when the Star Torch had not been ignited, and Terra after the war, when the sun had not yet been rekindled.

Everything was fleeting in his eyes, everything broke into his thoughts in an indescribably short time. Malcador shook his head in a daze, and thick blood spurted out from the corners of his eyes and flowed down the river.

The Lord of Mankind has already suffered enough for him, and even He cannot fully bear this part - He is a shield, but it will eventually wear out, and people like Malcador who hide behind the shield are destined to Injuried.

The master of the seal swallowed a mouthful of blood with the breath of death, stretched out his hand to hold the scepter on the side, and forcefully drove the power again to continue moving forward.

The chaotic Terras that exist in endless time and broken space roar once again, one after another.

Some are sixty-five desolate fragments that have not yet been rebuilt, but some have been properly taken care of. People adhere to the twenty-five-hour rule and have once again built various structures on them that can maintain the brilliance of the star torch and the survival of mankind. key instruments

The information revealed by these futures is enough for anyone to stop, but Malcador is an exception. He knew very well that the future could be changed. The future was by no means predetermined. Otherwise, how could they reverse the past and win?

He can't be distracted and stop at these places, not to mention, who can guarantee that this flashback scene with 'hope' and 'future' is not his handiwork?

The scepter held the scepter tightly, and in this unknown underground room, his eyes lit up as brightly as stars.

Then the fog was torn away, the picture was burned, the sound of scraping feathers disappeared in a flash, and the golden flame followed closely, grabbing it without any surprise, and burning it to ashes. The seal bearer angrily yelled at it, truly arriving at the 'now'.

Where they are now.

His thoughts were high on Terra, and Malcador let out a drowsy sigh.

It was impossible to measure how much time had passed in reality, but his body told him that only ten seconds had passed. But his spirit spent one broken millennium after another, or even ten thousand years, in those repeated cycles of Terra.

Fatigue pressed down on his back like a heavy mountain, forcing him to sigh unbearably from his throat. And this was just the beginning, the call had not yet dissipated from his ears, and he still had a chance to find that person.

So he started looking for him.

In the darkness, he held the long staff tightly, and his soul began its long journey like a living person.

He passed by a burning trench and saw the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors fighting side by side. It was a rare sight, but this was one of the futures the Emperor had envisioned for them. Now that it has been achieved in such a clever way, it is hard to say that this is not an irony.

He looked at the Lord of Steel. A piece of steel that had lost too much was beaten with blood by a cruel fate and became what it is today. It was full of cracks but could no longer be destroyed.

He looked at the stubborn stone again, silently taking on everything, and all the suffering was not worth mentioning at all.

Then came the descendants of Dorne from ten thousand years later, who could no longer leave Terra. There may still be seats left, but they no longer belong to them - only those who have left can afford the seats left.

destiny. The bearer cynically reviled it, feeling deep sorrow for these warriors.

He turned around and left, floating coldly in the black snow, the edges of his robes already lit by golden flames. His master was protecting him, and in a sense, he was with him.

Not Him, just the Emperor, just his friend.

Following the sound, the palmer rushed into a boundless sea of ​​blood, a place where the murderer had long since left, but the remains were still there. He quickly recognized that these were the remains of the Star Torch Hall.

Its existence in the material world has been fixed by the Emperor, and the spirit in the etheric sea is burning. Its mere existence means hope, and it is pure hope, a hope that cannot be interfered by the false god in chaos - this It is something that only belongs to humans, and He no longer has the right to get involved.

He was wounded by the edge of the sword, He was persecuted, He bled, and He had to pay for that blood.

Malcador stared distractedly, and soon found some dead forest leaves that did not exist on Terra. His soul grabbed these leaves, and his body disappeared in a flash, and he escaped into a forest. Dead leaves were crushed by the wheels, and vegetation was blackened by gunpowder smoke. A large army was taking a short rest and recuperation here. All kinds of supplies and replacement parts were piled up in every corner of the forest. Even the remains were carefully shrunk and did not dare to show their faces again.

The Seal Holder stabilized his presence and began to confirm the status of the army - if possible, he would bring the good news to his master later. But he was discovered, by the tired yet fortified soul of Leman Russ.

So, guided by the Spear of Dionysus, the Lion, Angel, Khan, Phoenix and Iron Hand also became aware of his arrival. They still cannot see him, but they can briefly feel his presence through the extraordinary sense they are born with.

So the lion asked.

"What is your mission, Sealmaster?" he asked simply. "Are you coming to take away the five of them? They are still receiving treatment. I'm afraid you need to wait a little longer."

Malcador wanted to answer, but he could no longer stay here for too long - this was not Terra after all, it was just a section of the Lion's terrifying talent.

His father placed this stolen authority in the body of Leon El'Jonson, but after all, the Lion was not sharp enough in this regard, and he did not yet understand his talent well enough.

Malcador was forced to leave, and in the end he couldn't even say a word. He rushed into a whirlpool, filled with hateful faces of the dead. They spiraled upward, creating storms in the sky that were difficult to stop.

These storms should have damaged the ships supporting the fleet. The first ones to suffer damage were the Nightfall and Macragge's Glory. Fortunately, the Lord of Mankind had already made a plan. The chaotic Terra was very suitable for him to use some of his original A little trick that doesn’t make it to the table.

In this tricky way, he placed them one after another in a safe and peaceful past, undisturbed.

They no longer need to stay in Terra, support has arrived, but there are several other wars going on in the space near Terra, and the Phalanx and the Emperor's Dream will need their support.

Malcador could see clearly that in just a little while, La Endymion of the Ten Thousand Husbands would board the Glory of Macragge and deliver the orders of the Lord of Mankind to all the crew members on board.

We accounted for everything. The palm bearer thought darkly, his face full of anger. Now come and taste the bitter pill you brewed just to go to the theater.

This incident gave him a brief moment of relief, but the question was, who was calling him? He had searched most of Terra, but still could not find the owner of that voice.

He had no choice but to continue searching, with noisy sounds echoing in his ears and countless battles taking place in the burning wreckage.

Angron is leading his war dogs to meet the demonic tide in the nest below the palace. Robert Guilliman and his army of ultramarines are facing the most elite army of the Word Bearers at the place that originally belonged to the outer wall of the palace. Hedge.

The bastard in the skin of Lorgar Aurelion is back, manipulated by darkness, standing proudly before the Lord of the Thirteenth Legion.

Corvus Corax and his silent Raven Guard were scattered across the battlefield, employing similar tactics to the Midnight Blades. Point-to-point, one-on-one swarm hunting, escape immediately if a hit is missed, even the devil cannot afford such a terrible price.

But they are infinite, and Terra is strengthening them. There is war, there is change, there is decay, there is joy - there is everything here, so they begin to be unreasonably strong and unreasonably numerous.

It was so abominable that the palmer felt a terrible anger rising in his heart - how many years had he not had such a rich emotional reaction?

But this was not the end. The real anger came when he saw the thing that the Salamander and the Death Guard were fighting side by side. It's fighting Vulkan, and it's using Mortarion's form

The Sealbearer gritted his teeth and forced himself to put aside the idea of ​​using psychic powers to support the battlefield. He must find the person who called him.

Then he found it, or rather, he was found.

The soul of the bearer stopped and saw an echo that was repeating in the darkness.

"Malcador" the owner of the voice called weakly. "How's the situation now?"

The seal bearer walked over silently, propped up a corner of the boulder with his scepter, and told him: "We are winning."

Sisyphus turned his head with blood on his face and showed a smile: "Really? How long do I need to hold on if this is good?"

"A little longer." Malcador closed his eyes and said. "A little longer."

"I will try my best," Sisyphus replied with a smile.

　The update has been completed. The total is 10,000. I am not sure whether it will be updated tomorrow. If not, I will notify you in advance ()

　　In addition, this chapter recommends a BGM, Sisyphus, from Andrew Bird.

(End of this chapter)