40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 459 Extra: A Father’s Ten Thousand Years

First came the darkness.

It's always darkness.

There is no sight, sound or touch to speak of, in fact, there is nothing here. I could hear myself breathing, but it was just an illusion. No breath to speak of, I am long dead, I am a remnant of the past

Self-awareness is the greatest lie, like the deception of free will, an accidental mistake in human evolution, a beautiful illusion that appears by chance.

It is so beautiful that everyone tries to indulge in it, and then spreads into a network, densely packed, connecting countless people. In every network, there is a towering tree, which bears rich fruits.

But I don't exist, never have existed, only lies and deceit.

I died, in the last battle. Can that really be called a battle? Perhaps it should be called a premeditated suicide.

This suicide originated from countless conversations between three stubborn, paranoid and stupid people. We made many plans, some were extreme and some were stable, but only this one was finally implemented.

In fact, both of them know very well that the choice has always been in my hands. If I choose to live, I can live forever

But what if I choose to die?

I tried to smile, but unfortunately I couldn't.

Back to topic.

So, who are you? Why should I talk to you? Ah it took me a while to realize that I was just talking to myself.

I am just a person who never existed, a thief who appropriated a stolen body and name. I am a reverberation, an illusion, and a madman staring into the darkness and muttering to himself.

I died, but I wouldn't call it a sacrifice. I didn't want to sound like a so-called hero, or someone who finally did a good deed when it was time to die.

I set the entire galaxy on fire.

How many people died for this?

For example, this person is Sergeant Herok of the 61st Company of Numinas. You see, he's just staying in the dark.

Did you see his face? Of course you can't see it, you can only see a bloody mess.

He is from Calth, and Calth is in the Five Hundred Worlds of Ultramar in the Extreme Star Territory. It is a stable, wealthy and prosperous star region. In the world we live in, this is a rare miracle.

There is a person who likes data and theoretical analysis and manages these five hundred worlds very well. He and his sons are the only good people I have ever met in my life. He spends his life trying to keep everyone fed, clothed, and Live with dignity.

It is not difficult to state these three conditions, but if you have a history book of mankind, you will find that no one has ever done this in history.

He just barely succeeded, just like his father.

Ugh.

Back to the topic.

Numinas is a province of Calth, and Sergeant Hurlock comes from this province's auxiliary army, the Ultramar Defenders.

He was a loyal soldier, loyal to Calth, loyal to Ultramar, loyal to the Empire, Humanity, and the Emperor. He lived for forty-five years and remained a good man.

Then he died, from a complicated cause.

Someone peeled off his face while he was still alive, cut off his hands and feet, and pierced him with a long flagpole through his abdomen and lifted him up.

The flagpole comes out from behind, which is brutal, but once you get through the first few minutes, there will be no more pain. The body's self-protection mechanism put him into shock until the murderer forcibly awakened him.

So Sergeant Hurlock clearly felt what he was experiencing now. He could touch the rough surface of the flagpole with his internal organs and the shaking caused by the murderer holding him while walking.

He was in pain, and the most cruel torture a person could experience was nothing more than that, but the real pain was yet to come, because the murderer lifted him out of the place where he was executed, allowing him to see his hometown burning in flames. Burning appearance.

This pain drove Sergeant Herlock truly into madness. This was the real cause of his death. It was not excessive blood loss or death in pain, but madness.

Then he found me.

To be precise, he didn't find me, but I found him.

who am I?

Very good question.

You see, I still remember this, but the thing is, I've forgotten my own voice and can't introduce myself to you. I forgot...a lot of things.

However, like the cause of Sergeant Hurlock's death, the cause of this incident is also complicated.

Essentially, my lack of memory stems from a loss of humanity. Human nature is a very complex concept that encompasses many things and cannot be seen or touched intuitively. It doesn't exist, but it does exist.

I have never really seen the true appearance of my own humanity. Their outward manifestations are just glaciers that are breaking apart, but not anymore. But strangely enough, I'm not supposed to feel any emotions anymore, like sadness or regret

Maybe this can be considered a punishment, for what I did.

Having digressed, I pushed the topic to a new place. I no longer have the ability to maintain myself and focus for a long time. It’s a pity. I used to be a very focused person and could spend more than ten years in a row just to accomplish one thing, even though I failed in the end.

However, from a certain perspective, I actually succeeded.

It's a pity that there is no concept of time here.

There is just darkness here, nothing else, including me, and I don’t exist.

I do miss them.

Ah, let’s talk about Nostramo? Yeah, talk about it, again, I need something to hold myself up.

My earliest impression of Nostramo was of a puddle.

The sour rain formed a small depression in the corroded stone bricks, just big enough to be used as a mirror full of waves. If the light had been good enough, I might have been able to see my face from inside.

The light at that time was not good, Nostramo was always in darkness, and there was no such thing as daytime. The brilliant neon lights and searchlights turned the sky into another wonderfully colorful, yet ruthlessly heavy mirror, weighing heavily on everyone's heads.

It overwhelms them and turns them from humans into beasts

I still remember how I felt at that time, cold, then pain, heart-piercing pain.

I had never experienced such pain, and it was the first time I had 'feelings', so I started screaming in the dark, using Nostramo, a strange hissing language.

I later learned that the people who first created and used it were actually a group of artists and poets. However, in the era I live in, the people who use it have changed from the creators of beauty and hope to their opposites, and have become a group of depraved and ignorant destroyers.

Pain without knowing it, killing, doing evil, but not for anything, as if it is instinct.

At that time, I didn't understand anything. I just covered the painful area and roared with all my strength. I wasn't the only one making strange noises in the dark, there were others yelling in the dark just like me.

Some people do it for catharsis, to wake up from the psychedelic pleasure of drugs or the horrific pleasure of murder, but for others, it's just pain.

I wasn't in pain at the time, I didn't have that concept yet, I was just sad.

I took a moment to wake up and some memories came flooding back to me.

It can be roughly divided into two parts. One part is some chaotic silhouettes, such as blue sky and white and soft clouds. This one was confusing, and to this day I'm not sure who or what it came from. I think it's actually just a reflection.

But the other one is not so gentle. The owner of this memory is called Khalil Lohars, that is,

I?

Ah, my name.

I really miss it, it seems like no one has called me that for a long time. But, as I said before, the name was stolen.

Khalil Lohars was long dead, and like all dead men in vain, I found him. I still remember that deal, and he was the first lucky person to talk to me before I had complete self-awareness.

However, I actually don’t think he can really be that lucky. I am a kind of underlying law of the world. I should not have self-awareness, nor should I focus on Nostramo.

Khalil Lohars told me he would do anything to exact revenge.

I asked the person, and as usual, he mentioned some names with a ferocious look on his face.

He used the term "vengeful evil spirit" to call me, as if he regarded me as an ancient legend spread among the stars. Decades later, I realized that as humans moved towards the star sea, they also brought some traditions to various worlds that should not be taken away.

It is certainly part of human nature to branch out and pursue progress and new things, but humans are also stubborn and uphold traditions. They want to maintain any tradition, including this extremely bad one.

Later, I started using this name, and this title.

I still remember my initial thoughts - there are many ways to get revenge, I don't need to resort to violence entirely, there must be a way to reduce the frequency of bloodshed.

At the beginning, I planned to use a slightly gentler way to complete this revenge.

What's a pity is that after all, I am not the one who avenges wrongs, but just one of the countless extreme avengers. There is no way I can make people realize how bad the situation they are in is and that they totally deserve something better.

No one wants to listen to the whispers of a bottom-hive madman in the mines, and no one dares to walk side by side with him to resist everything together. I was a little disappointed, but the more I saw, the more I realized what was wrong with the world.

The world that humans live in should not be like this.

I became angry at the sin everywhere, and this was the beginning of my fall.

I chose another path and decided to continue practicing the art of killing. I do this thing naturally, and I am so skilled that I can easily find the key points of the human body without even having to learn. For a few months, I was addicted to the thrill of revenge and began to crave more.

Until that day, I suddenly woke up.

What is the use of killing these people?

A group of ignorant people who took the initiative to turn to the evil side were born in hell, influenced by their ears and eyes, and forced to eat people. The crime has been committed, but it is not known that it is called a crime, but it is regarded as a job, a job that is enough to make a living, bring food, stay away from the cold, and gain dignity.

I returned to the mines, seeking comfort.

I had killed so many people that the miners could see the difference in me, but they accepted me as a 'colleague' who appeared and left and then reappeared that night.

A man named Hakan handed me a little food he had saved. He thought I was shivering from hunger, so he wanted to use this little food to comfort me. However, I am actually just angry.

Angry at these people who have lived at the bottom of the mines all their lives, never breathed a breath of clean air, and never straightened up to walk. Angry at their kindness and resignation, angry at the miners and slave owners who exploited them, angry at the nobles, angry to the whole world.

I finished the food Hakan gave me and fell into a rage. I came here for comfort, because they were the only 'kindness' I saw in Nostramo, and I hoped they would give me a little strength to persevere.

And I didn't get this power, only an increasingly cold rage.

If nothing unexpected happens, I will start killing slave owners that night and continue until I turn the entire world into a sea of ​​blood. But Hakan told me that they found a child at the bottom of the mine.

Although he used the word 'child' at the time, he seemed hesitant when he spoke. I didn't miss this detail and started thinking about what kind of child would be born in a mine.

So everything went smoothly, just like every story should have a twist. Under the guidance of the miners, I found a sleeping child deep in the mine.

He was very tall, with long arms and legs. Even when he was curled up and lying in the mud with mice, he looked huge. But what really attracted me was that look on his face.

It does not contain any impurities, neither the madness brought about by sin, nor the numbness and exhaustion that seem to be inherent to the oppressed, but a complete purity.

This look belongs only to a child, and therefore, tall and alien as he was, I immediately concluded that he was a child.

At the same time, I also realized that he was not a Nostramo. So, where does he come from? I thought about this question, and when I came to my senses, I had brought him back to my shelter.

The child could not speak at the time and could only hiss in mocking ways. I realized he was a little afraid of me because I had brought him back semi-forcefully.

There is no doubt that this is a mistake, and I began to urge myself to change my mentality - in this hell, this may be the only gem. If you miss it, you will never have it again.

I didn't know his identity and power at the time, but I just felt that I had an obligation to raise such a child.

In the normal way, not the Nostramo way.

So I knelt down and started to apologize to him.

For the first few seconds, he had no idea what I was saying. So I started repeating the word apology, emphasizing it, and looking him in the eyes.

In a hissing voice he thus learned the first word of Nostramo, and immediately began to learn all the others without a teacher.

He started asking me who I was.

To be honest, at first, I didn't want to tell him.

If the name Khalil Lohars were to be translated literally from the oldest Nostramo language, and the metaphor of the nobles placed within it completely eliminated, then the name could roughly be translated as: Hands stained with blood the executioner.

It's not a good name, but I have to tell him after all that hiding and lying are not the right ways to treat children. If I were him, would I want to be cheated on? Of course I didn't want to, so I told him the name based on my feelings.

He began to retell, and gradually changed from curling up in the corner to a half-crouch. I noticed the evenly distributed muscles on his seemingly thin body, and with my knowledge of human anatomy, I immediately realized that this child's muscle distribution was anything but natural. It was a type of muscle designed specifically for hunting, and none of it could be born naturally. At least, it was impossible for such muscles to be born naturally in humans.

I started to wonder - was he really just a kid?

Then he told me he was hungry and asked me if I wanted to eat a mouse.

This seems to be the longest I've ever stayed focused.

It’s not easy to stay true to yourself in this darkness, which is forever eroding the lie I’ve made and everything the name Khalil Lohars stands for.

I can't escape or even retreat, because this darkness is myself.

I can only stay here and listen and watch everyone's stories. I've told the story of Sergeant Hurlock and Khalil Lohars, and there's always new stories to tell, like...

Ah, take him for example.

Can you see it? Just beyond the darkness, the new visitor, the one in somber blue armor.

His name is Alenian, from the First Company of the Midnight Blades. The cause of his death was simple: lack of oxygen and hypothermia caused by the vacuum.

He and his brothers traveled half a dark galaxy on a mission to find one of thousands of armor fragments among the stars. He found it, but he paid a price for it.

The ship was damaged, the void shield was bombarded and pierced by the power of chaos, and the subsequent damage to the ship's hull sucked him out. The last thing Alenian did before he died was to clasp his hands tightly.

He remained in this position until his face froze and he died.

Ninety-two Terra hours later, they retrieved Alenian's body from the dim stars. They managed to open his hands and took away a black armor plate.

In order to do this, Alenian's body that was finally buried in the sarcophagus had some changes. His original hands were replaced by a pair of metal arms made later, because if they wanted to get the armor, they would have to Alenian's hands must be broken.

His grip was so tight that it was absolutely impossible to remove the armor without violence. While he was doing this, Alenian was looking at them, staring, to be precise.

He deliberately designed this expression before his death, as if to deter enemies who might steal his body. At that time, there were no enemies around his body, only his brothers.

I could hear them mourning.

I also mourn for him, even now.

Alenian died for me.

He didn't have to die in such a stupid attack, like countless others whose deaths I caused. Therefore, I should stay here and accept this nihilistic punishment until the last of my humanity is drained away and I return to my original state.

But before that, I will remember everyone's face.

They came not to me, but to the gods seeking vengeance. In this day and age, almost no one knows that I exist anymore - but I still have to remember that only I can listen, only I will listen.

And I have to listen.

It seemed that some time had passed and I was still in this darkness without any change. Sometimes I hallucinate that I'm still in Nostramo, or in Burning Terra.

Unlike most people, I have two hometowns, but neither of them actually belong to me, but come from the memories in my mind.

I remember how it felt that day when Tyra was broken, and it felt like I had done something terrible, something terrible. And there's nothing you can do about it because you have to.

In that moment, just in the moment of shattering, 37,260,9823 people died.

Every second after that there was just more death.

I think of my friends.

Neos, Malcador. Is that their name?

Let’s not talk about Malcador for now, but it’s really strange about Neos, I can still vaguely feel him.

Not the Emperor, not the Lord of Mankind, but my friend Neos. A carpenter and mason who prefers creation to destruction and is very proficient in agriculture.

He was being tortured, and I thought he was being tortured far more than I was, because I could hear those faint screams, his screams.

Time has no meaning to me, but to him, every minute and second that passes is actually far better than eternity.

He was screaming in agony, and normally the amount of pain one feels should be transformed at some stage, because sooner or later the human nervous system learns to adapt. But he is different, I guess, because of what we are going through.

If I still had eyesight, maybe I could see what he looks like now.

If the plan goes well, then he should be a golden skeleton now, sitting on a tattered throne, maintaining the entire Terra, and at the same time taking out his hand to support another thing.

For example, a body that has lost its soul and self-consciousness, a body that belongs to a god.

my body.

We took advantage, as always. At first, it was the gap mentioned by Malcador. He is always very smart. Alas, Macado, how are you, old friend? I hope you're okay.

I also wish I still had sight and hearing, at least one, right? I want to hear their voices or see their faces now. I thought that I should see a throne guarded by the imperial army. How many people among them could be familiar to me?

I don't know, but I wish I could see Constantine Waldo instead of his statue, or a strange Praetorian Marshal.

However, this is nothing more than hope. I actually know very well that if I had vision, I would immediately see my own body, nailed to the back of the throne with a short knife. If I did, the lie we had been trying to maintain would be destroyed.

That god was deceived, and the price was my destruction, and I couldn't wake up, otherwise He would wake up too.

I'm sorry, Conrad.

As has always been the case, I am an apologetic father. But you did a great job, no matter where you are, you are much better than me.

This name must be temporarily forgotten and cannot be mentioned.

Anchor

Savita Leon.

Yes, Sevtalion, Siani, Van Cleef, Fer, Richtenauer

I remember everyone, am I talking to myself? Yes, I'm talking to myself. I am here--

I hate it all.

I hate this dark and chaotic galaxy, and I despise those evil false gods. I will chop off their heads and turn everything into ashes.

Nurgle, you deserve to die. You and your rotten body should be burned to ashes by me. Your rotten kingdom should be destroyed and burned by me. I'm going to break everything about you, I'm going to make you an insignificant weed on the side of the road, this is for Mortarion, I'm going to kill you

And you, Slaanesh, you dissolute beast, a scumbag without any sense. Hurt you is the same as making you feel pleasure, I understand, I understand, because I tried. I hurt you, but you still feel happy.

It doesn't matter, it won't happen this time, you will really die this time. The bliss of transcendence makes you happy for a moment, but then comes the real fear that you will never feel anything again.

I will cut you into pieces, bury every inch of your consciousness in my wasteland, and let countless dead people be soaked with resentment. You will lose everything but emptiness.

And then there's you, Tzeentch. You hypocritical believer, god of liars, god of lies. Do you think you are standing on the top of everything, looking down on everyone, and do you feel happy hurting every inch of hope that people have struggled out of?

I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to take away everything from you and put your head in your well, go and observe everything you want, go and become the omniscient god, and then In the ensuing silence, cry out for relief.

It will be a joy to Magnus and his sons, a joy to those who die on Terra, and a joy to every miserable person you have ever touched through the ages.

Together we will spit on you and we will hang you high until your feathers are burned to ashes by the sun.

And finally you, Khorne.

You have no honor, you are just a coward.

You will die, but you will die worthless. You will not die in battle, but in an assassination. Start waiting, waiting for the moment when I chop off your head.

And, and - and the world. Oh, everyone hates each other, everyone wants to kill each other, everyone is unconsciously begging me to put the blade into their hands.

Come on then, the spiral of hatred has been sown and has already taken shape. Come on, come on, come on.

Let vendetta become the main theme of the world, kill the father, kill the mother, kill the son, kill the daughter. And you, alien scum, I hate you, but revenge is the same. Take a knife and kill humans, build a cauldron with hatred, cook blood with a blade, kill them all, kill everyone who has hurt you, go--

——"Don't be like this, my friend, wake up quickly."

Who is speaking? No, when did he say that to me? Was it just now? Time. How long has passed?

How much time has passed? ! Answer me, answer me! No, just say something, anyone is good, anyone can do it

Let me die.

It's too torture, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but I can't bear it anymore. I pushed the boulder to reach the top, I endured the torture and despised the emptiness. I thought I could hold on, but I couldn't.

Everybody. Everybody was screaming at me their stories, their suffering. I want to respond, I really want to respond. I have to break free and help them do what they failed to do, I have to make the abuser punished, I.

I can still hold on.

You're right, I can still hold on, yes, yes. I can hold on a little longer.

How long is it?

One hundred years, one thousand years, ten thousand years? How long have I been here? Time has no meaning here, so probably only one second has passed in the outside world. Maybe in the last second, I just stabbed the sharp blade into my chest.

Speaking of blades, ha, yes, I killed the skin of Horus Luperkar with this blade. I gave him peace, but he can only be a traitor. In the history of the empire, he will be the most despicable traitor.

I tried to sigh.

Hello, my name is Khalil Lohars. Hello. Say a word, hello? Anyone is welcome, I beg you to say something.

Am I crying?

Maybe, I have never cried, I have forgotten how to use this physiological function. No, you can't have a big emotional reaction, you have to calm down.

Conrad.

Can't think of him.

Just let time pass meaninglessly, one day, it will all end.

My sentence will come to an end one day, and I will get the ending I deserve. Take down my corpse, Malcador, quickly. Loyal Custodes, please take it down, burn it completely to ashes, and throw it into the void.

Someone will covet this corpse. There are always some evil people looking at evil things.

Then, free him from his throne.

I am just an executioner, an executioner with bloody hands. My survival can only bring more killings. Free him and let him lead the empire and humanity to rise again.

I can see, believe me, Waldo, I will see your lord's triumph. Let him take his sons to go on another great expedition to conquer the star sea and save mankind.

Perturabo, how about you be the head coach this time? You are enough to take care of everything. Sanguinius, may there be only light beneath your wings. Leon, Leon, first change the organization of your legion, and then we will talk about other things. No, I'm joking. May your sword's edge always be sharp.

Angron. Hold on, son of the mountains, hold on. I know you can, they are still here with you, believe me, I can feel it.

There is no need to feel guilty, Corax, I am the one who persuaded you to put down your savior and go to the sea of ​​stars to become a killer. If you have any dissatisfaction, you should come to me. I am the culprit and you owe me nothing.

Jaghatai, we have not communicated, but you are very wise. You know what to do and what not to do. Please use your wisdom to advise your brothers.

Vulkan, kind Vulkan, I'm sorry for what I did to you. That was not my intention, good blacksmith—why do you have to suffer so much?

Ah, Ferus! Hello Ferrus. Nice to see you. You and Fulgrim can fight together. I didn't take anything from him, but it might be difficult to deprive Lalhe. It doesn't matter, may your friendship shine as bright as ever.

Fulgrim? Yes, Fulgrim. Thank you for teaching Conrad, I was a terrible teacher and only taught him how to kill. Thank you, I hope your injuries are better, and I hope your legion can be rebuilt.

I'm sorry, Roger, I'm sorry for the torture you're going through. But He is so mean, and I know you can handle it, but I still want to apologize for it. But it doesn't matter, you are a stubborn person after all, I think you don't need to worry about me. Thank you Roger, you are a role model for us all.

Robert? No, don't take that sword. I know you want to, but don't use it. That was Fell's sword, and it was not meant to be used by any human being. Don't use it, and then go and govern your five hundred worlds. They are the pearls of the empire. You must make them good. Say hello to Ms. Youton for me. Thank you.

And finally you, Conrad.

Conrad.

"Father, please wait a moment longer."

Is anyone talking?

No one answered in the darkness.

It doesn't matter, I will persist and I will keep waiting. I know that the time I have experienced is only an eternal moment. I understand that if I repeat these processes of losing my mind a thousand times, only one second of external time will pass.

I remembered that Malcador told me this. I will be trapped in hell forever, sinking and suffering, it doesn't matter. I have understood the meaning of eternity, I am here to suffer, that is why I am here.

I will wait.

　Update in advance, that’s all for today. I have relatives staying at home temporarily for one night, so I have to accommodate them ()

　　Return to the main thread tomorrow.

　　

　

(End of this chapter)