40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 470 191. Terra (forty-eight, playing with the world)

"My mission is" Orr Persson took a deep breath. "First, I have to get to a bridge, where four people are waiting for me."

"A bridge," Corvus Corax repeated.

Orr's vague description did not cause any emotional fluctuations in him, and the King of Killers remained very calm.

However, the flesh and blood of the nightmares were clearly still hanging on his claw blades. The decomposition force field was supposed to completely evaporate the flesh and blood, but somehow it lost its effect.

He was staring at Orpeson with his dark eyes.

That ruthless face was like a statue carved day after tomorrow, possessing a terrifying coldness. It was not a mountain, but an abyss beneath the mountain. The wind blowing across his cheekbones and nose was coming from the cries of the dead beneath the cliff. His shallow and sharp lips hung with inhumanly fine teeth.

Orr Persson woke up with a start.

The Lord of Savior stared at him expressionlessly.

"A bridge, huh?" he asked softly. "I understand, we will escort you until you reach the bridge."

"But -" Orr instinctively spat out these two words.

Of course this was not his sincerity, it was just an intuitive twist. He just wanted to say this word because there were still things he didn't understand.

Olanès scoffed in his heart.

Some people are waving flags, some are shouting loudly, some hate him, some respect him, but now, they are all standing behind him.

He is among them. Of course, where else could he go?

He was smiling, not approvingly, but

"You are finally here, my friend."

What's wrong with you, coward? Olanès asked gently. what's wrong with you?

"We killed it," Orr Persson said. "No matter what this thing is, we have to kill it and end it once and for all."

He raised his hand and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. The dirt did not transfer from his sleeves, and his heart began to beat. It had been tens of thousands of years, and there had never been a moment as intense as it was now. It's ironic, as if he has never truly been alive until now.

Orpeson felt sick—not directed at anyone but himself.

But he's an asshole who knows what's right and what's wrong.

In a daze, he almost felt like he was growing new teeth. Orr's head was getting more and more painful, but he still kept talking, and his speech was extremely clear.

There was no doubt that his attitude was very irritating, and although no one cared, he didn't like it very much. This vague conversational style had caused him some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder tens of thousands of years ago.

"No, it's nothing, sir." Orr answered with a frown.

"We just seemed a little closer to it, we were never really close to it."

Orr Persson didn't answer.

Orr took another deep breath and returned to the real world. He looked around and realized that everyone was looking at him.

They are all humans, and they only have one camp left to choose from. No more distinctions, no more enemies or comrades, just humans, just humans.

"First, we have to go back, back to the eastern front position of the palace."

Orr paused for a moment to get a breath of fresh air. The chill came gradually, the walking and roaring that had made his blood boil now slowly cooled down. The cold wind roared and blew by, and Orr instinctively clenched the gem on his chest.

Every war he had ever experienced came from broken memories at this moment. It was not until this moment that Orpeson discovered that his memory might never have been truly broken.

"The old roads no longer work. No matter how many roads back to the east line of the palace we have in our memories, they are no longer of any use. And we must go back."

"——What's the matter, Captain Orr?" the Lord of Crows asked in a gentle voice.

While he dug into his heart and dug up all the graves with his hands, he spoke with great determination.

"My destination should be there. At the beginning, Captain Fafnir Lane of the Imperial Fists pointed out a way for me. But I am lost. On today's Terra, I have to find a way. It’s so hard to have a clear path.”

"We have to go back then."

"What's more, I have to go on unswervingly. I have been walking with Mr. Constantine Waldo for a long time. He can point me to many new roads. Every time we set foot on a road, it seems that we are getting closer. My goal is one step closer, but this is just a mirage."

This was not what he said.

Every man, woman and old man he had ever killed held his hand. Every man, woman, and old man who ever fought alongside him held his hand.

He felt that he sounded no different from someone else at this time.

However, what made him even more angry was actually the look in the eyes of Pharmacist Melos at this moment. The Blood Angel was looking at Orr carefully. The combination of his attitude and his eyes made it seem as if he was not Orpeson, but a saint who came from nowhere.

All kinds of past memories flashed through my mind, and in a daze, he seemed to be wearing bronze armor, holding an iron spear in his hand, or wearing a domed bulletproof helmet, with several matches and girl cards in cigarettes placed in the inner compartment.

Orpeson grabbed his gun and flipped the safety with his finger, closing it. The whole process went very smoothly. His fingers no longer shook and were as stable as cast steel.

Orr gritted his teeth, a surge of anger rising from the bottom of his heart, and he began to be angry with himself again. He has always been like this, always competing with himself, and has not changed at all after living for so many years. He knew deep down that he was an asshole.

"We have to find a new way back."

Whether it's Corvus Corax or the crows behind him. Or Melos and Constantin Waldo.

Why are you like this too? He looked at the Marshal of the Imperial Guard in disbelief. The latter nodded slightly indifferently, showing complete obedience.

I still let you come back. he said to himself. I vowed to drive you away forever, but in the end I let you come back.

They all seemed to regard him as their backbone and wanted to do his bidding, and they were willing to obey his orders no matter what they were.

Of course Orr didn't know where this speculation came from. He just followed his intuition and threw this baseless speculation in front of everyone. They believed him, and he believed no one, not even himself, but he believed this statement.

"And what?" Corvus Corax asked softly.

His head began to hurt, his temples on both sides were pounding under the influence of his heartbeat, and even the nerves in his teeth began to beat together.

Orpeson straightened his back slowly, and a change quietly occurred.

They were just thrown into a corner by himself to avoid something he didn't want to think about. Now, he was accepting them.

Then Ole Persson began to speak in a tone that was so familiar to him in the past.

"I'm sure it's there waiting for us." He stared into space and said word by word.

at all costs.
-

The storm roared, and raindrops fell, hitting the corpses, the corpses of the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors, and the expressionless faces of Rogal Dorn and Perturabo.

Fire was erupting in the trenches, the last trenches, the last land - land for humans and not traitors or monsters, the last five hundred meters of five kilometers.

A blood-stained flag was flying high above their heads, and the eyes of countless corpses were staring at this final battle. Something was whispering softly in their eyes, singing, laughing, cheering for this battle between trapped beasts.

Four vile things.

Perturabo swung his hammer, and something flew away. It used to be someone's head, but not anymore. Now, it's just a mass of broken flesh. The eyeballs were pierced by bone stubble, and the blood was filled with dark parasites.

One body staggered down, hitting more bodies. The trench was completely filled and was completely unsatisfactory as a fortification.

Is it a design flaw? Maybe, after all, whether it was steel or stone, they never thought that this would happen.

How to describe their current situation?

Well, let’s start with the soles of your feet. What they stepped on was no longer dirt, but corpses. A mountain of corpses, including the Word Bearers, the Sons of Horus, Daemons, the Iron Warriors, and the Imperial Fists.

The blood of loyalty and betrayal mixed together, seeping into the soil, seeping into the ceramic steel, and then being buried in the black snow.

Then, let’s consider a more realistic question – how many people are still alive?

Steel and Stone did not think about this problem for the time being, they did not have time to do it. They don't even have time to observe the battlefield, they can only fight, only fight. They have no troops to call on, they only have this cruel and completely inhumane bloody millstone left.

The last wall, the last trench, the last fortification.

they themselves.

Is it crumbling?

Rogal Dorn declared with Stormfang.

No.

no way.

He held his weapon high.

Scarlet, pitch black, roaring, roaring, screaming, crying. Stubborn stone eliminated them all, and he was left with only one thought. In order to match this thought, he even optimized the way he thought.

Now, he wasn't an architect, a designer, a master of defense or a war-savvy Primarch Seven, and he wasn't even Rogal Dorn.

He is the embodiment of pure rage.

This rage has a name, but it cannot be accurately expressed in any language. It is sadness, outrage, regret, powerlessness. It is also the bitter tears of a Son of Man, the sorrowful sigh of a Father, the contrition of a Protector for His people.

Enemies are still coming, endlessly, like some kind of never-ending energy source. The ground is trembling, and the wonderful ground composed of flesh and metal is still slowly increasing.

Dorn was focused on tearing at the flesh with his storm fangs. He knew exactly what he was doing and could not know any better. He has reached the limit of his thinking. If he goes further, he will enter madness. Not yet, as he was fighting alongside his brother.

His brother, Perturabo, Lord of Iron.

Let's see him kill.

Let's watch him raise the warhammer high and then smash it down hard. Let’s watch him stand behind Dorne to deal with the oncoming demonic tide, and watch how he drives those twisted beasts back to where they came from again and again, and listen to how he roars with contempt to scare the demons.

Let's see how he protects his brother.

"Nothing can touch you, just kill," said Perturabo. "Just kill them all."

Dorn didn't answer, just waved his sword. They have a clear division of labor and this is something that has been discussed in advance. Perturabo dealt with the demons, Rogal Dorn slayed the traitors.

Their trenches were filled to the brim with corpses, but it was not enough, and the carnage was far from the scale of the crimes they had committed against all of Terra and humanity.

But they also knew very well that if nothing unexpected happened, this would really be the final battle. However, the trapped beast still fights, and they still have to fight.

No one knew what the scene inside the palace was like, and whether anyone survived among the collapsed ruins was completely unknown, but the Emperor was still there. He never left, he was always here fighting alongside them. Then, they still need to fulfill their responsibilities.

Yes, they.

Rogal Dorn made a request to his brother from the trench's underground tactical chamber.

"I would like to ask you to defend the palace with me." Nushi said. "I cannot hold this place alone. I need your help, Perturabo."

Steel nodded proudly.

So they now fight side by side.

This event never happened and was considered completely impossible. However, how many people really expect this to happen?

Just imagine, steel and stone fighting side by side, what a great sight it will be? There would be nothing ahead of them that could be called an 'enemy'. However, how much does it cost to make this happen? No one knows, no one can calculate. Before today, it was just a beautiful illusion, until today comes.

Until Terra was drowned in blood.

You see, this is the price.

Horus Luperkar smiled silently.

I'm so proud of you, Rogge, and Perturabo. You are our role model and our father's pride.

So you must die.

"Well done, Ezekiel," he praised his son in a soft whisper. "You drove my brother to the edge."

Abaddon lowered his head, kept breathing calmly, and said nothing.

He knew in his heart that this matter had nothing to do with him. He was not the one who summoned the demons, nor was he the one who deployed the entire Sixteenth Legion here.

From receiving the order to winning the victory, the only thing he could do was to continuously send Word Bearers and his brothers to die in the ridiculous trench of only five kilometers.

This is what he did. If you don't believe it, just take a look at the trenches. Just one look at the bodies and you'll understand everything.

"What reward do you want?" Horus asked again. "Promotion? Do you want to be promoted, my son? You are already my first company commander, and you are also the last member of the Council of Four Kings. I'm afraid you have no chance of promotion. So, weapons?"

He suddenly laughed, raised his right paw high, and the scarlet eyes on the armor turned at this moment.

"How about handing Rogge's chain sword to you? It's a little too big for you, but that doesn't matter. It only takes a while to get used to it, and you will be able to fully master it. For you, this is It’s not something that’s hard to accept. You can always adapt to any environment and survive.”

He put his left hand on Abaddon's shoulder.

"I am proud of you."

With all his love, it - or rather they - spat out venom with malice and began to burn Ezekiel Abaddon's heart, and there was nothing he could do about it but silently accept it.

Everything has its own rules, and some rules were finalized tens of thousands of years ago. As a son, one should not disobey his father, at least for Ezekiel Abaddon.

He would rather immerse himself in lies than truly open his eyes and observe reality.

Horus Luperkar was extremely satisfied. They are extremely satisfied with this.

There was only silence at this moment, no one or any demon dared to make a sound in front of Horus at this moment, and even breathing became cautious. There was no longer any blood or golden light in the sky, only darkness.

Only darkness remains.

Horus smiled.

Father, Father.

Of course you know what he's up to. You have been tolerating him all this time. You have tolerated his concealment, deception and all his conspiracies.

But soon it won't be necessary.

Whether it's a wandering god or a burning star, they will all meet their end soon. The god will cease to exist, and his authority will belong entirely to you, to Horus Luperkar, to the King of Kings, the God of Gods.

And the star torch will be completely extinguished, and you have even figured out how to extinguish it.

First, you will kill the relic called Thunder. He has lived too long. A person should not live so long, not to mention that he is just a discarded experiment.

Then there's Fulgrim's son, Thor Tarvitz, who's in pain and you certainly don't mind giving him peace. However, this must be done in front of Fulgen. That's what makes it interesting, that's what tragedy is, destroying beautiful things for others to see. What's more, Fulgrim needs some stimulation.

The third one, let’s give it to Bjorn. You heard the story he told around the fire about the icebreaker. You don't like that story because it has no focus at all, from beginning to end. Bjorn's story makes you sick.

The fourth is Azek Ahriman, whom you will kill quickly and painlessly. If it weren't for him pushing behind the scenes, the plan would never have progressed so smoothly. In a sense, he's done what you're trying to do ahead of time, so he deserves a quick death.

And the last one is the real highlight.

Son of Dorne, Sigismund.

How are you going to kill him? How about playing with him first and letting Rogge focus on him? What a pity. You actually liked him in the past, and you can't say you hate him now, but you must let Dorn lose something.

His mind is too strong. You have to be so cruel to find an opportunity in his mind, to find a gap that is too small to be called a gap.

You know Donne won't waver, but he will grieve.

In one moment of sorrow, Dorn will no longer be himself, for you will drive your claws through his chest and deliver him to the halls of the Ancient Four.

Will the ancient four be heartened by this?

Probably, they have put enough into this drama. They are the authors of the script, the directors who work hard to find actors, and the workers who build the entire stage with their own hands.

Their shoulders were covered with white ash and their knees were stained with paint. They designed such a wonderful place and gave it to you so that you could be crowned king. Therefore, they deserve to be rewarded.

The reward is you, Roger. Horus smiled. But it’s also your promotion.

He looked patiently at Rogal Dorn who was fighting on the mountain of corpses, then turned his gaze to the man behind him and sighed.

Alas, Perturabo.

In a world that never appeared and was real, you should have stood by my side and become my most advantageous helper in attacking Terra. Even though you backed down at the last minute, I don't blame you, it's just that everyone has his own ambitions.

But why do you want to side with your father? I thought you were disgusted enough with him and that nasty thief who ruined your reputation in front of your own children.

thief--!

Horus's eyes suddenly turned red, thunder rolled in the sky, and the wind howled. Ezekiel Abaddon looked up and saw his father's armor flashing. Every gap is spewing frightening black smoke, and raging flames are blooming cruelly from those eyes.

He stared into those eyes for a second, just a second, and then he started screaming without even realizing he was screaming.

By the time the screams subsided, the world had completely changed.

The blood and mud on the eastern front of the Terra Palace disappeared. The positions where countless people had fought against the smoking Titans and various tanks were lightly covered by darkness. Giant ivory pillars supported the dome, and the ground was paved with glass and gold. Not far away. A throne appears everywhere, and the hanging corpse looks at everyone with its eyes open.

A few seconds later, a few rays of light lit up in the darkness. It was not the light of a torch, nor a light lit for illumination, but four rays of light originating from chaos.

Four pairs of eyes looked at this place.

Laughter. Laughing wildly at the arrival of the end.

For the first time, Ezekiel Abaddon felt fearful in the royal court of Luperkar, but this was only the beginning, because he suddenly discovered that there were five more people on the ground, one of whom was being carried by his father and looking at him casually.

"Thunder?" Horus asked with a smile. "Good name."

He lifted him up and started walking with firm steps, as if he had planned it. But there was nothing in the direction he faced, not even a pillar.

Abaddon's mind was in turmoil, and he believed that the Vengeful Spirit had crashed and was buried deep beneath Terra. But what happens now? Why did Luperkar's court appear again?

"Because I want to," Horus said gently.

Abaddon raised his head and saw a face completely shrouded in darkness. He looked past him and saw Horus carrying the man and continuing to walk. Then he looked back and saw Horus looking down at him.

That look made Abaddon feel extremely small.

"Because I want to, my son," Horus repeated. "I have told you before that I can do anything. The laws of physics are just a boring game. I am far more powerful than you imagine. Look, Ezekiel, look at what I can do for you." The drama adds to the fun.”

He smiled and raised his hand to point to the other him, the one who was walking toward the center of the empty royal court with the thunderbolt - and then, there was a fleeting smell of moist earth from the forest.

A huge sword appeared from the air, cutting through the darkness and cutting through the breastplate of Horus Luperkar. The lion - Lion El'Jonson of Caliban roared and cut Horus to the ground with his great sword, and impaled him with his spear.

A large knife followed closely, slashing at Horus' legs and hands without hesitation. Chagatai Khan, the eagle of Chogoris, carried out his treacherous act with a cold gaze.

The Furnace Breaker in the hand of Ferrus Manus was raised high and struck straight down on Horus's head with the simplest and most direct blow.

Only two people did not take action, one was Sanguinius and the other was Fulgrim. The former looked at the place blankly, while the latter's eyes burning with black flames stared at Abaddon unblinkingly.

No, that's not right.

He was staring at the person next to him.

Ezekiel Abaddon slowly raised his head.

"Do you understand?" Horus winked at him. "A little trick, a little scam, Fulgrim noticed it, but this is just the beginning."

What he said was true, just behind the lion, in the forest that emerged from the air, an army roared out.

Abaddon's eyes were stung. This was really an army covered in bruises. Everyone was injured, and all the armor was mottled to the point of embarrassing embarrassment. But they possess a burning fighting spirit and a clear anger.

Abaddon didn't dare to look anymore. Unknowingly, the thin veil covering his eyes had been completely burned away by the terrible truth. However, a hand stretched out from the side and forced him to lift it up. head.

"Why don't you look at it, Ezekiel?" Horus asked softly. "Look, look at them united and full of anger. Look at their Titans, their weapons, their fighting spirit and what they are about to face."

He smiled and raised his right paw, then slowly closed it.

Abaddon heard nothing. There were too many sounds happening at the same moment. His ears could not accept such a noisy and violent sound, and he was already deaf. But that didn't matter because he could still see.

He saw at least dozens of Titans turned into twisted scrap metal at this moment, as well as other tanks, speed attack boats or any vehicles, as well as anyone sitting on the vehicles. There is some force that easily crushes, destroys, destroys them.

Death.

The instigator's voice reached his deaf ears with precision.

"Then, how do you think they will react, my son?"

Abaddon couldn't answer.

Horus laughed, and Shi Shiran stepped out of the darkness. The space began to boil, and the broken structure began to be squeezed, destroyed, and recast in accordance with his will. Anyone still alive on Terra felt an intense pressure at this moment, as if calling or pulling.

The first to bear the brunt were the Primarchs.

Robert Guilliman, who roared and beheaded the traitor, Angron, who regrouped and led his army to break up the demon formation, Perturabo and Rogal Dorn, who fought side by side, and Vulkan, who used fire to cleanse the demons. , Corus Corax, who is rushing to the palace

In this moment, they all felt it.

Is anyone absent? No.

Not even Conrad Coates. He paused, staring into the darkness, and finally there was a flash of genuine anger on his pale face.

And that's not the end, it's starting to spread until everyone starts feeling it for sure. From civilians to soldiers, from priests to believers, from the First Legion to the Nineteenth Legion

Horus Luperkar smiled and opened his arms.

The red light flashed like the world was burning.

"Welcome." He bowed slightly, and his voice resounded throughout the royal court and reached everyone's ears. "Welcome to the royal court of Luperkar."

Orpeson took a deep breath and tightened his grip on his gun.

(End of this chapter)