40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 637 20. Judgment (Part , Father and Son)

After the lion gave that brief explanation, Zabriel fell into a strange silence, but his gene father did not give him time or opportunity to breathe.

The lion raised his right hand, accurately found the connection between Zabril's power armor and the helmet, and took it off.

The fallen angel himself did not resist, perhaps because of the excessive stimulation and temporarily stopped working, but the helmet that was currently held in the lion's hand was quite interesting - apart from a few spots, it was not damaged.

This means that the lion did not use any violence when taking it off, however, when worn, the helmet itself cannot be removed by anyone else unless the wearer himself wants to and sends a signal through the neural connection.
The lion calmly walked towards the cold interrogation table and gently placed his helmet on it.

The slight sound of metal colliding with metal seemed to wake up Zabril. The fallen angel roared again, and a gust of evil wind followed closely and hit the lion's back, but he didn't care and didn't even dodge.

So the wind died down.

The lion slowly turned around, lowered his head, looked directly into the fallen angel's eyes, and said nothing.

The Zabriel in his memory was a trustworthy veteran, and before he returned to the Legion, Zabriel was already an Astartes.

He participated in many battles or brutal internal purges, killed aliens with his own hands, but also slaughtered ignorant mortals. These things shaped him and made his deep sapphire eyes look extremely cold.

He was a living template, the most standard and ruthless kind of Dark Angel, not a Knight of Caliban. Although he tried hard later, some things could not be changed.

And now, that person no longer exists.

At this moment, standing in front of the lion was an old warrior. His hair was originally black, but now it looked gray. His eye sockets were sunken, and his blue eyes became extremely tired, but also extremely angry.

It was obvious that there was something wrong with his self-healing ability. Many injuries that should have healed without a trace now remained on his face, crisscrossing each other, some light and some light, showing what a brutal struggle their owner had gone through.

The most crucial point is that in the lion's impression, Zabriel will not save mortals unless the mission requires it.

In those days, his sword was wielded only for the Emperor and the Lion, and salvation was not in the nature of the sword wielder.

"You," the fallen angel said hoarsely and tremblingly.

He uttered a single syllable, which seemed ridiculous, but the resentment and hatred that flowed through every scar like water was extremely real.

The lion said nothing, still looking him straight in the eye. Zabril tried to take a deep breath, and suddenly smiled contemptuously.

"So the great Lion El'Jonson can lie? Ten thousand years, ha, how absurd. We must still be in Dubnos' orbit, and you just want to interrogate me. So, tell me, Primarch, what do you want from me?"

He emphasized the word "Primarch" very heavily, and with that hard-to-get-away Terran accent, the words became extremely contemptuous and provocative.

Zabril himself obviously knew this, and he even waited for several seconds after he finished speaking, but the lion did not become furious as he imagined, or kill him directly.
This discovery made him a little overwhelmed, and also made the lion's lips buried in his beard twitch.

Zabril was unaware of this and he decided to go ahead anyway.

"You want to know the whereabouts of the others?"

The lion didn't answer, so Zabril gritted his teeth and continued to tell the story. He had probably intended to continue to provoke the lion, but now he became more and more excited, and one after another, the words that had been suppressed for a long time burst out from the depths of his chest.

"I'm afraid I can't provide it for you!" he growled. "I'm sorry, sir! I've been on the run for 392 years, but I can only count the number of brothers I've met on one hand! It's my incompetence!"

"But, after all, we are a group of people who never gather and never stay. We even have to put on robes and pretend to be enhanced servitors or slaves to go out - and this is all thanks to you."

"You ordered your warships to fire at your home planet and your offspring, and then you personally charged into our midst to slaughter us. Even so, you were still not satisfied, and even personally led a group of our replicas to chase us down."

Zabriel stopped talking and asked a question in a soft voice under the lion's gaze.

"I really want to know why, Primarch. I don't understand what we have done to make you hate us so much."

As he stared up, Lion El'Jonson shook his head expressionlessly.

"First, they are not imitations as you say. They are also Dark Angels."

Zabriel suddenly sneered and immediately refuted.

"Really? The Dark Angels who can't even recognize the complete emblem of the Knights? It's not like I haven't dealt with them before, sir. I know how lacking they are in this area. Therefore, I also know what you have done to make us shut up forever."

"In order to gain more accomplices, you even allowed a group of knights who were not knights to use our name to cheat? Emperor, you are really an excellent Primarch. Who else in the galaxy can match you?"

The lion frowned slowly, and realized one thing very reluctantly: Zabriel probably really wanted to die.

At the same time, he had to admit another thing: at that moment just now, he was really angry.

What Zabriel said touched his nerves to the core, and he could not tolerate anyone slandering his descendants like this.

Fraud? What a damned word. No one knows better than him how much they have sacrificed in these ten thousand years.
But Zabril didn't know that.

Zabril knew nothing. He did not know how cruelly his Primarch had been determined to ban the Inner Circles and Societies, nor did he know that his successors had not dishonored the names they had inherited.

He has traveled through many worlds, but the world in his eyes is probably very narrow, and everything is drowned in hatred.

Lion El'Jonson, the knight from Caliban, whispered to himself: He is not wrong, he does not see what you see. He is just an old, tired, and resentful man, just like you.

Besides, he is also your son.

The lion looked at Zabril, who still had that cold smile on his face. However, after getting rid of the influence of anger, the stiffness and pain hidden behind the smile were clearly revealed to the lion.

Guided by his intuition, he saw every detail, from Zabril's trembling fingers and tense muscles to his chest that barely rose and fell.
All of these things were strangely superimposed together, forming an indescribable force that made the lion extremely calm.

The tone he then adopted could even be described as kind.

"I have never had any idea like what you said, 'I want you to shut up forever', Zabril." The fallen angel wanted to repeat his old trick and interrupt the lion's words again, but the latter's gaze made him unable to speak at all, and he could only stand where he was.

The lion slowly spoke: "Indeed, I was hunting you down, but I only executed about twenty people. They either lost themselves and committed irreparable sins, or sided with Chaos."

"Perhaps you will say that they became like this because of me. If you think so, I will not refute you, because you are right. However, there has always been an insurmountable wall between loyalty and betrayal. These two concepts can never be confused."

"They can hate me, but they must die. I can feel guilty, but I will definitely draw my sword against them."

"Now, let's talk about the biggest problem at hand. I'm not kidding you, you are indeed ten thousand years into the future. It's the fortieth millennium now. Accept the reality, Zabril. Everything we are going to talk about next is related to the passage of time."

I can't accept it.

Who is he? Who is this person standing in front of me, this person who is guiding me and explaining things to me?

My mind was in a mess, and even my vision was affected. It's funny, before today, I didn't even know that Astartes could become so vulnerable to violent mood swings.

I thought we were free of most of the physical and mental weaknesses that would have prevented the Emperor from entrusting us with such important tasks. It seems I was wrong.

Or maybe it was just because I was facing a lion.

My own genetic father.

It is impossible for ordinary people to understand how the Astartes feel about their Primarchs, and I would say that it is difficult for us to describe it clearly ourselves.

I have discussed this matter with my brothers, and while we have different opinions, we all agree that there is a spiritual connection between the Primarch and us, a connection that makes us instinctively obey him, follow him, admire him, and want his approval.

During the years of escape, I thought about this matter over and over again, and finally, I came to a conclusion: this was not a coincidence, but someone did it deliberately.

So, who is it?

I knew who it was, but I actually understood him - I thought I would hate him, but I was wrong, because I knew what we were.

Everyone knows that we are Astartes, cyborgs with two hearts and three lungs. We have been trained to kill since the day we entered the Legion. We are proficient in various weapons and tactics. We are reborn for killing. We are the sharp blade in the hands of the Emperor.
But we are still human.

Somehow, the Emperor did not erase our feelings.

This makes us human, with joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, and a sense of honor, but it also makes us lose our rationality due to anger and do irreparable things on impulse.

The Emperor must have known all of this, and when he created us based on the Primarchs, he must have asked himself: Do I really want to preserve their feelings?

His final decision made me imagine the above picture, but it also made me question
War does not actually require humanity. No matter how we attach meaning to war, its essence will not change. In the final analysis, it is a matter of one group of people killing another group of people or things.

So, how do emotions help in this?

The Emperor could have us engineered to be as cold and heartless as machines, servitors who only follow orders. If He had done so, I don't even think the Heresy would have happened.

But he didn't, which is strange.

On the one hand, he preserved our emotions so that we could identify ourselves as human beings, but on the other hand, he imposed restrictions on us so that we had a special connection with the Primarch.

I don't know about other people, but, to me, Lion El'Jonson is just Lion El'Jonson, simple as that.

He wasn't my brother, my friend, my father or my trusted general. He was more than that. I fought for him, but not now. What happened on Caliban changed everything.

I looked at him and realized that I couldn't face him. I had been on the defensive from the beginning of the conversation until now.

But I can't escape. I don't have the power to do so, nor do I intend to do so. There are some things I must get clear on.

"Do you dare to swear?" I asked him suddenly.

I guess my expression must have been quite funny when I spoke, or he wouldn't have frowned so tightly. He was old, and I realized it clearly again.

This made me realize once again that what he told me was very likely true, and it was like a thunderbolt that tore my world apart.
One moment ago, I was fulfilling my vow in Dubnos's lower nest, and now, I was standing ten thousand years later.

I couldn't even think about whether Dubnos still existed.

"swear?"

I took a deep breath to make sure I could speak clearly. I didn't want him to look down on me.

"Yes, swear, you can swear to anyone, I just want to make sure you will tell the truth next. You have changed, lion, but I don't want to know the reason for the time being, I just want to know why you hate us so much."

After I said that, I took a step back and waited for his answer. I thought I must have looked very eager for an answer, otherwise he wouldn't have suddenly pursed his lips.

Yes, it was a gamble. What I did was simply audacious and beyond the pale.

In the past, my brothers would have drawn their swords on me for this, but who cares? Now it is I, Zabril, who stands before the lion, and so I will do this.

I want him to swear to be honest with me, and I want to see if he will reveal his true colors and kill me.
I saw the lion slowly raise his right hand.

Then he bent, and slowly clenched his right fist, moving it to his chest and pressing it tightly.

He looked straight at me, and I didn't see anything I wanted to see in those eyes.

I knew I had lost the bet, so I lowered my head. But the lion was never a merciful person. He was about to make the final judgment on me. I heard him breathe softly.
I heard him say, "I will be completely honest with you, Zabriel."

I fell to my knees, feeling as if a sword had pierced my heart.

(End of this chapter)