40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 648 31. Belated Judgment (IV, Forest in the Mirror, 8k)

After the horn successfully conveyed his words, the lion had a hunch - they would come.

His reason told him that this was unlikely to happen. Any commander with normal intelligence would never follow his wishes and lead the fleet to fall into a trap, unless he was a mentally retarded child and there were no normal people around him.

What's more, it was the Ten Thousand Eyes, a Chaos warband composed of Fallen Angels.

Considering what they have done so far, it is unlikely that the leader of the Ten Thousand Eyes is just an ordinary warrior. The warband has escaped encirclement and suppression several times in the past, then disappeared, only to reappear decades later on the edge of a system to raid and harass.

This means that Wanyan knows very well how much truth and falsehood there are in his words, especially those related to honor.

The lion began to absentmindedly rub his fingers over the handle of the Spear of Dionysus, earning a protest from Leman Russ, but he ignored it and continued to stare intently at the holographic projection in front of him.

The scene of the entire Kamas galaxy was condensed into a thumbnail by this tactical table, and was being displayed to the original body from a dozen different angles, with the analysis results scrolling on the side.

The images and results are all first-hand information uploaded from the ambush fleets. The delay is not particularly high, but it cannot be transmitted in real time.

However, this is enough.

The lion is quite tolerant of technology. It is true that information is the lifeblood of war. However, with the technological level of the empire, this lifeblood can only be slow, slow and long.
Of course, one thing is certain, no matter from which angle you look at it, Kamas is very calm and there is nothing unusual. Not to mention the Mandeville point inside the galaxy, which has long been strictly monitored.

Once the readings are abnormal, the preheated artillery will wait for the opportunity to pour out firepower sufficient to destroy everything into the possible Ten Thousand Eyes Fleet.
Therefore, the Lion can say that all the military forces loyal to him throughout the galaxy are ready for war. No matter what kind of war it is, they will not hesitate. They will only fight and do everything they can to win.

The only problem is that war isn't coming, at least not yet.

"They will come."

The lion suddenly spoke in a firm tone. His words were clear, cold and low, echoing in the quiet room, hitting the wall again and again.

His voice gradually became distorted, until, before it died away completely, the short sentence had become a heavy muffled sound, sounding almost like the sound made by the sharp and huge blade of a guillotine when it fell heavily to the ground and completed its work.

The head rolled into the basket, the blood spurted into the crowd, the cheering people and the dead bodies
Caryl Rohals asked slowly.

“How come you see?”

He sat in front of a huge porthole, flipping through a copy of "The Chronicle of the Misty Star Domain" in his hand. Two crossed swords hung above his head, gleaming with cold light and emitting the smell of maintenance oil.

The ever-changing and brilliant light outside the window sprinkled on his face, like a mask, blurring his facial features and details, making him look like he was bathed in light. Either born in the light, or destroyed in the light.

The lion frowned and did not answer the question immediately. Instead, he gave a series of complex commands to the main bridge of the Edge of Reason through the communication device on the holographic projection platform.

Then, within a few minutes, the light on Khalil's face began to move little by little, and his face became clear again. As for the light of the stars, it had disappeared, completely obscured by the resolute steel of the Edge of Reason.

The lion walked towards him.

"Did I disturb your little enjoyment?"

"No, not at all, Leon," Khalil replied obediently. "How dare I, a man with so much power?"

"Then why do you ask that kind of question?" the lion asked unhappily. "Also, I don't think this joke is funny."

Khalil smiled visibly, expressing his rare frankness at the Lions' moment.

He raised his head from the book, and then closed his palms, closing the heavy book with them. A gust of wind, not too strong, was born in the dull sound, carrying dust and blowing towards the lion's face, but he dispersed it halfway with his breath.

"Then I apologize. But, I really don't know the answer." Khalil answered very sincerely.

"I have been here with you observing the holographic projection for 21 hours. Although I know that this is nothing for interstellar travel, they may have just set out. In short, maybe it's because I'm not very good at marching and fighting. I really don't think they will come to Kamas."

In the lion's mind, Leman Russ spoke with rare objectivity: "I agree, Lion."

What do you agree to?
"He's not good at marching and fighting—or else?"

The Fenrisian said this, laughing in a pleasing and annoying way. The lion had heard him laugh like this countless times, but he still couldn't help but feel annoyed. Not to mention, what Russ said next was very straightforward.

"The talent for command is innate, my brother. This talent cannot be supplemented through acquired learning. If you have it, you have it. If you don't have it, you don't have it. You and I were born sitting on a throne made up of tens of thousands of top talents, overlooking other people."

Are you calling me arrogant? the lion asked unhappily.

"That's not the case, brother. It's just that I want to tell you that our good uncle is indeed a good hand at killing, but this is almost the only thing he can do in his life. Haven't you heard about his poor skills in mechanical maintenance?"

"Don't think too highly of him, you fool - and you'd better change your attitude towards others. Why do you always use that outdated theory of knightly discipline to demand your subordinate orders? You don't really want to find a chance to rebuild the Grand Order, do you?"

The lion's eyes twitched, and he threw the Spear of Dionysus with lightning speed. Like an ordinary stick, it landed on a carpet and rolled left and right.

Khalil looked at him, then at the Spear of Dionysus, and raised his left hand very politely: "Leon——"

"—I think they will come."

The lion interrupted him abruptly, turned his back quickly, put his hands on the tactical table, and dragged him to the porthole, cutting off the possibility of Khalil standing up.

".Okay, so what's the reason?"

There is no reason, the Caliban thought in silent annoyance, forcing himself not to turn around.

He was now very angry with himself.

Fortunately, he was no longer the young man who could not control his anger. It was especially fortunate and coincidental that three hours later, 'Reason' was smashed to pieces by a battle barge that jumped out of Mandeville Point in Camas.

"Only one ship?" asked the lion, frowning.

"Yes, my lord, there is only one ship." Captain Glendaan responded to his master with an almost equally strong frown. "I have confirmed it twelve times, there is indeed only one ship."

The lion narrowed his eyes and stared at the blasphemous battle barge, and his eyes felt a stinging pain. The reason was nothing else but the appearance of the barge.

The dark red paint that seemed to be soaked in blood and the huge chaotic eight-pointed star on it actually dared to appear in his sight so openly.
Subconsciously, he regarded it as a provocation, but he did not get angry, but simply ignored it with contempt, and immediately issued an order requiring all ships to lower the porthole armor plates and strictly prohibit direct observation of the ship itself.

Even the Blade of Reason obeyed the order.

Amidst the flashing red lights and high-pitched alarms, the holographic projection station on the bridge began to hum in a rapid voice.

The lion ignored him and turned to look at Glendaan. He and the captain had been together for sixty-six years, and at this moment, he only needed to use a glance to make the captain understand and hand over a data tablet.

In the captain's hand, the data tablet looked almost like a shield, but to the lion, it was just a small tool that could be grasped with three fingers.

He glanced down at the screen and came to a conclusion from the chaotic data flow - the analysis of the identity code was proceeding at a high speed. So he held the data pad tightly and waited for a while. In just three seconds, he got a name and a conclusion.

"The Mountains, and the Warhounds, disappeared three centuries ago."

He read it out, his voice without any anger, but it made everyone on the bridge keep their sanity. The lion put down the data tablet and placed it on the surface of a tactical table, then strode to the holographic projection table and pressed the communication rune himself.

After a slight sound, a burning figure appeared on the bridge of the Edge of Reason. The lion raised its head, stared at him with a completely calm gaze, and uttered his name.

"Serafax."

"Primarch." The man called Serafax bowed gracefully and greeted politely. "Do you still remember me?"

"I remember everyone," the lion replied coldly. "Traitors and loyalists alike."

"And to which side do I belong, in your opinion?"

After asking this question, Serafax couldn't stop laughing. Obviously, he knew the answer to this question.

His actions received many cold stares and angry looks. There was no doubt that many people on the bridge at that moment, both mortals and Astartes, wanted to see him bleed to the ground.
The lion did not get angry, and his expression did not even change. He just asked calmly.

"Are you ready?"

"What preparations?" asked the Burning Man, the curiosity in his tone difficult to conceal.

The lion did not answer, but slowly raised his left hand. He did not clench his fist, but as long as he clenched his fist, all the destructive forces aimed at Mandeville Point would fire at the former Mountains without hesitation.

Serafax obviously knew what he meant, but he seemed unhurried and even shook his head very calmly.

"Primarch, I come alone."

"Come to die?" the lion asked indifferently. "Well, you did it successfully."

"I do not deny that my actions have such implications, but that is not my will. I have been on the run for a hundred centuries, Primarch. Therefore, I will never waste my life in vain. Otherwise, wouldn't the lives of all those who sacrificed their lives for me be in vain?"

Serafax stopped smiling, and spoke with his hand on his chest in absolute seriousness.

"I apply to go on board the ship, alone. I am willing to accept any inspection and any restraint, as long as I can talk to you face to face. After that, no matter what you do to me, I am willing to accept it."

The lion looked at him coldly without saying a word. Ten minutes later, many boarding torpedoes and assault boats hit the fallen battle barge.

As Serafax had said, there was no one on board except him. Despite this, the ship was still able to remain operational.

The Dark Angels did not dwell on the matter too much. They simply followed the instructions of the Librarians and carefully searched the ship for possible attackers and began to arrange a purification ceremony.

If the Mountains can still be saved, the Machine Spirit will respond. If not, it will disintegrate in flames. As for Serafax himself, he has been escorted to the Rational Front by a team of Terminators and the Chief Think Tank.

He was put on an anti-psychic collar, his hands and feet were tightly bound with self-destructive shackles, his robes were taken off, and the various ornaments hanging around his waist, neck and wrists were directly destroyed in front of him.

He himself was indifferent to this and always maintained a leisurely smile. It is worth mentioning that the fire burning in his body never went out.
-
"Do you want to see me?" asked the lion.

He stood in front of Serafax, fully armed, with his left hand on the sword. Behind him, the Angel of Absolution and their only attendant were armed and acting as guards. This was the Lion's request, and he asked the Dark Angels to stay outside the dark room to keep watch.
He had sworn an oath to Asmodai and the Angels of Absolution.

"Yes, my lord - and it's nice to meet you, old brothers." Serafax said with a smile.

The calmness he displayed made the seventy-five angels of pardon involuntarily reveal a certain degree of murderous intent, and one of them even roared and cursed.

"You damned traitor!"

"Yes, yes, Hectorel, I'm glad to see you too," the wizard said perfunctorily.

"You have betrayed the Emperor's teachings!" another man scolded, frowning. "Even among traitors, those who have fallen into Chaos are the most hated."

"I admit that I did stray from the 'right path' he taught us, Zabril, but there was a reason for it. I—"

The lion raised his right hand, silencing all the sounds, including the words that Serafax had not finished.

The wizard was kneeling on the ground, his hands shackled behind his back. The anti-psychic collar on his neck not only caused him pain but also provided another function - it made it difficult for him to raise his head to observe the lion's face, so he had to keep his head down at all times.

He could only see the lion's armor and boots, that was all. Of course, this also meant that he could not see his 'old brothers', meaning that he only recognized Ectorel and Zabril by their voices.
"Now, you see me." The lion spoke slowly.

He placed his right hand on the hilt of the sword, and the sound of his fingers touching the weapon itself was extremely clear in the dark room at this time. Everyone could clearly capture it, as well as the thoughts that the lion accidentally revealed. "I can kill you at any time."

Serafax heard his words clearly, but did not respond. Not only that, he even tried to move his knees to get closer to the lion.

At this moment, at least more than twenty guns were raised by their owners and pointed at his head. If he made any unusual movements, these people would open fire without hesitation.

However, the wizard himself did not seem to care. He tried hard to make this ugly and embarrassing attempt, but the lion did not retreat.

He drew his sword, placed it across Serafax's left shoulder, and pointed it at his neck.

As long as he activates the decomposition field, he doesn't even need to swing his sword, the wizard's head will be immediately separated from his body.
"Anything else you want to say?" the lion asked calmly.

Serafax raised his head with difficulty, and finally managed to see the lion's face at this moment. He exhaled a breath of turbid air, and all kinds of complicated emotions flashed across his face. All of this finally condensed into a bitter smile.

"My Primarch, you have changed." The wizard said sadly. "You have become much kinder. If you were still the Lion King, I would have died long ago and would never have had the chance to say any last words."

He spoke very slowly, so someone among the seventy-five people immediately growled, "He is stalling for time, my Lord, please allow me to kill him!"

The lion paid no attention to this, nor did Serafax. The wizard took a deep breath and continued speaking very sincerely.

"Time changes everything. It makes a violent monarch peaceful, makes past betrayals rarely mentioned, and makes your descendants wander around, suffering from the tearing of the world."

"Look at us, father. What do you see? My transformation? Zabril's aging? Or Ectorel's scars? Time can change everything, but it also leaves traces, and traces cannot be erased, just like betrayal itself."

He paused for a few seconds, his lips trembling, and deep red blood flowed from his only remaining good eye.

"Treason is betrayal. Everyone will remember that there was a rebellion on Caliban. It cannot be erased, nor can the effects of it. But think about it, what would we be like if it had never happened?"

The lion remained indifferent.

Serafax stared at him very seriously. The desire on his face stung the eyes of all the angels of forgiveness. Whether they were willing to admit it or not, that desire had appeared in their dreams.

"Father," Serafax whispered. "Just think about it. If there had been no rebellion on Caliban, how many people would have arrived on Terra with you? How many shells and warships would have been left behind?"

Just a fantasy! Zabril thought indignantly. However, his thoughts could not stop Serafax from doing what he wanted to do. Little by little, the wizard's voice gradually turned into a high-pitched, passionate and sincere speech.

"Most importantly, if the Caliban Incident had never occurred, would the Emperor not have been seriously injured?"

"With the First Legion intact, Horus would never have reached the Imperial Palace. Does that mean the Emperor need not sit on the torture device? What would become of the Imperium if he could still walk among us?"

"Will the Empire - the country we love, fought for, and bled for - become the ugly, half-dead thing it is now?"

"Brothers!" Serafax roared, racking his brains. "Don't tell me you haven't hated the Imperium as it is now! Don't tell me you haven't recalled the simple truths of the Great Crusade! Don't tell me you haven't imagined fighting alongside the Emperor again!"

"enough."

In the silence of the Angels of Absolution, the lion spoke coldly. The decomposition force field crackled, and the blade was raised, slashing towards Serafax's neck at lightning speed without any hesitation.

At the critical moment of life and death, the wizard had a calm smile on his face, as if he had expected it. As he smiled, the lion's sword pierced his neck.

No blood flowed, no head fell. Serafax was still kneeling there, unharmed. His upper body was undulating, as illusory as a flower in the water, a moon in the mirror.

But he finally knelt here.

"Fire!" Zabriel shouted immediately.

He received the response from seventy-five people—even Asmodai. In the entire dark room, everyone except the lion opened fire on Serafax at this moment.

Bombs, heavy bombs, plasma and many other deadly weapons were bombarding at the same time. Even a big demon would be beaten to pieces, but somehow, the wizard was not hurt.

All the destructive force passed through him, and apart from destroying the floor tiles and digging deep into the structure underneath, it failed to cause any other damage.

Without any order from the lion, the angels of pardon stopped shooting with grim expressions.

Asmodai, who was demoted to a servant, drew his chainsword and rushed forward, slashing at Serafax repeatedly, but to no avail. The strange fluctuations only became more and more intense, as if Asmodai was really slashing at the lake with his sword.

Keeping that calm smile, the wizard stood up little by little.

The shackles fell off naturally and dropped at his feet with a dull sound. Then the anti-psychic collar came off. This precious instrument actually turned into fragments bit by bit in the blue light of Serafax's eyes, and splashed on the ground.

He can even use psychic powers.

Despite such a scene that went against common sense and cognition, the lion's face showed no shock at all. He raised his hand to hold Asmodai down, gently pushed him back to the team, then sheathed his sword and asked again with complete calmness.

"What do you want to do?"

"Are you trying to get me to explain my plans?"

Serafax asked with an ambiguous smile. Standing in front of his Primarch with his bare hands, he seemed unusually relaxed. Moreover, before the lion could answer, he chuckled and nodded.

"That's fine, Primarch. I can certainly explain it to you," Serafax said gently. "But I'm not one of those foolish, ambitious people who would put himself in the shoes of a winner and speak harshly to the loser at the last moment."

"Of course I'll explain it to you, but why should I do that?"

He raised his hand and pointed behind the lion. One second, two seconds. When time slowly came to the ninth second, the door of the dark room was pushed open. Azrael rushed in and reported to the lion at a very fast speed.

"Primarch! All our brothers sent to the Mountains were attacked!"

The lion nodded to him, calmly and gently, but it seemed to contain a thousand pounds of strength. He easily calmed the young dark angel down, and there was still no surprise on his face.
There was only calmness, as deep as the sea and as dangerous as a primeval forest where there is no sunlight.

He turned and looked at Serafax.

"You seem to think you've figured it all out?" he asked.

“I never thought of it that way.”

The lion nodded. "It doesn't matter. You are very proud, Serafax. You have something to rely on. It gives you the courage to come to me alone."

"Based on the current situation, your reliance is indeed special. It has saved you from death and even allowed you to do this kind of thing—"

He took a step forward and raised his foot to crush one of Serafax's shackles, but his foot hit nothing.

Zabril's pupils shrank sharply.

"--but that's meaningless," said the Lion. "I have something to rely on, too."

The wizard looked at him steadily. After a few seconds, he suddenly uttered a name: "Instructor Caryl Rohals?"

The lion finally frowned.

Serafax smiled again.

"Yes, I know he is aboard my ship now, Primarch. You may be surprised, but that is only because you do not know me. And you have not thought of getting to know me."

"If you were willing to ask me about my past, then with your keen sense, I believe you would have discovered this in advance. Unfortunately, it's too late now."

The wizard lowered his head, muttered to himself, and began to pace on the spot.

"Since leaving Caliban, I have delved deep into the Warp. Even now, I cannot grasp the details of this vast ocean, but these waves are different. Even if I were blind and deaf, they would still drown me."

"Not long ago, a huge wave that swept across the entire warp attacked me like this and drowned me. Erebus the Word Bearer died. Did you know about this?"

"He died. Even though he was powerful enough to display otherworldly powers in both the material plane and the Warp, he still died. So, who did it? Yago Sevitarion of the Eighth Legion?"

"I believe it must be him. He is strong enough and has sworn to do so. The oaths of the Nightblades have a very strong binding force. However, the truth is not just that."

"I saw the truth." The wizard muttered to himself. "The huge wave caused by Erebus's death was indeed spectacular, sweeping across almost half of the warp, but this wave was actually just a side note to another piece of news."

"After all, the huge wave was caused by his return. And Erebus is nothing more than a damned traitor and a ridiculous clown. It is the greatest honor of his life for him to be mentioned together with that instructor."

The lion sneered slowly. He did not comment on the rebellious heir's crazy words. His contempt was obvious. Of course, he was like that, but others might not be.

Zabril roared unbearably: "Do you think you are any different from him, traitor! How many innocent people have been killed by your so-called warband?!"

"Of course there is a difference, brother," Serafax said. "He did it for himself, but I did it for you."

Serafax raised his hands, and the pale silver robes began to condense and spread over his body, which was only wearing underwear. The burning flames began to expand, but there was no joy or arrogance on the only half of his face that was intact.

Zabril admitted very reluctantly that he could only see sadness from above.

Moreover, his voice was so gentle and serious that the conviction in it was clear to everyone without any explanation.

Such a voice could appear in a staunch warrior, a loyal soldier, and a devout believer, but how could it appear in Serafax? In a traitor who was blessed by Tzeentch, whose body was highly mutated, and who had committed evil deeds in the past?
Zabril could no longer bear it, and in front of Asmodai, he clenched his sword tightly.

"Listen up, Serafax."

With a clang, the lion drew his sword again. As if he had faced the fake creature that had taken Horus Lupercal away, he held the sword with both hands, his faded golden hair fluttering slowly without wind.

A forest that shouldn't have existed spread out beneath his feet.

"I will find you, and I will kill you," Lion El'Jonson declared, his face filled with murderous intent. "Whatever you are about to do, I will chop you into pieces."

"Come then, father," Serafax said sadly. "I will wait for you on Caliban."

He raised his right hand, and a flash of silver light flashed from his sleeve. It was a mirror, which looked very small, but reflected the lion and the person behind him.

Inside that mirror, there was also a forest. A forest surrounded by raging flames and endless corpses.

The lion's movements suddenly froze.

Eighty-one seconds later, Captain Grandan of the Edge of Reason delivered a very sudden message to the nearby fleet and the Dark Angels remaining on the surface of Kamas.

He was questioned, insulted and even threatened many times at the same time, but the old captain was indifferent. He just roared in the communication channel and began to torture everyone's ears with his tough tone.

"I'm damn sure, you fat-headed idiot! The Lion and his guards are missing. It must be that traitor's doing! Emperor help us!"

Far away on the former Mountains, now the Blade of Truth, Khalil, who was slowly walking out of the darkness wearing an Inquisitor's coat, also heard the news.

"very funny."

He commented calmly, walking towards a sand pit filled with bodies.

(End of this chapter)