40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 67 66. The Eighth Legion (two, five in one chapter)

"What do you think they're doing?" Conrad Curz asked in disbelief.

Fair Zalost was silent for a while, lowering his head and telling his Primarch: "They are fighting Lord Khalil Rohars, uh, duel."

"."

Conrad Koz was also silent for a moment, but the first sentence he spoke was not to ask for details, but to correct him.

"Don't call him your lord, or put any title of honor after that name, Fell. Just as I do, Khalil, Rohars—don't call him your lord anyway."

"...Yes, Primarch." Fell nodded suspiciously.

Curz took a deep breath and stood up from the back of the seat.

Four and ten minutes ago, he had fulfilled his oath.He managed to memorize the names of every Eighth Legion soldier.It was a feat, but it was nothing to him.

And after that, no one from the Eighth Legion pushed open the door alone.

So, you can say that, the moment Conrad Koz saw Fair Zalost walk in, he was actually a little surprised.

However, he never expected that this surprise would develop into shock so quickly.

"duel?"

As he walked towards the door, he turned around and asked about Fair.He had just taken the time to read the detailed map of the Nightfall, and firmly remembered every detail in his mind.So he doesn't need to lead the way.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

The former third company commander of the Eighth Legion hurriedly followed the pace of his primarch, and began to explain in a low voice: "It is said that it was Mr. Khalil who made the first suggestion."

"At first it was just hand-to-hand combat, but it quickly developed into free-to-hand combat incorporating ground techniques. Now it's even turned into weapon combat, Primarch."

"So, it's not a duel?" Curz asked, not caring about that 'Mr.' for the time being.

"There is little difference in my opinion, Primarch."

Feil replied with a pale face—his current complexion was scarier than some underground cave-dwelling mutants in some worlds.

"We all felt that it was no different from a duel. Mr. Khalil was holding a blunt training sword, but everyone else's weapons were sharpened."

"...it's all right."

Walking among the dark corridors, Konrad Koz lowered his shoulders as if he was relieved when he heard the news.

"Khalil must have acquiesced in this and maybe he asked for it."

"Yes, Primarch, Mr. Khalil himself requested—and I would also like to apologize to you."

Phil Zalost said anxiously: "To be precise, we want to apologize to you. Eight of our former company commanders were on the scene, but we did not stop the development of the situation in time"

"It's human nature to want to see the truth, and I don't blame you. As for the former company commander... I will re-investigate this matter tomorrow and launch a vote. The behavior of you dismissing yourself is simply nonsense."

Coz frowned severely, and used his closest reprimand tone to Fair during the trot that was barely able to maintain his demeanor: "That is the proof of your past military achievements and honors, how can you just give up? "

".Sorry, Primarch."

"Don't apologize to me, you, you, have nothing to do to me - now, let's get over it."

Conrad Koz sighed, he was not worried about Khalil at all, he was more worried about other people.

He worries about everyone else.
-
Sure enough, I'm not good with swords, Khalil thought.

His opponent took a step forward and stabbed him in the heart.The blow was fast, accurate and ruthless.

But his opponent is obviously keeping his hand consciously - there is no other reason, his sword is sharpened.What Khalil had in his hand was just a blunt sword.

Faced with his kindness, Khalil turned slightly sideways, brushed past, and dodged the trick brilliantly.His opponent immediately changed his tactics, and the blade came to life like a dexterous poisonous snake, stabbing viciously at his shoulder.

This time, he still kept his hand.

Khalil couldn't help smiling.

His response was simple—the blunt sword spun, and he held the sword backwards in the way he was most familiar with, reversed the center of gravity and balance, and slapped the opponent's sword as accurately as a short knife.

"You don't have to hold back, Richter." He said softly. "I've said that if we're going to try to make the fight as fair as possible, we should give you more of an advantage."

"...Is this some kind of insult?"

The young man named Richter replied, his expression was very serious, his lips were bent downwards, and they were tightly pressed together.He seems to make this expression often, serious and natural.

"of course not."

"Then why do you say that? You hold a blunt sword and I hold a sharpened, deadly weapon - I must keep my hand! It's an unfair fight!"

"This fight is not fair."

"Perhaps, Khalil! You may indeed outmaneuver us in hand-to-hand combat, but sword fights are different! Swords have nothing to do with height, nothing to do with strength, nothing to do with everything else!"

Richter's words aroused shouts from the audience below the ring, which hit like a mountain roar and a tsunami.The soldiers of the Eighth Army applauded his speech, and at the same time did not forget to cheer him on.

Khalil sighed softly.

Richter turned solemnly on his side, with his right foot straight in front of him and his right foot diagonally behind.He raised the sword with one hand with his right hand, and then rushed straight towards Khalil.

As always, he kept a hand.

With the blade flying up and down in the air, Richter swung, slashed, and stabbed with dizzying speed.
He used simple and direct moves again and again, and one hand became two hands at some point.If the air had a substance, it would probably be chopped into fine pieces.

Khalil frowned, and began to avoid these successive attacks.

Of course he can block these attacks with his own sword, but he knows another thing better.If you resist rashly, it is easy to be brought into their moves by a master swordsman like Richter.

He couldn't let this fight that had lasted five hours see blood, neither his blood nor theirs.Otherwise the results may be quite unacceptable.

Although, the current development of this matter is beyond his control.

"It's useless to dodge blindly!" Richter shouted loudly. "Come on, beat me upright, or be defeated by me!"

He used the big stride at the beginning of that move again, and the blade pierced Khalil's throat at an exaggerated speed—what was even more frightening was that even though it was so fast, he still held back his hand.

Khalil's powers of observation would have allowed him to spot this.In the eyes of the Eighth Legion soldier named Richtner, besides the desire for victory, there is also an obvious cautiousness.

Such caution does not appear in a heart so desperate for victory.

interesting
At this moment, Khalil grasped the sword with both hands.

Yes, he's not good at using a sword, but that doesn't mean he can't learn.

The most basic and important thing in weapon fighting is the pace. With the pace, these weapons can exert their greatest power.And Richter's pace just now is not difficult for him to remember.

He took a step to the left, raised his hands flat, and locked his wrists together.The sound of blunt swords colliding with sharp swords came in the next second, echoing throughout the large arena.

The sound began to pass back and forth in the pitch-black metal cage of the ring until it turned into a huge echo, even overwhelming the roaring cheers from the audience.

Richter froze in place in astonishment, forgetting to attack for a moment.

The young sword master was silent for a long time before asking: "...that's my pace."

"Yes."

"You can use a sword?"

"will not."

"Yes, that's my pace."

"indeed so."

Silence, silence again——After a while, Richter lowered the sword in his hand.

What this gesture means is self-evident.

"You win."

He said it quietly, as if he wasn't ashamed of it.

"If you can do this kind of thing, then it's just me humiliating myself if I continue to fight."

"No, Richtner."

Khalil shook his head and spoke sincerely.At the same time, he also lowered the blunt sword in his hand—or rather, dropped it.

"From the perspective of sword fighting, I have already lost. I don't know any sword moves. You can see this from my previous actions."

"And you, every time you attack, you don't use your full strength. Therefore, if there is really one person who will admit defeat, then the one who admits defeat should be me."

Richter frowned, looking a little anxious for the first time: "How can you say that? If you fight again, I will definitely lose!"

"Does winning or losing matter?"

Khalil smiled and shook his head.

"From the beginning, I didn't stand in this ring with the heart of wanting to beat you, I just wanted to understand you. In the same way, the first person who stepped into the ring and I fought with Aleister also It’s not like coming up with a winning heart.”

"...you remember his name?"

"I remember everyone who told me their names." Khalil nodded calmly. "It's not that hard, is it?"

Yeah, it's not that hard.Richter nodded silently, agreeing with his words.

“Maybe it’s really not that hard to do it”

he whispered. "But what's really valuable is the attitude who the hell are you, Khalil Rohars?"

He looked at him in bewilderment.

"Why are you so peaceful?"

Khalil didn't answer this question, he just turned around like a prophet, and looked at a door on the second floor - this training room is sunken, and there is only one exit and entrance.

And there, now, stood a pale giant.

The discussion under the ring stopped in an instant.
-
"Are you angry, Conrad?"

".No."

"You were silent for a while before answering me, and that silence was rather suspicious."

"I'm not mad about it."

Conrad Coates said calmly. "At least it turned out that the moment you said you remembered all of their names, their eyes changed."

"But that doesn't hide the fact that my origins remain a mystery."

Khalil smiled, leaned against the wall, folded his hands and shook his head. "How are you going to explain my origins to them?"

".I have no idea."

After another moment of silence, Conrad Koz spoke in this way, his expression was distressed.At this time, he finally looked a bit like a child of one and a half years of biological age.

"Tomorrow, I'm going to watch a military parade, Khalil. I can understand the meaning of the words, but I don't understand why it is done. I already know everyone, why have a military parade? There is also a formal speech today. Do you think your speech is adequate, Khalil?"

The giant who was questioned couldn't help laughing. He shook his head and answered softly. "How do I know? You are the master of the Eighth Legion."

"But I don't know anything about speeches."

"Why do you think I will understand it? When I was on Nostramo, I didn't have the environment to hone this skill, Conrad. Is it possible that I have to talk about the corpses of gangs and nobles? Gothic cadences?"

"Then, can you at least give me some advice?"

"...You are the master of the Eighth Legion, Konrad Curz."

Khalil shook his head gently: "Haven't you realized how important you are to them? It was just the first day they met, and they completely obeyed you. Moreover, your speech today is very good."

"really?"

"Of course. Although it doesn't contain any battle cry that can be extracted, when you asked them if they would accept you, many people almost cried."

"...I didn't see that."

"Because you were about to cry then."

"."

Khalil turned his head so that Curz wouldn't have to see his expression.After a while, he continued to ask: "So, how about getting back to the topic?"

"it is good."

"How are you going to explain my origin to them?"

Facing his question, the Lord of the Eighth Legion was silent for a long time before speaking.He obviously answered after careful consideration, so this passage surprised Khalil quite a bit.

"I'm not going to tell them who you are. It's meaningless. Whatever I say, they will accept it. So, even if I do lie to them, they will take it as the truth."

"But I can't lie to them, Khalil, I can't do this, you said it, didn't you? We should return double kindness to those who have been kind to us."

"So, I want them to participate in the cleansing and transformation of Nostramo. Anyway, they will definitely participate. In the process, they will also definitely perceive the image you have created and they will realize who you are of."

Yes, they will.They'll find a tale of a vengeful spirit but that doesn't matter to me, boy.

Khalil looked at him gently, the Lord of the Eighth Legion was lowering his head at the moment, writing and drawing on many documents in front of him.

They were sent by the machine servants, so Conrad Koz is quite busy now.He didn't even realize what kind of complicated mood Khalil was having at the moment.

fourteen days.

The giant who was once a ghost smiled slowly—fourteen days, did he grow up to this point?
You make me so proud.

"Khalil?" Conrad Koz raised his head.With no response, he had to look up to directly observe Khalil's reaction.The latter just smiled calmly.

"I have nothing to say, Conrad." Khalil replied with a chuckle. "As far as you can tell, that's a perfect way to explain it. I have one last question, though."

"what?"

"How are you going to explain to them that you didn't unify Nostramo? I mean...your age."

"...I don't have to talk about it."

"You just said you didn't want to lie to them."

"Not telling is just concealing, not lying."

"Is it better to hide than to lie?"

"You, you—you've kept things from me too!" the Night Ghost hissed. "Don't you have a lot of things you didn't tell me?!"

Khalil laughed dumbfounded, and raised his hands in surrender.

His eyes are very gentle, and they are not the eyes that should belong to ghosts.
-
On the second day, Khalil did not participate in the military parade.

Of course he wouldn't be--why should he be?

Was he going to be standing below, or was he going to review the Eighth Corps with Konrad Curze?
Either way, it seemed unwise to him.

Konrad Curz is mature enough, mature enough to take on the title of 'Lord of the Eighth Legion' by himself.

Khalil also felt that it was best not to meddle too much in the internal affairs of the Legion.

Therefore, he will not give any substantive advice-in short, he intends to do his best to avoid any situation that may involve him in the internal affairs of the Legion.

Of course, whether this matter will go according to his wish or not is up to him to decide.

As for now, he is reading some books.

The Eighth Legion has [-] fighters, and they naturally cannot all be obsessed with advanced martial arts like Siani or Richter.

Therefore, although it seems a bit paradoxical to say it, there is indeed a small library on the Nightfall.

At the moment, Khalil is standing by a window seat, reading a book.

These seats were obviously designed according to the stature of Astartes, he couldn't sit in it, but standing was fine.

He was reading a book of poetry, and someone had added a line to the beginning of this ancient book in High Gothic.

The general idea is that this is a poetry collection from Terra, which has a very long history.Although the author is unknown, he hopes that everyone should read this book with a 'pilgrimage' mentality.

After reading for 15 minutes, Khalil chuckled and agreed with the editor.

"A pilgrimage indeed."

He started talking to himself. "Her eager face, like rain at night, disturbs my dreams. It is indeed a pilgrimage to read it again."

After putting down the book, his chuckle gradually turned into a wry smile.

At this time, two machine servants came from the aisle one after the other, one was in charge of sweeping the floor, the other was in charge of mopping the floor, and the division of labor was orderly.

They quickly cleared the entire library.It didn't even take more than 10 minutes.Khalil watched the whole process silently, and he realized that the machine servants also had jobs.

And he didn't.

Let's find a chance to return to Nostramo early, although the fear brewing now is not enough.

He squinted—yes, the gang had searched frantically for him for nine days after that, but never found a clue.Only words written in corpses, ruins, and blood.

Khalil almost watched them go mad during those nine days, but it wasn't enough.He had to wait for this emotion to spread to the most terrifying moment, only then
He raised his head, his thoughts interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

Steel stepped on the wooden floor, and the thick ground also made an unbearable sound.

Khalil tilted his head slightly, and out of the corner of his eye saw an Astartes in cool blue power armor, the latter without a helmet.This made him immediately recognize who the person was and what attitude he should use.

"Syani from Terra."

Khalil turned around with a smile: "What brought you here?"

"Of course not the books." Ciani laughed too. "I just want to ask why you didn't show up at the military parade."

Khalil raised an eyebrow slowly. "Why did I show up?"

"You are the adoptive father of our Primarch," Cyani said solemnly. "Why don't you show up?"

The atmosphere of the conversation changed quickly, so suddenly that Khalil even felt a little taken aback.

But when he saw the sly look in Ciani's eyes, he knew he had been tricked.Of course, this is not the only situation.

He also realized that Siani's question was more or less sincere.

"Because he is the master of the Eighth Legion." Khalil replied with a chuckle. Although he was smiling, he did not look frivolous.

He is obviously much taller than Siani, but his attitude in the conversation at this moment is very humble.If there was a painter here, I'm afraid they would be painted the same height.

"What you say is good, but not enough to convince me"

"Then, you don't believe it." Khalil said lightly. "It doesn't do me any harm, does it?"

"But it's bad for me."

Siani of Terra laughed again, his teeth sharp—a distinguishing feature of all Terrans.

However, Khalil actually captured more details.Such as pale complexion, darker eyes than ordinary people, hardly blinking, and no hair.

The traits of acclimatization are so evident in everyone, not even the Astartes.They're still human—or at least they're recognizably human.
But what about me?
"So, the parade is over?" Khalil asked.Keep everything in your heart.

He didn't mind chatting with Siani for a while, it didn't hurt anyway.As long as it doesn't involve the internal affairs of the Eighth Army, he is happy to accept it.

For example, yesterday's round-robin group arena match.Khalil admits that, if everything else is taken into account, he's actually having a good time.

"Yes, it's a happy ending."

Ciani puffed out her chest proudly.

Although he prefixed his name with Tyra, he was also a fighter within the Eighth Legion who had won the unarmed combat champion for five consecutive years, but when he talked about these two things yesterday, he was not proud.

Only now, when talking about a military parade that ended perfectly, did he look extremely proud, extremely satisfied.

"How fulfilling is it?"

"Very well, Khalil Rohars. We even showed the Primarch every detail we had in the past, such as stealth and covert operations. Ah, but, speaking of which, how the hell did you do yesterday Did you see it?"

"See what?" Khalil asked calmly.

"Stop pretending!" Siani grinned, pulled out a chair and sat down by himself.

The plastic chair let out a whine as it took his weight, but Ciani seemed unmoved.

He smiled, raised his right hand and made a gesture: "They were squeezed out by us yesterday."

"Are you referring to the five soldiers led by Captain Ariel?"

"There is no company commander now, but, yes, there are six of them."

"Just a little bit of luck," Khalil said softly. "I've always been lucky."

Ciani pouted: "It's fine if you don't want to say it, Master Khalil."

".Why did you suddenly add an honorific title?"

"Our Primarch gave a brand new speech at the parade today, and at the end of the speech he specifically mentioned you. His adoptive father, Khalil Rohars, also wanted us not to join you Adding an honorific title after your name. Considering that our Primarch also doesn't like this, I made a little guess."

With a sullen face, Siani uttered a series of words in one breath with a kind of polite grammar.And in the end, he spoke the last sentence of this passage with an almost unstoppable expression and a suddenly raised voice.

"...I think you hate it, don't you, Lord Khalil?"

"."

Khalil narrowed his eyes calmly, and did not answer immediately.After a while, he suddenly chuckled.

"You can call it what you want, Siani from Terra, it's a big deal that the Eighth Legion has won the hand-to-hand combat champion for five consecutive years, let's compare the length of the title, what do you think?"

Ciani's face twitched at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"...I'm the loser."

"So, who won? You don't sound like you want to admit that I'm the winner here." Khalil asked deliberately.

He has noticed something.

Of course he would notice.

"Tsk, I really don't have much talent in using languages."

Annoyed, Siani stood up.A few seconds later, he changed his expression, looking serious and dignified, no longer relaxed and natural as before.

"Lord Caryl Rohars," he whispered. "In the name of Conrad Kotz, and with the glory of the Eighth Legion, we have come here to invite you to the dinner tonight."

Khalil narrowed his eyes and turned around.

Behind him, a dark shadow slowly appeared.

The soldiers of the [-]th Legion surrounded this place with water. They didn't wear helmets, and the armor was shiny, with military medals and honor ribbons flying on it.Each of them looked extremely solemn and sincere.

They looked at him as if expecting something.

'We should return double kindness to those who have been kind to us. '

Taking a slow, deep breath, Khalil nodded expressionlessly.

"It's an honor to be invited by you, soldiers of the Eighth Legion." He said loudly. "I'll be on time for dinner."
-
The Eighth Legion seldom gave parties—it was a fact, a fact that didn't even need to be argued.

In the Legion, there are many people who are gloomy and reticent, and people like Siani are an outlier after all.However, everything happens for a reason.The Eighth Army's unfamiliarity with the banquet led to their current predicament.

Fair Zalost lowered his head anxiously, and looked at the few mortals on the Nightfall: "What does it mean that there are no raw materials?"

"It means that there are no raw materials, Lord Fair."

The man had a beard and looked a little listless.He was wearing a white robe, with a chef's hat askew on his head.

"We can't make food without raw materials."

"How not?!"

"My lord"

The head chef sighed: "The menu given by you and your lords clearly includes Glocks steak, apples and peaches, herbal tea, butter bread and all kinds of dangerous seafood, fresh fruits, and red wine."

"Isn't that right?"

"Yes, of course, actually, it's even a little less for a banquet."

"Then why don't you do it?"

"Because our food supply warehouse only has six flavors of Astartes nutritional porridge, individual soldier's portable rations and ordinary beer, my lord. Also, I would like to ask, which lord made a note on the menu to ask for sand Dried eel?"

".Should be Kegel."

"Is that Kege from the Sixth Company? Well, alas. Please tell him that he ate up the jerky sand eel meat a month and a half ago!"

Phil Zalost didn't know how he returned to the huge banquet hall full of people - he really didn't know, he only knew that he seemed to be sleepwalking.

This strong warrior's expression of being battered and battered at the moment is obvious to the extreme, and almost anyone who sees him can understand that this person is in a bad mood at the first sight.

The wise will avoid it, and the less wise or brave few will rise to it.

Such as Adbiman Basili.

He walked towards Fell head-on, and the latter came to his senses the first moment he saw him, and subconsciously wanted to turn his head to discuss countermeasures with the former company commanders.

After all, it was still some time before the banquet officially started.They should still be able to think of a way to remedy it.However, Adbiman Basili did not give him this chance.

"grown ups."

He stood in the middle of the road expressionlessly, blocking Feier's way.

"The banquet starts in 35 minutes, but why hasn't there been any movement from the kitchen? I haven't seen any dishes on the menu being delivered from the kitchen in our banquet hall."

"...Don't mention it for now."

"why?"

"Just forget it for now, Adbeman, and get back to your seat. We'll figure it out."

Adbeman let out a long sigh.

"Ten hours ago I told you that having a banquet was not such a good idea, but at that time you swore to me that tonight's banquet would be a complete success. The Eighth Legion will surely bring the Primarch and Khalil Lord Rohars feels right at home."

"And now, I can make a bold guess. Is there no raw material for the exquisite dishes on the menu in our supply warehouse? And, even if there is, I am afraid that the quantity is not enough to support the consumption of such a banquet. Yes wrong?"

".Your intuition is really accurate."

Phil Zalost said expressionlessly. "So, my clever former lieutenant, what can you do?"

"No."

Adbeman spread his hands with a sneer.

"Not at all, my lord."

"I can't conjure raw materials out of thin air, and the supply fleet responsible for providing logistics and bringing officials has two months to pass through the limit star field and reach the ghoul star field."

"So, unless you go and tell the Primarch now and persuade him to postpone this banquet for two months, otherwise, in my opinion, I think our banquet will definitely fail."

"You talk a lot, Adbeman."

Fair narrowed his eyes, and his expression had become a little dangerous. "Since you are so capable, why don't you tell the Primarch yourself the news?"

Fell was satisfied to see his former adjutant's expression turn terrified in the next few seconds, and he made an excuse and left quickly.

Fair stood alone, pondered for a while, and went to find the other seven former company commanders.After a short meeting, they unanimously decided to tell the primarch honestly about the matter.

Of course it's up to Phil to go.

"why me?!"

Fair Zalost yelled angrily. "Why me again?! You have already asked me to bring bad news to the Primarch, this must not happen again!"

"Because you came up with the idea of ​​the banquet, Phil," said one of the company commanders.

He has a rather gloomy face that fits the stereotype of the Eighth Legion.

Hooked nose, high cheekbones, pointed chin.The whole person looked extremely fierce.And his stern face at the moment added a strong persuasive force.

"But you also agreed!" Fer tried to argue and waved his arms. "Isn't this decision made by us together?"

"The squad leaders outside the company didn't agree." The man replied lightly. "So, why don't you go and talk to them about it?"

"What does this have to do with them?!"

"That's right, it has nothing to do with them, it has something to do with us, and it has to do with you the most. So, Phil"

He patted Fer on the shoulder sympathetically, and pushed him away by the way: "Go."

Ten minutes later, Fair Zalost stood stiffly in front of their Primarch Konrad Curz with his head bowed, looking very nervous.

What he didn't know was that Conrad Koz was also very nervous 10 minutes ago.

He had trouble choosing clothes suitable for the banquet, and he still didn't know how to choose.Therefore, the arrival of Fair ended his difficulties to a certain extent.

At this moment, he was wearing an evening dress intertwined with black, blue and silver—this dress was cut by Fulgrim himself, and every detail was handcrafted by Chemoth.

During those fourteen days, he was not just giving lessons to Conrad Curze. He made eight sets of clothes for his brother in one go, which just matched the number of the Eighth Legion.

"So, what's up, Fell?" he asked softly, high Gothic echoing across the room.

".It is so, Primarch. The banquet may be cancelled."

Fair Zalost finished the sentence calmly with the most fearless courage in his life, and then buried his head deeply, as if waiting for the judge to judge the criminal who made the verdict.

"Cancel?"

"Yes, we made a mistake, we were seriously under-stocked. Almost all the dishes on the menu were not available"

Feil lowered his head and added an explanation, expecting a severe reprimand—in fact, he was also prepared for this.

After all, this was a banquet attended by the Primarch and his adoptive father, and it was also the first banquet held by the Eighth Legion to welcome the return of the Primarch, so it was naturally of great commemorative significance.

Therefore, even if his genetic father wants to punish him, he is willing to accept it.

But he didn't expect that he would hear a soft chuckle.

"Is it just that?"

Fell looked up blankly and saw a smiling face.

"It's just that the food on the menu can't be served in its entirety?"

"...Actually, none of the Primarchs can be brought up." Fair said with difficulty.

"Well, that's not a big deal."

Conrad Curz nodded thoughtfully. "So, what else is in our warehouse?"

"Uh, six flavors of Astartes nutritional porridge, individual soldier's portable rations, and ordinary beer"

"Then, isn't it enough to just use these?" Konrad Koz tilted his head and said.

Fell stared at him in astonishment, and it took him a while to remember that he should argue.

"But, but—but how is this worthy of your identity?!"

"My identity? What am I, Phil?"

"You are our Primarch."

Phil Zalost answered very quickly. "You are the Primarch of the Eighth Legion, you are the Emperor's son, you are a noble demigod."

"Demi god?"

Conrad Coates frowned. "The first three are all facts, but where did the statement about demigods come from? The Empire clearly states that there are no gods in the world."

"But your brother Lorgar Aurelion"

Fair just said a name, and nothing else.But this was enough for Conrad Koz to understand, he sighed, didn't say anything, just shook his head.

"I don't choose food," he said quietly. "Appetite is indeed good, but after all, it's just a temporary enjoyment, Phil. And these things don't mean much to me at all."

"We are far stronger than ordinary people, Phil."

"In my opinion, the meaning of our existence is to be their shields, their sharp blades. We are the flames that sweep away all darkness, and the lightning that sweeps away ghosts."

"Our battle is not to allow ourselves to live a luxurious life where we can enjoy the delicacies of mountains and seas. Our battle is to enable all humans in the entire galaxy to have normal diets, normal clothes, and normal life like normal people. sleep."

He raised his hand and put it on Phil's shoulder.Watching him earnestly—in fact, he could almost call it a stare at the moment.

"Can you understand, Phil?" Conrad Curz asked cautiously.

His attitude was not 'forcing you to understand', or 'you should understand', he was really asking with concern, for fear that Phil Zalost would not understand his words and the meaning behind them.

The former third company commander of the Eighth Army and also the curator of the think tank had a sore nose and almost shed tears.

He nodded, and then nodded again, like a machine.

Conrad Coates smiled.

"That's not necessary, Phil. It doesn't matter if you don't understand. There is still a lot of time. I will try my best to let you all understand my thoughts. However, since there is no food on the Nightfall, we might as well change the dinner plan a little bit." location."

Dinner will be held as usual.

When the bell rang to represent the beginning of the banquet, the Astartes of the Eighth Legion were surprised to find that the food sent to their long table by the servants was not the exquisite dishes that were notified in advance on the menu, but nutritious porridge. Individual rations and ordinary beer.

The last item isn't even wine to them, it's more like water.

But
"I'm very sorry."

Conrad Koz used an impromptu microphone to make his voice heard in a huge banquet hall that can accommodate 2 people and even has room to spare.Gentle and solemn, so that those who hear it will never forget it.

"However, they are the only ones in the warehouse on the Nightfall, soldiers of the Eighth Legion. Oh, and, who is the former Sixth Company's Kaige?"

An Astartes in power armor stood stiffly.

Conrad Koz gave him a gentle smile: "Chef Dorsto, let me tell you, the jerky sand eel has been eaten."

"Understood, Primarch!" Keig replied loudly. "The dried sand eel has been eaten!"

His response elicited a chuckle.Such was the atmosphere within the Eighth Legion, not many people would show respect for such a thing.Laughing is the most frequent greeting they use to each other.

Conrad Koz laughed too, but not in a mocking way.

He made a gentle gesture for Keig to sit down, and then he spoke slowly.

"I see Glocks steak on the menu? Can someone explain to me what it tastes like?"

"It's delicious, Primarch," replied a young Astartes.There was a reverence in his eyes, which, to Khalil, who stood in the darkness at the edge of the hall, was a rather amusing sight.

Your Primarch may be younger than you, Astartes.

He laughed silently.

"Delicious? Ah, I can't imagine the taste of it." Conrad Koz replied sincerely.

"My impressions of food are of nourishing paste, rats, and the exquisite dishes aboard the Emperor Mirage. Frankly, I doubted my palate when I found that the latter was not much different to me from the first two .”

"But they're obviously fine, so I'm left with nothing to say. And my imagination is so limited, folks, I can't imagine what a Glocks steak tastes like, but I do know what a Glocks is .”

He smiled, the Eighth Legion did not.Their attention was drawn to the primarch's description of food.A silent anger that came at the same time began to spread.

"I know it originated in the Solomon galaxy as an aggressive animal, but its whole body can be eaten. It's delicious, nutritious, easy to raise, and can survive in quite a harsh environment."

"I read this description from my brother Fulgrim's notes, and I have to say, it reminds me of a beast that lives in the wilds of Nostramo."

"They can also survive in the harsh environment, their meat is equally delicious, and they are also aggressive with the sawtooth, which is their name."

"Unlike Glocks, their meat is a precious delicacy exclusive to nobles on Nostramo. It is not sent to thousands of households like Glocks meat, even to herdsmen on distant and backward planets You can also eat this delicacy through grazing.”

"On Nostramo, those people who are like herdsmen can't eat the meat of the sawtooth, and they can't eat the meat of the Glocks."

"Do you know why?" Conrad Curz asked softly.

No one answered.

Twenty thousand pairs of eyes stared at him silently, waiting for his next words.In the past two days, this scene has happened many times.As for Conrad Coates, he would never get used to this kind of thing.

But, every time, he made himself behave like a habit.

"Do you want to know why?"

The owners of twenty thousand pairs of eyes nodded silently.

Conrad Koz laughed again, grinning with extreme restraint.

Among the people present, only one person could see his true emotions at the moment.The man stood in the darkness, shaking his head calmly.He was relieved, but also felt a slight and delicate complex sadness.

"I want to leave the answer to you to find out by yourself." Konrad Koz said softly. "Also, we can just change the banquet venue and taste Nostramo's special food, how about it?"

Instead of words, the clang of metal on the helmet gave him the answer.
-
Fair Zalost felt a slight shudder running through the ends of his fingers, which was unusual.

He was a steady Astartes, and a steady man.And if you're going to bring up another of his positions, he's a fairly consistent one.

Therefore, his trembling at the moment is not due to physical reasons.

"You bastard!"

His former adjutant, Adbeman, roared and threw a nobleman to the ground. His actions were rough, but he obviously kept his hand.Otherwise, the abominable thing will be smashed to pieces in the first place.

Phil turned his head so that he would not look at him again.He was afraid that he would not be able to resist turning the Nostramo nobleman into a headless corpse with his power sword.

By the Emperor.

How can they be so depraved?

Fell closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the details of the hanging dangling slightly in the dark.

The Eighth Legion faced the terrible darkness.

They carry out punishments, not caring about the classification of guilt and innocence.Until the return of the Primarch, they will only take orders from the Emperor.Therefore, every time they act, they can see the sins that lurk in the darkness.

And Fell could swear by his surname, the darkness on Nostramo was incomparable even to the terror in Seragon's underground genetic laboratory.

The latter can at least be traced back to the fact that the Seragons attempted to breed psykers in order to cross a line drawn by the Emperor.

But what about here?

Why would a man skin and hang hundreds of other people for no reason or reason, and let them bleed dry in the dark?
Adebiman's gloomy roar came from the other side: "You dirty monster, so reckless! How dare you treat your compatriots like this? What do you regard them as?!"

The nobleman answered in a hissing language in which fear crept.Fair opened his eyes, looked at him indifferently, raised his hand, and stopped Adebiman's next move.

"Remember what the Primarch told us before we set off?" he asked in a low voice.

Adebiman turned his head, his gloomy iron face gleamed in the darkness, and some blood stained by killing was slowly falling on it. They had experienced a winding and rugged adventure, but this was far from the end .

"Judgment." Adbeman replied in a low voice. "Judge them all."

"The Primarch, in his right to rule by the Emperor, has given us the right to be both judge and executioner, but we cannot simply drown these hideous brutes in the blood of their own making."

Fell stared at the noble gasping in terror, the last one left in the mansion.

"They deserve to be judged, and they should be judged with all the victims watching."

He repeated the words of their Primarch, his voice calm, but the breath grating turned his voice into a horrible noise.

The nobleman began to scream again, he did not understand the language used by these giants who emerged from the darkness, and every pause seemed to him like a knife blade on his body.

fear.

"Take him away, Adbeman," Fell said. "Go to the center of this hive."

"What about you, my lord?"

"Don't call me my lord, I am no longer the company commander or the curator of the think tank. Didn't you realize that we all fought separately in this banquet?"

Adebiman stretched out his hand, skillfully put the nobleman into a coma, and then resisted it.At the same time, he didn't even forget to contradict his former company commander.

"The Primarch just said at the military parade that he does not intend to cancel your positions, my lord, do you have to be haggling at this moment?"

"Yes, I have to haggle over every detail at this time."

Adbeman snorted coldly, turned around, and left through a large French window.His figure disappeared into the eerie stacked spiers, and through the night vision goggles, Fell stared at him as he went away.

Now, alone among the corpses, he slowly took off his helmet.

If a trial is to be carried out, then a charge is necessary.

The strong smell of blood and the ubiquitous hallucinogenic smell in the mansion rushed towards his face. His physical fitness protected him from the latter, but the former could not be avoided.

Fair Zalost raised his head and looked at the hundreds of suspended corpses one by one.

The eyes of the victims met him hollowly in the sockets that had lost their lids, and the breeze blew in and made them sway.The eyeballs also rotated slightly because of this slow movement.

At this moment, Phil Zalost of the Eighth Legion felt a sharp pain in his eyes.

He could understand the Seragons, he knew their ambitions, and he knew the possible consequences of that ambition.Therefore, the Eighth Army quickly destroyed them.

But what about Nostramo?What's going on here?
He has no answer.

The breeze blows, from Prime to Quintus, from the upper nest to the lower nest, from the blue lighting strips in the luxurious mansions of the nobles, to the murky yellow light sources in the lower gang quarters
It doesn't stay, it blows by.

Under its blowing, under the gaze of Eternal Night, [-] black shadows brought something that hadn't really appeared for a long time on Nostramo tonight.

"justice."

Conrad Curz muttered to himself.

He turned his head and looked at the other giant. "Am I doing the right thing, Khalil?"

"You are the master of the Eighth Legion." The giant replied with a smile. "Isn't it?"

"But I want to know if I'm doing the right thing or wrong."

Conrad Koz asked persistently.

"I sent them all out with a full 2 people, Khalil, and [-] Astartes are now active on Nostramo. They used to be the Emperor's punishers, and now they plan to do the same. My Punisher. But"

"But what?"

"But I don't think that's right."

said the pale giant.

"The Emperor's punishment is merciless and massive. I have read the Legion's past battle reports. Every attack they have brought destruction to those sinners. But they themselves are indifferent to the sins of the judges."

"So, you don't think this is right?"

"...I don't know," Conrad Coates said. "That's why I asked you."

"Then why would I know?"

Khalil chuckled and shook his head. "I don't know much more about the Empire than you do, Conrad."

"But the question I'm asking you doesn't require you to know much about the Empire."

Conrad Koz asked doggedly—as he had always done in the past, and now he had made probing into a common conversational pattern.

Khalil is not disgusted by this, he is well aware of the great courage behind this behavior.

There are too many people in the world muddling along, such as some people in the Eighth Army.

Still others drift with the flow and let circumstances shape them, like others within the Eighth Legion.

But only a few people dare to resist the environment.

He stared at the ghost he had shaped with his own hands, and suddenly raised his head with a relaxed expression.

"I can't tell you right or wrong, Conrad," said Khalil Rohals softly. "This is a question that cannot be concluded for the time being. It is actually meaningless to discuss right and wrong."

"It doesn't make sense?" Conrad Koz widened his eyes. "How can it be meaningless?"

"Because right and wrong and justice mean nothing in themselves. What kind of justice are you after, Conrad? Justice of trial, justice of punishment, or justice in a broad sense? The term is equally vague, Conrad. "

Khalil chuckled.

"In my opinion, justice itself does not really exist."

Conrad Curz frowned slowly, and for the first time refuted Khalil's words.

"Isn't what my legion is doing right now?" he asked slightly angrily.

"Of course."

"Then why do you say it doesn't exist?"

"Because it's late," Khalil said. "And justice delayed is no justice at all."

"It has been late for too long, and the reason for its late arrival has nothing to do with you or the Eighth Legion. The Nostramos themselves gave up this justice, and they did not have the soil for it to be born."

"But can you blame them? You can't blame them for those numb eyes, Conrad. Just as you can't blame yourself."

Khalil took a step forward, lightly patted the Midnight Ghost on the shoulder, and spoke softly with a hiss.

"Don't blindly pursue justice, right and wrong, and look at the things in front of you, ghost. For example, in the trial you are going to conduct tonight, you should pay more attention to those bystanders, those numb bystanders."

He sighed and dropped his hands.The ghost answered him a moment later, in a soft, whining voice.

"But didn't you light the fire?" he asked despondently. "I thought I could at least...let it burn."

"The fire I lit is not the fire of justice." Khalil replied softly. "The image I created does not represent justice. Do what you should do, do what you want to do, don't learn from me, ghost."

He was silent for a moment, then laughed and jumped down the steeple, disappearing into the dark far side.The ghost stared at him away, not following him for the first time.

　I can't stay motivated. I changed the text for two consecutive nights.It is difficult to balance quality and quantity.

　　The remaining twenty chapters wait for me to sleep first, and then revise when I get up.

　　Slip and kneel to apologize (.)
　　
　
(End of this chapter)