40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 688 70. Belated Judgment (Thirty)

An emotion that is difficult to describe took hold of the Dark Angel's heart.

He didn't know what these things were, and he had never experienced similar emotions, so he could only explain them based on concepts he had experienced before - so, was it fear? Or excitement, reverence, or the sum of all of these?

He could not come up with an answer, and his thoughts became confused. The agility and composure he once possessed were all ruthlessly abandoned to him, leaving only a cold thought, floating among the false neurons and the personality shaped by memory.

Crazy.

The Dark Angel trembled and fell to his knees.

There was a flickering fire in front of his eyes, and it was so bright that he wished he could go blind. Extreme fear surged up from the depths of his body, drowning him.

He was so scared, just looking at the fire was enough to terrify him. At the same time, he was extremely worried, thinking that he might do something stupid - that's what happens when people are under great pressure, and he is no exception.

Yet, at the same time, he was still confused by it.

"Very good, that's right, I can't understand it."

The man in the flames said so, and gave him a calm glance that made his heart stop and filled him with great fear. The Dark Angel tried to look away, but he soon realized that he could not do it.
Unless he allows it. The Dark Angel almost begged.

He swallowed the blood surging up with a twitch: Unless you allow it.

“I allow it,” the man in flame said. “But you don’t actually need my permission, Serafax of Caliban.”

What? What does this mean?
The questions that followed one after another stabbed his heart deeply and cruelly, making it full of holes and bleeding with something far sharper than any blade. Countless words were stuck in his throat, ready to be spoken, but the sounds he could make with all his strength were just a few ridiculous whimpers.
The Dark Angel understood why—the shock he had received was too great. But one thing needed to be made clear: even though he had been given permission, he did not look away.

He couldn't do it, no matter how hard he tried.

The flames danced, reflecting in his eyes. Even the reflection was pure and perfect. The Dark Angel had a hard time associating this face with a human, but for some reason, he couldn't even associate it with a god.

If we were to find out the reason, it was probably because this dark face lacked the majesty, size, gloom and oppression that gods possessed. The way he looked at the dark angel was like an ordinary person looking at another ordinary person.

Involuntarily, the Dark Angel calmed down little by little.

The man in the flames nodded slightly to him, as if to express approval, and then he walked out of the flames.

The Dark Angel did not know how to describe this scene to himself, even though he had seen it clearly. He knew that the man was in a robe and sandals, with rough hands and calm eyes - but what else?
Could anyone really believe that this is what the Emperor looks like? Could anyone really think that the Emperor of mankind is just such an ordinary person?

Even he himself, who witnessed it all, found it unbelievable.

"No matter how you look up to him, the Emperor is a fabricated image."

The man spoke calmly, his voice was loud and resonant, echoing in the space here.

"People can believe in him, worship him, make pictures and statues of him, talk about him as if he were a god, and claim that he gives them power. But, in the final analysis, who has really seen him?"

"What do you think he looks like, Serafax? Do you think he should be wrapped in gold and endless glory, majestic and powerful enough to make others bow their heads, bend over, kneel and surrender?"

He walked up to the Dark Angel, stretched out his right hand, and stabbed his five fingers deeply into the Dark Angel's shoulder like a knife. A force far hotter than fire roared furiously, rushing in his veins instead of blood, causing him great pain and causing him to kneel down uncontrollably.

"No, that is just the emperor in your heart." The god pronounced mercilessly. "You came here to see a statue of your imagination, to worship him, and to vent your regret and pain."

Blood and tears born of pain flowed from his eyes, and the Dark Angel barely raised his head and looked at the man, but found that he could no longer see his face. Now, he could only see a ruthless outline in the dazzling light.

"Now, are you satisfied?" the god asked calmly. "Is this what you wanted, Serafax? To be forced to kneel down by a power far higher and superior to you, then to repent, to cry until you can't stop, and finally to have a peaceful death?"

No.
The Dark Angel opened his mouth tremblingly, wanting to speak, but felt that his internal organs were about to pour out of his throat. He had no choice but to close his mouth, but still firmly expressed the monosyllable rejection in his heart.

Then the light went out, the god disappeared, and only a tired man was left standing there, with sorrow in his eyes.

Instinctively, the Dark Angel asked in his heart: Why are you so sad?
The man smiled - a smile mixed with anger.

"My son died, murdered. My other son risked his life to save him, and was nearly sacrificed. My friend came to his aid, again at great cost. These are the reasons, Seraphax of Caliban."

The father and friend rolled their eyes with unparalleled anger, staring at the face of the Dark Angel, and penetrated his hatred deeply into it, reaching the bottom of the Dark Angel's heart.

"I really want to kill you right now."

The man who was not the Emperor and the Lord whispered with a normal tone and emotion. However, as soon as he finished speaking, he loosened his hand and took a step back.

The light went out, but the flames were still there, but they were no longer as terrifying as before. The Dark Angel gasped hard and tried to stand up, but he fell to the ground uncontrollably.
So he simply knelt down, opened his hands, and looked at the man with a dying mentality. He knew that his master was not talking to him just now, but he was willing to die for it.

"No." The man refused calmly. "The guilty person is not you, but the person hiding in your heart. He is very smart and knows how to shape you to let you experience all these sufferings instead of him."

".But, but I——" The Dark Angel finally spoke, his voice as soft as a mosquito. "——I am him, my Lord."

"You are what you once were," the man said. "A sacrificer who sacrificed everything for the Great Crusade, a warrior who wielded the blade and endured pain for humanity. You are not yet the traitor who is sinking into nothingness and madness and falling endlessly."

What difference does it make? The Dark Angel thought in agony and fear. I am him, my Lord, I know what he did, and I deserve to die.
"And that's where his cunning lies." What?
"He created you, Serafax of Caliban. Don't you understand? You are not the nothingness and fantasy you think you are. You are a living person. Otherwise, you would have been annihilated the moment you saw me."

At this moment, the Emperor's voice finally sounded like himself - or, rather, like what others described him to be.

The voice was like thunder, the words were like lightning, and each syllable contained great power that went straight to the heart, uncovering the festering wounds and rotten flesh, and completely destroying the filth within.
The dark angel's face turned pale, and he staggered to the ground, unable to stop retching.

And the Emperor continues, as he always is, cold and fair, and no wonder people have portrayed him with a scale in one hand and a sword in the other.

"How did he tell you what he believed to be the truth, and what promises he made to you, Serafax? Did he tell you that he could reverse the tragedy, change what had already happened?"

"I thought he did, didn't he? He told you he had a solution, but he didn't say a word about how it was to be implemented. He told you to come to Terra, to find me, but he didn't tell you what would happen when you found me."

Flames erupted, and it was hard for the Dark Angel to describe exactly what he was feeling at the moment.

He only felt an infinite light and heat rushing towards him, almost like facing a nuclear bomb explosion. So he closed his eyes, ready to face the judgment, but he did not feel any pain. He opened his eyes in confusion and saw a gem in the dancing firelight.

To be fair, it didn't look like such a precious jewel. However, the first time he saw it, the only word that came to the Dark Angel's mind was "This is the real jewel."

It was as if a miracle had happened. He seemed to suddenly recognize the stone floating in the flames. Even though its surface was rough and angular, it was no different from the cold stones on the roadside.
One hand gently holds it and takes it out of the light and heat.

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"In the past, there was a man named Cassidorius Delcunas who traveled as a messenger. At first, he thought he was serving me, and this belief has not changed for hundreds of years."

"He thought that I was giving him the power to travel long distances through ancient lands, to draw his sword and face the evil spirits of the past, and even to walk through the history of mankind. But he was wrong. I didn't give him any power, and I couldn't give him anything."

"On the contrary, he brought hope and courage back to me, giving me the strength to face the endless horror. He thought I was the only hero, the shining savior capable of leading and saving humanity, until he saw the others with his own eyes."

The Emperor slowly turned around, holding the gem in his hand.

"Until then, my messenger understood where the power of mankind came from. Now it is your turn, Serafax of Caliban. Tell me, do you have the courage?"

He stretched out his hand and handed the gem to the Dark Angel. It lay quietly in that broad and rough hand, without any magical features, and was surprisingly plain.

I have, my Lord.

"Then take it, Knight-Captain of the Dark Angels, my Astartes," the Emperor said calmly. "Prove it to yourself."

The name of the old days stirred up a storm of memories, bringing the Dark Angel back to that glorious era in an instant. He understood that this was the Emperor's conspiracy, and his intention was to ask him to reach out and hold the gem as he said.

But why shouldn't he obey? This is an open conspiracy, but it is also encouragement and recognition.

I am a dark angel, thought Serafax of Caliban.

He stretched out his hand.

Just before his fingers touched it, another voice - the voice of the Chaos Wizard - suddenly sounded, telling him in a roaring voice not to do this, otherwise everything would fail.
There is no time in the world of thought. He spoke for a long time, but time in the real world has not started to flow. The Dark Angel began to ask the reason very calmly, but the wizard did not answer and still tried every means to persuade him to stop.

He appealed to his emotions and reason, and kept telling him how difficult it was for him to get to where he is today. His voice sounded so credible and reliable, and he told him again and again how much help this plan would bring to mankind if it succeeded.
But how many people died because of this?

Listening to his words, the Dark Angel sincerely asked this question in his mind.

Their deaths were worth it!
Hearing this, the Dark Angel almost had an inappropriate urge to laugh, and actually turned it into words - Well, say whatever you want, but it was actually you who shaped me, wasn't it?
I am only a part of your past, and I only have the first 100 years of your life. How insignificant are my 100 years compared to the years you have lived? You are the one who truly controls the situation and holds the power.

So if you want to stop me, then show up.

The wizard did not answer this question, however, his usually mysterious mind finally opened up to the dark angel for a moment, revealing some thoughts: I can't, if I face him directly, I will die immediately.

This sentence was so direct, but the most obvious emotion hidden in it was regret. The wizard soon realized that his thoughts were being read, but it was too late. Two completely different thoughts began to clash in the world of thought.

All the things he had carefully hidden came to the surface, like a dead body finally seen again. The Dark Angel carefully felt the details, the planning, the killing, the seeking, and the most crucial point.

Death of Lion El'Jonson.

How dare you—?!

The soul, which suddenly became furious, tore apart the confrontation in an instant, driving the wizard's current body in the material world and grasped the gem.

The flames ignited, burning an old phantom to ashes, revealing the ugliness beneath.

The Chaos Wizard, who pursued the Way of Change and had his hands stained with countless blood, stood silently before the Emperor.

A loud laugh came slowly from a very far distance.

"Too clever is often a mistake."

(End of this chapter)