40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 704 85. Interlude: Triumphal Ceremony (End)
Gazing upon Caryl Rohals was like gazing upon darkness itself.

Scarladrick was not speaking metaphorically or figuratively, he meant it sincerely, and he had thought about it at least ten thousand times before he finally settled on the idea.

He wondered: Was this thought influenced by my blood? Was this thought derived from this power I inherited?

It has always affected me, making me bloodthirsty, violent and manic, always thirsting for killing. It makes my thoughts always linger in the kind of coldness that people are afraid to talk about or even just imagine for a moment.

When I see children, I think of their abandoned bodies; when I see parents, I think of them sleeping back to back in hatred of each other; when I see a knife, I immediately feel the urge to use it to kill someone - I am a monster, and this power creates this monster.

The more outstanding and powerful I am, the more achievements and glory I have, the stronger it becomes. It is my root and also my lifelong curse.
But, has it affected me in any way?

Scarladrick finally came up with the answer: No.

One word, two words, no. The bold words floated in his heart, in his mind, and finally appeared on his lips. He uttered two words in an imperceptible whisper - no, yes.

So the idea was established, and the real impact began to be born from this moment.

At this moment, he was standing in Caryl Rohals's Skyhawk shuttle. The driver had been politely asked to leave by Yago Sevitarion early in the morning, and there were only five of them left.

He, Yago Sevitarion, the Hunter, Sheher Coldsoul, Kaiul Sahora.
He didn't know what other people were thinking, and he had no interest in prying into the secret thoughts of their minds. It wasn't the Scarlet Claws' job to stare into the windows of another's mind to pry out secrets. They would only use a knife to cut open the chest, dig out the heart, and then chew it up - and he couldn't use this method on his blood brothers.

Absolutely not. Even if one day he was unfortunate enough to fall into the blood-red clutches, he would slit his own neck before that happened, and then roll into the wasteland of bones to accept the rebuke and scolding from his predecessors, brothers, descendants and primarch.

But not now.

Now, the only light left in his turbulent thoughts was whispering. It told him to look at the man approaching the edge of the shuttle's open door, and so he looked.

He saw a face that was as pale as ever, like every Nostramo, as pale as a swollen, floating corpse or a translucent ghost. The pale blood vessels were clearly visible under the skin. He had blood, and it was flowing in his body.

But for some reason - perhaps he had forgotten - this blood was not red. It was the color of the River Styx, the color of ashes in the wasteland, and the color of death.

A shudder ran through Skaldrick, followed by pain and grief. He didn't understand where the hell these two came from, but the eternal night and its only king were above.
He continued to look. He looked at those eyes, met their gazes, connected with them, and saw what was floating in his heart at that moment.

It was gone. The madness that had once filled it was gone. The things that had been enough to make a battle-hardened chapter master roar in fear in his dreams countless midnight hours were gone.

There are no hands of destruction, bloody knives, screaming innocents and endless grievances overflowing from their corrupted bodies. There is no endless loneliness and darkness, no nothingness, pain, torture and desire to die.

What replaces it is something that normal people in a normal world call "normal", and that thing is called emotion.

Sharokin, the poet and Chapter Master of the 19th Legion Raven Guard, once said: There is nowhere to go, but it occupies my heart. Mourning, mourning, mourning, when will you return victorious?

If he didn't mind, Scarladric was going to take the poem and make it his own, he was going to change it, he was going to change the word mourning to its opposite, and he was going to cross out the part about returning victorious.

He was going to change this to The Goddamn Starlight Blinded Me and he recovered—!
Even if Sharokin came to kill him for this matter later, he would still change.

The Maharajah let out a muffled laugh from beneath his helmet, like a series of thunderclaps accompanied by the chirping of cicadas on a summer afternoon.

He appeared suddenly and inexplicably, without any trace, yet he occupied every inch of the cabin, so the other four turned to look at him. The man outside the cabin was slightly startled, and then he actually grinned.

Very sincere, very human.

"You have all passed the stealth test."

He said, raising his hand and patting the hand of a giant in golden armor beside him, so that the man could press the half-drawn sword back. The disintegration field flickered on and off, making the faces or helmets of the children of the night flicker.

Yago Sevitarion immediately laughed wildly in a malicious tone, and the low voice echoed in the cabin, constantly colliding and gradually distorted.

"I told him he was fine, but you bastards wouldn't believe me. Now look what kind of trouble we've got ourselves into. Oh, I'm so sorry, sir. I'm sorry for not welcoming you, my dear guest. I want to pay my respects to you—"

He stood up suddenly, and the only Chapter Master of the Midnight Blades bent low and bowed with all the solemn pomp that was characteristic of him.

If Robouti Guilliman were present, he would have retreated in frustration and let his chapter masters deal with this most troublesome person.

"--Mister La Endymion, the great tribune, is your sword still sharp? If it has become as rusty as your eyes, you can borrow my head to sharpen it."

Scarladric's smile instantly stopped; he understood the underlying meaning of their eldest brother's words, as well as the strangeness of the presence of the Imperial Guards.

He stood up without saying a word, and ignoring Sheher Lenghun's attempt to stop him, he pulled out a skinning knife from his belt.

It cut through the silence of the night with a clang, but the Scarlet Lord was not satisfied with just that. He swung the blade, rotated it in a circle, and then held it back in his hand, emitting an ominous buzzing sound.

He held the knife, moved, stood behind Yago Sevitarion, and looked at the guard with a hint of provocation.

The latter didn't even look at him, but just lowered his head apologetically and explained to the frowning man.

"I will take full responsibility for this, sir."

"I thought you were joking with me." The man said with a very strange expression. "But you are serious, right?"

"I am lacking in the art of joking," said the tribune, in a less calm tone.

Scarladrick stared at him, and finally saw a hint of embarrassment - he almost laughed out loud at the discovery.

"Well - then I solemnly reiterate that I sometimes laugh now and then, and I really do laugh. And whenever I laugh like that, I'm not going to kill anyone."

"clear."

The man nodded, his tone suddenly becoming serious. He wasn't accusing anyone, but he sounded so intimidating at the moment. "And if things really come to the point where I want to kill someone, believe me, you won't have the chance to draw the sword for me."

The guard bowed his head deeply, then looked at Jago Sevitarion, who straightened up with a smile on his face.

So the guards bowed, bent over, apologized to him solemnly, and then left, disappearing into the darkness without a trace.

Scaradric evaluated his stealth skills in his heart, and then he felt a little respect for him. It wasn't much, but it was the best treatment he could give to an unrelated person. Moreover, he knew that the guards would come back.

"You've been doing a good job lately, Instructor?" Yago Sevitarion praised in a stinging tone.

"You have obviously achieved a supreme position in the imperial officialdom. You even have a guard of the imperial guards. What a great honor! I will ask someone to engrave it in the history of our chapter. What about you? Do you want me to send you a copy?"

He shrugged and raised his hand, looking at the others inquiringly. But none of the four people paid any attention to him. Even Scarladrick, who had taken the initiative to stand up for him a few seconds ago, put away his knife in dismay and walked back to his original position.

Sevatar twisted his lips in displeasure and wanted to say something, but was interrupted by a light laugh.

"Are you blaming me, Iago? You must be thinking, this old bastard won't let any of us get close to him, but he is willing to let a guard accompany him. Is there any old man in the world who is as heartless and ungrateful as him?"

Kaiul Sahora, who had been silent, was startled. Scaradric didn't need to glance at him to know that this man must be eager to jump up and refute on behalf of Yago Sevitarion.

Ha, good boy, a model son. The prince thought with disdain and amusement. If you really do this, I guarantee that the troublesome and troublesome guy will find you in the duel cage afterwards, so don't bother.

He raised his hand to hold him down so that Sevatar could speak for himself.

"Are you crazy?" The Night's Firstborn stared at him, as if the previous words 'he's fine' were just empty words. "What are you doing, Caryl Rohals?"

The man in the Inquisitor's wide-brimmed hat calmly approached the shuttle, walked up to him, then took off his hat and looked him in the eye.

The two men's eyes met up and down, one was confused and very alert, while the other was as cold as ice and as dead as iron.

Then, the instructor of the Eighth Legion showed his fangs.

He kicked up and hit Yago Sevitarion's left calf.

It was a really loud metallic sound, and it made Scaradrick feel a chill in his heart.

"You have no respect for your parents." The instructor said coldly. "You have had this tendency before, and you haven't stopped even now. If I hadn't pushed his sword back, would you have rushed over and ripped his throat open?"

Now it was the Maharaja's turn to be shocked - what? Sevatar was planning to do this just now? How come I didn't see it? !
He was suspicious for a moment, thinking that the instructor was bluffing, but he didn't expect that the giant who was so arrogant just now would now nod humbly.

"Do you know what harm this will bring?"

The instructor continued. He used the same word as Sevata, and used it very appropriately, even deliberately emphasizing the tone, which made the listeners unconsciously straighten their backs, as if they had suddenly returned to their apprenticeship days and were being tested on the training ground.

".I didn't think so much at that time." Yago Sevitarion said in a low and annoyed voice.

"Why? What has caused your judgment to fail? Do you know, Yago? Robouti Guilliman once told me that he thought you had terrible perception and judgment, and that you used them unkindly. Now, tell me, what has caused you to be so stupid?"

Sevita hesitated for a while and finally sighed.

"Well, instructor--" He pursed his lips like a child who had done something wrong. "--I guess I just can't stand him trying to draw his sword and hurt them."

His answer made the other four people feel dizzy for a moment.
"He dares!" The Scarlet Lord growled in a low voice. "He can try!"

The Chapter Master of the Shadow Knights seemed to let out a sigh of relief, and then cursed in his native dialect. It was not a nice word, extremely unpleasant to hear, but the tone was gentle.

Compared to him, Sheher Coldsoul Supreme Leader was more direct, but not as direct as Scaradrick. He just laughed, then tapped his forehead with his gauntlet in a not very kind manner, and spoke almost through gritted teeth.

"Yago Sevitarion, although we grew up watching you, we are definitely not children. What does your attitude mean? Do you really think you are the head of a family?"

"Stop talking so much!"

The Eldest Son of the Night, who had been extremely docile before, suddenly turned around and yelled angrily, then turned back again with a face as if he had done nothing.

Of course, there was another person present who remained silent from beginning to end. He seemed to be determined to take this precious gold all the way to his own grave. Even though the conflict had reached this point, he did not say a word, but just stared around with his turbid white eyes.

Then he met the instructor's eyes.

"What are you looking at, hunter?" he received a gentle inquiry.

"Nothing, instructor."

The hunter answered his question in a tone that was still meek enough for a Sevita, and like a magic trick, he pulled out a portable data pad from his belt and handed it to him.

"I'm just wondering when this farce should end. And when this important personal letter from the Master of the Seal about how to place the 1,000 returning veterans should be delivered to you."

In an instant, he got the stares of four pairs of eyes, and there was only one emotion in these stares: I really want to stab you to death, you hypocritical bastard.

The hunter raised his hand, handed over the data tablet, then raised his hand and touched the corner of his mouth, as if there had been a smile there.

The instructor lowered his head and read for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

"Let's go." He looked up and smiled again. "How about I take you with me? So you won't complain about me later."

(End of this chapter)