40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 716 9. A Firm Believer in the Imperial Truth (I)

"I have envisioned this plan," said Fulgrim.

With their shoulders together, he turned and walked out of the cafeteria with Khalil. No one blocked their way, although people kept paying them respect along the way - of course, the eyes cast on Phoenix were full of respect and trust, as for Khalil, the judge who suddenly appeared.
No one had a good look on his face, and it could even be said that most of them were hostile. And neither of them spoke again along the way until they walked out of a door and came to a square on the outer platform.

It was deserted, with flags hanging high on the flag-raising platform. Night was coming, the clouds were boiling, the clouds were changing constantly, but the sun's warmth could not reach it. It was freezing cold at an altitude of 10,000 meters, and the clouds were filled with red glow.

The strong wind blew against his face, blowing up Phoenix's white hair. He lowered his head calmly and looked at Khalil, his eyes reflecting the fierce light of red flames in the wind - suddenly, he looked no different from the wild beast ten thousand years ago.

The Grand Inquisitor raised his hand to hold the brim of his hat and spoke softly, continuing the conversation they had left unfinished in the cafeteria.

"However, your connection with the Warp is already quite deep, Fulgrim. Killing you will cause the surviving children of the Emperor to experience a new nightmare, and may even cause a new disaster. Therefore, we will not consider this plan."

"But this is the only way to end it all," Fulgrim retorted in a low voice. "And it is also the simplest way."

The Grand Inquisitor finally narrowed his eyes, his expression turned cold, and he corrected Phoenix word by word: "Yes, it is the simplest way, but also the stupidest way. I took the initiative to bring it up because I heard some groundless rumors before coming to Chemos, but you just told me that those rumors are actually true."

Fulgrim closed his eyes, turned around, and crossed his arms with his back to the sky full of rosy clouds, as if he felt cold, or perhaps he simply wanted to find a point of support.

After a long time, he asked again: "So, do you have any solution?"

The Grand Inquisitor nodded expressionlessly.

"Of course, of course I have it. I just need to find a place to ignite the flames and let it spread to several surrounding star systems and even star regions."

"When the flames dissipate, the grievances that were rolled up by the spiral will be transformed into a force of the same nature and origin as authority, and become a key, so that the power behind the door will bow down to me again. At that time, solving this small pollution will naturally not be a problem."

Fulgrim's eyes snapped open and he looked down at him in disbelief.

Khalil looked up at him, his eyes calm, and then he whispered the question that Phoenix was unable to ask under the pressure of that calm.

"Am I mad?" he asked softly and gently, and then he even smiled. "The answer is no, Fulgrim, at least not yet. Those words were just a riposte, so that you can experience how I feel when I know your so-called solution."

With an unconscious tremor, Fulgrim gritted his teeth and said: "How could you bring such a thing to -"

He swallowed the rest of the words before he finished speaking. His anger dissipated, and his tense muscles gradually relaxed. The Chemos chuckled bitterly and helplessly, and shook his head slowly.

"You understand now?"

"Got it," Fulgrim whispered.

"Very good. Now we only have the most difficult method left - we need to overcome this problem in the material world. To do this, we need a doctor and researcher who has superb medical skills, rich experience in Astartes transformation surgery, and a strong will."

"You mean the Belisarius Cawl of your report?"

"No." Khalil shook his head. "I mean Jairzinho Guzmán."

Fulgrim looked at him in astonishment. After a long moment, he uttered, "What?"

"You heard me right, we need Jairzinho Guzmán."

"But you just sent a letter, asking the great sage to come to Chemos by name?"

"Yes, and these two things are not in conflict. Come on, let's land."

"Where to?" asked Fulgrim.

"your home."
-
The vase was moved, the sofa was removed, and the coffee table, wooden table and bench were moved to the corner. The Chemos people had a stern face, closed the windows, and pulled down the curtains, blocking the last bit of daylight in Chemos that day, and the room was plunged into darkness.

The wooden floor he had made, polished, and waxed was creaking, and subtle, furtive sounds were mixed in. It was as if there was another world beneath the floor, and the inhabitants there were walking barefoot on it, pacing slowly, walking backwards.

"Snapped."

With a slight sound, the lit match brought a glimmer of light in the darkness.

It generously and selflessly shared its life with rows of candles, and the wax slid down, leaving winding and turbid traces on their stiff white bodies, like corpse oil. The candle wicks danced in the flames, charred and twisted, and crackled from time to time, as if the human epidermis was disintegrating in the fire.
Fulgrim shook his head, stopping his increasingly distracted thoughts, and sighed.

"I understand you need a quiet place, but aren't these arrangements a bit over the top?" he complained.

He received no answer; the person he questioned was busy with other matters.

He was very focused. His coat, hat and sunglasses had already been taken off, and his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. He held a data pad in his left hand and checked it from time to time. In his right hand, he held a pale leg bone and gestured on the ground, measuring the size of the floor.

"Khalil?" Fulgrim was obliged to call him again.

The person being questioned finally raised his head and said, "Don't worry, Fugen. I'm looking for the starting point. Summoning arrays have very strict requirements on their accuracy. Any small error may lead to errors in the results."

Fulgrim raised his hand to his brow, and tried very hard to calm his tone as he said, "Can't you just - well, I mean, just knock on the door and ask him to come out? Isn't Medical Officer Guzman a member of the Eighth Legion?"

"Of course he is, and that has never changed." Khalil lowered his head and began to work, his voice gradually becoming deeper. "But he is also a medical officer, and he successfully treated the Primarchs in the early days of the Great Crusade."

"The Medical Association founded in his name has a history of more than four thousand years. Everyone who joins the association firmly believes in this, and the power of 'belief' is very strong in the subspace, so he is now... Well, let me think about what I should say."

He raised his head again and smiled at Fulgrim. "You can understand that he is away on business, or away from home. He is not with his brothers where they usually stay and do their daily work with them."

"So I can't just knock on the door like you said and let him know we want a small favor from him. Unless I go deep into the warp, but then I'm afraid something bad will happen - something will get to me, you understand?" He blinked, and Phoenix's heart trembled, and he nodded slowly.

"Now, please wait a moment, unless you also understand this mysterious occult knowledge. Oh, really, listen to this description, 'use a little force to penetrate the selected starting point', a little? The previous sentence in the requirements of this magic circle still emphasizes the importance of precision!"

Khalil complained rarely, but his hands moved quickly as always, and the sharp and pale leg bone instantly pierced into the wooden floor of the living room in Phoenix's house.

Wood chips flew, the leg bone was lifted, a pale hand held it and touched the ground, quickly and steadily drawing a circle. It was so inconspicuous, but it danced little by little in the candlelight, as if it had life.

Fulgrim stared at the not-so-big circle. The tiny sounds that had always been coming to his ears suddenly changed at this moment, as if the residents of the underground world had fallen into a terrible frenzy.

They ran madly around the living room. Every time their feet touched the ground, they made a dull clattering sound. The candlelight flickered, and cold wind rushed in from the gap between the wall and the ground, making even Phoenix feel a little cold.

However, Chemos is in the transition between spring and summer, so there is no possibility of such a drastic drop in temperature.
Khalil stood up, hung the data tablet back on his waist, pinched the tip of the leg bone with his left hand, and gently wiped it, turning its sharp edge into powder. He closed his eyes, opened his hands, and began to walk backwards.

Ashes continued to fall from between his fingers, and soon completely occupied the ground except for the circle. Countless footprints slowly appeared on it, extremely chaotic, and even overlapping each other. However, none of them belonged to Khalil.

He suddenly opened his eyes, and the running sounds around him stopped. He threw the thick leg bone in his hand without hesitation, and it hit the inside of the circle accurately. Then, millions of different shouts rang out at the same time. Although it only lasted for a moment, it was also genuine.

Fulgrim looked at the starting point of the circle, that is, the deep puncture mark, where an extremely viscous black liquid was bubbling out.
"Did you succeed?" he couldn't help but ask Khalil beside him.

"I'm not sure, because I didn't cast the spell, but we can try."

Fulgrim frowned deeply - try? How? And before he could finish his words, a flash of silver light suddenly burst out from Khalil's hand.

It appeared without any warning, but its sharpness caused a sharp buzzing sound in the air. The candles on the ground were extinguished, and the room fell into darkness again, with only the silver light still shining.
With a bang, it fell into someone's hands.

"Scalpel?" A hoarse voice sounded in the dark room. "Thank you for your gift, instructor."

Khalil smiled, walked aside, drew aside the curtains, and patted himself on the shoulder jokingly.

"It seems that I still have a talent for mysticism. What do you think?"

Fulgrim did not smile, and the summoned man did not smile either. He looked around, at the footprints, twisted circles, and extinguished candles, and the smile on his face suddenly disappeared.

He took a deep breath.

"Instructor——"

"what happened?"

"You drew a summoning circle?"

"Yes, what's the matter, Jairzinho?"

The medical officer of the Eighth Legion walked out of the circle in silence. He still looked the same as he had ten thousand years ago, with the cloudy black irises unique to the Terran Nightbornes shining in the darkness.

He wore a loose, solid-colored coat and a black vest with fine patterns outlining the marks of knives and skulls, looking exactly like the most famous portrait in the association that now bears his name.
His face was livid at this moment.

"May I ask, what did you use as the material for my temporary appearance in the world?"

"Oh, this question--" Khalil thought for a moment, but did not give an answer. Instead, he pondered and took off his sleeves and began to put on his coat.

The medical officer no longer looked at him, but turned around respectfully and bowed deeply to the Chemos man who was standing silently beside him.

"Please guide me, Lord Fulgrim. My instructor will never tell me the truth. His reputation has spread among us. Even I, who live far away from the wastes, can hear some of it."

“Who spread the word?”

Khalil interrupted sternly, putting on his wide-brimmed hat. But no answer came. Fulgrim nodded to the summoned medical officer, his face tense.

He walked towards a corner of the living room, raised his hand and swept away all the tables, chairs and benches, revealing a wall behind it - a specimen of a ferocious beast with a thigh bone missing was hanging quietly on the wall.

It was hazy outside the window at night. Vehicles were driving slowly by. Not far away came the sounds of children laughing and running. Jairzinho Guzman's fingers began to tremble slightly.

Khalil raised his head and gave Fulgrim a look that was obvious enough, but the latter gave him a puzzled expression as if he had no idea what he meant.

He walked to the specimen, raised his hand, and began to give a very professional explanation to Khalil and Guzman.

"This is a... cough, sorry, please forgive me." He coughed lightly and tightened his face again. "This is a specimen of the Morias Lion King. It died in battle forty years ago, and its remains were sent to me."

"Lion?" Guzman repeated. "Excuse me, did I hear you correctly?"

"You heard it right, Doctor Jairzinho. This is indeed a lion. I asked experts from the Archaeological Association to test it. Its DNA is highly similar to the DNA extracted from the skeletons of several Terran lions in their museum collection. It can be basically confirmed that this is the subspecies that the ancient Terran colonists brought to Morias."

Fulgrim raised his right hand to his chin, and held his left hand horizontally for support, assuming the posture of a thoughtful researcher. "So, yes, this is a lion."

"Lion," Guzmán repeated and nodded.

He turned and strode towards Caryl Rohals, who had opened his mouth several times, as if trying to find a solution.

Fulgrim finally couldn't help himself and laughed out loud.
(End of this chapter)