40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 733 25. Interlude: Day of Wrath

Humming, Belros von Sharp walked up a hill with a smile on his face. This hill was not very high, but it still allowed him to have a relatively comfortable angle to observe the battlefield in front of him.
How many wars had the narrator fought in? Even he himself could not tell the answer to this question, but he was sure of one thing: this battle must be among the top three in terms of satisfaction.

"Come on." Belros murmured. "Work time."

He took out a piece of paper and a pen from the bag he was carrying and stared intently into the distance, completely ignoring the lightning running overhead and the raging flames around him.

He raised his right hand, squinted his left eye, and pointed the pencil in his hand at the shaking mansion, calculated its proportions, then lowered his head and quickly drew a rough pattern on the paper.

His drawing was very sloppily done, and his painting skills were obviously not very advanced, but even so, it did not affect its true horror in the slightest.

The narrator lifted up the brown paper, held it a little further away, and looked at it carefully. The feeling he got made him sigh.

"This can't be published in a book. What will happen if someone sees it?"

"What?" a voice came from behind him. "You've been dead for so many years, and you still want to continue publishing books?"

The narrator was slightly stunned, then turned around with a smile on his face: "Yago Sevitarion!"

"Ah, ah, ah—" Sevatar used one finger to push away the narrator's enthusiastic handshake, his expression quite intriguing. "—Don't rush to reminisce with me, old man, the war is not over yet."

As if to refute his words, an unparalleled vibration suddenly came from between heaven and earth. The surface of this filthy garden cracked, and a huge bone temple rose from it symbolically. Once it appeared, it spread raging flames all over the garden.

Even the tiniest corners could not escape this disaster. All kinds of deformities and evils danced wildly in them, and then turned into ashes, without any life left.

Sevatar uttered a very obvious click of the tongue, and then his old habit took over, and he plunged the power sword in his hand into the dark soil under his feet.

His behavior made the recorder frown in pain, then he put away the paper and pen, grabbed the power sword with both hands and pulled it out again.

"Why do you still disrespect weapons?" Belros asked as Sevatar glanced at him.

"How do you know it thinks I'm being disrespectful?"

The narrator was speechless for a moment. To ease the embarrassment, he simply carried the sword on his shoulder - its length was like a broken flagpole to him, and it felt quite convenient to use.

Amidst the mocking sneer coming from behind him, he looked at the mansion again, and happened to see endless strong light coming out from the rotten wooden boards, reaching the sky and the earth, as if thousands of suns were rising from it.
Such a strong light caused the people behind him to groan, but the recorder himself was unharmed. He couldn't help laughing, causing a wave of anger.

"What are you laughing at? Terrans can look directly into the sun without going blind?"

The recorder sighed, put down the power sword, and imitated Sevatar, gently inserting it into the soil beneath his feet.

"Why do you ask such a question, Sevatar? Terrans are also human beings. Of course, they will go blind if they look directly at the sun, but I am just used to it."

"Ah, the senior flag bearer speaks in a different way." Sevatar sneered. "What's the next step? Look back and tell me about the monarch you remember?"

"I charge for telling stories."

"I have no money, and I don't want to pay a penny, but I want to hear this story - what should I do, Mr. Berlos von Schaap?"

The narrator shook his head and pointed forward without saying a word. Following his instructions, Sevatar endured the extreme discomfort caused by the strong light and squinted his eyes to look at the mansion on the ridge, which was almost on the verge of disintegration.
Black flames covered the ground, the sun hung high in the sky, and the two completely opposite forces, whose essences were also mutually opposed, showed an indescribable harmony at this moment. But Sevatar could feel that this harmony was only temporary. It was the will of their respective masters that created this wonder. How long could it last?

And
Sevatar suddenly frowned.

"We will be retreating soon."

Standing in the garden that was almost half-empty, his feet on the black soil piled up with the corpses of Nurgle demons, he calmly came to this conclusion.

Belros knew that what he said was true. Although the recorder was awakened late and unfortunately failed to catch up with the departure ceremony that he should have recorded, he participated in almost the entire war.
He had an extremely accurate grasp of the direction of the war situation. From the very beginning, he believed that the war would not last long.

Just like the army in the material world needs supplies to continue fighting, the group of demons he is familiar with in the wasteland also need "supplies" to do their best. Every bit of violence they pour out here today is inseparable from the support of Caryl Rohals.

But now, the supplies are almost exhausted, and if the battle continues, the things consumed can no longer be labeled with this metaphor.

The narrator raised his head, took a deep look at the pure white sun hanging in the dark sky, took out his paper and pen again, lowered his head, and began to write furiously.

[Since ancient times, they have been waiting in the darkness with hunger. God is God, evil and good have no meaning to them, these beings are higher-level creatures. They regard us as both grass and food. ]

[Throughout the ages, how many people have been influenced by them to do evil or good deeds? ]

[From a long-term, rational and consistent perspective of some philosophers, there may be no difference between the two. But I don't think so. Evil is evil, good is good, and the boundary between the two cannot be blurred or shaken. ]

【God is God, evil and good are meaningless to them. Therefore, how can a being who cries and gets angry over tragedies that have nothing to do with them, and swears to avenge them, be regarded as a high and mighty god?】

[I disagree, he is not God, and neither are they. ]

"what are you writing?"

Sevatar asked impatiently, pulling out his sword with his backhand.

There was a strange scream coming from the sky, and the filth hiding in the clouds was being melted by the sun. The raging flames were still surging like waves, burning everything on this rotten and filthy land. The earth shook again, and a huge door made of bones slowly rose.

"Nothing," said Berlos von Schaap. "Just something I wrote that's not good enough to be published. Let's go."

After saying that, he jumped down the slope first and walked into the huge door. The demons followed closely behind him, and Yago Sevitarion, who urged him, was the last one to step in.

Before leaving, amid the sound of this decaying world gradually collapsing, he saw a dark corpse running towards him from a very far distance. On its back was another golden skeleton, with real tears flowing from its empty eye sockets. The second war - a true war between gods - was about to begin.

The flames raged, the sun rose, and roars of pain came from the black mansion.

Sevatar turned around with a complicated expression, stepped through the door and left.
-
Fulgrim knew that he was dreaming. The dream was long, but the scenes were very real. Despite this, he could not describe what he saw very well. He just felt drowsy.

When he woke up again, he was lying on a sickbed.

"Awake?" a voice came from his right.

Phoenix tried to respond, but to no avail, he could not make any sound. Moreover, even turning his head to observe the very basic muscle movements became very difficult for him at this moment.

It was not until more than ten seconds later, until he even felt a little annoyed, that he finally turned his head with difficulty and saw someone who was also lying on the hospital bed.

Fulgrim opened his mouth with difficulty, trying to call his name - still in vain.

He closed his mouth in anger, adjusted his mentality, and tried to respond with a smile. However, his body seemed determined to go against him today, and his muscles twitched, twisting the smile that should have been friendly into an extremely exaggerated and terrifying expression.
Phoenix turned his head angrily, and his force was so great that his neck made a dull cracking sound.

After a moment of silence, a burst of laughter began to echo in the room. Phoenix began to torture his neck expressionlessly and turned his head back.

"Don't blame me." Khalil smiled and shook his head. His skin and flesh were pressed against his cheeks, making him look even thinner, almost like a skeleton. A few rays of sunlight shone through the window onto his face, forcing this thin patient to look more alive.

Phoenix stared at him steadily, and only after a long while did he manage to keep calm - he had remembered what had happened not long ago, so he fully understood the cause of Khalil's weakness at this moment.

The patient, who had no self-awareness at all, noticed his emotions and took the lead in comforting him: "Don't worry, I'm used to it."

What are you used to?!
Fulgrim turned his head, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath. For the next few hours, the only sound in the room was the beeping sound of medical equipment. It was not until the door was pushed open that the awkward silence ended.

Phoenix opened his eyes absentmindedly, expecting to see Jairzinho Guzmán or Belisarius Kaul, but the person who walked into the ward completely frustrated his plans.

"Baal..." Sanguinius walked up to him anxiously, stretched out his right hand, and touched his cheek with the back of his hand to measure the temperature. "--You are finally awake, Fulgrim."

Phoenix stared at him blankly.

The archangel sighed with a hint of complaint, ignoring his reaction, and simply rolled up his sleeves, stretched out his hand to help him up from the bed, straightened the collar of his hospital gown and his messy hair, and then spoke softly.

"It's been almost two years, brother. We were very worried about you after hearing the news. The engineering fleet sent by the Mechanicus has begun to rebuild the natural environment under the command of Cawl. The people of Chemos have also temporarily moved to space stations, satellites and warships. The supply fleet is on the way, and the problem of living conditions will be solved soon-"

Fulgrim raised his left hand with great effort, signaling Sanguinius to wait. He rolled his throat, gasped for a few seconds, and spoke in a hoarse voice that was almost absurd.

"Two years?"

"No, to be exact, there are still thirteen days until two years. What's wrong?"

"I've been lying there for, like, two years?" Phoenix asked slowly.

"No, brother, you are wrong again," the angel said patiently. "You jumped out of the warp with Khalil ten months ago, so even if you count all the time, you have been lying here for less than two years."

"you you"

"What's wrong, brother?" the angel asked with a smile.

Phoenix suddenly coughed while panting. The angel raised his hand and patted his back, and at the same time, he winked at a person who suddenly appeared at the door without leaving any trace - but the person completely refused to accept it.

He strode into the ward, his footsteps as dull as thunder, awakening Fulgrim in an instant.

He is too familiar with this footsteps
Ferrus Manus stood expressionless beside his bed, staring in silence.

Sanguinius slowly straightened up, and walked slowly to the side of the ward as if nothing had happened, and drew open the curtains, allowing the early morning sunlight of Chemos to fall into the room through the window.

He waited for a long time with his back to them, but still did not hear any conversation. In desperation, the angel had to speak himself.

"After you disappeared, word of Chemos's situation quickly reached Ferrus. He happened to be on an expedition, so he came directly with his fleet, but he had no idea about government affairs and post-disaster reconstruction, so he sent another urgent telegram to Terra. It just so happened that I had something to discuss with the Great Sage Belisarius Cawl—"

He paused for a few seconds and glanced sideways at Caryl Rohals, who nodded slightly to him before the angel continued.

"—Anyway, you need to get better soon, brother. I have to rush back to Terra as soon as possible to prevent Robert from getting too comfortable in my position."

He told a joke, but no one in the ward except Khalil gave any reaction. Angel turned around as expected, but found that the situation at the moment seemed a little different from what he thought.
Ferrus Manus stood there calmly, his fists clenched, his anger almost blowing the roof off.

Sanguinius looked at Khalil again, who shook his head imperceptibly, signaling him to do nothing, but he propped up his cheek and looked at the scene with interest.

After a long time, Gorgon spoke in a deep voice.

"I will make you a new suit of armor."

After saying this, he turned and left with big strides and no hesitation, leaving Fenghuang in the room, bewildered.

As for the other two
Sanguinius glanced at Khalil, who was sighing in disappointment, and his eyes twitched slightly.

(End of this chapter)