40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 759 48. Regaining Hope (VI)

Cato Sicarius slowly opened his eyes and saw the famous pale white ceiling of the Macragge's Glory medical room. The classical reliefs and the names of the outstanding pharmacists of all ages on it were shining before his eyes.

He raised his hand, touched the side of his neck, placed his fingers on the area where he was hit, and slowly exerted force.
The pain that followed had become very weak, but Mephisto had not shown any mercy when he knocked him down. He thought he had been unconscious for about twenty minutes.

No, it might even take longer, after all, he was carried to the infirmary, Cato Sicarius thought with some reluctance.

He sat up and sighed silently, but also accepted the fact - he was not as skilled as his opponent, there was nothing to say, the ghost-like Blood Angel defeated him easily. If it was a real life-and-death battle, the time from his coma to his awakening would have been enough for him to die thousands of times.

But why is he so strong?

Sicarius pondered this silently, repeatedly recalling the flash of the blade when Mephisto really attacked, the speed and power.
Even the crude reproduction of his vague memories made him feel that he was no match for his opponent, so he instinctively changed his tactics, established theoretical models and conducted a series of data analyses. Finally, he came to the conclusion: I had no chance of winning, not at all.

Any attempt would be ridiculous in the face of that speed, just like someone trying to knock down a Titan at close range with a stick.

Thinking of this, Sicarius couldn't help but laugh.

He stood up, put on the uniform placed beside the bed, opened the door and walked out. However, there was no one outside the door except the robot servant.

Sicarius couldn't help but be a little stunned - I admit that my fighting skills were a little bad, but it shouldn't be to this extent, right?

Comforting himself with this joke, he clenched his fists and walked forward.

He had developed an almost instinctive discomfort with this quiet environment with no one around except him. To describe it with words from books, this was probably one of the countless types of post-traumatic stress syndrome, and there was almost no possibility of cure.

The only way to fight it, it seems, is to learn to coexist with it.

Sicarius carefully chewed on his current anxiety and walked out of the medical hall. After passing through five security gates and a long disinfection passage, the world that appeared before his eyes was a noisy and bustling world.

He became more and more confused, but the question was soon answered by someone - a hand was placed on his shoulder and then pulled hard.

Sicarius stood firm and turned his head expressionlessly to see Uriel Ventress and his large bodyguard Pasanius Lesani.

The latter was grinning at him at this moment, and the slightly rough face under the blond hair looked like a childish child who had played a successful prank.

He coldly slapped Pasanius' hand away, without even looking at the man's annoying smile, and fixed his eyes on Uriel Ventress's face.

The latter blinked, and then raised his hands: "I am not the one who knocks you down, Adjutant."

"I know." The adjutant said word by word. "Now tell me, how long have I been unconscious? And why is there no one in the medical hall except me?"

"You were unconscious for twenty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. As for the lack of caregivers, this can be divided into two parts."

Ventress lowered her hands and began to answer his questions seriously.

"First, the pharmacists have concluded your injuries and believe that the medical servitor is fully capable of performing this duty. Second, the Primarch has ordered all pharmacists to wait outside the arena."

Sicarius was startled and immediately asked: "What happened? Was there bloodshed? Who stopped? In the name of the Emperor, this matter had better not turn into-"

"--what?" Pasanius asked, putting his hand back. "Why do you speak in such an official tone, sir? I see that you say you don't want to be an adjutant, but you seem to have practiced it many times in private."

"You fool!" Sicarius raised his head and scolded. "This is not the time to joke!"

Ventress took over and interrupted them in time. This was not the first time he was in a similar conversation, and he knew that these two would never stop once they started.

"If there was really bloodshed, it's certainly not now, but I don't think the situation would develop to that point. After you were knocked down, the only Grand Inquisitor took your place in the duel pit, and then the two Primarchs ordered the arena to be cleared. So, you can calm down for now."

Sicarius frowned, remained silent for a moment, and suddenly let out a long breath - then slapped Pausanius' right hand away again.

"I'm sorry for calling you that. I apologize, bro."

Pasanius Lesani raised his eyebrows in surprise. Instead of accepting the apology, he immediately showed a suspicious expression to Ventress.
"What happened?" he asked. "Has our adjutant been replaced by a Genestealer?"

Sicarius was furious and actually roared, "Lesani, you bastard!"

Ventress sighed silently, then prepared herself.

What to prepare?
"What's the commotion here?"

A stern voice suddenly interrupted their conversation.

Without turning around, Sicarius could tell who was talking, and the other two did the same. They all straightened their chests and stood in a straight military posture, like soldiers being inspected.
The sound of footsteps was heard, and soon, a face that they were all familiar with appeared before them.

The face was ruthless and harsh, with the roughness of rock and the coldness of frozen earth, and the eyes were like two merciless searchlights, scanning the three people.

The visitor was none other than Judd Clausell, the chaplain of the Fourth Company, a former instructor in the training camp who was well-known at the time for his extreme ruthlessness.

Uriel Ventress and Pasanius Lesani had been trained under him. Their fear of the old priest had been buried deep in their hearts since they were just teenagers. They thought they could get rid of him after joining the Fourth Company. Who would have thought that Judd would also be promoted and become a priest, and the priest of the Fourth Company.
However, he himself was not very fond of preaching, and even had direct conflicts with several colleagues from the Anglican Church.

"Let me ask you, what are you arguing about?" the old priest said in a low voice. "I saw from a distance that the three of you were all arguing with each other, it was really lively, huh? You think this is a good place to show your precious friendship, right? And you, Cato Sicarius, did you insult your brother just now?"

Sicarius answered without looking away: "Report, yes!"

"Who did you insult?"

"Report, I insulted Pasanius Lesani!"

"How did you scold him?"

"I said he was a jerk!"

"Do you have anything else to say? Hmm? Anything else you've been thinking about? Anything else? Say it all."

"."

"This is an order!" The old pastor walked up to him, looked him straight in the eye and growled. "Tell me everything you haven't finished saying, all those vicious words!"

The tall Pasanius suddenly spoke in a low voice, even pleading in his voice: "We are just joking, Judd, don't do this."

"Did I speak to you, Battle-Brother Leshani?"

".No." "Then why did you interrupt? And why did you call me by my name? Do you think that this is a private occasion where you can ignore your rank, status and responsibilities? Tell me, do you think so?"

"No, it's not." Pasanius replied through clenched teeth. "I apologize, priest."

"I don't accept it." The old priest said expressionlessly, and turned back to Sicarius. "And you, wasn't my voice loud enough or clear enough? I said, this is an order, didn't you hear it clearly, Cato Sicarius? Respected adjutant of the Fourth Company?"

The respected adjutant of the Fourth Company took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"Yes, Reverend, but I have nothing to say in my heart. I am not as mean as you think. I will not curse my brother in my heart."

The old pastor smiled grimly: "You'd better do this - now, repeat what you just said to him a thousand times."

Sicarius nodded woodenly and began to repeat in a low voice, "Lesani, you bastard," and the person being scolded listened to it with a smile on his face. He still clenched his teeth, his lips trembled constantly, and his shoulders shook constantly.

The old pastor, who had his back to him, understood this clearly and gave the order without even turning his head.

"Come here, Lesani, stand close to him, face to face, and listen to how he scolds you, and tell me how many times he scolds you."

"Yes, Reverend—five, six, seven."

"Lesani, you bastard. Lesani, you bastard, Lesani, you bastard"

Uriel Ventress swallowed and raised his head as hard as he could, trying to fight some surge of emotion, but the priest did not give him the chance.

He had turned and walked up to him, and even raised his right hand like Pausanius and placed it on his shoulder.

“Are you trying not to laugh, Ventress?” Jared Clausell asked softly.

"Report, no."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Report, I'm thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

"Report, I'm thinking--" Vents paused. "--When will you really beat us up?"

"How? Like in training camp? Chasing you two impetuous boys from the camp gate to the training ground with a wooden stick? I don't have the leisure to do that now, Uriel Ventress. After all, you are not children anymore. And if you add Cato Sicarius to my list, I will definitely get drunk one night."

Really? Why do I feel like what you say is different from what you do?

Ventress grumbled to himself and kept silent. He was not stupid enough to speak his mind at a time like this—well, he had done that in the past.

They talked back, contradicted, and even refuted in public, just because they felt that Judd Clausell was targeting them, but what he got in return for his actions was the other party's sincerity.

Ventress had never done anything like it again since, and the shame he felt from that conversation lingered forever in his heart.

Seeing that he didn't answer, the old priest looked at him carefully for a while, and then continued: "How is the running-in of the new power armor?"

"not bad"

"Good, keep it up—what about you two?"

He asked the two again, and the endless sounds of bastards and counting stopped immediately, and the two answered in unison: "No problem."

The old priest nodded and made a gesture, and the bastards and the counting began again.

Ventress raised her hand to her face, again trying not to laugh, but Judd had already pulled his hand away. He paced back and forth between them a few times, in a silence that was not typical of him.

According to his habit, this should be a good opportunity to continue to mock Sicarius and Pasanius. He never hesitated to release this disguised malice to make them remember it, and for another deeper purpose: to strengthen the unity and friendship between them by using his hatred for himself.

It was an old habit left over from the training camp days, and for a man who had been involved in it for more than half a century, it was a habit that was almost impossible to break.

Ventress silently observed the old priest's every move and guessed in his heart - he thought the old priest would stick to his confidentiality as before and not reveal anything to them, but Judd did not do so this time.

"Something is not right." He spoke slowly, whispering to the three 'troublemakers' who were often reprimanded, punished and singled out by him at weekly meetings.

"Logically, that lord is very sensible, and it is impossible for him to make a mistake. But the Primarch ordered all the pharmacists to be called, including Lord Sanguinius. The pharmacists of the Blood Angels are coming here in the shuttle."

He suddenly stopped, put his hands behind his back, looked at the three people, and shook his head.

"Why am I telling you this?" the old pastor muttered to himself and was about to turn and leave.

Ventress immediately exchanged glances with Sicarius, who immediately understood and pointed at Judd's back. Pasanius immediately turned around and ran towards him, stopping him abruptly.

"What are you going to do, Lesani?" the old priest asked with a frown. "Your punishment is not over yet, do you need me to remind you?"

"Please, Judd—" Pasanius raised his hands in pleading. "—You haven't finished your story yet, you can't just walk away like this."

The old priest's brow went beyond wrinkling and turned into twisting. He sneered and wanted to open his mouth to reprimand, but was stopped by Uriel Ventress' words.

"Maybe it's not the Grand Inquisitor's problem, but Mephisto's problem," he said. "We had a lot of exchanges with the Blood Angels when we were testing the new power armor with General Belisarius Cawl, and they talked to us about Mephisto."

The old pastor looked at him and waved his right hand: "Go on."

"They say that Mephisto always lives in seclusion, as if he is deliberately avoiding them, even the Primarch. He spends all his free time alone, and the Librarians allow him to do so, even letting him meditate alone. So, I wonder if there is some kind of problem with our cousin?"

The old priest thought for a moment, his brows relaxed and then frowned. He looked at Ventress seriously, then turned to Sicarius and asked.

"Did you feel anything wrong when you came into contact with him?"

"If I have to say, I just think he is a little unusual, but I can't tell what's different." Sicarius replied confusedly.

The old pastor took a deep breath and gestured to the three of them: "Stay here until I come back to find you. Don't tell anyone about this."

He turned and walked deeper into the crowd.

(End of this chapter)