40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 768: Under the Red Sand

I always enjoy dealing with the people of Nuceria.

I mean, I love their passion, their directness—two things that are rare in the galaxy these days.
But, to be honest, it has never been very common, otherwise it would not be a quality. At least in myself, they do not exist.

After being alone for nearly 10,000 years, I have a very deep understanding of my own character. No matter in which aspect, I have nothing to do with these two precious treasures. I think this is why I like them so much.

Human beings always yearn for goodness and beauty. When I realized this, I felt very relieved - it's great that my self-awareness as a human being has not been worn away by the long time.

I got up and left my bed.

It was called a bed, but it was actually a large blanket spread on the endless yellow sand. In order to adapt it to my body shape, the tailors in Hataka Oasis worked together for several days to bring it to me.

It's very comfortable to touch, not to mention lying on, but the money I paid is not worthy of such craftsmanship. In order to repay them, I made some improvements to their tools, which I think will add a lot of color to their future life.
I wouldn't have done this before.

Well, talking about the past - forget it, let’s not talk about it.

I confess, I don't like to think about those days. But it's not because I hate them, why would I? Those times shaped me into who I am today, but I just...
Well, a bad ending is enough to destroy all the good things, don’t you agree?

I gathered up my blanket and left the tent.

The blazing sun shines overhead. The scorching sun of Nuceria is extremely scorching around two o'clock in the afternoon. At this time, even the poisonous insects in the desert are reluctant to leave their nests, but I have to pack up my tent and luggage, erase all traces of my existence, and get back on the road.

I'm a traveler - didn't I mention that? No matter, at least now you know.

Well, let me formally introduce myself. My name is Iskander Khayon, Wolf of Tizca, Grand Master of the Dead Eye Society.

For ten thousand years, I have been homeless, wandering all over the Milky Way. Don't get me wrong, of course I want to settle down, but fate won't allow it.

Or rather, he didn't allow it and he had other plans for me.

I looked up at the sun again, and an impulse emerged in my heart, telling me to use my psychic power, sink into the warp and observe the pure white sun.

But I refused. God knows how I held back. Maybe I was just in a good mood today. Anyway, I controlled myself.

Four hundred and sixty-nine billion sixty-seven million two hundred and ninety-two thousand one hundred and eleven.

Good job, Khayon. Keep it up.

I set out on foot.

There's something interesting, but it sounds a little silly when you say it. Walking is actually very interesting, do you understand?

When you just exercise it as an instinct, it really is not very interesting, but if you pay attention to it at all times, and always pay attention to the strength, direction, and angle of your foot lifting and landing, it can become a very enjoyable game.

For example, the one I'm playing right now, I named it 'Try Not to Leave Footprints in the Sand', and you should try it too, unless you're some of my cousins.

Ha, crows and bats.

I wanted to laugh, but I tried to hold it in and ended up laughing anyway. I'm so sorry, cousins, but I really can't help it. I have to do something to pass the time.

Normally, I would let my mind wander like I am now, wondering if you are beyond my control.

Of course, there is the metaphor - I confess, I invented it. I blurted it out unconsciously at a party, and these two nicknames spread like wildfire.

Hopefully, Jago Sevitarion won't know about this, or he'll definitely find a way to kick me in the back.

I kept walking.

Alas, the Nuceria sun is terrible. I have traveled through many worlds and have hardly found a sun as powerful as this one.

I knew this when I came here seventy years ago, but I probably didn't have the ability to adapt. More than half a century has passed, and I still can't learn to coexist with it. Considering my background, this is not right, but I hope you understand
People change.

I became thorough.

I put on my hood, stopped paying too much attention to the sun, and concentrated on my journey.

I must reach my destination before tonight, otherwise I will miss the time I agreed to meet him. You may ask, why do I have to walk, and not take advantage of human laziness and choose to ride a horse or a car?
The reason is simple, because this trip must be kept secret, completely secret. No one else knows about it except you, the third person I imagined to kill time with, him and me.

Even his sons did not know that those loyal war dogs
Yes, even if they knew the truth, they would not have any doubts about their father's concealment, but it is better for them not to know it.

My arduous hike lasted for six hours. I arrived at the Gobi Desert at eight in the evening. It was completely dark, with only a few stars in the sky. There was no light around, and the whole Gobi Desert was dead silent.

Ordinary people would probably be scared away by such an environment - in fact, they'd better leave, as there are things hidden here that they shouldn't see.

I came to the center of the Gobi Desert, took out a torch from the bag on my back, and lit it.
You thought I was going to use psychic powers? Ha, unfortunately, I'm going to use the old-fashioned method: flint and steel.

I raised the torch and waved it several times.

A few seconds later, a fire lit up in the distance of the Gobi Desert, which was exactly where I was going. It took me an extra thirteen minutes to get there and successfully saw him.

Angron. Son of the Mountain.

He is strong - this is probably the first impression that comes to anyone who sees him, but he is missing a hand.
For a warrior, whether left-handed or right-handed, losing a hand is a problem that can ruin their life.

Even as far back as the days of Ancient Terra, many soldiers and mercenaries would do whatever it took to avoid this fate.

One of them I remember very clearly: if you can't afford arm armor, you can use iron wire to connect three circular armor plates from the shoulder to the elbow to the wrist.

The crude protective gear is not a good thing, but it can effectively reduce the risk of amputation.

Many years later, during the Great Crusade, the loss of an arm was still a vexing problem, and many of my brothers and cousins ​​suffered from it.

Of course, you will say, don't we have prosthetic limbs? My dear listener, you must understand that neural rejection is an unavoidable difficulty.
Yes, you ask again: but what does this mean to Angron? He is a Primarch, can't he just give himself an arm?
No, he couldn't, and he didn't want to.

He sacrificed his arm himself for a victory. Since then, he has been one-armed, but this does not diminish his status as a warrior.

A man like him could not be brought down, twisted, or even destroyed. There might be things that could make him bleed, cause him pain, and force him to live in seclusion, but he was still Angron.

He never surrenders.

What? I respect him? Damn it, do you even need to tell me that?
"Kayon." He called me hoarsely. "It's been a long time, five years, right?"

"Yes, sir." I bowed my head - I had to do this, otherwise it would be disrespectful. Of course he wouldn't care, but I did.

"Lift your head and talk. Don't be so reserved. We two are sharing a secret."

He made the demand sternly, his tone at first serious, then he started laughing. But I could detect a hint of pain in his voice, which told me that he was not well. Over the years, whenever he had trouble keeping calm, it was proof.
I did as he said, raised my head and looked at the top of his head.

He reached up and touched them.

"Well, it hurts a little today." He said to me calmly, ignoring their terrible twisting. "But overall, everything is normal. Come with me."

He extinguished the torch and led me deep into the Gobi Desert, where a cave awaited.

I've visited there a few times, but didn't have any good memories. If possible, I would rather never set foot there again - you ask why?
It even reminds me of the ruined Prospero, is that reason enough?
I followed Angron in silence, neither of us speaking a word, but there were sounds in the darkness, echoing from the deepest parts of the cavern, like the whimpering of the wind or the whispering of ghosts.

I clenched my fists.

What? Fear?

Maybe I shouldn't admit this, but why would I lie to you? Yes, I am a little scared.

Admittedly, someone like me who knows the truth about so many mysteries should not have anything to fear, but I tell you, the more you know, the more cautious you should be.

Moreover, fear is a good thing. Fear will make you understand what to do and what not to do. It is the most primitive law.

I was terrified to see the thing at the deepest part of the cave. I already knew its nature and understood what it was, but I could not get rid of the fear.

The human side of me instinctively rejects seeing it. If possible, I don't even want to breathe the same air as it.
Fortunately, I not only have instincts, I also have reason. My reason is as hard as iron and as cold as ice. It has evolved into what it is today through endless self-tempering. I can use it to force myself to continue moving forward.

After a few minutes, we stopped.

There’s no need to go any further, we’re here.

Angron sighed and stepped aside to allow me to approach the thing, which was bound by five chains that burned with a dark flame, holding it immobile.

There was a huge magic circle engraved on the ground where it was lying, which flickered with its breathing. From the outside, it was a monster that could not be described in words, but if the key points were extracted, this matter would be easily solved.

Lorgar Aurelion.

His face appeared on the monster's massive body, his eyes closed, sleeping in agony.

I can't mistake it, that's his face. I've seen him more than once. The most brilliant years of my life were ten thousand years ago, during the Great Crusade. I witnessed many legends and epics with my father and the Legion. I met so many heroes, and he was naturally among them.

Yes, I think Lorgar Aurelion is a hero.

Most people will not agree with me. In the official definition of the Empire, Lorgar Aurelion is a traitor second only to Horus Lupercal, a shameful monster, and a scum who deserves to be punished by heaven.
But the truth is, he is a hero. If you know what happened to him, as I do, you would think so too.

"He's been very quiet these days," Angron whispered behind me. "Almost no longer noisy like before, just sleeping from morning till night. He's only woken once in the past four months, and he shouted when he woke up."

"Does he have the ability to think?" I asked.

I actually wanted to call this monster "it". After all, in my opinion, it is definitely not the hero Lorgar Aurelion that I know, but Angron has always been loyal and righteous - I don't want to leave a bad impression on him.

“Yes, but not much,” Angron said. “He recognized me, and he apologized profusely, and was sorry. And I—”

He closed his mouth and stopped talking. I understood him, and the psychic perception I had radiated could touch some of his emotions, which brought him more pain.

The Butcher's Nail implanted into his body by Nuceria's slave masters has now become a kind of psychic sensing device. After living in symbiosis with a Primarch for so long, it has also acquired some magical properties itself.

I sent him a silent apology with a message, and he nasally told me not to worry.

I have to act quickly, I don't want to add to his pain - if he doesn't wake up.

How could it wake up?

My scattered senses were the first to take a beating, and it felt like someone had stuck a thousand needles into your face and then stabbed them through your eyeballs.
I could barely stand in pain, and it helped me—it gave me a second blow, a physical one.

It knocked me flying, and I broke at least a few bones when I hit the rock wall, and the shield didn't do any good at all.

How come it doesn't work?
When I got up, spitting blood, Angron had already started fighting with it. He had an axe in his hand. I didn't want to look at its appearance, so I just took a deep breath, adjusted my state, and prepared to cast a spell.

But the thing started screaming.

"Erebus!" it roared. "Where are you?! Get out! I want—"

It began to speak in an ancient language, probably the dialect of its hometown, and the hatred in it was as fierce as a tsunami, enough to destroy everything in its way.

But Angron withstood it, and without a word he turned himself into a dam of flesh and blood between me and it, so that I would not die immediately.

It enables me to complete what comes next.

Did I ever tell you that I'm a very professional psychic?
We let it sleep until dawn, but I was too exhausted to stand. It was Angron who helped me out of the cave and came to the Gobi Desert to recuperate. He was covered in blood, with almost no intact flesh, but his expression was as calm as a stone statue.

I looked up into his eyes and caught a glimpse of two unwavering blues in the early sunlight.

"See you next year."

He said, and turned away, returning deeper into the cavern, where he would stay with his brothers, or rather watch over it, until they came.

The sons of Aurelion, and a stone.

Come on. I'm looking forward to it.

Although I understand that this cannot be rushed, that it requires long-term planning, slow progress, and an appropriate timing, I can't help but feel anxious.

I used to be fiery and unruly, and although I have learned to be peaceful now, there is still some fire left in my heart.

I used the last bit of my strength to flatten out the blanket that had survived the attack, turned over and lay on it, closed my eyes in pain, and fell asleep.

The burning Prospero slowly emerged from the darkness and began to devour the little goodness I had. And here he came.

A pure white sun rose slowly from the distant horizon of my burning hometown, bringing his words to my ears.

"Well done Iskandar Khayon."

Thank you very much, I said. Nice to meet you.

"Have a good rest," he said gently.

(End of this chapter)