40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 769 57. Regaining Hope (XIV)
".So, Sage, you mean that this traitor of the dead can help us get out of this damn place?"

Luft Huron, the adjutant of the Astral Claws' 3rd Company, asked.

Before Kaplan could answer, he sneered.

At this moment, a strange expression, a mixture of ridicule and sympathy, was flowing on his face, and his overly deep eye sockets and lips that habitually curved downwards made this expression very aggressive, making him look like a ferocious beast ready to devour.

However, the Sage, who was already used to this, was completely indifferent. He just calmly moved the tentacles behind him so that Orikan could defend himself.

——Of course, its first reaction is very interesting.

The sages could clearly sense the slight vibrations coming from the remains through their tentacles, indicating that their high-level undead captives were engaged in some unknown psychological struggle.
This is not what an astrologer named Orikan is supposed to do.

In the past, faced with such contempt and insult, it would have used some means to kill Huron the moment it was insulted. Kaplan had observed and profiled both it and Trazyn for a long time. He understood both of them and summarized some commonalities between them, such as strong self-esteem.

However, due to the overly complex personality simulation of the undead, even the commonalities are actually very different.

In Trazyn's case, this kind of self-esteem can be interpreted as a complete indifference - not caring about any form of offense or attack, that is, his self-esteem and pride. But Orikan is more "anthropomorphic" in this regard: he is extremely sensitive to everything.

To give a very simple example, it once sneaked into the Soloms Museum in the absence of Trazyn, but was furious because the security chief at the time failed to recognize it because of its perfect disguise.

Then, not only did it show up, it even tampered with the director's agreement, forcing it to activate a large number of security precautions, which caused chaos in the entire museum until Trazyn rushed back to correct everything.

And all this is only because it is not recognized - but isn't that the point of disguise?

Kaplan really couldn't understand the complexity of the Undead's personality simulation program, and now was a precious opportunity for him to observe it up close.
"In fact, human." Orikan spoke slowly in anger but powerlessness. "Not only can I take you away from here, I can even ensure that you are safe and sound - as long as you do exactly as I say."

Huron narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

The iron halo that was exceptionally bestowed upon him for his outstanding merits cast a deep shadow from behind him, obscuring his eyes and turning his originally brown eyes into two tiny points of light hidden in the shadows, cold and ruthless, full of murderous intent.

Then he raised his right hand, placed the huge claws of the substitute gauntlet on Orikan's head, and tapped it lightly.

The sound of metal friction was so harsh that the astrologer was visibly stunned for a moment. He had obviously not expected this scene, and he was even so surprised that he forgot that he should be angry.

"You?" Huron shook his head. "I don't know what you did before, alien, but your current dignity makes your words sound ridiculous."

"You don't believe me?!"

"Why should I believe you?" Huron straightened up, the sneer returning to his face.

He raised his arms and made a hugging gesture as if he was enjoying it, hugging everything in the small camp, and then suddenly became furious.

"Safe and sound?!" He roared like a lion with all its hair and beard standing up. "Not long ago I saw the earth cracking, cities floating up, and seawater pouring down from the sky - safe and sound? How dare you use this word to me now? When you swam across that sea, did you see the countless human corpses below?!"

He raised his right hand high, as if he was going to swing down with his sharp claws in the next second to chop off the remaining half of Orikan's body, but he did not do so in the end.

Huron stepped back and waved to Kaplan: "Take it away, sage, and do something useful with your research. Don't bring it to me again."

The sage nodded silently and was about to turn and leave, but Orikan shouted loudly at this moment - as if a patient who had been numb for a long time was finally awakened, it began to struggle violently.

"You fool!" the astrologer shouted. "Do you know who I am?"

Huron stared at it in silence, tilting his head.

"I am Orikan the Scryer! Chief Astrologer of the Sotek Dynasty! I hold powers you cannot even imagine. I can reverse time with just a thought! And your stupid mind cannot even realize this! How dare you-"

Orikan's voice stopped abruptly because of Luft Huron's suddenly raised right claw.

This blow actually left five deep claw marks on Orikan's left ribs, and also caused him to fly backwards from the sage's tentacles, hitting the center of the camp heavily and falling into the mud.

Huron walked towards it without saying a word and picked it up.

"So?" he asked calmly. "Reverse time for me?"

Kaplan came up behind them just in time.

"Please listen to me, brother adjutant - perhaps the performance of this alien is inconsistent with the title it claims, but I have indeed seen it use the power to reverse time with my own eyes. As for its current appearance, I think this is inseparable from its betrayal of its race."

The sage stopped, bowed slightly to the miserable astrologer in Huron's claws, and spoke softly.

"Will you please reveal the truth to us, Lord Orrickan? What have you done to deserve this fate?"

Silence, silence and silence - until several minutes later, the astrologer spoke reluctantly.

"Caryl Rohals," it said.

Luft Huron suddenly released his right claw.
-
The 'envoy' slowly stepped down from the crescent-shaped ship.

He was alone, wearing white armor like armor, embellished with a dark green scale-like cloak that enveloped his body.

It looked calm and composed, without any fear or hesitation, even though it was facing an ocean made of blue, gold and red.
He strode towards two reefs in the ocean.

"We finally meet."

The 'messenger' spoke with a sigh, using High Gothic, with an impeccable accent, simple and noble. If a blind man was pushed in front of him, he would never think that an alien was speaking to him.

Guilliman responded calmly, revealing his true identity.

"You seem to be looking forward to this meeting, General Zandrick, right?"

The 'Messenger' twisted his face, smiled strangely and carefreely, and stretched out his right hand from under his cloak, causing a burst of gunfire. However, he himself did not care at all, but enthusiastically shook Guilliman's outstretched right hand, and then shook it up and down, performing human etiquette.

"Exactly!"

Guilliman shook his hand back, firmly but not threateningly, and whispered, "You choose to come in person? To serve as your own emissary?"

Zandrick immediately asked back, "Is there any law of war that clearly stipulates this? A general cannot serve as his own envoy?"

Guilliman did not answer, and Sanguinius beside him spoke slowly.

"It is very dangerous to do this." He said so, holding the sword with his left hand, hiding it from attack.

Zandrik looked at him, took the initiative to let go of Guilliman's hand, walked in front of him, and then gracefully touched his chest and saluted.

"Forgive me, but where is the danger? In you, or in these loyal and powerful soldiers behind you?"

As he spoke, he actually walked past Sanguinius on his own initiative, completely exposing himself to the guns of the Ultramarines and Blood Angels that filled the entire hangar.

The endless hostility was locked on him without any concealment, and one finger after another put the trigger on him in silence, rubbing against his ears. The suppressed hostility, hatred and anger were obviously boiling up.
Faced with such a horrific scene, the lonely Zandrek actually sighed with great enjoyment, and then laughed uncontrollably.

The archangel frowned, unable to understand what this crazy alien was trying to do.

He turned his gaze towards his brother, only to find that Guilliman's expression was calm, as if he had anticipated this scene.

"War!" Zandrek said the word aloud, turning and staring at them. "Your human war!"

He got no answer but he didn't care and just continued.

"Dozens or even millions of soldiers were mobilized, away from their families, away from their parents, wives, children and friends, to go to an unknown place to shed their blood. The machines that sent them there were as big as beasts, as numerous as hairs, and dense enough to drown the sky, the earth and the ocean."

"The iron and steel that shaped them was hammered out by the miners' rough fingers with picks, carried out of the mines by black faces in the early morning mist, and then thrown into the furnace, turning into red-hot iron slurry. And ammunition, and weapons, and everything——!"

"Countless people, countless people with their own will, willingly prepared for years or even decades of hard work for a war. What unity, what terror, what sadness?"

"Countless lives were weighed on the balance. Under the will of the generals themselves, they unknowingly stepped into the hungry mouth of the beast of war, to satisfy its greed and become one of the dead souls in its belly, or to survive by chance at the cost of losing something forever."

His voice echoed in Hangar 5, sounding extremely serious. If he still had flesh and blood, his face would be full of compassion at this moment.

Sanguinius frowned deeply.

Xandrek lowered his voice and continued his story.

"But the war of the dead is not like this. Our soldiers have no independent will. They will not waver, they will not be afraid, and they will not disobey the will of their superiors. If I order them to sacrifice themselves, they will execute it immediately without hesitation."

"It sounds perfect, doesn't it? But they also have no desire or satisfaction for victory - they are already dead, died countless years ago, and the remaining bodies are indestructible but extremely empty. Even a monster like war is unwilling to devour them."

"What do you want to say?" Sanguinius finally asked, he couldn't help it.

"You don't understand. You haven't been in war long enough, and you haven't suffered enough." Zandrick said meaningfully. "But he understands."

He walked up to the man with a face as gloomy as water, performed human etiquette again, and then asked softly.

"May I ask your surname?"

"Robert Guilliman."

"It's an honor to meet you." Zandrick nodded solemnly. "I have already mentioned my name and title before, so I won't repeat them now, otherwise it will make me look arrogant. As for now, please allow me to get to the point."

“Please, General,” said Guilliman.

"Very good. I hope that both of us can reach a consensus first. If the two armies confront each other and collide with each other according to the battle formation, you will have no chance of winning."

His words set off a wave of anger among the Ultramarines and the Blood Angels, but the two Primarchs remained indifferent, as if they tacitly agreed to the matter.

"That's not what I want," said the crowned general. "I don't want a bloodless and tearless empty shell to fight against these respectable soldiers, and then drown them and turn them into embers that dissipate in the wind."

"What I want is a war of equal strength, a war that will satisfy both of us. So I propose that we skip the meaningless space naval battle and directly enter the positional battle. How about this, both of you?"

Robert Guilliman smiled, and it was an extremely complicated smile. Even Sanguinius, who was standing beside him, could not tell what his brother was thinking at the moment.

After laughing, Guilliman spoke slowly.

"What good can you gain from this, General Crowned?"

Zandrick smiled and praised, "You are very perceptive, but I actually don't get anything. This war means nothing to me. To be more precise, after I became what I am now, all wars have lost their meaning to me."

"Victory is no longer victory, failure is no longer failure, and the same is true for the soldiers under my command. I still have a personality, but what about them? The lively faces I once knew have become iron lumps that will not respond actively. They endlessly obey my orders or the orders of other officers, but they themselves are as dull as puppets, and only make their own voices when they die."

"And now, all this has finally been reversed. Their emotions are recovering, and so are their memories. For this, I need a real war, a war that can bring glory."

General Dai Guan took a step back and bowed deeply.

Guilliman stepped forward and helped him to his feet. For the first time, he showed some respect for a xenos.

"I agree," he whispered back. "Where do we fight?"

Xandrek looked up and smiled slyly.

(End of this chapter)