40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 775 63. Regaining Hope (Twenty)
Orikan put down his staff with a grumble.

The reversed time began to flow again as the end of the staff touched the ground, and the adjutant of the Third Company of the Star Claws said something that Orikan had already heard and did not want to hear again.

".So, Sage, you mean that this traitor of the dead can help us get out of this damn place?"

Orikan sighed, and was not surprised to see Luft Huron stunned for a moment after saying this, and then immediately pulled out a bolt pistol from his waist.

Before he fired, the Astrologer raised his hand and held the staff horizontally, and a not-so-strong time wave hit Huron, slowing down his gun-drawing speed by a hundred times.

Of course, even so, Huron only needed twenty seconds to complete the entire process of drawing the gun, aiming and shooting. Orikan had experienced this twenty-two times, and he knew the time required for each process by heart.

"Sage Kaplan—" He turned around. "—Your calculation ability should allow you to guess why I suddenly have an extra staff in my hand, and why I have to put Lieutenant Luft Huron in this predicament right now?"

The red-robed man looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded.

Twelve seconds left. Orikan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well, could you please help me explain something to him?" he asked immediately.

"I make no promises," Kaplan said. "But this wouldn't be the first time you've traveled back in time, would it, Astrologer?"

Orikan put down his staff irritably, sat down again, and replied unhappily: "Yes, but I think I have found a way to convince this stubborn bastard."

The green light attached to Huron dissipated after he finished speaking. The gun was in his hand, but he did not shoot. Instead, he looked back at the Mechanical Sage with a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"I've slowed down the flow of time for you - a simple application of astrology."

Orikan spontaneously took up his words, resting his staff on his knees, his voice sounding helpless.

"Please don't think I'm threatening you. I have no such intention. I'm doing this simply because I don't want to be shot by you. This is crucial to the conversation we are about to have."

Huron looked at him, then at the Mechanical Sage, without putting down the gun in his hand.

"Explain," he said, his voice like cold iron.

Orikan spoke immediately and threw out all the words he had changed twenty-two times.

"In your language, I am an astrologer, but this is only a superficial understanding. What I can do is actually much more than the literal "astrology". I can predict the future, manipulate time, and change the basic laws of the universe."

"In short, using common sense that you can understand, you can treat me as a powerful psyker who does not need to pay any price to the warp."

"Now please look at this staff in my hand. It is the proof of my status and honor. Of course, it was taken away after I was declared a traitor. Our parliament turned it into a display like a reward and placed it inside Sollems. Not long ago, I personally took it back."

"So?" Huron asked impatiently.

"So, with its help, I can now barely recover one percent of my former talents. In addition, Adjutant Luft Huron, this conversation has actually happened twenty-two times, and we are currently in the twenty-third."

Orikan said expressionlessly, raising his hands high, not stroking his staff as he did the 22nd time - that time everything went smoothly, but his old habit seemed to be mistaken by this stubborn, irritable and very petty human as a sign of threat.
Now, Orikan would rather give up his habit temporarily than go through it again.

His remaining core was already overheating to a dangerous level. If it happened a few more times, he would probably die in the chaotic time stream, which would be a worse way to die than dissipating between the broken dimensions.

After hearing his words, Huron pondered for a moment. Then he turned to look at Kaplan, who spoke slowly in a quiet, rational and convincing tone.

"What the astrologer said is true. He does have the ability to reverse the flow of time. I have seen him use this trick many times to fool the guards of the Solomons Museum."

"That means you are indeed very capable, Alien."

Huron squatted down, put his hands on his knees, and looked at Orikan like an idler, and finally he no longer pointed the gun at him.

“I wouldn’t use that word to describe myself.”

Orikan answered very politely, but immediately changed the subject in another direction, appearing anxious, and he did not even try to hide it.

"Adjutant, aren't you curious about why I have to go back twenty-three times?"

"Of course I'm curious."

Orikan immediately raised his right hand, pointed to the sky, and told everything in a tone of faith.

From the unscrupulous experiments that the madman Trazyn conducted on his own world, to the world collapse that they will experience in a while, and even the reason why he came back again and again to try to save them.
He told everything, without hiding anything, and was extremely humble, but still maintained his dignity.

".I'm done." Orikan let out a long breath. "Now it's your turn to make the decision, Adjutant."

No questions asked, no ridicule, not even the slightest surprise—Luft Huron stood up and, in a booming voice, gave his orders to everyone in the camp.

He asked them all to gather on the bus and take only the most basic supplies. They would rather leave the extra things here than take them on board and take up the limited passenger space.

Then he gestured to the Sage and Orikan, who was still sitting on the ground, and led them to a world beyond the tents, crates, and rumbling engines.

"You want to cooperate, right?" Huron asked, staring at Orikan.

"Yes."

"What kind of cooperation? I mean, temporary kind, or do you intend to surrender?"

Orikan was startled - he had never expected this Astartes to throw those two words in his face with such honesty that it was almost vulgar.

If the astrologer still had flesh and blood, his face would definitely look very good now. Unfortunately, he now only has an iron face, so he still looks calm.

Of course, his tone sounded strange and dry, as if he had been punched in the stomach. ".This needs to be considered carefully."

Huron smiled.

His razor-thin lips were parted and tightened over his teeth. Under the weak light from the camp, he looked like a greedy beast with its mouth wide open.

"Okay, let's discuss this in the long run." Huron said in a casual tone. "But I hope you understand that I am just an adjutant and cannot make any serious promises to you. I can only guarantee that we are temporary allies until we are all out of danger."

"I agree," Orikan said.

"Now, let's get down to business. How are you going to save us from death?" Huron asked.

His tone finally changed, becoming serious and sincere, which meant that he had fully understood the doomsday picture that Orikan had painted not long ago.

He understood that they could only trust the alien in front of them, otherwise they would not be able to survive, and this was exactly what Orikan wanted.

He couldn't leave this 'booth' now, and even if he could leave, he would have to make a deal with humans in order to survive the overwhelming force.

In this case, actively helping a group of "collections" to gain freedom became his only reliance for negotiating conditions in the future.

However, Luft Huron's problem was truly fatal - what could he do to gain a glimmer of hope in this almost impossible dead end?

Orikan's answer was quite unconventional.

"It's actually quite simple to say." The astrologer carefully inserted his staff into the soil. "First, I want to say a name. Can you promise me that you won't overreact, Mr. Adjutant?"

Luft Huron nodded dubiously.

"Good, good Khalil Rohars." Orikan said very quickly, then immediately reached out and grasped the staff.

He did not manipulate time, but still felt that the world in front of him slowed down. His one eye was fixed on Huron's face until the latter's distorted features gradually returned to normal, and then he took his hand away from the staff.

"What's the matter with him?" Luft Huron asked.

“He can help us.”

With a bang, the mud splashed everywhere as Huron's right foot landed. With unparalleled explosive power, he crossed the distance between them in one step, grabbed Orikan's shoulders, and spoke in a cold voice.

"I don't know where you saw this name, but you'd better not be kidding me, Alien. Otherwise, you'll have to wait for time to flow back a hundred times."

Orikan looked at him carefully for a while, and suddenly a flash of inspiration came into his mind, which forced him to blurt out a sentence.

"You don't know who he is?" Orikan exclaimed. "Dead God, you know his name, but you don't know who he is? Oh, okay, okay!"

He couldn't help but burst into laughter, and of course, he paid the price for it - the 24th backflow officially began.

After repeating all of the above, Orikan used a more cautious statement to hint to Huron that he had a way to solve the deadlock they were facing, but he did not say it explicitly. He just started to prepare after getting Huron's very reluctant permission.

Orikan actually knew nothing about how to worship the gods, but fortunately he understood part of their essence.
Although the war that broke out ten thousand years ago disrupted his programming for a while, it did allow him to see some truths.

Now, these things that no one should know officially come in handy.

Standing not far from the camp, Orikan turned off his visual sensors and immersed his thoughts completely in the depths of his memory.

For the Necrons, this is a rather strange feeling. Their bodies do not have the function of "closing their eyes". Even if some people think of installing a module that can achieve it, they are a minority after all.

Orekan had never delved into his memory without being connected to his visual sensors. In an instant, he seemed to be split in two. One half was still standing in that dying world, while the other half had returned to the front of the biological furnace many years ago.
Not my most hateful moment, but close, Orikan thought.

Taking advantage of the hatred at the moment, he began to call him.

Logically speaking, he should be called by the name of God at this time, but Orikan couldn't think of a suitable name, so he simply used the name "Caril Rohals".

He recited it several times in human language, and for some reason he recited it several times in the language of the dead. Then he held the staff tightly, and completed the ritual with the extreme hatred he felt when his compatriots threw him into the living furnace and turned him into an iron coffin.
Yes, it was done, it worked together, he felt it.

A bone-chilling wind blew from an unknown world and hit him. The sensor array quickly gave a series of error reports, thinking that he was experiencing a cognitive error, because the temperature in the real world did not change at all, and there was no wind.
Orikan put the matter aside for the time being and just waited.

For some reason, he felt calm at this moment, as if a person who had determined to commit suicide had finally taken that step. He felt unusually at ease and natural.

Then he opened his eyes and saw a human.

"Hello, Astrologer," said Caryl Rohals.

Orikan took a deep, deep breath, and a force drove him to lower his head.

"Do you know what you have done?" he heard the creature he summoned ask in a calm tone.

"I'm kind of guessing."

"Guess?" The creature seemed to smile. "You are really brave. You dare to take the initiative to perform this summoning ritual with such a limited knowledge. But you did a good job."

As soon as he finished speaking, he left, walking towards Luft Huron and Sage Kaplan who were not far away like a ghost.

The two of them were overly shocked by his sudden appearance, but Caryl Rohals quickly turned the situation into one that everyone could understand and be excited about - he took out a document from his pocket, handed it to the adjutant, and asked him to read it out.

What the document wanted to express was actually not complicated. It was that Khalil Rohars, the 'Combined Fleet Emergency Response Specialist', was sent by Robert Guilliman and Sanguinius to take them away. He carried with him a golden Skyhawk and the seal of the Inquisition made in Terra to prove his identity. The document itself also had the seals of the two Primarchs.
And so, the Commissioner began to give orders.

(End of this chapter)