40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 777 65. Regaining Hope (Twenty-two)

Unlike his master, the royal guard Obiang only hated the swift golden shadow in the sky that was constantly destroying the elite undead forces.

One could even say that he wished he was dead, preferably now. It didn't matter what killed him, a single hit or a premeditated collision would do, and it didn't matter who did it, as long as he was killed.

He raised his head and stared at the sky, his eyes, which had been replaced by a deep green light many years ago, were now brighter than ever.

Zandrick, who had his back to him, knew all of this but just smiled.

"Are you unwilling to accept this?" the old general asked without turning his head. "It must be hard to accept that our well-disciplined army was easily defeated by one man with his own strength? I think so, Obiang. After all, this is not the kind of war you are familiar with."

His guards keenly and angrily seized on the slightest loophole in his words and immediately counterattacked, without caring whether it was rude or an overstep.

"Is that so, my Lord?" Obiang snapped. "I am familiar with a thousand different kinds of war. Which one do you mean?"

Xandrek turned around in great amusement.

Just then, something suddenly exploded in the dark cloud. The fire illuminated his back and made his face blurry, as if he had returned to the age of flesh and blood.

"You see, you have learned to be angry again." The old general slowly affirmed himself. "However, let's talk about the matter at hand. Indeed, what you said is true. From the War in Heaven to the subsequent killing of gods, you have been involved in it and have made many military achievements. But this is not the problem, my dear friend."

He raised his hand and pointed upward.

"Now, this being that's slaughtering our armies over our heads isn't the Old Ones or their followers, or any of those abominable Star Gods - if you've read the book Trazyn has in his museum, as I have, you'll understand that this thing's power actually comes from a realm we haven't ventured into, and don't want to venture into."

"He shouldn't have been born in the real world, let alone move freely like he does now, but who can we blame? Don't forget that we cannot escape responsibility for the originally peaceful subspace becoming so turbid. In other words, he is the debt we have yet to repay."

Zandrek finished his heartfelt speech with emotion. His meaning was very clear. He hoped that Obiang would be more open-minded.
But the King's Guard was unable to do this, and for the first time in his life, he disappointed the man he had sworn allegiance to.

"But we defeated the Old Ones and the Star Gods!" Obiang growled. "Why should he be an exception?! I don't believe our army is really helpless against him, sir!"

Zandrick slowly lowered his raised hand, and when he spoke again, the crowned general's tone had become very intriguing.

"You mean, do you think I, as a general, have neglected my duties?"

"No." Obiang said. "It's worse than that. I don't even think you thought about winning from the beginning, otherwise this situation wouldn't be here. Where are our tactics? Where are our warships? We could have blown these humans and their ships into pieces!"

"And then be killed from one end of the universe to the other by an angry god?"

Obiang was stunned - God? What God?

"You know nothing about the truth," Zandrick said calmly. "You saw my passivity behind many of my plans. Yes, I admit that I did not do my best as I did in the past, but that does not mean that I am really as despicable as you implied, trying to use the lives of my own soldiers as bargaining chips to surrender to the enemy."

"Have you ever heard a saying, old friend? If you want to win, you must first lose."

The royal guards looked at him blankly.

Zandrek didn't want to explain further, but he couldn't harden his heart towards this extremely loyal friend.

Helpless, the old general could only sigh and speak again.

"The other side has a god, Obiang, a real god who stands on their side wholeheartedly and whose power cannot be described in words!"

"Not only that, this god is even the biggest reason why you and I can be so emotional right now! Do you know the real reason why Trazyn the Endless was declared a traitor? 'Concluded an alliance and conducted transactions with humans without authorization, suspected of collaborating with the enemy'? No, no, this is just one-sided words from the parliament!"

"The real reason is that he made a deal with a god! This is the truth behind why he was deprived of everything!"

Xandrek shook his head, threw off his cloak, turned around, and caught a handful of dust that was blowing in his face.

"And here He is, my friend, God is here. He did not intervene in this war, which is good. This proves that He is more or less a fair God, at least He is willing to let us have honor."

"Yes, I did not order the warships to open fire and tear apart their weak and backward ships. Instead, I chose to fight them head-on. This may seem stupid to you, but it is actually our only chance to fight back. We will never surrender, we can only be defeated."

He gradually fell silent, his voice gradually fading into nothingness amid the one-sided situation above his head.

The royal guard watched all this in a daze, with mixed feelings in his heart. In the end, when the last Doomsday Ark was chopped into pieces by the man in golden armor with wings on his back, he couldn't help but sigh.

"Is there no other way, my lord?" he asked with difficulty.

"No more." Zandrick said. "After this battle, as the commander, I will not be able to escape the blame. I will return and take all the responsibilities in front of the Storm King. At least I have to delay him for a while, until all the nobles and lords stationed in Sollems return to their respective dynasties."

"As for you, my friend, I want you to be the new general."

Regardless of how Obiang reacted, he laughed nonchalantly - "And I will give you the title of general!"
-
Bolts roared, chainsaws spun, and the dark crystal fragments fired by the alien's vicious weapons flashed across the edges of Huron's armor, leaving only a few scratches.

This was certainly not the first time that the Star Claws had fought against the Dark Eldar. Huron already had experience with this. As long as they were not shot at such vital points as the links of the power armor, the so-called poison crystal guns that these lowly creatures who were good at plundering and torturing liked to use would not pose any threat to them at all.

Of course, this only applies to Astartes - for ordinary people, even if they are just touched, the poison contained in this terrible weapon will immediately kill them in extreme pain.

Therefore, when the group of Dark Eldar in front of him turned their guns and fired at a group of auxiliary troops, Huron suddenly let out a furious shout.

He forced himself not to turn around to look at them. He understood that this was the main purpose of these aliens doing this: to distract him.

And he must not do that.

He pounced on them, but he didn't expect that someone would be faster than him - no, it was no longer a question of speed, but a question of attack method.

Huron rushed towards them, which still required a charging process, but the man appeared directly from the darkness and nothingness. As for what happened next, Huron could not understand it.

He had seen the Nightborne and even Yago Sevitarion himself kill before, with unforgettable memories of silent swiftness and ultimate violence, but this?
A hand swung out calmly, seemingly powerless, but the five fingers were like a knife, smashing the face of a dark elf.

Blood and flesh splattered, broken bones turned into bullets and exploded everywhere, but its lower jaw and one eye were pressed into the chest cavity of another alien by this hand.

Its complicated and blasphemous internal organs, along with most of its sternum and spine, flew out from behind with a puff, causing more bloodshed. At the same time, within less than a second of the above incident, the other hand of the owner of this hand was doing the same thing, but not with his own hands, but with a knife.
The knife flew up and down in the pale hand, like a bird foraging in the woods at dawn, but the reality was bloody. Every time the blade fell, an Eldar died.

The swinging route chosen by its owner is always simple and efficient, either swinging towards the neck or stabbing at the eye sockets - but its slaughtered objects always refuse to cooperate and always want to resist, so the fragments and pieces of it are sticky and spread all over the ground.
Huron paused involuntarily.

The man standing among the corpses looked at him, nodded, suddenly raised his hand and pointed behind him, then reached into his trouser pocket, took out a handful of poison crystal fragments and threw them on the ground.

Huron subconsciously looked back and found that the auxiliary troops who had become the target of the Dark Eldar because of him were now safe and sound, staying in their original positions and performing their duties well.

This discovery made his heart beat wildly - he didn't know why, but his two hearts were completely out of control at this moment.

He turned around quickly with a dry mouth, wanting to say something, but the man had disappeared.

Huron stood there in confusion for two full seconds before he remembered that he should go to support.
The brief encounter ended after six minutes, with the death of an elegantly dressed Dark Eldar.

"No, no!" It cried out before dying, crying to someone. "Please don't--"

"——I refuse." The man said. "You should go there and become food. This is what you deserve and the debt you have not yet paid."

After saying this, he swung his blade down, and the time reached the sixth minute. The head of the Eldar rolled to the ground, but no blood flowed out.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and focused his mind a little, then he heard a loud and excited laugh in his ears.

He snorted coldly, raised his foot and stepped on the chest of the headless corpse, gently forcing it. The stalemate lasted less than half a second, and the owner of the laughter happily retreated.

[Okay, for their sake.]

Blood finally spurted out.

He put away the knife, observed for a moment, and after confirming that everything was normal, he turned around and returned to the original car.

A few minutes later, Huron, covered in blood, came back. He silently fastened his seat belt, raised his hand and patted the cockpit door. Half a minute later, the engine started roaring, and the convoy was on the road again.

However, it took a full ten minutes before he actually spoke.

".grown ups."

"Hmm?" Carrier looked up and tilted his head in confusion. "What's the matter, Adjutant Huron?"

"It's not a big deal."

"Is that so? Then go ahead."

"I just want to ask--" Huron began softly. "--how did you do it?"

Ah, familiar question.

Khalil decided to answer with an old saying.

"Training," he said. "I've been training for a long time."

"That's it"

Various sounds were heard again in the cab, including greetings, responses, small talk and insignificant jokes, but the most common sound was a very similar exclamation.

For example, 'How did he do that?!', 'It's a miracle!', 'It's the Emperor appearing, He is watching that commissioner!'.
Everything calmed down after the words "Just keep quiet, he must be listening."

Unfortunately, Huron, who, like Khalil, could hear the words clearly through the metal, could no longer hold back.

".May I ask what type of training it is?" he asked again carefully.

"Eighth Legion style."

Carlier answered sullenly, trying to suppress a laugh, while he studied Huron closely.

The latter was obviously embarrassed after hearing this answer, but his curiosity obviously would not allow him to end here.

He fidgeted for a while, and finally took a deep breath with great distress and pain. Just as he was about to say that he understood and would not ask any more questions, he saw Khalil nodded.

"There's nothing to hide, even though it's a secret from the Legion era," he sighed in mock sadness. "But the Eighth Legion is a thing of the past, isn't it?"

"This, I, you"

Looking at his expression, Khalil finally couldn't help laughing.

Huron opened his mouth in extreme shock, and it took him a long time to realize what was going on. However, he was not angry at all. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm really sorry, Adjutant Huron, I just like to make a joke sometimes."

After laughing, Khalil apologized to him.

"Secrets are nothing. The Eighth Legion does have a complete training method, which was worked out by me and the captains at the time. It is not a secret. Your Primarch even borrowed some of it when he wrote the Codex. However, if you are really interested, after this is over, I can teach you and your brothers some on the way back."

Huron looked at him once, then a second time, and a third time.
"Really?" he asked.

"I never lie about promises," Khalil said gently. "Besides, this is what I do."

Huron lowered his head to hide his uncontrollable laughter. The convoy moved forward steadily, heading to the next dimension, and they were about to reach the end of the human exhibition hall in the Great Museum of Solmes.

(End of this chapter)