40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 787 8. Investigation and Evidence Collection
From a rational and logical point of view, Esper Balagash knew that he should not feel angry now, but grateful, but he couldn't control himself.

At this moment, he was just like the 'Dead' Evefitz Crane, who was the Chapter Master three and a half centuries ago, when he faced the Military Affairs Department officials from Terra. Despite his best efforts and attempts, he still couldn't calm down.

At that time, the deceased said to them: "Almighty God, I really want to kill you all."

And now, Esper Baragash said to his apprentices: "Bring me a voluptuous sword so I can slit my throat and kill myself."

No one responded to him, only the continuous footsteps of three think tank apprentices, who were carrying piles of freshly-made investigation reports from outside the door into the house.

Over the past four hours, the war dogs have been moving like crazy, searching for evidence throughout Nuceria's largest city.

These white papers with black words printed on them are their investigation reports. There is only black and white on them, but they are shocking to read because the words between the lines are as if oozing with blood and are extremely bloody.

All in all, they basically prove only one thing.

"He's not wrong?" Esper muttered to himself. "How could he not be wrong? There are so many people. And not even one was killed by mistake?"

But that is the fact. Ninety-five percent of the people on the compiled list of the dead have been investigated by the War Dogs using various means.

Name, identity, occupation, social relations, cash flow - all these things are ordinary and there is nothing noteworthy about them.

Rich kids are rich kids, they like to have fun but don't do anything out of line. Artists are artists, their works are only circulated in small circles, but there is nothing to worry about until their bodies are dissected one by one by pharmacists.

The human tissues that were obviously mutated, the blasphemous words carved on the bones, and the many evil things stored in a hidden room in their home.
Why didn't we notice it before? The War Dog think tank director asked himself, his fists unconsciously clenched.

What was the Ministry of Law in Nuceria doing? Didn't their spies and cameras on the streets see anything unusual?
What are we doing? This is a large-scale cult activity, and its members even cover all levels of society in Bastola.
How can I face those who died for this? How can I explain this to my Primarch and my Chapter Master?
He clenched his teeth tightly, and blood flowed out from the corners of his tightly pursed mouth, winding out a twisted line, and finally dripping onto the table, staining a document red.

After a few seconds, he slowly stood up.

"Please help me look through the records of the remaining 5% of the dead," he said to his apprentices. "If you have any questions, notify me immediately."

"Where are you going?" asked one of the apprentices.

Esper did not answer. He strode out of the improvised office and ran to the bottom floor of the war fortress without saying a word.

After passing many security procedures, he came to a heavy iron door, and two war dogs wearing ancient model power armor opened the door for him.

Many more people were waiting calmly with weapons in hand - if anything unusual happened in the room, the weapons placed in the walls would be activated immediately. They would also file in and carry out the necessary procedures.
The steel door slowly opened, and a chill blew in along with the sound of machinery operating in the wall, causing him to pause.

The man who was sitting peacefully on the iron chair behind the door, wearing a blood-stained shirt, also looked up, with a smile on his face.

"How is it, Esper Think Tank?" he asked softly. "Have you come up with any results from your investigation?"

Esper refused to answer the question. He stared at the terrifying killer with superb skills who suddenly appeared and spoke word by word.

"Who are you?" he asked word by word.

The man smiled and stood up easily. The heavy handcuffs and leg irons that acted like torture instruments seemed to have no effect on him at all, even though he had surrendered quickly when facing the guns of the war dogs not long ago, behaving like a docile mortal.

"I don't think this is the issue you need to be most concerned about right now, Esper Think Tank." The man said in a gentle, chatty tone.

"There are many military fortresses in the city of Balasto, such as the one we are in now, and the military camp assigned to the 22nd Fire Regiment of Vorsaks, which is only 22 kilometers away from the city hall building."

"What do you want to say?" Esper asked hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot.

The man shook his head.

"Let me ask a few questions, okay? First, have you declared martial law? Second, have you sent someone to the Law Department of the City of Ballasto? Third, have you conducted a K-7 inspection of the administrative system of the City of Ballasto as specified in the manual issued by the Inquisition?"

His tone was calm, without any arrogance or condescending questioning. But the more he spoke like this, the more humiliated Esper felt.
The strange thing was that he actually answered the man's questions one by one, even though the blood vessels on his temples were bulging out of the skin.

"I declared martial law at the first opportunity, and all members of the Ministry of Justice have been placed under control. As for the inspection, we are still doing it. Some officials have expressed clear opposition, believing that this is inappropriate."

The man tilted his head and looked at him expectantly.

"All those who raised the issue have been controlled, and drugs and torture experts are on the way." The think tank took a deep breath. "As long as the problem is found, they will be executed along with their families."

The man nodded appreciatively.

"Very decisive and resolute, Esper Think Tank, but this alone is not enough. I suggest you inject a bottle of 'truth' potion into everyone in the administrative system, and then interrogate them one by one. Remember, you must use the second type of truth potion, which can provide you with the most information without endangering your life."

The think tank frowned deeply, but didn't say anything more. Instead, he turned and walked out.

The door closed, the man listened attentively for a few seconds, and a fleeting smile flashed across his face.

After a moment, the door opened again, and the think tank came back and placed a black briefcase in front of the man.

"Is this yours?" he asked. "I ask again, who are you?"

"Why not open it and take a look?" the man asked softly.

Esper glared at him and spoke in a deep voice.

"We have opened it and checked it. There is nothing inside except clothes and 724 imperial coins. We have also searched the room you stayed in, and found nothing wrong. During the four hours you stayed in this room, we scanned you more than once. No matter what type of equipment we used, they concluded that you were just an ordinary person. But how could an ordinary person create such a massacre in such a short time?"

He paused, tensing his whole body to ask a question. He didn't notice that he was shaking, nor that his eyes were already wide open.

"Do you know how many people you killed in just two hours?"

"How much?" the man asked.

"Three thousand four hundred and twenty-two"

The man lowered his head and thought, as if he was recalling something. After half a minute, he nodded. "No problem." He said. "That's three thousand four hundred and twenty-two."

"Enough!" Esper roared with a gloomy face.

"I don't care if you're a killer sent by the Inquisition or a hidden agent of the Assassin's Court. Stay here, Eric Winslow! When everything is settled, we can talk about what kind of reward and punishment you should get!"

The man who had his pseudonym used when checking in was called out sat back down without a care in the world. He placed his hands on the table, and the heavy shackles made a dull sound when they hit them.

Then, he raised his head and looked up at the dark ceiling. After a few seconds, he suddenly spoke.

"Perhaps you'd like to stay away from the gate, Librarian."

Esper frowned. He had calmed down by now, but the man's words still aroused some vigilance and confusion.

With these two emotions in mind, he turned around and saw two mortals with pale faces and dark eyes. They were covered in blood and stood expressionlessly behind him.

The Think Tank raised his right hand in a thousandth of a second, and pure and violent lightning burst out from between his spread fingers.
It would have struck both men if he had not been struck by a sudden darkness.

Yes, an attack, he was sure of it.

Not only that, the darkness even whispered to him, full of malice, yet with the innocence of a child - this terrible contrast made him feel extremely disgusted in an instant.

"Hatred is brewing in your heart," Dark said joyfully. "I look forward to the day when it sprouts, Esper Baragash. Your hatred will be delicious."

What--?
Before he could reply, it moved away from him, leaving behind only a terrible chill that gradually permeated his body.
The think tank took a lot of effort to resist it. He turned around stiffly, but the man had disappeared, replaced by an image that he could not describe in words.

Staring at the two dim red spots, he subconsciously took a step back, but his extraordinary memory immediately helped him connect what was before his eyes with a certain image buried deep in his mind.

That was two centuries ago, when he was officially promoted from editor to chief registrar.

He was identified as an extremely gifted Librarian, not only young but also of extraordinary intelligence, having completely mastered his psychic powers after only forty years of service.

Next, he only needs to spend time to become a star language officer step by step, and finally the director of the think tank.
This was not his self-boasting, but the consensus within the regiment at that time.

Because of this, on that day, his teacher and the previous think tank director, Grisak, known as the 'Annihilator', came to him and told him a secret.

That secret was related to the Eighth Legion, the Thirteenth Legion, and themselves. Not only that, even the three Primarchs were involved.

That secret carries blood and hatred, and the sacrifice of thousands of war dogs, including the first legion commander, Gil Baldwin.
And most importantly, it carries the name of a man who later sacrificed everything and left everything behind for humanity.

Caryl Lohals.

Esper trembled as if struck by lightning.

In front of him, the man from the myth and legend slowly spoke. And as he spoke, the black and white skeleton armor slowly faded away.

The tall giant disappeared, and the pale-faced man in blood-stained clothes reappeared, with handcuffs and shackles already scattered on the ground.

"Hello, Librarian Esper, I hope my uninvited presence has not gone too far. I apologize to you for Ralch's behavior, and I assure you that it has been punished."

"Also, could you please find a pharmacist? Behind you are two soldiers who served in the 22nd Regiment of the Fire of Vorthax. They should not have died like this."

What else could Esper say? He did as he was told, half-asleep.

Ten minutes later, he walked out of the fortress side by side with the man who had changed his clothes and headed straight for the local Ministry of Law.
-
"Who wants to see me?" Iskandar Khayon asked incredulously.

"I won't say it again." Sevatar bared his teeth impatiently. "You are not deaf, so it is impossible that you didn't hear what I said. So, are you coming?"

Qianzi broke free from his hand, subconsciously rubbed his temple, and began to pace around the room, muttering to himself.

Sevatar was both amused and annoyed by the fast-talking Prospero dialect, so he simply swung his fist and punched Khayon in the back, controlling the force so well that it was just the right amount between feeling pain and actually causing damage.
Now, the person grinning was Iskandar Khayon.

"You bastard!" he glared at Sevatar and cursed.

"Yes, I am an asshole." Sevatar nodded. "And you are a complete idiot."

Khayon continued to glare at him.

"Come on, great Wolf of Tizca, here is the living Yago Sevitarion standing before you, telling you that he wants to see you - and you are still wondering if this is true? In the name of the Eternal Night, in the name of your father, if I had known you could be so stupid now, I should not have come to you."

"Don't mention him!" Khayon roared again. "If you want to mention him, call him by his name!"

Sevatar sighed and asked faintly: "Are you sure? Do you want me to formally read out his current name? Okay, I'll try, blindly-"

The first two syllables had just come out of his mouth and had not yet landed on the ground when the sand and stone house created by Qianzi's magic began to tremble.

A strong smell of blood and coldness came from nowhere and poured straight into the noses of the two men. Khayon immediately realized what he, or Sevatar, had done.

He almost flew over to cover the bat's mouth, and then he heard a very loud "Emperor's Prayer" coming from downstairs.
Sevatar glanced at him sideways, pulled his hand away, and asked, "Well? Do you have anything else to say now?"

Iskandar Khayon took a deep breath.

"No more." He said heavily. "I'm going to change my clothes and appease the hero downstairs, and then we'll set off."

Sevatar looked at him in disbelief.

"Change clothes?" The eldest son of the night almost laughed out loud. "You don't think you are going to a party, do you?"

"I have to dress formally to meet him! You idiot!" Khayon yelled for the third time.

(End of this chapter)