40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 791 12. The Limit of Hatred (Part )
Sometimes, I go crazy.

When I say crazy - and you should know what I mean better than anyone else in the world - I will briefly become someone I don't even recognize.

I mean, crazy.

Losing your mind? No, it's worse than that.

It's funny, I'm a bit too rational most of the time, but if you don't believe me, let me tell you how I reacted when I found out that Azek Ahriman had ruined almost all of us and all of Prospero with his stupid deal.

I didn't yell, I didn't rage, I didn't cry or do anything else, all I did was confirm.

First, I did some research, lots of research. Then I realized that I couldn't use my psychic powers anymore, because it was definitely related to the psychic powers we rely on, so during that time I completely abandoned my old habits and became a completely different person. I forced my body to adapt to the feeling of being grounded, even though it made me feel like dying.

I still feel the same way now.

Back to the point - we were talking about madness, weren't we? My only imaginary audience?

Well, in that case, you should understand that I, Iskandar Khayon, is definitely one of the few people in this galaxy who is qualified to say the following.

"I should go crazy or die. I deserve both of them."

The truth is, sometimes, I really do go crazy.

I haven't experienced death yet. I've been close to death many times, but never died. But madness? Ha, I'm old friends with it.

I went crazy once when I learned of the death of the Primarch, and again when I returned to Prospero and was caught by the wolves patrolling there. I don't like them, but they are not to blame for this. I was just a crazy tramp at the time, and I didn't even know what I was doing.

I came back there in a daze, and they found me immediately.

It was exactly ten years after the Battle of Terra, and the Empire was still not completely free from the effects of the war. I knew nothing about it at the time, so when the Wolves put me on the guillotine and threatened me to tell the truth or die, I was even a little happy.

I remember I was yelling, okay, you better kill me.

Then along came Azek Ahriman, fucking Azek Ahriman.

Damn bastard, cursed dog, damned beast.

my brother.

He was dressed like them.

Do you understand? A Thousand Son, dressed exactly like the Space Wolves, the sons of Leman Russ.

He was blind, thin, and lame, and looked as old as a corpse in a grave. The paradox is that, when I think back on it now, his appearance had not actually changed much.

He was wearing a pale golden fur, armor engraved with Fenris runes, and a hand axe hanging from his waist. He looked like a real Fenrisian. I didn't even recognize him at first, because I never dreamed that he was still alive - but he was alive, and he kept me alive too.

He walked into the stinking execution room of the wolves, squatted in front of me and looked at me carefully for a while, and finally said: "This is Iskandar Khayon, my brother, let him go."

Then they actually let me go.

One of them, who I was more familiar with, patted my shoulder affectionately, as if the beatings and tortures I had suffered in those days were all done by another person. This bastard.

The third time I went crazy was because I learned the truth about the Battle of Terra, or rather, the truth about the Great Heresy.

I was taken to Fenris by the Wolves, where I read their account of the war. Of course, it was their perspective, their version. I could believe it, but I knew in my heart that I had to see more, otherwise I would become a wraith even if I died.

So I left Fenris and headed for another place - Nostramo.

I failed to board it, and the Nightblades told me that it was now sealed and no one could enter or leave without the permission of Yago Sevitarion. Moreover, they would not tell me anything I wanted to know without his permission.

I waited for twenty-five years, twenty-five whole years.

I knew nothing of the forbidden lore I would later acquire, which would have been useful at this time. For twenty-five years I had watched Nostramo from a distant porthole, and I had watched its continents and its towering, dark hives gradually be shrouded by a great steel dome.

The entire world was truly plunged into complete darkness and isolated from the outside world.

So when Shen, not Yago Sevitarion, walked into the room where I had temporarily lived for twenty-five years, I—a dirty, smelly madman with a beard that dragged on the ground and hair that covered my face—did not ask for the answer to the question I had been seeking.

In fact, I didn't even ask why he was the one who came in and not that arrogant jerk.

Instead, I ask, what exactly does Nightblade want to do with Nostramo?
Shen looked at me for a long time, then threw a knife at my feet. Then he said slowly, "We are going to block this place."

"Lockdown?" I asked him, and I sounded like a complete idiot.

"Yes," he said gently. "Complete blockade, no more commerce, no more travelers, no more communication of any kind. The Nostramo people will live on Nostramo forever."

"You're crazy," I said. "You guys are crazy."

"I don't deny it." He nodded. "Now follow me, unless you suddenly change your mind."

"You can't—"

I caught up with him, and he turned around and knocked me to the ground. It was a heavy punch, and then he pulled me up and carried me to a place full of books.

Judging from their size, these books must have been compiled for creatures larger than mortals. After a few seconds, I shook off the dizziness and realized that the books were too big even for an Astartes.

They were written for the Primarch.

"Is Lord Conrad Curze here?" I asked at the time. I think my tone must have been happy, otherwise Shen would not have shown that terrible and pitiful smile.

I knew the answer before he even opened his mouth.

“No, he’s not here,” Shen told me. “He’s dead.”

Then he closed the door and left me there.

Two years later, I left Nostramo with everything I needed—truth, truth, and truth.

A lot of truth. For example, who caused all this? This is an easy question to answer. Most people would answer it with a name, and if I were not going to have a deep conversation with you, my only audience, I would also answer you with a name. Maybe one, maybe two.

But no, you are me, I can't fool you, so I have to answer this question seriously.

Who caused all this?

Because of us.

we.

Humanity.

We are born sinful.

I'm not telling you some old religious bullshit, I'm just telling you the conclusion, so listen up, we are born guilty, we are guilty of living in this galaxy, we are guilty of having rich emotions, pure souls and scattered all over the galaxy. For things in the warp, we are perfect food, toys and parasites.

This is our only sin.

We are not perfect in evolution, the Eldar would call us monkeys. It is true that the vast majority of humans are physiologically flawed and are not good enough to compare with them. But we are also too perfect in evolution, because we.
We are noble and depraved, clever and stupid, loyal and dissolute, cruel and vicious and compassionate and kind.

So we were being targeted, and we had been targeted for a long time, and we had no idea about it.

When the ancient primitive people celebrated their victory under the bonfire, they would not have thought that Khorne was also waving his arms beside them; when the king in the palace was smiling and thinking about how to favor his concubine, he would not have thought that Slaanesh was licking his lips beside him; when the plague, smallpox and a thousand diseases you can name or not made people want to live or die, Nurgle was also present; every one of our wise men, every great leader, the ancient ones who left behind books and wisdom, would not realize that the strokes of their pens that are about to be remembered for thousands of years are actually spreading the blessing of Tzeentch.

Only one person knows.

Emperor.

I used to look up to him and admire him. Then I despised him and hated him. Now I understand him.

I understand why he is so anxious and why he wants to condense thousands of years of great work into a short period of one hundred years.

He has no time left, and humanity has no time left. We only have this one chance, and if we miss it, we'll miss it. He must have known what those four were going to do to us, so he was extremely anxious and wanted to turn everyone into tools.

For this, he allowed the Imperial Truth and the teachings preached by Lorgar to coexist. For this, he approved of the cruelty of the Night Blades, and even called it necessary. For this, he erased the Thunder Warriors, fabricated false history, executed dissidents, manipulated politics, won over the hearts of the people, and frantically took all power into his own hands. For this, he turned himself into a monster, a monster that could be used for anything and anyone could be calculated.

Only that time, only that time in Nikea, did he briefly break free from the shackles he had set for himself and show his true feelings in public.

I didn't understand it then, none of us did, we thought he was a tyrant, full of anger, and felt he had betrayed us - but in fact, he was trying to save us and his son.

That was a rescue.

I felt great regret, and my wanderings lasted for forty-two years until I was found by Malcador's men, who brought me back to the Sol System.

I saw with my own eyes the broken Terra and the many planet-level fortresses that were being built. I was very busy during that time, because Azek Ahriman somehow seemed to know that I would return to the solar system at this time, and he handed over all the affairs of the Legion to me in advance. So I stayed and was busy in endless government affairs for nearly two centuries.
It wasn't until the prototype textbooks for the Imperial Psychic Academy were written that I decided to leave.

Before leaving, the guards took me to the broken throne room floating in the universe. The fourth time, I went crazy, and the reason was no longer as tragic as the first three times.

If you think about it carefully, the reason this time can even be considered an honor - it's just that I can't bear this honor, that's all.

But I have to take it.

The consequences were so severe that I fell into a state of separation of soul and body. I woke up fifty years later, and the sequelae are still so severe that I can't deal with them. The first is you, the listener, I have been describing everything I have experienced and all my thoughts to you in my heart.

Second
I watched the sun slowly rise before my eyes.

He seemed to say something to me, but I didn't understand. His voice was very weak now, almost like a whisper. I tried my best to listen, but I still couldn't fully understand. I could only understand one word.

But it doesn't matter, I think I roughly understand what he means.
-
Kalil watched as Iskandar Khayon opened his eyes and came to him.

The ill-fated heir of the Red Prince had recently confided a secret to him: he had a way to communicate with an Emperor far away on Terra.

This sounded like the ravings of a madman, but it was not. The three people present knew that this was true. And Khalil knew more - this was a kind of protection for Khayon, and beyond that, it was also a necessary mechanism that could directly and completely destroy his soul and life at a certain moment.

It was cruel, but the man did not cover up or deceive, he did it with Khayon's permission.

"How's it going?" Khalil asked.

"His voice was muffled and weak." The Thousand Son hesitated, glancing sideways at Angron. "But he did point out one thing for us."

"Go ahead." The Son of the Mountains calmly gestured with his left hand. "Lorgar's situation can't be any worse."

Iskandar Khayon gave a wry smile at this remark.

"I'm afraid so." He said very, very, very slowly. "He wants us to continue to push your brother's situation. He wants him to go a step further, to reach -"

He took a deep breath.

"——The limit of hatred."

A few seconds later, Khalil stood up from the barren Gobi Desert, brushed off the dust on his body, and flicked his fingers, turning his coat into a dancing shadow.

It fell into his hands, and with great joy and enthusiasm it became a long, narrow, sharp blade.

Khayon saw Yago Sevitarion baring his teeth, like a beast that saw a threat. Then he saw Angron's expression turn darker than he had ever seen on his face before. Finally, he saw Khalil Rohars disappear into thin air.

Instead, there was that evil god.

Khayon clenched his fists coldly, feeling almost dazed.

"Very good," the god said, and thunder rolled, and dark clouds covered the sky of Nuceria. "Give me ten minutes."

After saying this, He turned and stepped into the cave.

(End of this chapter)