40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 808.5. Another Night Talk

For a moment, Norn Cobbane was horrified by what he had heard—he would not deny that his own mind had confessed to the matter.

"Yes, I'm scared," he thought. "Because I don't know what will happen next."

However, when he looked past the judge's uniform and saw those dark eyes, he snapped out of his daze.

The fear vanished, and the unwavering will forged in the crucible of war took complete control of the body, leading him past the reaction an Astartes would have upon hearing that their Primarch had been subjected to constant demonic attacks for millennia—he disregarded the constraints of genetic engineering and entered with absolute calm his most important role, aside from his identity as a 'progenitor'.

The weight of responsibility on his shoulders was immense, yet he became increasingly clear-headed.

"Will they come back?" the third company commander of Ashhammer asked seriously.

The judge glanced at him with surprise but also admiration, then nodded slightly and responded in a soft voice.

"Yes, they will come again. They will keep coming, one after another, endlessly. It has always been so throughout history. If a person wants to do something good, then he must face this vast amount of malice. However, they are not coming for Vulcan."

Ashhammer frowned, a sudden surge of intense alertness rising in his previously calm mind—his intuition seemed to be screaming at him not to ask any more questions.

He ignored it.

"So, who are they looking for?"

The judge did not answer the question. A scorching wind carrying radioactive dust swept by, and his black hair, which had been safely under the brim of his hat, was now whipped about, the jet-black strands dancing wildly like thousands of fine needles, obscuring his eyes.

At that moment, he looked like a strange creature from ancient mythology. He possessed human characteristics, yet this only intensified the unease he caused.

After the wind stopped, the judge's voice sounded very calm.

Horus Lupecal.

Several hours later, a worried Norn and his brothers returned to the chapter's encampment.

He had already spoken with Heridok, and the platoon leader who had rushed back didn't look much better than him after hearing the whole story. However, like Norn, he was the kind of person who wouldn't be crushed by pressure. Heridok then immediately decided to issue orders to recall the Salamander warriors currently active within the Nocturne system.

He believed that in this way, no matter how things developed afterward, they would at least have the strength to fight.
Norn agreed and did the same, but he had a feeling that if things really went to the worst, the number of troops would probably no longer matter, since Terra had only sent four people at most.

If this is a war that can be won by sheer numbers, then what comes must be a large army.

Lost in thought, he went to the command center alone. By the time he left, the battle group was already on high alert.

Darkness had fallen, and the raging sun of Nocturne had sank into the darkness, casting its intense light upon the people of the other half of the world. But here, the deep red of the dead volcano shone brighter than ever before, completely replacing the sun and making the night incredibly eerie.

As a native of Nocturne, Norn understood perfectly what this phenomenon represented.

Through the communication channel, he issued a few simple orders and inquired about the child he had brought back to the base during the day.
A moment later, he learned that the latter had already gone to sleep, which inexplicably put his mind at ease. But what needed to be done still had to be done. Tomorrow, he would have to ask Imo of Shitar what he thought. He could tell that Imo had come to the Death Volcano on behalf of his tribe.

If it weren't for the disaster that killed all the adult hunters, there would never have been a child whose body was not yet strong enough to hunt the dragon.
However, when it comes to fire dragons, the child probably doesn't know just how big a fire dragon is.

Norn smiled and turned to the watchtower in the center of the camp. However, when he got off the elevator and reached the top, he found that there were already people there.

"Good evening, Third Company Commander," the apothecary of the Dark Raven Guard greeted him.

He was perched on a sniper platform, fiddling with his prized sniper rifle. It was a weapon he'd received as a gift when he left the warband, originating from the Great Crusade—an ancient relic. For some reason, the Ravenguards seemed to have no shortage of such powerful artifacts, but a great lack of people to wield them.
Alvin always used this as an excuse to tell curious people why he got the gun, but Norn knew that wasn't the truth.

He went to the sniper's platform and sat cross-legged. Just then, several fully loaded gunboats carrying his newly enlisted comrades roared overhead, preparing to deal with the beasts that had crawled out of the lava due to the activity of the extinct volcano.

He felt the night wind gradually turning from hot to cold, and slowly opened his mouth.

What do you think of that child?

“A promising talent. If he’s willing, he’ll definitely become a reliable soldier,” the pharmacist said, then lowered his head and pressed it against the scope.

At that moment, his breathing suddenly became very shallow. Norn tried hard to imitate him, not wanting to be a factor that might interfere, but he couldn't quite get it right.
But that's probably irrelevant.

A second later, a shot rang out, and the massive recoil slammed the butt of the rifle into Alvin's shoulder like a hammer. He remained silent, as if it were second nature, and simply pulled the bolt to reload, catching the scalding hot cartridge case with his hand—he seemed to have a particular fondness for this ancient firing mechanism, even making the whole process somewhat poetic.

Norn appreciated his attitude.

"Did you hit it?" he asked jokingly.

"No," the crow guard said without looking up. "I missed."

"what?"

The crow guard finally raised his head, a look of surprise on his face: "What? Can't I miss?"

"Of course you can—I just didn't expect you to make a mistake."

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Alvin said softly. “Just make sure you don’t waste this hard-won second chance.”

He pulled the trigger again. Norn put on his helmet and looked into the distance, searching the night sky for the bullet powerful enough to shoot down the gunboat. Like a shooting star, it hurtled towards a spot in a pile of rubble thousands of meters away, eventually striking a lurking dragon-like beast.

The thing didn't even have time to make a sound when it died. Its body was powerless against the ancient violence that humans invented tens of thousands of years ago, and it was blown into pieces.

Norn turned around and saw the Raven Guards smiling at him.

He gave a light hum, took off his helmet, and said, "We have quite a few good snipers too." "Of course."

Norn had wanted to argue further, but this remark sapped his strength, and he couldn't help but smile.

"Okay, you cunning fellow, where did you learn this way of chatting?"

“Learning from the strengths of many.” Alvin shrugged mysteriously. “Generally speaking, it’s about taking a little from here and a little from there. It’s just that sometimes I take a lot more than I need.”

Ashhammer suddenly realized: "You must have been to the Nightblades!"

“Although the location where I was assigned to serve should be classified, I can assure you that I have never been there,” said Crow Guard as he got up and carefully removed the scope from his gun.

Undeterred, Norn pressed on, "Then, the subgroup?"

"No, the Night King's offspring don't need members of the Medical Association to help them. Have you forgotten who this organization is named after? Besides, to be honest, I don't really want to go either."

"what why?"

“Because when you meet them, you’re always given dried eel or other kinds of food,” Raven Guard said quietly. “I don’t understand why.”

Norn suddenly became interested: "Oh, I've heard of that kind of jerky—is it good?"

"It's delicious, of course, but if you eat enough, there's always a chance you'll find one or two pieces that aren't fully dehydrated. They'll wriggle in your stomach. I can't stand that feeling."

"So you always eat a lot?" Norn immediately seized on the key point.

The raven guard sighed, as if he regretted it somewhat.

He didn't answer the question, but instead focused intently on his work: unloading the bullets, disassembling them, then wiping and maintaining the parts on the spot, and finally packing all the components into a dark and heavy iron box.

After doing all this, he stood up, picked it up, and placed it on the side of the sniper platform.

The clanging of metal against metal seemed to be a trigger, followed closely by a massive black cloud on the horizon, which roared with thunder. Several bolts of lightning struck in quick succession, hitting the side of the extinct volcano, sending debris flying, whipping up a sudden gust of wind, and causing the lava to gurgle.
“It’s a sight to behold,” Alvin said. “I don’t see anything like this in my hometown.”

Norn looked at him with some surprise, carefully choosing his words before asking, "You want this to happen on your home planet?"

“Yes,” Alvin said. “These disasters are indeed terrible, but they are a part of the natural environment. Who can deny that? Although Nocturne is a dead world in the Empire’s classification, in my opinion, it is actually full of life.”

Ashhammer was initially angry, but he quickly realized what was behind those words and fell silent.

However, even this silence was noticed by Alvin.

The guard smiled and patted him on the shoulder with his outstretched arm.

"You don't need to worry about anything, my friend. In some parts of the world, the nights are extremely long, but daylight will eventually come; and in other places, there is no sun at all, yet haven't the people there developed a different way of life? I don't know if it's because they were changed by the environment or adapted to it, but in any case, I believe that humans can survive in the harshest environments."

“But things shouldn’t have been this way,” Norn couldn’t help but argue. “I don’t think anyone should—”

His words were interrupted by the expression on Alvin's pale face, an expression that any creature capable of understanding human expressions and possessing empathy should be able to recognize as signifying sadness.

Despite this, the crow guards continued to laugh.

That smile, like the sorrow, was genuine and not feigned. Norn was almost bewildered; he had heard about the savior's ordeal, and he couldn't understand why Alvin could still smile.

“—Yes, you’re right, Norn.” Ravenguard smiled calmly as he spoke. “No one should live in a barren and troubled world, but sometimes, that’s just how things are, and since it has happened, we can only accept it. We can’t go back in time to change it all; even from a purely theoretical point of view, that’s a flawed and self-contradictory fallacy.”

Ashhammer sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, but inwardly he hated the weakness and inadequacy of his words.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. The people of my homeland have accepted it all—to live, to survive, always. It’s the easiest struggle to begin, and the hardest to sustain. There are millions of ways to fight in the galaxy, and they chose this one.”

"They did not succumb to despair and disaster. Just as the Nocturne aliens viewed it all as a trial, they all fought against the misfortune that befell them in their own ways. I think this may be an instinct etched deep into the human gene pool."

Raven waved goodbye to him, then turned around, picked up the iron box bearing his legion's insignia, and took the elevator away from the watchtower, leaving Norn alone.

Ashhammer, his mind in turmoil, placed his hand on the cold railing of the watchtower and gazed into the distance. One slaughter after another was proceeding methodically through this far from peaceful night; the fire salamanders and Ashhammers would ensure that no beast could escape the Dead Volcano.

This has been going on for a very, very long time, long enough to be incorporated into tradition and become part of the Prometheusian Way that the sons of the dragon follow together.

But this is not a good thing, because 'tradition' means 'following', and people won't question why things are done this way, or even explore the reasons behind it.
Norn himself was no exception; if he hadn't learned about those things today, he probably would still see this as some kind of opportunity for young warriors to gain honor.

But now that he knows the truth, he is overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

A completely chilly wind swept by, making his dark skin as cold as stone. He stood there atop the watchtower until the last troop transport vehicle returned fully loaded, before finally descending via the elevator.
Then, a message caused a huge stir in the warband's communication channels.

—Vulcan specifically requested to see him, now.

Norn Corbene silently put on his helmet and strode toward the armory.

He was tired of not having a hammer in his hand, and Khalil Lohals wouldn't lie; since he said there were hordes of demons lurking beneath the Dead Volcano, he definitely needed a hammer.

(End of this chapter)