40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 842, Section 13: Interlude - The Serpent's Lurk

Omega jumped out of his bed.

Since he voluntarily boarded the Judge, he had never acted so swiftly. With a caution bordering on humility, he carefully controlled his body to ensure that he could have complete control over every moment he spent on the ship.

Mortals can do this too, but it takes a lot of effort and years, and they do it to make themselves stronger. But Omega is different; he does it to make himself weaker—on this ship, he must obediently tilt his head back, exposing his unprotected neck.

This is something that is hard to accept for a Primarch or anyone with dignity. The saying "A scholar can be killed but not humiliated" has countless similar expressions within the Empire, but in essence, it still only concerns a single word.

honor.

Throughout his life, Omega never paid any attention to this thing.

Don't misunderstand, he never looked down on it, and he knew how important it was. Whenever planning a mission, if it involved getting his hands dirty with the blood of innocent people, he would even go to great lengths to think about how to make their deaths more meaningful. The reputation of a soldier who died in battle and the compensation that his family would receive would be two completely different things.

However, caring about the honor of others and caring about one's own honor are not the same thing.
He did this merely to gain political leverage for his legion during the subsequent reckoning.
When his sons' lives were put on the scales, anything that could make them even slightly more useful was worth fighting for.

Of course, this is a very weak reason.

He himself is aware of this.

Omega walked slowly to the edge of his cell door, his slowness a stark contrast to the agility he had displayed moments before.

This was a last resort; his jailer was just an ordinary mortal with no special powers—at least not now.

Therefore, if he acts too aggressively, or too much like the Primarch, she is very likely to be startled.

Omega didn't want to see that scene, after all, she wasn't the only jailer.

He had recently experienced the extreme pain it could bring, and he didn't want to go through it again anytime soon, nor was it necessary.

He slowly opened the door.

The prisoner's cell door was unlocked, a truly absurd sight in a typical prison. However, even with the door fully open, the human guard sitting at his desk didn't even bother to glance at it.

She was as indifferent as a pure white gemstone standing aside, completely unconcerned about everything in the world—as for Omega's actions?
That's just a common person's self-inflicted trouble, the most insignificant of all the ten million trivial matters that need to be forgotten.

The remaining snake head gracefully stopped at the boundary between the cell door and the outside world, glancing out of the corner of its eye at the darkness surging in the deep corridor to its right, before smiling and speaking.

"Ms. Celestine."

The sound of the quill pen writing did not stop for him.

"There's something I want to tell you."

Omega tried his best to soften his tone; he was a master of disguise, but sometimes, even he couldn't completely hide his emotions.
Fortunately, the jailer didn't notice this.

She didn't understand him; nobody understood him.

The rustling sound gradually stopped, and the nun looked up from her pile of documents with a very displeased expression.

"What is it?" she asked. "What are you planning to do now?"

Omega raised her hands, her smile unchanged.

“I’m not here to make any requests of you, ma’am. Please believe me, I’m already very grateful that you’re willing to personally help me borrow the books.”

Sellers turned to face him and slowly shook his head.

"I won't believe a single word you say until that disgusting smile on your face disappears."

Omega perfectly masked a hint of confusion in his smile as he continued to observe the darkness out of the corner of his eye while slowly answering.

“I’m afraid you have a great deal of misunderstanding about me, but this is not the highest priority on our list of problems that we need to solve right now. I have something to say, Ms. Celestine.”

The former nun smiled with a hint of helplessness.

“Didn’t you already say that?” she retorted.

She simply couldn't understand how a Primarch could behave so shamelessly. Even though he was a traitor, even the Astartes who betrayed the Primarch would actively kill Xenomorphs. But this man, Celestine even suspected that he would collude with the Xenomorphs.

"No, I have something very important to say, not this kind of small talk."

Omega said, and secretly began to calculate the time, waiting for some so-called 'coincidence' to arrive.

He has always been like this, a master of calculation—no, not the meticulousness of Peturabo or Robert Guilliman, but an absolute perception of his surroundings. He has taken it to the terrifying level of 'foresight,' not exactly prophecy, but very close.

Within his spreading web of perception and spirituality, the Judgement Commander was about to be struck—by a force from the warp.

Sellers, unaware of what he was thinking, simply sighed and asked, "Well, what is it?"

Ten seconds left. Omega thought.

A shiver ran through him from the depths of his mind, a thrill akin to his first arrival on Terra and his first meeting with the Emperor. Though not quite as profound, it was enough to shatter Omega's previously flawless acting—in an instant, the smile vanished from his face, replaced by a calmness that Celestine had never seen on him before.

Then he said, "You have to lie down."

It took Omega about a third of a second to clearly pronounce the sentence.

It slowly plummeted to the ground, successfully drawing the attention of darkness and Celestine before shattering into pieces. The former had already sensed something, and it spread silently, while the latter remained completely unaware.

Looking at her, Omega instinctively discerned the confusion and wariness that Celestine was showing when she frowned. He chuckled inwardly at this uncharacteristic slowness of her demeanor.

"He's just a young man after all," the snake-headed man thought with a touch of melancholy.

He stepped out of the prison cell.

"Lie down," he said.

Gunfire flashed, and the nun fired without hesitation at his face.

The bullet, gleaming like fragments of the blazing sun, grazed his cheek. Though dodged, it still sliced ​​through his flesh, causing blood to splatter. This was, of course, Omega's deliberate act. He feigned surprise mixed with anger to provoke Celestine into continuing to fire, while subtly waving his left hand.

He himself couldn't say how many lives his hands had taken, but one thing was certain—he couldn't kill the thing charging at him.

Five seconds to go.

Larcher roared and tackled him to the ground, while Celestine, filled with murderous intent, pulled the trigger, riddling his chest with bullets.

Minced flesh flew everywhere, but the demon didn't lick it even a little bit more.

It became so engrossed in 'killing,' an act inherent to its very nature, that Omega couldn't even straighten his left hand, which it had bitten. In that indescribable amount of time, his entire left hand was rendered useless. Bones were destroyed, and flesh was completely gone.

However, that's enough; he has achieved his goal.

He opened his heart.

The demon froze.

In a time that did not belong to the material world, he met it in its entirety. So brief, yet so dazzling, it was awestruck, and Omega could taste a feeling he had never experienced before—the demon even wanted to retreat, because it felt it had done something wrong.

“No, you don’t,” Omega pleaded. “Now, please help me out.”

The demon answered with the same roar, covering his body.

Terra, what excruciating pain this is! Even Omega couldn't suppress the scream, but he didn't resist. He clenched his fists, doing nothing superfluous, and in the next second, he allowed Larcher to parasitize his very bones.

It replaced his missing left hand, and with it came strength.

Incredibly powerful, utterly extreme, it even stirred up the hatred he had suppressed deep within his heart. It transformed into a raging thunderbolt capable of destroying countless worlds, yet it showed no sign of danger, swirling effortlessly at his dark fingertips.

The demon began to wail.

"I'm sorry," it said. "I don't know what you mean."
No need. Omega thought.

He straightened up and looked at Celestine.

Two seconds left.

The nun's expression was truly fascinating, but that was no longer something Omega would care about at the moment.

With unparalleled self-control, he used less than a fraction of his power to conceal the nun's figure, briefly transporting her to another world where she no longer needed to consider anything in the material world.
For example, injuries, deaths, and the countless monsters that crashed into the starboard hull of the Judgement.

The demon that briefly resided in his bones and blood brought the answer to him with the power of darkness, presenting it to him without reservation.

Such lowly, lifeless beings could not defy it, and were not even aware that their true forms had been exposed to something far more dangerous. But Larch had no need to do so; the reason it was so forgiving was simply because it was filled with guilt at that moment.

Omega knew the reason—it had probably already seen what he had given.

I didn't say I wanted you to see them," he thought with a hint of amusement.

I'm sorry. Almost immediately, it apologized again.

Omega ignored it, and simply inhaled a deep, deep breath of cold air, which transformed into thousands of sharp knives that cut down his lungs through his trachea.

He knew this was one of the side effects of being so brutally possessed by the demon named Larch, and if he didn't get out quickly, it would probably devour him completely.

This matter is not something it or he can decide; it is born from the nature of evil, yet it transcends nature and can essentially be regarded as a law.

Everything has a price, and you have to pay it; there's no escaping it.

“Take me there,” Omega said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized that his voice sounded like two flints rubbing against each other, deep and terrifying, far exceeding the intimidation that the breathing grille could produce. He couldn't help but laugh, and his previously harmless chuckle now sounded like thunder.
Larch carried out this task without reservation, leading him through the darkness to the place where the monsters boarded the ship.

How many? Omega asked silently.

"Many, a great many—!" the demon hissed in his mind.

Okay. Then we'd better hurry up and get to it before you kill me. We should kill as many as we can, okay?
Larch stopped speaking and answered with action. Its speed and agility were just like all the judges from the wasteland, swift as lightning, ruthless and vicious. Omega didn't even realize what was happening before he felt a weight in his hand.

He looked down and found that a slender and sharp longsword had appeared in his right hand.

The sword was jet black, with silver edges gleaming. A scarlet eye stared at him from the curved hilt, its gaze a mixture of apology and instinctive rage.

Omega raised his head, looked at the group of monsters, and then stepped out of the darkness.

The first thing to discover his arrival died from an indescribable chill; its black raven feathers were swept into the air by a terrifying force, and its filthy ethereal flesh and the curse it contained were instantly obliterated by the lightning in the sword.

A certain hatred dissipated, and a wave of warmth followed, flowing into Omega's shattered body and healing his current pain.

Some illusory souls appeared before him along with the thing's death. They wore tattered black and white armor, their mutilated faces filled with astonishment, as if they couldn't believe that the person who understood this hatred was him.
But it's me.

It's just me now.

The snake head smiled slightly at them.

"Please give my regards to Kolus Corax, okay?"

He asked in that terrifying voice amidst the flames that were gradually rising inside the ship.

"You will definitely see him again, but I..."

He swallowed a mouthful of blood, stopped speaking, and plunged into the slaughter.

Where he left, the jailer, now without his prisoner, returned to the material world and looked around blankly.

It took her several seconds to realize what she should do, which was already a very fast reaction time. However, when she grabbed the specially made data pad at her waist, she found that there was already a line of text on it, sent five minutes ago.

It comes from Khalil Lohals.

【careful.】

"Be careful of what?" Sellersteen was about to ask when a new message arrived.

Abandon ship, land on the Salvation Planet in the shuttle, and meet with Soren Volker, Chapter Master of the Raven Guard. He will tell you what to do. Don't worry about the Inquisitor; those monsters were sent by me, and it will become their grave.

Cyrustin read the incomplete message three times carefully, and then sent a reply as he set off.

"My lord, Omega has escaped."

A few seconds later, the data panel lit up again, three times in quick succession, as if someone had sent the text, which could have been sent all at once, in three separate segments.

【No. 】

He was going to his death.

But I won't give him that chance.

(End of this chapter)