40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 847 18. NEWVERMORE (The End)

Everything has an ending, and people know this, but few people will actually bring it up halfway through.

More often than not, tacit silence is the mainstream response.

Tyne sometimes even thanks the first person in human history who invented it, thinking that this person was either a genius or a born idiot, otherwise how could one explain how this person could understand such art without a teacher?

And now he's going to use it.

The sky and the earth—everything—were no longer blood-red; silence enveloped everything, and the bluish smoke from the melting and disintegrating ethereal flesh drifted like a thin mist around everyone's ankles. The ground was still muddy, but it had lost that ominous, unsettling quality. Everything here, in a moment, became commonplace. Strange, but undeniably comforting.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Seral asked.

Tyne smiled and nodded, then cursed himself inwardly: Why didn't you follow the plan?

"Why?" the pharmacist pressed. "Aren't you still alive?"

He asked a crucial question, and Tyne thought to himself.

He turned to look at his old comrades. The ravens had reached some kind of consensus, choosing to put on their helmets, shut their mouths, and let him, a man of inherently harsh nature, explain everything.

This wasn't a good choice, at least not in Tyne's own opinion. He was fully aware of his terrible personality and had no intention of changing it. However, at this critical juncture, he did restrain himself somewhat.

This made his subsequent remarks less sarcastic and cynical.

“Only here can we truly be considered alive,” Tyne said to the apothecary and his squad with unusual patience, his tone cold and restrained. “Unlike you, we’ve been here far too long, long enough to have been assimilated by the environment. This is a mad world hovering between existence and non-existence, and so are we. Once we leave, we’ll only be swallowed up again by the Black Mark.”

Upon hearing this, one of the Raven Guards in the Serar squad immediately retorted, his voice hoarse and his speech rapid.

"Your explanation is utterly weak and unconvincing. Moreover, you are a veteran of the Great Expedition. Shouldn't you believe in the truth of the Empire? How can you utter such bizarre and superstitious words?"

Tyne suppressed the urge to laugh out loud, raised his hand, and pointed to the mountains of corpses melting in the raging flames and the boiling sea of ​​blood on the distant horizon in front of him.

“Imperial Truth?” he retorted, somewhat annoyed, almost uttering each word clearly. “Imperial Truth never mentioned these things; it’s nothing but a lie. It’s been a consensus for ten thousand years, and yet you’re using it to accuse me?”

The young Raven Guard who refuted him nodded, but his words still carried a strong sense of disapproval.

"Yes, it's a lie, but it at least conveys a way of looking at things: knowledge can overcome fear and enable people to understand things they couldn't understand before."

This made Tyne raise an eyebrow. He hadn't expected that ten thousand years later, there would still be someone in the Legion, no, the Warband, willing to learn the main contents of the Imperial Truth.

He stopped laughing, and his tone became much more serious.
"But you must understand that some things should not be understood or spread; they are toxic."

"This is certainly true for those who lack willpower."

Tyne almost laughed again; the part of his nature that he couldn't control suddenly erupted after a few seconds of restraint.

He sneered, "Willpower? You want to talk to me about willpower? Have you forgotten that you were just recently fighting against the Black Mark and almost tore your brothers apart?"

“That only proves one thing,” the young Raven Guard said. “That is, my will is weak.”

Tyne stared at him in disbelief, then at Seral. The latter, as the squad leader, remained expressionless and said nothing.

Tyne took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"According to your logic of willpower, it seems that all the difficulties we face can be overcome with willpower? You can use it to conjure bullets, food, turn night into day, and turn the legs of the charging enemy into cotton? Terra, how could our successor be so stupid!"

The young Raven Guard ignored the insult and simply said, "You are being sophistical. I never said that willpower could accomplish the things you listed. I'm afraid only very powerful psychics could make them come true."

Tyne stared at him for a while, then suddenly lowered his voice: "What's your name?"

“Selefis,” the young man said. “My brothers call me Bone Nest.”

"why?"

"I like to bring back the bones of my formidable enemies to decorate my room."

“Very good, Bone Nest, I’ll remember you. My name is Tyne.”

“It’s an honor to meet you.” Selphis nodded. “Now, please tell me something else—why do you feel you’ll die if you leave here?”

"Because that's the truth."

"Is there any evidence?"

Miraculously, Tyne remained patient in the face of this blunt questioning.

"Yes, every time that thing leaves here, it opens a small opening. We can reach the material world through that opening, but as soon as we leave, we immediately become very weak. It feels like being hit in the abdomen at close range by a bomb. You know in your heart that you are about to die."

Have you tested this?

“I tried.”

"Did someone die because of this?"

"Yes."

May he rest in peace.

“No need, Bone Nest.” Tyne smiled slightly. “He would be very happy if he knew that his death could make your blockhead see the light.”

Selefis remained expressionless, standing upright, showing no sign of being 'seriously injured'.

He was deep in thought, a fact not easily noticed; perhaps only Celar among those present discerned it. But that didn't matter, because they would soon all understand from Celefis's next words.

"Are you all already prepared to die?" Bone Nest asked solemnly.

The ravens looked at each other, still silent. Alastor Rorschach, seemingly detached from the group, silently approached and stood on the deserted side. The burning horizon was to his left, where the new generation of Raven Guards stood, while behind the thirteen ravens lay only darkness, as if nothing existed.

He watched and listened in silence, like a silent arbiter—no one noticed that a certain light was blooming at his feet.

“Yes,” Tyne answered for his brothers. “We never intended to leave here alive. We knew before we set out that it was a one-way trip, and now it’s done. The thing is dead, though not by us, as we had imagined. But it’s dead, and that’s enough. The tarnished name of the bird of prey can finally be cleansed. We have no regrets.”

“The Primitive Society is very disappointed with your ideas,” Selph said.

Tyne sighed almost imperceptibly.

Yes, he certainly can.
The scene from several hours earlier flashed before his eyes—the Lord of the Crows had torn apart the dark vortex in the sky and descended from the heavens with something in his arms.

Tyne didn't know how to describe the battle that followed, not because it was particularly intense, but because it was so uneventful—so uneventful that it hardly felt like an ending. How many innocent people had been affected by this curse that had raged for so long?

It should have had a tragic ending. At least that's how he imagined it.

But it died just like that, so easily: Corius Corax pierced its chest with both hands.

The truly important things happen after it dies.

For the crow guards, the word 'bird of prey' has two meanings.

First, there are the super-Raven Guards born from the technology bestowed upon them by the Emperor. They were given this glorious title and high hopes, but ultimately disappeared into the annals of history. Second, there is a term specifically used to refer to a demon.

This monster was born from the rebellion leader Eribas, or more precisely, from his curse. It is the embodiment of that curse, a living nightmare.

Tyne was present as it gradually took shape from the roaring forces of chaos; he witnessed firsthand the corpses of his brothers being sucked into the black vortex that emerged from the raised hands of Erebas.
What emerged from it was a gigantic creature called a Raptor, tens of meters tall.

Every part of its body is made up of the crow guards who had died. Their lost lives were returned in a distorted way, but their souls were trapped in the distorted shell, suffering eternal torment.

Tyne could see this clearly in their pained faces.

He understood then that what Erebas wanted to do to them was no longer just revenge. And he wasn't surprised; Erebas was just that kind of pure beast, never stingy with his malice, and never hiding it.

He failed to get what he wanted from the Raven Guards, so he would make them suffer terribly, and he would do so in the most despicable way possible.

The bird of prey was eventually banished, but it did not die.

Everyone understands that this is not the end.

The 19th Army Corps suffered heavy losses and it took more than two hundred years to barely recover.

Corax summoned them in the third hundred years.

Tyne still remembers the fierce argument that broke out on the training field that day, with everyone giving their opinions until Corax spoke up again.

He said he only needed 600 men because "the legion now has only 725 men left." He added, "These 600 men cannot include junior officers, technical sergeants, pharmacists, or even those who have entered the Dreadnought, let alone new recruits."
His intentions were crystal clear, and this time there was no more arguing. The Ravenguards obeyed his orders, but not for the simple, foolish, and self-evident reason that he was the Primarch and they were his children. Although it was a good reason to give up thinking, they refused to do so.

From a very early age, they have been an army that knows what it is fighting for, and that is something they are fundamentally proud of.

Therefore, they agreed to Kolaus Corax's order for only one reason: they all understood that the war for the Salvation was never over. The Ravenguard had a responsibility to end it.

324.M31, 7.22, that's the day it all began, Tyne remembers it clearly.

On this day, the six hundred chosen, along with the Lord of the Crows, embarked on this endless hunt. Those who remained had to shoulder greater responsibilities.

A gust of wind interrupted Tyne's thoughts. He instinctively drew his sword, looked up, and searched for his target, only to find the silent 'Raven' Alastor Rorschach and the glowing magic circle in front of him.

"what are you doing?"

Tyne frowned as he asked, sheathing his sword as he did so, his voice inevitably carrying a hint of complaint.

"Next time, remember to remind me first. You know I'm the kind of person who likes to draw my sword at the slightest sign of trouble—"

The crow shook its head, bent down to pick up a stone, and with a flick of its wrist, threw it at Tyne. The latter neither dodged nor avoided it, but stood there in astonishment, completely bewildered as to why Rorschach had done this.

He instinctively raised his hand to catch the stone, but Rorschach had already thrown the second one. This stone was slightly larger than the first, enough to smash an ordinary person's head open and cause them to bleed.

Tyne snapped out of his daze, frowned, and threw the first stone, sending the two stones colliding in mid-air and shattering into pieces.

The fragments and dust fell like mist, disappearing into the light and vanishing.

The crow pointed at it.

“Speak, you mute,” Tyne cursed.

Alastor Rorschach chuckled, shook his head, bent down to pick up the third stone, and threw it into the magic circle. The stone vanished without a trace.

The crows watched this scene in silence. Some of them had already realized something, and Tyne was one of them, but he refused to accept it.

He pressed his hand on the sword, his left fingers stroking it incessantly, and only spoke after several seconds of contemplation.

“You should know that we came here voluntarily, right, Rorschach?”

The crow nodded.

"When we set out, we had six hundred men, but after several hunts, only four hundred and thirty-nine remained. The more that thing killed, the faster it killed. Its killing techniques were exactly the same as ours, as if a veteran of the Nineteenth Legion was carefully teaching it. This was extremely bad news, but it still couldn't compare to what came next."

Tyne paused briefly, his gaze sweeping over the young Raven Guards who were listening intently to his words.

“It has evolved, Rorschach. It has learned to disguise, to lurk, to hide, and to attack suddenly. It is starting to look more and more like us.”

One of the ravens that had been standing silently behind Tyne suddenly spoke, interrupting him. Although the voice-changing unit of the breathing grille was not turned off, Tyne could still tell that it was Graf speaking.

“The Unborn feed on souls and emotions; without these, they cannot survive,” the raven leader slowly began. “The raptors are among them. Moreover, Eribus sacrificed the demonic tide he summoned to bring it into existence, and many of these were extremely powerful individuals.”

"Therefore, from the very beginning, birds of prey possess a terrifying greed that they themselves are unaware of. As we hunt them, this instinct is gradually unleashed. The weakness after battle forces them to seek food, and wild beasts will not turn back to where they are, so they begin to devour themselves. To be precise, they devour our brothers who make up their bodies. Bones, flesh, armor, even memories and souls, they spare nothing."

He paused, his voice now carrying a hint of amusement.

"It was at this moment that our brothers decided to begin their revenge."

Serra had been listening quietly at first, but now he could no longer remain silent. The 'poisonous knowledge' that Serrafis and Tyne had been discussing, using Imperial Truth, was now being sung eloquently by Graf.
Numerous questions swirled in his mind, and he should have spoken them aloud, but Serefis was faster than him.

"Is it as I think?" Bone Nest asked seriously.

“Yes.” Graf nodded, then casually continued, “They used themselves as nourishment, feeding it. The hunger of a raptor is never satisfied, but it can be masked and reversed.”

“It stopped fighting us after that,” Tyne continued. “Instead, it ran away. It’s probably the most pathetic demon in the world. Even low-level vampires have some kind of self-awareness, but it doesn’t. Its mind is full of memories that have nothing to do with it.”

"It might feel like a veteran of the Terran Nineteenth Legion one moment, and a child of the Savior the next, a true raptor the next. It doesn't even know where it is; it just wants to go home, back to the Savior, back to Raven Tower. And in the minds of those it has devoured, the Savior and Raven Tower are being burned by war."

At this point, Tyne could no longer contain his smile.

But how can one describe that smile? Ferocious? Sad? Complex? No, none of those. No words can accurately express everything within it.

Seral couldn't help but take a step back, his gaze sweeping over Tyne's old MK3 suit, every irreparable battle scar on it seeming to roar fiercely.

Finally, he spoke in a low voice.

"So that's why, that's why you keep showing up in places where there's almost nothing left but war. You're chasing after them."

“And all it wants is to go home,” Tyne laughed. “It just wants to go back to Raven Tower! What a pathetic monster!”

This bloody and cruel story gradually came to an end amidst his laughter.

Those who experienced it firsthand all chose to remain silent, while the listeners had no idea what to say. Silence descended once more, except for the magic circle at Alastor Rorschach's feet, which remained brightly lit.

The crow stared intently at it, as if everything around it was completely irrelevant to him.

The raven emblem on the side of his shoulder armor and the bat-wing-shaped metal badge hanging below it inexplicably achieved a kind of inappropriate harmony, both reflecting a dull light.

A few minutes later, he clicked off the helmet hanging on his belt and put it on solemnly and seriously.

At the same time, the light of the magic circle began to shine brighter than ever before, and the voice of Kolus Corax came from it.

“The Nineteenth Army Corps,” he said. “Assemble before me.”

The old ravens instinctively wanted to go over, and some even moved their feet, but in the end they remained standing in the same place.

The young Raven Guards all walked over, stopped, and formed ranks of five, their armor tattered and their expressions solemn. They gazed silently at the old men behind them, who were now nothing but darkness and nothingness, in the ever-growing light.

Seral's lips moved; he wanted to speak, but he couldn't.

Finally, the bone nest opened.

“You bunch of bastards,” he growled. “You’re not even willing to try and see if things will be different this time.”

“No, we’ve actually tried,” Tyne said to him, his tone so gentle it was hardly a matter of life and death. “We’ve been trying for years to figure out how to get through to what you just heard. We’ve tried twenty-two times.”

Alastor Rorschach watched all this silently, remaining silent, only tapping the raven emblem on his shoulder.

The light shone brighter than ever before.

"The Nineteenth Legion!" the Lord of the Ravens roared. "Assemble before me!"

The old ravens remained motionless, but one of them removed his helmet and pleaded, "Primarch, we are already dead, why bother with this?"

"You are disobeying orders, Zarik!"

“Yes, Primarch,” the old raven, whose name had been called, laughed. “You may lower my rank in the post-war report for this, and I am willing to accept the punishment.”

Behind the helmet, Rorschach frowned, a rare occurrence for him.

Looking at his stubborn old comrades, he pondered for a moment, then finally reached out and tore off the small insignia hanging from his shoulder armor, gripping it tightly in his palm. A metallic twisting sound flashed by, black mist dissipated from his hand, and the figure of the High Inquisitor appeared.

He looked at the crow with surprise, who nodded silently. He sighed and said nothing more, turning to the ravens.

"Aren't you leaving yet?" he asked calmly, taking off his hat.

The veterans looked at each other, and Graf spoke with a wry smile.

"Instructor."

"Hurry up, there's still a lot of work waiting for you outside. This is a good time for Savior Star to rebuild everything."

Khalil urged, his gaze sweeping sternly over each raven.

“Your brothers and your Primarchs are already working themselves to the bone, and you’re still thinking about slacking off here? Get together and line up! The magic array that your junior think tanks have painstakingly set up consumes a huge amount of psionic energy every second it’s maintained!”

"But--"

"—No buts!" Khalil interrupted him, a rare occurrence for him. "Line up, soldiers! We'll handle the rest!"

A flurry of footsteps sounded, and the light went out ten seconds later. There were no more Dark Raven Guards left alive. Only Alastor Rorschach and Kalil remained standing, gazing side by side at the gradually dissipating crimson sky above them.

Half a minute later, Khalil sighed.

The crow shut its beak, shook its head, made a series of sign language gestures, smiled slightly, and put on its helmet.

A black mist swept in and enveloped them.

(End of this chapter)