40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 553 71. Dark Crusade (V, Horn of War)

Dark purple, indigo and faint white light shone in through the portholes, illuminating some unmanned long tables in the Executive Yuan very eerily. The stepped structure made these tables look majestic even if no one was there.

They are redundant tables, as the Ultramarines only have ten Captains. But Roboute Guilliman's designs always had a strange sense of foresight, and this has been proven many times, and the Primarch's wisdom always helps everyone in the smallest details.

If you want to give a recent example, then it is his improvement of the Skyhawk style.

When he announced this, the Mechanic-Priests on the forge world of Konnor thought it was not necessary at all, until Robert Guilliman went in person and placed a copy of the design on their chief's desk. .

In fact, compared to the ordinary model, the improved model has not changed much in essence. It is nothing more than adding some energy pipelines, strengthening the armor plate, optimizing the exhaust, and changing the arrangement of artificial muscles to increase output.

However, just these few small changes increased the survival rate of the Astartes by six percentage points when facing an insect wave.

The elders of the Chapter often say that even the Primarch's bodyguards may not understand what he is thinking. This is sad to say, but it is the fact.

The truth is, Robert Guilliman's mind is something incomprehensible even to his descendants.

If you try to understand, you will only be poisoned.

What was stuck in the original body's radiant white eyes was a heavy pressure that could in turn corrode him. Even he will grow old and tired under this kind of pressure, and even howl in his sleep.
So, why can they accept it?

"We need to stop for maintenance." The Unconquerable Lieyang spoke slowly.
He spoke these words to his brothers and Primarch, surrounded by stacks of papers and a dozen dataslates.

His expression was serious, and this seriousness was composed of many factors. For example, the hull is damaged, or the crew is reduced, leaving a large number of jobs unavailable.

For a Queen of Glory battleship, the former can be ignored for the time being, but the latter is the most unbearable thing. From engine maintenance to shield inspection functions, to those hungry machine souls on the gun deck who are always eager to fire.
Every place needs people, and preferably workers who are trained and know what they should and shouldn't do.

"Andemang could be an option," Idaios mused.

He was thinking about another thing, but this did not prevent him from answering the words of the company commander. They - the Astartes - already bear the blood of the Primarch, so it is no surprise that they possess Robert Guilliman's gift.

Some people in the empire even feel that they are not living people, but replicas, degraded versions of the Primarch, controlled by himself.

This statement is blasphemous, but it is very popular among those worlds that have never seen the Primarch. People would rather believe that these giants wearing similar armor are not actually people, rather than regard them as separate individuals.

"Underman, I would rather choose Connaught." Another voice said.

That was Maximus Apaces, the sixth captain of the company. His company did not play a big role in the riot, and this incident has made him very gloomy recently. For the Astartes, failure to shoulder their responsibilities in battle is a grave disgrace.

Still, he was able to keep his cool, something Idaios was thankful for.

You know, the Sixth Company is an armored company. As we all know, people who deal with powerful war machines all year round usually don't have a good temper. Maximus has a temper that can stand out among even the most violent Ultramarines.

His words were widely agreed upon. Third company commander Janus Adeas, eighth company commander Ledo Asius and ninth company commander Xinon all expressed their agreement immediately, and the matter began to be mentioned quickly. Discuss before serving.

Almost every company commander expressed his opinion. Second company commander Ekis believed that Connaught was far away and was not suitable to be used as a temporary stopping point in the current situation.

Fifth Captain Kazir expressed his opposition. He believed that distance was not the point. The top priority was to fully restore Macragge's Glory, and that Konnor's resources would be very useful in the coming war.

Captain Antilochus of the Tenth Company echoed his opinion, but seemed a little absent-minded. Idaos observed him and quickly came to the conclusion that the Tenth Company Commander was grieving for the lost recruits.

Looking at the entire battle group, only the officers of the 10th Company are so familiar with these new blood, and in war, new recruits always suffer heavy casualties. Even the Astartes cannot escape this law of war
The only advantage is that the 10th Company, like other companies, has reserves on various planets that can be called upon at any time.

These 'new recruits' who have fully grown up under the guidance of the local military academy and a few veterans can officially join the battle group at any time and join the war. But they are a force that will only be used in emergencies. Major companies will not call them in unless absolutely necessary.

Idaos sat quietly, observing his brothers from a distant angle, watching them quarreling with each other like the most vulgar hive gangsters, and apologizing to each other like the most elegant nobles in the court.

Their voices echoed endlessly in the Executive Yuan, as dull as the thunder and lightning hidden in the clouds in the spring of Andemang. This oppressive feeling made Idaos feel a chill on his skin.

He sensed that war was calling. These days, the cold has hit him countless times. Razlion, who was sitting silently in the corner, once said that this was a rare psychic talent. His tone at that time did not sound like he was joking.

And Idaos knew that he had no psychic talent. This is just an intuition, an intuition that can only be born after a human being is broken in the war and healed in the war.

His teeth were trembling, and his skin was as cold as if he had been thrown naked under a glacier. The pale snow-capped mountains suppressed him, preventing him from breathing, seeing light, or even thinking.
War is coming. Idaos thought with rage.

He did not participate in the discussion. He sat quietly, waiting for another alienated person to speak.

The man's name was Robert Guilliman. He stood at the front of all the long tables with his arms crossed, with a vast and detailed star map behind him, his expression unusually calm. Beside him stood another man, who looked very inconspicuous next to the Primarch, like a Chapter servant.

Guilliman waited until the noise died down before speaking.

"We go to Undermount," the Primarch said in an unquestioning tone, completely different from his previous one.

He received the approval of all but Idaios, even though he was the one who proposed it. The Fourth Captain stared at his primarch with his eyes, the worry in his heart turning into a kind of ocean, dragging himself into the deepest depths.

Khalil Lohars nodded to him noncommittally.
-
Dante, or Luis Dante, took off his helmet.

His white face was dripping with sweat, and the night wind mixed with the smell of gunpowder smoke and blood blew in, causing the warrior braids tied up and wrapped around his neck to sway.

This scene reminded him of the time when he was on the Moon many years ago. Unfortunately, everything in that desolate world had already left him, leaving only Dante, the Chapter Master of the Blood Angels. The attendant of the original body, the right hand of Sanguinius, the majesty and sharp sword of the archangel - an existence that is also regarded as a symbol by people.

People in the solar system have forgotten that Dante is a warrior, and people in other areas of the empire have never heard of his existence. Maybe someone knew it in the past, but now it has passed, and time is enough to bury everything.

He smiled, and his sharp teeth poked out of his lips, looking a bit ferocious, but he didn't have that kind of threat, nor did he have any desire to drink blood.

The thirst for blood had long gone away during the years of being with Sanguinius, and Dante always remained rational. Although killing still triggered his instincts, he was able to control them, just like he controlled his sword.

He stared down at the weapon in his hand.

Dante saw an absolutely deadly weapon that had flown from the other side of the galaxy with a reward many years ago and was delivered to him from the Salamanders.

Their Primarch, the Great Vulkan, heard of Dante's deeds during the daemon invasion and rewarded him. In the official rhetoric, this is because he single-handedly protected the Nocturne blacksmiths in that fortress, but the real situation is not actually the case.

The group of blacksmiths were nominally on a pilgrimage to Terra from Nocturne, but in fact, they were Vulcan's tribe—not his sons, but his tribe, a group of blacksmiths with otherworldly skills.

At the cost of their own hands and blood, they delivered one of the Fire Dragon Lord's masterpieces to Terra.

Dante didn't know what it was. In fact, he didn't even know that there were any living people other than him in the fortress during the battle. Therefore, when the giant ax was handed to him, his first reaction was to refuse. .

It was Sanguinius who persuaded him to accept it.

In the bright blue light emitted by the giant axe, Dante raised his head and looked at the sky. He saw a bright meteor streaking across the night sky. It was really as bright as a star, even enough to light up half of the night sky.

And Dante knew that that was not a shooting star, that was his genetic father. Sanguinius had not flown in many years, and although it was known that he could fly, that he was the only being who could physically conquer the skies, he no longer flew.

Dante once asked why after a dinner party.

"Oh, it is quite simple, my son," Sanguinius said. "People want to see me fly because it inspires them. But I can do the same thing just by being in front of them, and again, I only flap my wings in two situations. "

Dante remembered that he was silent for a long time before asking further questions.

"The first is after the war. I often do this. I will fly up to the sky to get a bird's-eye view. The strong wind will tear the blood off my armor, and the high and wide field of vision will allow me to see everything on the battlefield."

"I want to know how many people died because of my orders, and I also want to know how much glory these people gained because of their own hands before they died. I swear, Dante, I will remember all this."

"Living is an extremely precious gift. I only need one word to make countless people give it, so I must be cautious. However, you also know that no matter how cautious you are, death is inevitable in war. Things"

"So I will fly, and the living will see me, and when they see me, they will know that it is Sanguinius mourning the dead."

"The second case is simple - I fly to win. If the war requires me to fly, then I take off. I go to the enemy with my sword and behead them, simple as that."

So what now, father?

Dante watched the meteor gradually move away from him, and asked silently: Are you mourning for us now?

If Sanguinius could hear, he would answer. But now he was ten thousand meters above the ground, and the whistling wind was the only thing he could hear.

Several Thunderhawks flew past him and headed towards another part of the battlefield. The world above the clouds was dark and lonely, and the stars hung mottled on the curtain.

A huge fleet led by the Red Tears is parked in the outer orbit and is not approaching to avoid causing natural disasters such as tides. Staring up from Sanguinius's perspective, they almost look like giant black shadows in a mirror.

He glanced at his flagship, then plunged into the clouds and swooped down. The wet water droplets turned into crushed ice, hanging in the cracks of the golden armor and making a crunching sound.

Sanguinius's blond hair was flowing, and his eyes were as bright as the sun at noon. He saw everything clearly.

Craters left by artillery shells, broken corpses, guards wearing simple armor and holding light guns, political commissars receiving treatment not far away, personnel carriers that were about to be scrapped with black smoke, tanks undergoing repairs and busy people. crew members.

Not far from them were the Astartes clad in ceramite. They had just finished a bloody war, and the pharmacist was harvesting gene seeds from the remains of his dead brother.

The joy of victory and the mourning of the dead coexisted among them, and the corpses of the traitors were being purified by the flames of promethium in the excavated cremation pits. The flesh and blood of the demons have long since turned into etheric spirits and dissipated.
Yes, this is the truth of war. Honor is something acquired. There is no honor in war, only the dead and those who are lucky enough to survive.

They knew what they were fighting for, so they fought and died.

Sanguinius watched all this sadly.

He was flying again, and he was not happy about it, because he knew that this was just the beginning.

The war is over, but it is just a clarion call.

Everything that happens in this agricultural world is just a precursor, and like itself, it is insignificant to this fleet, just a small episode along the way.

Even without the participation of other battle groups, the Blood Angels took the lead and won within ten hours. However, this victory was just the beginning.

The long-dormant war instinct in Sanguinius's body was awakening, telling him that a bloody storm was approaching.

But where will it come?
(End of this chapter)