40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 584 102. Dark Crusade (Twenty-six, meeting with 'Father')
Thunderhawks streaked across the sky and the deck shook as Sevita squeezed his legs together and pushed himself into a seat with difficulty.

His current size is not close to that of the original body, but he is still much taller than the ordinary Astartes, coupled with the finely crafted power armor and the slightly obstructive cloak.
To put it bluntly, his current posture is quite ridiculous. Although no one said it clearly, Sheikh Lenghun was staring at him intently.

Savita buckled the four seat belts and gave a cold look in return. The supreme leader chuckled and raised his finger to the front cabin.

Dreadnoughts can be transported there, and the empty weapon racks are reflecting the dim light. Savita glanced at it and narrowed his eyes.

There is no need to say more about what Lenghun meant, but Savita didn't say anything, and just made a gesture with a slight displeasure.

The cabin began to tremble continuously, and the strong airflow encountered after liftoff was an unavoidable dilemma for any vehicle. Perhaps those modified shuttles specially used by nobles could resist it, but there was no such thing in the design language of the Thunder Eagle. This kind of thinking.

Sevatar closed her eyes and slowed her breathing as if she had fallen asleep. In the realm of nothingness invisible to ordinary people, a strand of spiritual essence jumped out from his armor and body and began to float around Thunder Eagle.

It was already past noon, but the sunshine was not diminished at all. There were many white clouds floating in the seemingly normal light blue sky, and the thunder eagles flew over mercilessly, tearing them to pieces.

Savita watched all this with cold eyes, but a sensory net suddenly bloomed with him as the center point, encompassing everything around him.

Normally, he wouldn't have to do anything, but it was different now. Today, the planet's situation has become overly complex.

Orcs, Chaos, and Robert Guilliman who appeared out of nowhere. If the real Robert Guilliman came here, Sevatar believed that he would never be indifferent.

The Lord of Macragge became an eternally burning forge many years ago.

He used his own pain as firewood and turned the rising flames into shields to protect innocent people.

The brilliance of the flame was so dazzling that Sevatar could clearly see it before he was forced to 'promote', let alone now.
He opened his eyes, and the spiritual essence returned to his body in an instant. The Thunderhawk began to land, and the heavy explosive bombs carried under the wings were warming up.

Sevatar could hear their chilling sounds. He had heard them so many times that he would probably never get used to them.

And the sound could only prove one more thing: the Sons of Calth had made some kind of preparation.

The cabin slowly opened, and amid the sound of machinery running, Savita took the lead and walked out of the cabin.

As the strong wind gradually picked up, their gunboat did not turn off its engines. All three sets of engines maintained low power and were ready to take off at any time.

The gunners were already manipulating turbolaser destroyers and heavy explosive bombs to target the city-state not far away from them. If there is any movement, they will fire immediately.

Five night blades followed closely and walked out from the other side of the cabin, standing in the sun with a vigilant posture. Sevatar turned his head and glanced at Hectes Calgio standing behind him.

His eyes were like a sharp blade that penetrated Calgio's helmet and entered his mind.

With a twinge of pain, the son of Calth looked back speechlessly. He saw a pale, half-smiling face.

"From the perspective of the Middle Ages, even if this city is called a fortress, it is not an exaggeration." Saiweita said meaningfully.

"How about it? Do you think normal knights and their serfs can build such a city? Look carefully at the city wall. It is made of metal."

Calgio took a deep breath.

"Your jokes are still as bad as ever, Master Sevita." Sheikhel Lenghun said mercilessly.

He made this point clearly, even in a serious tone.

The natural acumen inherited from the blood of Konrad Curze and a certain intuition as the Blade of Judgment are gradually becoming one in the burning hot wind. If he is willing to take off his helmet, then everyone present at this time You can see his trembling eyeballs.
But he would not take off his helmet, neither he, nor Sevatar, they would take off their helmets.

The reason must be found in a group of stunned civilians not far away.

Calgio walked towards them, walking as slowly as possible.

He didn't want to arouse 'superman phobia' or make them misunderstand that he was going to attack. Although Sevita's implication and the city scene he saw in the sky had aroused some bad emotions, he was a Stubborn people.

For all intents and purposes, Calgio believed he had to act rationally.

"Hello-" he greeted, trying to keep his voice as low as possible, and took off his helmet at the same time.

Although the people of Calth are naturally pale, at least they are not as pale as the children of the night, who look almost inhuman or deathly pale.

To put it more clearly: he is one of the few people in this small coalition who looks like a human being.

Calgio stopped ten steps away from the civilians. He stared at them with a look that could not be described as kind, but not malicious either.

"—Is this Narrows?" Calgio asked.

No one answered, and the civilians holding hoes or shovels looked at each other in uneasiness, fear, and unbearable amidst the unpleasant burning smell of orc corpses and the thick mist caused by chemicals.
Calgio could even faintly hear their mumblings stuck in their throats.

He remained calm, listening to the sound of horse hooves coming from the east, and stood calmly. Two minutes later, a panting knight jumped off his horse and stood in front of the civilians.

Several other people followed closely, riding horses, but they were not as courageous as the first knight and dared to dismount.

They just stayed on their horses hesitantly, pulling at the reins and turning back and forth. The war horse wore a blindfold and couldn't see Calgio's presence, but it seemed to feel something and became extremely uneasy.

The son of Calth took in all this and remained indifferent, just holding his helmet and waiting quietly.

Amid the narrations of the civilians, another four minutes passed, and the only knight who dismounted finally left the civilians.

He walked towards Calgio with a pale face, holding the sword on his waist with his left hand. He walked as far as he could bear before speaking.

"who are you?"

"Is this Narrows?" Calgio asked again.

The knight took a deep breath. The gray beard perfectly covered his fear. On the face that was aged by the war, Calgio saw a pair of fearful but determined faces.

"Yes - but who are you? And those people standing behind you. Where do you come from? Which lord's private soldiers are you?"

The Emperor, and Robert Guilliman. Calgio thought so.

"This has nothing to do with you," Calgio said calmly. "Now to answer the second question: Have you ever heard of the name Robert Guilliman?"

A certain kind of whistling sound suddenly sounded after the question was asked. The speed was so fast that Calgio had no time to dodge, but he didn't need to.

He turned around and saw Yago Severtarion and a huge sword in his hand. That sword was not for mortals, not even for the Astartes. It was too big, too thick, and stained with blood.
"Who are you?" a voice asked.

Calgio gritted his teeth and looked back, seeing a young face. There were no wrinkles on that face caused by pain and exhaustion. His eyes were as bright as the surface of a lake, and his blond hair was flying, full of vitality.

This face was different from the one Calgio was familiar with, but he could still recognize whose face it was because of this.
He fell into an unexplainable rage.

Sevatar held out his hand to stop him.

"Who are you?" The Son of Night spoke slowly. "Or should I say, who do you think you are?"

His words made the young giant frown. More soldiers were coming and gathering behind him.

The few cavalrymen who had not dared to dismount now finally had the courage. They drew their weapons and stood behind the man, staring closely at Sevita and the others.

Farther away on the city wall, the sound of archers drawing their bowstrings came to Sevatar's ears from the wind.

How similar. he thought coldly. Leader, idol, protector.
He turned his head to look at Hector Calgio, who was clenching his teeth.

Seeing with his own eyes the impact of seeing a younger version of his genetic father on him was really visible to the naked eye.

His rationality and willpower when facing the demonic tide disappeared without a trace at this moment. Perhaps, he could calm down and pick up those precious things again, but this is not something he can do now.

In this regard, Sevatar sympathized with him.

All Astartes are like this, no matter how good they are, they will be affected by their blood. Those who were able to disobey their father, or reject this influence, were few and far between, and most were not even aware that the Primarch did not do everything right.

Even I am the same. Savita laughed at himself secretly: What qualifications do you have to pity him?

He grasped the giant sword tightly and then lifted it up easily.

"Are you going to start a war? This won't end well for you." He reminded the other person kindly. "I don't want to see things come to that."

"Watch who you're talking to!" someone roared. "You are talking to the son of the God-Emperor!"

Sevatar looked at the man, smirked behind his helmet and nodded. His cold skull mask added a huge amount of chill to this supposedly frivolous action, as if he would launch an attack in the next second.

"Son of the God-Emperor. Indeed, Robert Guilliman is indeed the Emperor's son, but -"

Sevatar saw with satisfaction that the giant raised his right hand and began to restrain his army. However, what happened next was somewhat beyond his expectations.

He saw the giant turn around and implore the knights, commoners, and soldiers alike to return to the city in earnest words. Rational, serious but gentle, and even listed the reasons why he should do this.

With his efforts, the originally tense atmosphere disappeared, and people reluctantly returned to the city.

Robert Guilliman was left alone and unarmed to meet what they considered an evil visitor from another realm.

Sevatar was not interested in their glares. He just stared intently at the young face. He was sure of one thing again, there was no grievance haunting this false Primarch.

Moreover, he really didn't sound any different from Roboute Guilliman just now. Maybe, but Sevatar couldn't tell the difference.

He even felt that only someone who was very familiar with the past Guilliman, such as Marius Gage or Ionid Hill, could hear the difference.

He dropped his sword, took off his helmet, and walked straight towards the giant who was taller than him.

The latter briefly looked a little stunned. Apparently, he didn't expect the face behind the helmet to be so similar to a ghost.

Sevatar walked until he was in front of him, then stopped, and then spit out a cold conclusion.

"You are not Robert Guilliman. I believe you know this yourself, right?"

The young giant took a deep breath, then nodded slowly.

"Of course I know I'm not him." He replied in a low voice. "But they insist on calling me that, they feel I am therefore I must be."

"This city is being severely tested by the greenskin offensive. For them, having a walking demigod means hope and victory."

"But I know that I am not him, so if you are here because I assumed his identity and name, I hope you will at least let them go. Those people are innocent and they just want to live."

He took another deep breath, and his expression turned faintly expectant.

Savita knew what he was thinking at a glance. He habitually showed a slightly sarcastic smile, and then shook his head.

"No, we are not here to check for him who is pretending to be his staff. We are a group of killing machines born the day after tomorrow. We are one of the masterpieces of human genetic engineering. We are the Astartes."

He saw the young face briefly trance-like.

very good. Sevita thought.

There was one thing that he had noticed from the first time he saw this fake object. Strictly speaking, it couldn't be called a 'thing', but rather a 'smell'.

The smell of some flamboyant bird, the fetid smell of some supernatural being that doesn't exist in the real world.

Very light, very weak, but still detectable by him.

Sevatar slowly raised his right fist and then clenched it.

Calgio and the young giant both looked at him in confusion until a few seconds later, a loud noise came from inside the city.

The giant turned around in shock and saw the billowing smoke. When he looked at Sevita again, the expression on his face had turned into a kind of fury that Sevita was quite familiar with.

"How dare you-!"

He lunged at him.

Sevatar sighed and ducked.

Get the damn thing, Sheikh. He squinted his eyes and thought. Otherwise, the beating I received will be blamed on you.

(End of this chapter)