40k: Midnight Blade.
Chapter 585 103 Dark Crusade
Chapter 585 103. Dark Crusade (Twenty-Seven)
When there is no war, Narrows is usually a quiet city.
Unlike other places, people here don't drink alcohol during the day, nor do they freely unleash their nature on the streets. To the Naros, not caring about other people's feelings is considered shameful and unethical.
Moreover, they quite like silence. This is not a sin. Everyone needs silence. Sheikh understands this. After all, he is no exception.
Therefore, when he threw that shocking grenade half a minute ago, he felt a little guilty. As for now, the guilt has completely disappeared, leaving only pure and cold anger.
The dazzling light and thunderous sound caused by the grenade had no impact on Scheher. His perception was still extremely clear, even to the point of being terrifyingly clear.
He didn't need to see with his eyes to know what kind of monster was hiding in the collapsed courtyard wall and the scattered smoke, so he no longer suppressed his anger and just allowed it to begin to be released.
The air boiled in the next second, and the pink demonic fire roared out of the still-diffusing smoke and attacked Sheher.
He stood there without moving, but there was a sudden bright light that flashed away. The flames fell to the ground with a cry, and began to twist under his feet, and the color gradually changed towards a faint blue.
If left unchecked, they will soon transform into four entirely new demons. Sheher was fully aware of this, but still showed indifference, just raising his right hand slowly and sometimes quickly.
A sword appeared in his hand.
It is not a power sword in the secular sense. In fact, in the eyes of most people, it would not even be called a weapon.
Even within the Inquisition, the weapon has been voted upon several times to be thrown back into the Warp.
Scheher participated in fifteen such meetings and successfully convinced the other participants in five of them, so that he could now hold the sword.
Its handle is a terrifying shape formed by two sharp and pale bones twisting and intertwining with each other, with the end being particularly sharp.
The sword grid was dark, and a scarlet gem shone in it, sparkling like an eye. The blade is extremely ferocious, and its many irregular and abrupt serrations turn it into a masterpiece capable of causing large tracts of blood.
The dim inscription that existed on it from unknown time is the most eye-catching. The light looked extremely dim, but the moment it lit up, it froze the air.
Immediately afterwards, as the four blue flames disappeared, Scheher smelled a foul smell of blood.
He smiled, and holding his sword, he strode into the smoke that was transforming into some kind of mist.
The screams of the Naros and the footsteps of the soldiers disappeared completely at this moment. The world around him suddenly became eerily quiet, but Sheher could hear a wet sound and the continuous scraping of feathers. Scratching sound.
He lowered his head and saw a winding trail of pale silver blood, in which maggots from the warp were twisting.
very good. Judgment Blade thought.
He gripped the cursed sword tightly and strode towards the place where the blood stains spread.
All this was not unfamiliar to him. He had witnessed this kind of 'exorcism' process dozens of times when he was just an ordinary battle brother.
By the time he gradually gained promotion and began to take charge of these rituals, he had become frighteningly familiar with this matter.
Search - Restrict - Track - Hunt - Purify. Five steps, year after year, day after day, chaos invasion and demon trouble again and again.
Sheher sometimes asks himself why the human world can be so riddled with holes, attracting these supernatural monsters everywhere.
Later, he figured out that it wasn't that their world was riddled with holes, but that these things were pervasive.
They can see the tiniest flaw and enter through it, gnawing at the foundations of a castle or fortress, causing it to collapse.
They leave the Warp just to do this, just as humans are born to suffer.
A dense scream suddenly sounded, and a gust of wind suddenly surged in the mist. The wind was even strong enough to temporarily slow down Sheikh's progress.
He stopped where he was, and the long sword in his right hand penetrated into the ground, turning it into a solid fulcrum. At the same time, the screams began to become more and more manic.
Tens of millions of pairs of scarlet eyes appeared in the wind without warning. Their eyes were lifeless, and their wings were constantly flapping, stirring up more airflow to maintain this terrible wind.
"Come on," Shehir said softly.
His words were like a key, or a harbinger of something bad. Before he could even finish his words, thousands of pitch-black birds rushed toward him in the turbulent wind.
The first one hit his left shoulder armor, and this was the last clear perception he had of the attack.
The howling beasts rushed towards him one after another, using themselves as weapons to constantly hit his armor. It starts out as scratches, then becomes dents, and finally potholes.
This set of MK2 with ancient history is disintegrating bit by bit in this supernatural mass suicide of birds. However, as a person in the center of the storm, Sheher still remains calm.
He knew this would happen a long time ago. If someone wanted to kill him, he would definitely resist, not to mention that what he wanted to kill was a demon belonging to Tzeentch.
This storm is just a small episode in the 'hunting' phase, nothing more.
Little by little, Sheikh drew the sword and began to awaken it. It accepted, but did not simply let Shehir go.
A terrifying power began to surge in the soul of the Supreme Leader. It penetrated every hole. From this corner to that corner, it found every tiny loophole, and then covered it with some kind of flame while laughing wildly.
Under the gradually becoming tattered helmet, Sheher's face gradually became ferocious.
The veins on his neck bulged, as if he was wrestling with someone, or undergoing surgery without anesthesia, enduring extreme pain.
A millionth of a second later, he pulled out the sword.
Two millionths of a second later, with a dull bell sounding from nowhere, the storm suddenly stopped.
Three thousandths of a second later, Sheikh Lenghun broke into the storm and began to execute the last step of the 'hunt'.
He is cold, efficient, precise and impersonal. He found the fleeing monster four thousandths of a second later, and killed it with a sword after five thousandths of a second.
However, in the eyes of others, his behavior may be extremely reckless.
First, instead of calling for backup, he chose to face the demon alone.
Secondly, after the demon realized he had been exposed and decided to run away, he chased it into the mist it had unleashed.
Although he killed it, he was really lucky. If the demon had been more cautious, Sheher Cold Soul might have died.
Is it really?
of course not. The truth is, from the beginning, Sheikhel knew what the demon was going to do. He knew it would run, he knew it would unleash some kind of confusing spell.
Frankly speaking, Scheher is too familiar with these things, and this battle is just scripted for him.
Due to their special nature, the Judgment Blade needs to travel back and forth between multiple worlds and cooperate with the Inquisition. They are almost the first line of defense for these worlds when facing Chaos.
If he had to deal with a Khorne demon, he probably wouldn't step into its spell so foolishly, but the enemy belonged to Tzeentch.
The birds of Tzeentch usually think too much and do too much. Therefore, they are quite easy to deal with. You only need to go straight to Huanglong.
Conspiracies need time to take effect. No matter how fast they are, they cannot be faster than the sharp blade of judgment.
——The battle ended quietly like this. However, for another person far outside Naros City, his battle could not end as quickly as Shehir did.
If Sevita had to speak for himself, he would probably make a snarky joke in a slightly bored tone, but that's not what he did.
First, there is no time, and second, this will only make the angry beast fall into a deeper rage.
He stepped back, dodged a straight punch, and then dodged to the left, letting the subsequent punch turn into nothing, as relaxed and natural as eating and drinking.
Sevatar squinted his eyes and stared at the young face, feeling the urge to sigh in his heart: Who would have thought that he would have such an advantage in the battle with Robert Guilliman?
Even if he had achieved promotion, he should not have fought like this with a Primarch while still wearing this human skin. This was simply unthinkable.
Sevita couldn't help but think that throughout the ages, I was probably the second person to do such a thing after Khalil Lohars.
In between dodges, he glanced up at his opponent and added silently: Unless, of course, he really was a Primarch.
"Why would you do such a thing?!" the young giant roared at him, his voice like rolling thunder. "What are they guilty of? They did nothing wrong!"
"Yeah" Sevita nodded perfunctorily. "maybe."
Indeed, maybe. he thinks.
Naturally, his words had the opposite effect. The giant became even angrier. In fact, judging from the distorted face, he was probably going crazy.
"Are all the so-called Astartes scum like you? Have no regrets for killing innocent people? Why are you so high and mighty?!"
"When did I become so superior?"
Sevatar finally frowned, raised his hands, grabbed two fists, began to wrestle with the giant, and seriously refuted him.
"I don't deny the first half of your sentence. After all, although the Astartes are the emperor's angels of death in the definition of the state religion, this is just an acquired religious influence."
"When the Emperor first designed us, his vision must have been a killing machine that was cheap enough, deadly and ruthless enough, so you are not wrong to describe us like this. But you'd better take back the second half of your sentence Go, I won’t kill innocent people.”
The giant sneered: "Who knows?"
Sevatar narrowed his eyes and said nothing. He suddenly exerted force on his feet and threw the giant to the ground before he even realized it.
He wanted to add a kick to the throat, but he stopped the instinctive impulse and started to retreat continuously.
His opponent was soon on his feet again, suffering no other pain than a certain bruised ego.
Savita looked at the flushed face, and finally looked at Hectors Calgio standing aside as if asking for help - he really couldn't stand it.
He couldn't continue fighting like this with someone who was standing in the face of a younger version of Roboute Guilliman. He respected the Lord of Macragge and never wanted to disrespect him in any way.
But it was clear that he had turned to the wrong person.
Calgio noticed his look and quickly pulled out his gun.
Oh, damn.
Sevatar stopped silently and allowed Robert Guilliman to punch him in the side of the face without even resisting.
The power contained in this angry strike was so astonishing that it even directly knocked Sevatar away.
He fell into a fire not far away, and the charred corpse of the orc was knocked around by him. Amid the sound of the flames burning, Sevatar held his breath and began to listen to the conversation not far away.
He really didn't want to keep getting beaten, it was pointless. Moreover, he could feel that Sheher Lenghun had already taken care of the matter. So why not watch a show now?
"Stop," Calgio warned coldly.
The bare-handed 'Robert Guilliman' gasped and turned around slowly, with anger still lingering on his face.
"how?"
"Stop or I'm going to shoot," Calgio said.
His warning seemed to have some effect. At least Robert Guilliman did not move for a few seconds. He just stared thoughtfully at the bolter in Calgio's hand. After a while, he echo his words.
"If you're going to do this, make sure you're aiming for my head."
The son of Calth took a deep breath and said nothing.
"But if you do not intend to do this, I beg you to listen to me, Astartes." 'Robert Guilliman' spoke slowly in a pleading tone.
"I beg you to come back to that city with me. You don't seem to be the same type of person as your disgusting companion. I don't see any arrogance in you."
"Shut up!" Calgio snapped. "You have no idea who you're judging! Argo Severtarion is a hero of the Empire! You're like-"
He stopped speaking, the hand holding the gun suddenly trembled a few times, and a burst of anger surged on his face.
"Imperial hero?" The young giant immediately frowned. "If an empire needed people like him as heroes, how bad would the country have to be?"
The imperial hero lying among the corpses suddenly laughed uncontrollably.
(End of this chapter)
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