40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 587 105. Dark Crusade (Twenty-nine)

War, war
Holding the chain halberd, Savita suddenly remembered a theory. Even though he was in the terrifying sea of ​​clouds formed by the crows, the memory that carried this theory was still clear.

It naturally rose rapidly from the depths of Seveta's crazy and chaotic mind, and finally appeared before his eyes.

He saw a familiar face, a face belonging to an old friend.

Oh, you old thing. He burst into laughter.

Bellos von Sharp ignored his smile and just said: "Sometimes, I feel that war is terrible."

The old reporter shook his head. His hands were full of blood, and the smoke mixed with the smell of blood blew past, shaking the pieces of meat stuck between his still thick black hair.

But he himself was completely unaware of this and just dropped the bolter in his hand. This high-quality weapon born in the Mars factory fell into the pool of blood with a bang and slowly sank into it.

The narrator sat down tiredly, letting the river of blood cover his waist. He just closed his eyes and breathed calmly. Breathe in, breathe in, breathe in, breathe in, repeat.

Sevatar waited for him quietly.

"But war is a necessity." Belros said with his eyes closed. "Essentially, it's a collection of struggles, and humans are wired to struggle."

"If we want to make the world a better place, then we have to get our hands stained with blood, Sevita, this is something that no one can escape."

"I don't believe in fate, and I despise those idiots who believe in fate, but I want to tell you, there are really some things in this world that are connected to each other."

“We kill, we dye our hands red with the blood of our own kind, we turn into madmen and wretches, looking up at the lightless night in the trenches, trembling with cold, and starved into monsters, we bear all this, so that those The defenseless, those who cannot protect themselves.”

He finally opened his eyes and smiled a crumpled smile.

"They won't have to bear the pain."

Yes.

Sevatar swung down his chain halberd, feeling calm in his cold and crazy heart.

Yes, that's it. I suffer so they don't have to.

Sevatar swung his weapon again. Each swing of the chain saw dozens of screeching crows killed, but they still came one after another, blocking his way.

This incident quietly changed his eyes, and a certain kind of flame suddenly rose, and the crowd of crows began to scream in unison the next moment, suffering from the slaughter of the eldest son of the night who suddenly showed no reservations in his violence.

They are just mindless puppet creatures, spies, spies and consumables, but at this moment they still instinctively feel fear.
Their formation quietly changed, from encirclement to clever blocking, and Sevatar grinned with satisfaction - it didn't matter, he longed for more.

He even provocatively started calling an evil god in the highest heaven with his spiritual power.

Bless me!

The bloody god raised his head from a long battle, and a low chuckle came from behind the brass helmet, followed by a blessing.

He didn't care that he was about to be pierced through the chest by a huge sword burning with flames. He even still had time to lower his head and look at the body holding the sword and the golden skeleton attached to his back.

"Take it back!" the skeleton roared.

The Blood God didn't answer, just laughed wildly.

He was so satisfied that he didn't care at all how Yago Severtarion used this power of slaughter - all warriors would eventually die in war, this is the essence of war.
Just give it, so what? The Blood God laughed and punched the god's body, then picked up his giant ax and once again devoted himself feverishly to this fight that seemed to never end.

Unlike their fight, Savitar's fight is almost over.

He felt the sudden increase in power indifferently, then raised his arm and threw the chain saw as a spear.

It roared and tore apart the dark clouds, completely shattering the delicate magic that kept the crows alive. The violence represented by killing and the power they represent are rarely connected. Most of the time, they are incompatible.

With just one blow, most of the sky was cleared, and then, a destructive spiritual energy caused the weapon to silently change its nature.

Alloys and saw blades, motors and circuits - these things once formed a chain saw, a supreme weapon in the world.

But now, the alloy that formed the foundation of its existence was unknowingly infected with a heavy demonic nature. The single-molecule saw blade was brutally squeezed open by the rough and hard bones, as if the baby teeth were replaced, which was completely weird.

There was a wail of resentment inside the motor, heartbreaking and filled with endless hatred. The circuits broke free and danced wildly, gradually changing color until they resembled scarlet blood vessels.

They danced and found their own position one by one, and then immediately couldn't wait to close together and wrap around it like the embrace of a passionate couple. In an instant, they turned the chain saw into the monster's claws.

They beat happily, as if they were really connected to the heart and transporting unclean blood.

Sevatar rushed straight into the flock of birds, stretched out his hand with disgust, and grasped the weapon that could only appear in nightmares.

It knew nothing about it and still cheered for joy. The newborn soul was overjoyed that it could execute judgment and justice.

But its owner just sneered, his pale face full of sarcasm, without any hint of complacency that he was about to execute justice.

He swung, and the dim flames flickered above the dark sea of ​​clouds, completely clearing away the flock of birds that were chirping hundreds of meters around. There were no broken bodies or scattered organs, just floating ashes.

Sevatar stretched out his hand to summon them, and with a brutal method, he turned the ashes of these demons into a pair of pale wings and placed them behind him.

How handsome. He laughed heartily. I believe your friends in the mine will be very surprised when they see you like this, and they will welcome you, Yago Severtarion.
They will greet you with screams and then call you the word monster.

"I am the monster."

Sevatar answered himself in this way, his voice was as low as a thing from the other world - at this moment, it really didn't sound like he was speaking with his physical body. But it doesn't matter anymore, because the crows in the depths of the sea of ​​clouds can't last long.

Their number is just a cheap joke in front of Sevita. The huge silver tower not far away that covers the sky is his real target. Sevita can smell the unique smell without even looking carefully. The stink of Tzeentchian daemons.
And those evil spells engraved on every corner of the Silver Tower.

Wise men who have gone astray, scholars whose souls have been deceived, philosophers who have fallen into madness - every soul that was once wise is now screaming on it, no longer in its former glory, only the instinct of begging for relief.

If this was sad enough, the strange equality possessed by the Silver Tower made it absurd and ironic, for it treated them all equally.

It doesn't care about race, the amount of knowledge, or whether the research direction is to save the world or help the people. It just calmly instills knowledge into them, without stopping, pouring the terrifying knowledge that they simply can't bear into these once smart brains.

Their pain is the energy source of those spells, no, to put it another way, they are the spells themselves.

You must kill them to enter.

Savita came to this conclusion without much effort, but the question was, how did he start?

As far as the eye can see, every soul here is pure and flawless. By the standards of the wasteland, they should even be allowed into the cemetery to rest in peace.
There are very few people who have a clear conscience in their lives, and there are even fewer people who have never done evil. What's more, these people are "kind wise men" who are extremely ridiculous.

Generally speaking, the more knowledge a person has, the easier it is to breed arrogance, and arrogance is the beginning of all corruption.

Savita didn't want to portray human nature in such a dark way, but he knew in his heart that people were just like that, and the long period of ten thousand years was the best proof.

He has seen countless people turn from good guys to villains. Among them, only a few hundred people can truly realize their mistakes before they die.
Really unpleasant. Sevatar slowly narrowed his eyes. Something is targeting him, and I'm afraid it has been preparing for it a long time ago.

At this moment, those faces screaming in pain are the most difficult walls and shields in the world to break through to Savita at this moment. No matter how powerful he is, he cannot break through.

Even if you take off this human skin, it won't work.

He must abide by certain rules. He does not kill innocent people. This is not only the underlying logic behind his power that must be followed, but also the code he pursues throughout his life. But he must enter that tower, otherwise, a more cruel Fate will befall all mortals in this world.

Why did he say this?
The answer is simple - because of that fake, that 'Robert Guilliman' who has some of the qualities of Robert Guilliman.

He is not a Primarch, and Sevatar can even see the essence of his existence at a glance: he just constructs a body with the evil magic of the warp, and then throws away people's secular and religious impressions of Robert Guilliman. Get into it.

There is no technical content, but there is no need for technical content. If the fabrication is too refined, chaos and disorder will disappear.

Compared to a creature who truly believes that he is Robert Guilliman from birth, a creature that is ignorant of the current situation and can only gradually learn about the world over time is more in line with the Lord of Change's preference for change.

This creature's natural instinct as a subspace creature will make him endlessly pursue the flesh and blood of the living. In the final analysis, he is still a non-living being.

However, Robert Guilliman in people's minds would not do such a thing. The firm will born from the collective impression of mankind would make him suffer.
After a while, wouldn't the Lord of Change's favorite dramatic conflict be born?
And it's possible that the Prince of Pleasure is also involved. He has been silent for too long, which is not in His nature.

Sevatar didn't know whether these two troublesome evil gods were working together, but he knew another thing, that is, what kind of path the counterfeit was embarking on.

Let me ask, what if he looked like Robert Guilliman, acted like Robert Guilliman, and even acted like the Lord of Macragge?
So, after he really fulfills some of the expectations people have for him, will there be some unspeakable change in the Supreme Heaven?

And how many people's blood is needed to promote and create this change?
After thinking for a moment, the eldest son of the night simply dispersed the wings of ash behind him and began to fall towards the ground.

According to the predetermined plan, the remaining forces in the camp have probably started to take action now. Based on this calculation, it is better to advance steadily.
This was not the first time that Sevatar had violated the nature of the children of the night. However, he did not receive the welcome he expected.

"Oh, look who this is!" Sheher Lenghun said sharply.

"The great Yago Severtarion is back! What was his result? While leaving us alone to go deep into the enemy's camp, he killed a few more demons. What achievements did he make? Congratulations, sir. Brother! You have a new legend for people to sing!”

"."

Savita looked at him helplessly, and threw the demonized weapon in his hand into the pile of corpses not far away.

He found it an eyesore, and he believed that Calgio, who stared at it endlessly, probably found it an eyesore as well.

Besides, he has always been a democratic person
Moreover, it doesn't matter at all, as long as you wave it, it will come back. However, he did not expect that his behavior would make the supreme leader even more angry.

Sheher turned his head to look at the landing point of the weapon, and suddenly let out a monotonous laugh without any smile. Then he took a step forward and his tone rose again.

"And this weapon! Look at it, how majestic and terrifying it is. I'm afraid the Inquisition has to create a separate file for it! Your Majesty, the Emperor, and the King of the Night. Brother, you are truly a hero with a sword."

He said with a smile, the almost broken armor added an excellent level of persuasion to his appearance at the moment.

At least, Sevita is really speechless now - but if he doesn't fight back, this is really not his style.

The 'eldest brother' was silent for a while and then said: "If you talk like this again, I will have to exercise my authority and ask you to hand back the sword that belongs to the mourning bird."

"Okay, as long as you go to him and mention this matter."

"Cold soul." Saiweita hissed as if he had toothache. "That's almost it. Am I back now?"

"Then what if you don't come back?"

"."

Savita turned his head, silently picked up the helmet hanging on the belt around his waist, and began to contact the camp.

Calgio on the side turned a blind eye to the weird and terrifying interaction between them. He just raised his gun and was alert to the giant who had not yet stood up, ready to fire at any time.

He has entered a state of war.

(End of this chapter)