40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 591 109. Dark Expedition (Thirty-three)

The ground is shaking.

The demon named Van Cleef could easily detect this, and not only that, it could also capture every molecule in the air that became discordant because of its presence here.

This goes against all scientific laws. How can the mere existence of a living being destabilize the material world?

Any scientist would be troubled by this, but only a few of them can face this challenge and face it with their chests high, while others will probably just fall into the trap of self-doubt and madness.
Of course, this is based on the assumption that another thing is completely true, namely, that the imperial truth still prevails in the empire.

Only then would there be so many people who believe in science, progress and truth. Only then would there be so many researchers with simple ideas waiting unawares for something to shatter their faith.

But VanCleef knew that another school of thought now controlled the Empire, and that school of thought had even made room for something like it.

It, and them.

The Empire simply and directly calls them all demons. Evil creatures from the highest heavens, the essence of chaos, monsters that are eager to devour human souls.

Each of these points was true, and each of them was a distillation of the empire and humanity after paying the price of blood. Van Cleef appreciated this distillation, and if possible, he even wanted to supplement it, but he had lost the power to do so.

and qualifications.

The demon Van Cleef now exists in the world, not the First Captain of the Eighth Legion. The human with that identity has long been wiped out, and nothing remains.

Van Cleef knew what he was now, but he didn't feel sad about it.

It walks calmly across the changing landscape. Plate movements that would have taken years to complete are now being completed in minutes or even a dozen minutes. Mountains are passively collapsing, streams are squeezed, water flows are dumped, and only dry riverbeds are left.

The animals stood bewildered among the fallen and broken trees, sniffing the increasingly tense air, each of them ignoring Van Cleef's presence as if it were nonexistent.

However, part of the silver tower glittering between the soil and stone reflected its current appearance, but only part of it.

There is no way a 10-meter-tall behemoth could be captured so easily. Heavy vehicles such as armored vehicles or tanks are just toys that can be easily lifted up in front of it. It is a three-story building that is moving, and its movement is enough to make people scream.

Van Cleef accepts them, and accepts the side effects of all of this. If the price of salvation means becoming a demon, he accepts it.

It walked among the wild animals of the forest.

Many deer stared at it with their brown or black eyes. They could see its presence but could not understand it, so they had no fear and no urge to run away.

These animals probably just figured that the creature in front of them wasn't a lion, cheetah, or any other kind of predator, so they didn't need to run away. This is stupid, but also smart.

A few seconds later, gray raindrops fell from the sky like bullets. There were no clouds in the sky, so their appearance was very intriguing and worth pondering.

They cast a gray veil over the world before Van Cleef's eyes. If one ignores the gradually changing landscape, the scenery can still be described as beautiful and rare.

There are many worlds in the empire that cannot have natural rainfall. Long-term mining and construction have destroyed nature. People can only endure the bad environment. Air purifiers have become a necessity for everyone.
Van Cleef continued to walk at a moderate pace, his body making a hissing sound, which was the sound of raindrops being evaporated by the high temperature. The constantly generated white steam made its shape extremely obvious in the rain, but fortunately, it was in the wilderness and no one could see it.

Now, the beasts no longer existed. It seemed that there were only two things left here: it and the silver tower that occupied the sky.

Silver lightning danced on its surface and then spread to the sky, like millions of twisting snakes. This scene was disturbing enough, but if you add the yellow animal eyes hanging on the top of the spire, the uneasiness will turn into fear.

Van Cleef was very familiar with this beast's eye.

At some point, humans will go completely crazy just by looking at it. What it represents is more than they can bear, no matter how strong their will is.

It is a kind of indiscriminate destruction, a kind of
Van Cleef began to search for words.

The really crazy thing is not how terrifying this thing is or whether it will eat people, but what it represents.

The loss of hope.

Van Cleef summed up its essence in one pithy phrase, but unfortunately, this phrase still cannot fully describe its essence to others so that they can understand it.

They had to see it with their own eyes once to understand what this sentence meant, but by that time, they would no longer need to understand it.

What this word represents will leave them at that moment, and what remains in that empty shell will make more people lose faith.

Van Cleef grasped his sword, his only weapon, and used it to cut at the eye hanging high above the world.

The sword in its hand should not have touched the eye, but that was only a theoretical situation. Van Cleef didn't want to act according to the theoretical situation at this time, so the sword cut firmly into the yellow pupil of the beast.

An unnameable viscous liquid fell from it, mixed with foul and foul-smelling blood, and splashed towards Van Cleef. He retracted his sword and calmly ignited the flames, blocking the possibility of these things falling on him.

At this moment, if someone looked up at the sky again, they would find that there was a tiny slit in the center of the beast's pupil. Blood was oozing out of it, and it looked almost like a cancerous, twisted, gloomy sun that was oozing vicious pus and blood.

There was a laugh in Van Cleef's ear - or a scream - it didn't matter, it made no difference.

"You conceited fool!" the thing roared at him. "You're like a dog chasing a bone! It never ends!"

"I may be a hound, but you are hardly a bone," Van Cleef responded calmly.

His voice was low, but it shook the raindrops, causing them to shatter before they hit the ground. The sword blade was raised again, and the scarlet edge was stained with a circle of white ashes.

The rain stopped suddenly, and before the next moment came, Van Cleef had driven it deep into the ground.

There was no sound, only the soil that suddenly separated for some reason and the rocks that flew up due to the shock. The giant sword turned into a butcher knife at this moment, firmly grasped by a dark and ferocious claw, pulling and cutting the earth.

The shining silver-white metal was faintly visible under the sword edge, emitting a silent wail. The ground suddenly shook, as if an earthquake was occurring. A huge shock wave raged wildly beneath the ground, spreading to the surface visible to the naked eye.

Van Cleef twisted his wrist, tilted his head back, looked toward the eye, and was satisfied to see that it was trembling.

"Do you think you can escape punishment by throwing yourself in jail?" the demon asked quietly.

Hellfire and smoke spread out from between its still tightly closed fangs, obscuring its face, but the two scarlet spots in its eyes were still bright.

They resolutely - or stubbornly - penetrated the smoke, and reflected the scene deeply in their eyes. The monster in the darkness couldn't help but scream, and couldn't help but think of the slaughters that had happened over and over again.

From the Stone Age to the Middle Ages, from rural towns ravaged by epidemics to bustling cities filled with skyscrapers, from narrow corners without names to the brilliant era where heroes streaked across like meteors.
Time and again, its death was almost everywhere in human history. The giant sword never tired of cutting open its chest again and again, pulling out everything inside, and then bloodthirstily waiting for the next slaughter.

Pain rose to its heart, forcing it to tremble, and although it soon realized that it had made a mistake, it was too late.

"Fear follows you everywhere," something whispered behind it. "You can't escape."

It roared and turned, fleeing from the darkness. The glittering stars rushed into its eyes, and the emergency plan woven by the Lord of Change began to take effect, taking it away to the false stars.

There is no need to fight. This thing has already used countless time and countless deaths to prove that it cannot be an enemy of Van Cleef.
Since the dawn of human history, it has been hunted by the demon named VanCleef, and that oath makes it impossible for it to escape. VanCleef will always find it and kill it without hesitation.

If one of the four evil gods hadn't come to its aid, it would probably still be trapped in the time that had long passed.
All the past events came to its mind, causing it to roar in anger and unbearable pain, without caring at all how ridiculous this scene looked in Van Cleef's eyes.

"This prison will have a new prisoner!" It was so angry across the stars. "You will be imprisoned here for countless years in my place, until the essence of your existence is also erased!"

"And I will take great pleasure in ripping out the heart of Cassidorius Delcunas. I will bring that foolish mortal here so you can see for yourself what he will look like after I have ripped him out!"

The demon looked at it indifferently, then shook its head seemingly with pity, and raised its sword, sweeping away the darkness here completely. The target it swore to hunt was nowhere to be seen, leaving only a gleam of silver light, and the top floor of the silver tower was empty as if it had been eaten by a swarm of insects.

Van Cleef looked down and saw countless compartments separated by metal. One after another, unspeakable and terrible dreams were brewing and fermenting in these compartments.

A scientist who longed to be recognized was trampled to death while holding his life's work in his hands, in the midst of a crowd that was cheering for no apparent reason.

The young man who wanted to write a masterpiece bit off his finger in the middle of the night and laughed as he smeared the thick notebook with blood.

The artist who devoted himself to carving lost both hands in an accident and could no longer swing a stone hammer
One broken dream after another, one heartbroken soul after another, just like this, ignorantly feed another group of evil spirits.

Van Cleef turned to the other side and saw a group of erratic blue lights.

Cultists, Tzaanhorns, demons, monsters - countless greedy creatures stay in it, tasting the wisdom, pain and every nightmare of those souls, and then use them to weave their own shelter, attracting more seeking souls to fall into it every night.

These places may be small towns in the countryside, seemingly peaceful but hiding terrible secrets. Or they may be busy nests somewhere, where people work between factories and homes, with no life in their eyes.
Countless identities, countless stories, the monsters who believe in Tzeentch are collecting seeds of power that can allow them to go further, unaware that the observer hanging over their heads has been replaced, and they are still immersed in it.

Van Cleef climbed up the hilt of the sword with his sharp claws and rubbed it carefully. The terrible friction sound slowly resounded from the small town to the hive city, from the wilderness to the glacier. The sound was not very obvious at first, but at this moment it resounded throughout the entire blue light, like a death knell.

They looked up and saw a bony face in the sky or ceiling of their own world, with fangs everywhere and two points of pure red light in its ferocious eye sockets. Pitch-black smoke was curling up from all around. They screamed.

The next second, a huge sword slashed across and completely shattered those light spots.

Monsters emerged from it one after another in a panic. Some had already prepared their escape schemes before landing on the ground, while others were still confused about the situation and fell to the ground in an ungraceful manner.

However, one thing was without exception: they all screamed the moment they saw Van Cleef.

The demon ignored all this and swung his sword again. Thick smoke billowed, and scarlet meteors streaked across the silver curtain, shattering everything in its path.

The cultist's spine and his crystal eyeballs were flying in the air, and were carried by a supernatural force and hit the wings of a giant bird. They were deeply trapped in it and turned into meat paste. Then, they were driven by this force again and turned into flying knives that shot out at high speed, crashing into the center of a silver living sphere, causing it to make a sound of glass breaking.
The roaring noises continued, as loud as the end of the world, with thousands of demons wailing and it was difficult to distinguish their shapes.

At this moment, countless filthy souls were taken away from their original destiny, and transformed from noble believers of Tzeentch into one of the countless sacrifices in the hands of the vengeful demon's butcher knife to commemorate the dead souls.

A dark door rose from the ground immediately afterwards, violently crushing the original maze-like compartments and bringing all the suffering souls back to the wasteland. Then, raging flames burst out from it.
The massacre began immediately, or the burning at the stake, or whatever you want to call it, it was just a trial.

Not until they were all dead did Van Cleef turn his head to observe a man who had already appeared beside him.

"Long time no see, Sevitarion." The demon spoke, his tone natural and his accent simple, as if he were an ancient.

The person he was greeting just looked up at him, expressionless, and clenched the chainsaw halberd in his hand again and again. The awkward silence lasted for several minutes before it ended, and the first words that Yago Sevitarion said were not a greeting.

"Who summoned you?" he asked sternly.

The demon nodded approvingly: "Hunter."

"reason?"

"You don't need to know." The demon put down the giant sword in his hand, lowered his head, and looked at his junior calmly. "This matter involves many people and is of great importance. If it is not necessary, there is no need to add more people who know about it."

Sevatar suppressed his anger and nodded slowly: "Even me?"

"exactly."

"Go to hell!" the First Reserve growled. "If you really wanted to be so businesslike you shouldn't have not even looked at me for the damn ten thousand years!"

Van Cleef shook his head, still calm. "It's just business, Sevitarion. My ability to keep my private life separate is one of my few virtues, and I believe you have inherited it."

He paused, as if he was not sure whether to say the next sentence, but he did not choose to remain silent.

"I think you have inherited some of the best qualities from each of us," Van Cleef said. "You may not realize it, but it's true."

Sevatar closed his eyes, almost trembling, and let out a slow breath.

"Stop," he said firmly. "Don't give me a damn, old man. Now tell me, how am I going to get you back?"

Van Cleef was not angry at his vulgar words. He knew Sevatar and knew that only half of those vulgar words were sincere, and the other half was just a roundabout tactic.

He wanted to create an opportunity, or rather, a proposal. He wanted to use these words to bring the captain of the first company back for a moment, and then let him give orders in a solemn tone.

First Reserve Yago Sevitarion, you have spoken outrageously and behaved rudely, and therefore must be punished. In the name of the captain, I sentence you to run forty laps at full speed on the training ground of the nest as a warning to others. Any objections?
Van Cleef regretfully declined the offer.

"It's very simple." He said calmly, loosening his hand on the greatsword and pointing at the halberd in Sevatar's hand.

The terrifying weapon shrank briefly because of his actions, and the innocent soul within it even wilted.

"What do you mean?" Sevatar stared at him and asked.

Van Cleef retracted his arm, pointed at his chest, and forcibly pulled a piece of armor off from the restraints of the chain. A huge hole was exposed underneath, no flesh, no heart, only a piece of pure nothingness and emptiness.

He clenched his fist, crushed the black armor plate, and pointed at the hole.

"Aim here, Sevitarion. One shot, or one surprise attack, will end this summoning. I deliberately restrained my power when I appeared, and I arrived at this spire before it affected reality. No spirals were planted, and you don't need to worry about the aftermath. Just send me back to the warp, and I'll end it all."

Once again, Sevatar took a deep breath and uttered some dirty Terran slang.

If his curse just now had some other elements, then this time, it was completely sincere. Van Cleef tasted the slight difference, but did not point it out, and just quietly changed the subject.

"However, before that, I still have something to remind you. First of all, you need to be careful of that fake creature. Our hands cannot be stained with the blood of innocent people. I am worried that something will use this to stir up conspiracy."

"What? You want me to take him to see the real Robert Guilliman?" Sevatar asked with a sneer.

"That's right," VanCleef replied calmly. "I believe the Lord of Macragge can make the best judgment on this matter. However, there are more than one fake like this within his territory."

Sevatar was silent for a while, and the corner of his eye twitched uncontrollably.

"Besides, not every one of them is like this one, who is very similar to him." Van Cleef added. "Also, the nearby world has detected the abnormal psychic signals here, and you will be able to leave here soon."

"Stop talking." Sevatar whispered. "If someone else had said this to me at this time, I would have told him to get lost."

"But this is not an exaggeration, Sevitarion—"

Sevatar interrupted him impatiently: "-Yes, yes, I know. You old-fashioned guy never jokes."

He lifted the halberd in his hand seemingly nonchalantly and swung it silently, as if trying to find the feel for it.

Van Cleef knelt on one knee, leaning his head on his sword. His white mane slowly fell down, his burning flames were extinguished or restrained one by one, and his chains tightened, making his armor creak.
"Come on," said the demon.

Sevatar gritted his teeth, and his spiritual energy gathered beneath his body, turning into a staircase that lifted him up little by little.

Five seconds later, there was a flash of light, accompanied by the sound of a chainsaw engine roaring.

"Nice and straightforward." Van Cleef nodded slightly. "Remember, Yago, you have done a good job."

The black flames attacked, engulfing its huge body in an instant. The silver tower trembled and began to collapse.
-
Although there was no sign, Khalil still felt something when the moment of Van Cleef's 'death' came.

He belatedly turned his head and looked towards the porthole, towards one of the twinkling stars, his gaze so far-reaching that it seemed as if he could see through all the darkness.

Behind him, a dozen Ultramarines were interrogating a tall skeleton alien with a clerk, whose living metal face had already wrinkled into a ball of distress.
Not far from him, a team of Iron Warriors wearing twisted armor were being inspected by Mechanic Priests and Technical Sergeants. If you look further, you will find that the hangar on the side of Macragge's Glory is already crowded with people.

From the Ultramarines, Death Guard, Iron Warriors to the Salamanders, they include almost everything. They basically have only one thing in common, that is, they are full of murderous aura and wear ancient armor.

"Mr. Carlier?" A female voice came from behind Carlier, interrupting his thoughts.

"Ms. Callifon."

Khalil called out her name without turning his head, then slowly turned his head and saw a thin face with a determined look.

The Tyrant from Olympia asked curiously: "What are you looking at? I noticed that you have been standing here in a trance for a long time."

"Nothing. Just thinking about something." Khalil said. "Also, could you please not use honorifics? I would really appreciate it."

"I insist," the tyrant said. "Also, this may be a little abrupt, but I wonder if Abo's weird aversion to honorifics came from you?"

Khalil laughed, then restrained his expression and shook his head seriously: "Absolutely not, ma'am."

"Hmm," Cariphon nodded thoughtfully, then bowed and left. Judging from the route she chose, she was probably going to communicate with the Iron Warriors.

That was good, it meant she accepted the situation she was in. Many people - even Ultramarines - were amazed by the term 'ten thousand years' mentioned by Roboute Guilliman.

Khalil understood them, after all, it took him some time to accept it.
but.

Khalil frowned and walked towards a guard who was also standing in front of a porthole, holding the sword at his waist with one hand, and remained silent.

"I want to know, Ra Endymion"--he began bluntly. "--what did he see to assign such a military force to us?"

The water thief's son turned around, with an indescribable emotion brewing on his dark face. After a long time, he finally spoke.

(End of this chapter)