40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 592: 110. Interlude: Inside the hangar of Macragge's Glory
Khalil studied the face carefully, dark with a white snake tattoo that stretched from cheekbone to lower lip. A face that was not handsome at all, a face that belonged to a warrior, a face that belonged to the tribune La Endymion.

Looking at this face, it was hard for Khalil not to think of the past.

First, the first meeting with the Tribune in the library aboard the Emperor's Dream 10,000 years ago. Then, on Terra, the Custodians received orders from their Lord to guard him in the underground caves.
At that time, these guards in golden armor got to know him and their attitudes changed. This was very subtle, but understandable. Khalil thought it was just human nature.

However, these familiar faces are probably all dead now, most of them died on Terra, wandering forever. Even their names have been buried in the sands of history, and the only remaining relics lie between the broken Terra, quietly waiting to be discovered by future generations.

Sometimes it's a piece of armor, sometimes it's a piece of bone. Sometimes it's weapons, shields and metal fragments.
The empire spent a lot of effort to explore and dig out their names, even setting up a new institution and investing a lot of manpower and material resources, but the progress was always slow.

The chain reaction brought about by the destruction of Terra made excavation work extremely difficult. If you look closely, the harsh environment is not even the first problem that explorers need to consider.

Countless people went too deep and forgot to return at the stipulated time, and stayed on Terra forever.
Khalil cut off his thoughts and turned his attention to the tribune who had nothing to say.

La Endymion did not answer his question, perhaps because he did not want to, but Khalil would be more inclined to not know how to answer.

The expression on the tribune's face can probably be summed up in one sentence: My lord told me nothing.

It's really a classic.

Khalil smiled, raised his hand and gestured, simply passing over the subject.

There was no point in asking further, as Ra himself probably didn't know what his master was trying to do. This consistent mysticism was really annoying, but considering Ra's identity, it became intriguing.

Keeping smiling, Khalil tried to figure out the factors behind this matter, but quickly gave up - he has never been good at thinking, especially about things like this.

Let’s take action first.

"How do you feel now?" Khalil asked.

"All body functions are normal, that alien"

The tribune answered like this, but he frowned inadvertently, a hint of anger flashed on his dark face, and his voice became low.

“It seemed to have a set of adjustment techniques. I clearly remember that I was seriously injured at the time. However, when I woke up, all my injuries had recovered.”

"Of course!" Trazyn, who was still being besieged by the clerks, suddenly turned around and shouted. "I am grateful to every guest who comes to the museum! Please say a few good words for me in front of His Majesty, Tribune!"

The tribune clenched his right hand on the sword at his waist, but he did not respond.

After that, Trazyn didn't get another chance to speak. The Ultramarines, who were already unfriendly, surrounded it and began to bombard it with clerks.

Servo skulls loaded with documents moved back and forth above their heads, and the clerks shouted loudly from time to time, spitting out numbers. Combined with the Endless's long skull face glowing with green light, this scene was really absurd.

However, if you combine it with the ancient warriors who are being examined around, the absurdity will turn into madness. For those who still have some sense, it is really difficult to accept this scene.

One thousand Astartes, ten thousand auxiliary troops, fifty thousand Skitarii and various armed forces. Such a huge military force as reinforcements should make any commander happy, but what if this reinforcement came from the past?

Some of them have even lost their numbers. If this is still understandable, then let's add a prefix condition to this matter.

An alien sent them here.

Moreover, the alien claimed that it was the Emperor who asked him to do so.

Even to the Fanatics, this matter sounds very suspicious, let alone the Ultramarines who are always known for their rationality. At this moment, in his office, Robouti Guilliman is dealing with this matter.
Or, to put it more realistically: dealing with the siege of his company commanders.

Most of the captains and their officers expressed doubts and distrust about this matter, so they came to find the Primarch to find out his thoughts or persuade him to take action.

Guilliman was pleased with this - it sounded paradoxical, but it was true.

He had repeatedly stressed that the captains did not need to obey his orders completely, but had to think for themselves. Now that this had come true, they finally looked a bit like the Ultramarines of ten thousand years ago.

Never blindly follow others, be independent-minded, act according to justice and reason, and not be a puppet of the Primarch.
Caryl could guess that he was probably in a state of happy distress.

He sighed.

Robert Guilliman did not realize how similar his mentality was to that of a parent in an ordinary family.

The relationship between the original gene bodies and their offspring is extremely complex and cannot be guessed by common sense. There is a reason why these superhumans have to undergo transformation surgery and endless cruel training. Before they are human beings, they are first soldiers and killing machines.

The Emperor could have simply erased their feelings and those of their Primarchs, turning them into handy machines, but he didn't.
On the one hand, he demanded his sons to become extraordinary beings, but on the other hand, he had compassion and affection for them and wanted to get along and communicate with them as a normal father.

Just like Robert Guilliman at this moment.

What a resemblance, Khalil thought.

He smiled, but of course, this smile had a different meaning in the eyes of the tribune standing beside him.

La Endymion frowned, stepped back a few steps meticulously, held his sword, lowered his head, and whispered quietly in Khalil's ear.

"What happened, my Lord?"

"We can discuss the question of honorifics later. La. Compared to this, I am more curious about why you think that when I smile, I am -"

Khalil paused for a few seconds, choosing his words.

"—going to deal with some problems?" he said cautiously.

"It's just my experience," said the tribune. "But I'm not the only one who thinks so. Many people have said the same thing."

"what's up?"

The tribune shook his head and did not answer the question. Khalil sighed again, somewhat helplessly and somewhat relieved, and asked another question.

"So, did you communicate with these warriors on the way here?"

"No."

Khalil looked at him in mild surprise.

"The alien's technology is flawed." Ramen said expressionlessly. "Or maybe it did it on purpose."

"It brought them out of the stasis field in batches. They should have felt confused. It was natural that they were on the battlefield one second and suddenly in a brand new place the next."

"However, I did not see such a reaction. Most of them fell to the ground on the spot and fell into physiological muscle spasms. Some were even unconscious and had to receive medical care. If this is the case for the Astartes, the situation for mortals must be even worse."

When he said this, he suddenly clenched his teeth and there seemed to be fire in his eyes.

"That damned alien," the tribune said with gritted teeth. "It had its minions treat them, and then it talked to me about human physiology in his opinion, and it was actually very reasonable."

Khalil was silent for a few seconds and said, "The Endless Trazyn is a rare alien that does not hate humans. I am not saying this to excuse it, but I want you to know one thing, Ra. In its eyes, it really has no ill will towards us."

"But it is arrogant," said the tribune coldly, and thus ended the conversation.

Half a minute later, the last gate inside the hangar suddenly dropped, and the jagged shadows were dispersed by the light. A huge figure stepped on a huge amount of steam and quickly entered the hangar. He was tall and bloated, like a specially modified chariot. The iconic red robe revealed his identity, but compared to him, the real eye-catching thing was perhaps the pale giant behind him.
At this moment, all the Astartes in the hangar cast their eyes on his face, and they all frowned or showed a thoughtful expression, but it did not last long.

Belisarius Cole's high-pitched voice quickly tore through the slightly weird atmosphere at the moment.

"Where is it?!" the great sage shouted, with the blue light in Yi's eyes flashing at high speed.

In just a few seconds, he located his target in the vast crowd and rushed over at the highest speed allowed at the moment, with such momentum that it seemed as if he was charging towards the enemy.

The giant behind him had to jog to keep up with him, and even bowed his head to apologize to those who were affected along the way.

However, the target in the Great Sage's mouth was not affected at all. The living metal that made up its face twisted slightly, making it reveal a weird smile. The alien just stood in the middle of the Ultramarines who were facing a formidable enemy, smiling and waving his right hand gracefully.

"My dear precious ones - no, my excellent warriors, it seems that our fate is coming to an end. I decided to say goodbye to you in advance, but I believe that this will not be the last time we meet."

"I, the overlord of the Sollemus Dynasty, the Infinite Trazyn, will come to your aid in your darkest hour. Please believe me."

There was a flash of green light.

"Stop it!" Belisarius Cole shouted. "Don't let it get away!"

He gave the reminder in time, and the Ultramarines responded immediately - at this moment, six melee weapons slashed towards Trazyn's body, but none of them hit.

The Necrons's hard body turned into a bubble in a dream at this moment, illusory and ethereal, with only the reactor in its chest and the green light in its eyes still bright as substance. It smiled, walked out of the encirclement of the Ultramarines, and bowed slightly to Khalil.

"We'll see you later, my judge," it said. "I'll let you know when everything is ready."

As soon as the words fell, the green light went out, and it disappeared from the spot. The complex structure on the back that caused the great sage's hunched posture suddenly emitted a burst of high-temperature steam, and then Belisarius Cawl began to curse.

He uttered obscenities at an astonishing speed and breadth for half a minute, then quickly returned to normal. Facing the gazes of everyone, he turned around indifferently and walked to the side of Khalil and the tribune, muttering.

La Endymion looked at the mechanical priest with an indescribable look.

"My Lord!" said Kahl, with great earnestness. "You saw it all! I heard it all! You had another meeting with it, didn't you? Was it what I thought?"

"I don't know what you're thinking," Khalil replied, taking a step back.

"Anyway, you will meet it again, right?!"

"Yeah, I can't deny that," Khalil said helplessly.

"That's easy! Please take me with you!" The great sage waved his appendages excitedly. "I beg you to let me go with you!"

".It's possible, but, alas, forget it." Khalil sighed and shook his head. "It's up to you, great sage."

He turned his gaze to the giant standing behind him, and the latter happened to look over at this moment, his gaze was very cautious and disappeared as soon as it touched.

"Anazion Sosa Cawl." He lowered his head and slowly uttered a name. His voice was low and his accent was exactly the same as Cawl's Martian accent.

Caril suddenly smiled and nodded at him: "Caril Rohals. Nice to meet you, Anazion. This is the tribune La Endymion."

The guard frowned. He didn't want to introduce himself, but since things had come to this, he nodded to Anazion. It didn't seem to be too reluctant, just a little stiff at most.

Kohl watched this scene silently, the blue light in Yi's eyes never stopping.

The conversation ended there, and the Great Sage who suddenly arrived took the pale giant Anazion away from the hangar.

The Ultramarines discussed angrily for a few words, and soon left in a hurry with the scribes. The mechanical priests and technical sergeants who had completed the inspection followed closely behind and became the second group to leave.

Just like that, no one knows whether it was intentional or unintentional, but there were no "newcomers" in the huge hangar at this moment. Only the antiques from ten thousand years ago were left staring at each other, speechless.

Finally, a Death Guard broke the silence.

"They did it on purpose." The old soldier said in a hoarse voice.

He was wearing an old MK3 suit, with mottled paint and paint peeling in many places. The dark green color on the shoulder armor on both sides had even been peeled off to the point of almost completely leaving the surface.

His face was as weathered as the armor itself. Under his pale, almost faded short hair, his face was covered with scars and wrinkles from exhaustion and numbness.
His words resonated.

"Anyway--" he began again. "--I guess they just want us to be quiet, and I'm fine with that. My name is Kefa Morag, and some of you may have heard of me."

"Lord Mortarion's personal guards?" asked a Salamander.

The Death Guard's face twitched, and he hugged his helmet tightly and nodded silently. His companions stood silently behind him, providing a special kind of spiritual support, so his expression eased a little and he opened his mouth to admit it.

"Yes, I was once the Primarch's personal guard."

"You still are," one Iron Warrior reminded. "The great Mortarion would be proud of you, Master Kefa."

He clenched his right fist and hit his chest, looked around, and said in a deep voice: "Narik Dregul, Warsmith of the 114th Battalion of the Iron Warriors."

Kefa Morag was stunned, and then he forced himself to smile: "I didn't expect to see a brother who fought in the Battle of Macragge with me here."

Narik nodded at him. "The Emperor bless us."

"Yes, the Emperor bless us."

Another voice sounded, heavy, dull, and as if with an echo. The person who spoke was very tall, with dragon scales and a dragon head on his golden green armor, which made his identity obvious.

Even so, the height he inherited from his primarch did not make him look aggressive. His face, which was so dark that it looked like it was covered with ash from a forge, was filled with sadness and solemnity.

"Adro Branule salutes the brothers."

Khalil stood at the edge of the hangar, silent, with no intention of joining the conversation. He watched them communicate, shake hands, and make warrior salutes, his eyes calm.

He admired these soldiers, there was no doubt about that. They were all people who were ready to sacrifice themselves in their lifetime, and now they were resurrected from the dead and had to face the changes of the times.
They probably crossed the battlefield without even blinking an eye and arrived nearly ten thousand years later. Not everyone can withstand such a shock. Despite this, they are still trying to make everything return to normal - at least the normal in their impression.

Those warrior salutes are probably no longer used by anyone.

The Warrior Association and Warrior Ceremony are both specialties of the Legion era, and the Warrior Ceremony is derived from the Association. The two complement each other. Now is the era of the Warband. There are better and closer connections within the Warband to replace this organization. Each Warband has its own characteristics.
In other words, the users of these rituals have long been tacitly dismissed from the military.

Khalil sighed, turned around and tried to leave, but the tribune grabbed his right hand first.

"Excuse me for overstepping my bounds," La Endymion said solemnly, then raised his right hand and spoke loudly, calling out his name.
and his position.

Instructor of the Eighth Army.

Khalil noticed that there was a sudden light in those people's eyes.

(End of this chapter)