40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 595 113. Interlude: The Old Folks (End, Three-in-One)

The Ultramarines like to standardize everything - or more precisely, they like to put a value, an exact number, on everything.

As long as you stick to this number and don't go too far over or under it, you'll end up with a pretty good result.

This talent, born out of rational instinct, makes everything they build, anywhere, look exactly the same. Blue and gold, neat, square, and covered with seals, emblems, and logos.
Narik Dregul thought about these things from the perspective of an architect, and slowly walked to the deepest part of the archive. The stone floor perfectly supported his weight without making any sound. It was clean and spotless.

Robert Guilliman chose to let him go to his destination by himself, and he stayed at the entrance of the data room and did not move forward with him.

While walking, Narik noticed a white-haired woman wearing round-framed glasses sitting behind the neatly arranged brown bookshelves, looking at him cautiously.

The Warsmith did not express that he had noticed her, but continued walking. Thirteen seconds later, he arrived at his destination.

He walked between two bookshelves.

They were large, even for an Astarte, so Narik had a hard time imagining the woman maintaining them. Two walls of bookshelves, ten in total, each row filled with glittering silver books.

That's right, it's a book, not a data pad. These books are even specially designed, with steel and alloy forming the cover and spine, so there is no problem even if they are used as weapons.

As early as 10,000 years ago, Ultramarines liked to write books, and usually used real pens. Narik even saw them holding special sharing sessions, bringing their own books to share with each other.
With such a style, it is no wonder that others call them Guilliman's scribes.

But these books are different.

The Warsmith didn't know whether the current Ultramarines still liked to write books, and he was not interested in exploring whether they were upholding the traditions of their predecessors, but these books were different, and their authors were definitely not Astartes.

Their author was Roboute Guilliman.

In other words, the two bookshelves, twenty shelves, and two hundred iron books here were all written by the Lord of Macragge himself.

Every book in this library was written by him personally.

Was it a tribute? Or a sense of responsibility that he had to bear? Narik couldn't think of an answer, so he walked to the back and took the first book according to the reading order marked on the bookshelf.

The heavy weight in his hand made him want to take off his hand armor and feel it with his fingers. He turned to the first page, and a title and two lines of small words came into view, which were then shared through the eyepiece to all the Iron Warriors waiting outside.

"Details of the division of the Fourth Legion, and an introduction to each sub-legion."

"Note before reading: Since we are in a place where the light of the Astronomican cannot reach, the information we receive is seriously lacking in timeliness."

"I have tried my best to fill in the gaps, but it will probably be different from the actual situation. If one day you can fight side by side, please remember not to take the contents of the book as the standard."

Narik hesitated for a moment, but still turned to the second page. As a result, in just a few seconds of waiting, hundreds of communication messages flashed in the upper right corner of his eyepiece.

What an impatient bastard. The Warsmith complained to himself.

"Galaxy Guard."

"The parent group: Iron Warriors."

"The Galaxy Guard was the first sub-regiment to be spun off from the Iron Warriors - or rather, the First Galaxy Guard was the first sub-regiment to be spun off from the Iron Warriors Legion."

"They are stationed in Olympia in place of the parent group, and the surrounding worlds are also included in their responsibilities. Logically, this responsibility should have been handed over to the Iron Warriors, but they must take on a new task."

"The defense of Terra and the entire Sol System falls to them and the Imperial Fists."

"This mission was issued by my father himself upon his ascension to the throne, undertaken by Perturabo and Rogal Dorn, and guarded by the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists. Who could have imagined such a thing? But they seem to be doing a good job."

"It is said that every planet in the solar system has been completely fortified, forming a great steel wall floating in the void. I am sure that the scene must be spectacular."

"Let's get back to the point. Compared to other subgroups, the Galaxy Guard is obviously more special. They all use the same name, but they add a number in front to distinguish them."

"From this point of view, the Galaxy Guard is essentially a relatively loosely organized legion. My brother is obviously taking advantage of the loopholes in the Holy Scripture, and he is doing it very well."

"He gave each of the Galaxy Guards its own home planet, fortress, monastery, and garrison area. From this point of view, I guess he must have united these garrison areas, one ring after another, forming another steel wall on the star map."

"Unfortunately, I don't have the relevant star map and cannot prove this. After all, he is different from me. He is a more successful and more ruthless tactician. If I have the chance, I hope to learn a thing or two from him again."

"Of course, this is not the only regrettable thing. Due to the weakening of the Astronomican light and the raging of the warp storm, few Terran officials have been able to successfully contact us. No matter what intelligence they carry, this is all we have."

Narik Dregul exhaled slowly and icy air.

The air purifier in the room gave his breath a strange, slightly bitter taste, which was in line with his current mood. Complex and slightly bitter.
His brothers were probably in the same boat, and the speed of text messages in the communication channel slowed down significantly. There were fewer people asking questions, and even fewer people making requests. Silence became the choice of most people, and they didn't know what to think.

I'll go first then, the Warsmith thought.

Relying on the neural connection, he input a line of text quickly and accurately into the communication channel. When it was sent, it was already marked with the commander's special mark and was highlighted.

+We should go back. +
Soon someone asked a question.

+Where to go? +
+Terra. +Narik entered the information again.

+Legion - no, Chapter. The burden that the Chapter now bears has far exceeded every mission we have ever received in the past, fortressing the Great Wall, guarding Terra. Even if it is only from the perspective of pure sense of honor, I will never allow myself to be absent from such a cause. +
A sergeant responded. +I agree with you, sir. However, according to the instructors of the Eighth Legion and the information revealed by Master Robouti Guilliman in his book, returning to Terra may be a very difficult task. +
+Not to mention how to navigate the warp when the Astronomican is gone, how to deal with Chaos, traitors and the aliens called Zerg is enough to give us a headache. I don't think that with just a few hundred of us, we can deal with the aliens that have fought the Ultramarines for 10,000 years. +
"No matter how difficult it is, we have to do it." An old soldier sent a voice message in a unique way with a gloomy tone.

"To defend Terra is an honor so great that it carries with it great danger. I do not think the Legion and the Primarch will be in trouble, but they will certainly need our help. The Emperor is watching us, and we will return to Terra."

The quarrel soon ensued.

Narik watched this scene helplessly and did not dissuade him. The people under his command were a mixed bag. Some of them he had heard of before, and were notorious troublemakers, while others were the most standard Iron Warriors, role models who could not be asked for more.
Moreover, they all came from different camps, which made the coordination work quite difficult.

Narik himself knew that he was only temporarily elected as the temporary commander because of his military rank. If he really wanted to gain full command, he would need to spend some time and energy, at least to convince the people.

But he had to take action.

He enabled the real-time call permission, and using his status as a commander who had not yet secured his seat, he muted everyone else in the channel, then he spoke slowly.

"I don't want to insult anyone. I know you are not afraid of death, and even ignore it. This is how we used to be, wearing armor, steel inside and out. This is our way of survival, a difficult road."

"But I must point out that choosing to return to Terra by ship under such circumstances is tantamount to suicide. Not to mention whether the Ultramarines can borrow our ship, even if they generously lend us a battleship, what can we do?"

"If we can't navigate the subspace, we can only move slowly in the material world. In this case, we are likely to run into various enemies. When that happens, how can we fight the enemy with only 322 people?"

"Are we going to borrow manpower from the Ultramarines? Or ask others like us if they want to return to Terra together? You know clearly that no matter which one you choose, you will only drag them to die with us."

"As such, I must veto any suggestion of an immediate return to Terra. Remember the teachings of the Emperor and the Primarch, brothers. More haste, less speed."

He turned off the mute button and turned the page.

"Iron monument."

"Parental Group: Iron Warriors (doubtful)"

"Specially marked, theoretical possibility: I have no intention of questioning my brother, but according to the existing information, the Iron Monument is a chapter with many doubts."

"First, I would like to mention their first Chapter Master, Cebarus. It is said that this man was the captain of the Tenth Company of the Iron Warriors, but the Great Company was not the organization used by the Fourth Legion during the Great Expedition."

"At the same time, according to the chapter record from the Military Affairs Department in my hand, the Iron Monument does not have detailed records of its early history like other chapters."

"The Munitions Department did not provide any early information about this chapter, and even went to the trouble of explaining at the end of the introduction that they were all marked as top secret."

"Since this book was written specifically for me by the Military Affairs Department, I think it is obvious that this is a veiled reminder from those who know the truth."

"Also, considering the time when this book reached me, I believe that there are only three people who know the truth and are capable of reminding me. The first is Malcador the Sigillite, the second is my brother Perturabo himself, and the third is my father."

"The most likely candidate is my brother. If we speculate along this line of thought, then any secrets within the Iron Monument Chapter are probably condoned by him."

"After all, the Iron Monument is stationed in the vicinity of the Eye of Terror. This is a very serious mission. I don't think Perturabo would entrust such a mission to someone he doesn't trust."

Narik frowned and wanted to say something, but he suppressed the urge. The others in the communication channel probably had the same idea as him. No one spoke, and no one used text to express their opinions.

They waited silently.

Narik looked at the next line of text.

"Theory 2: I already know the truth. I must pay my respects to my brothers, the Iron Monument, and Cebarus. At the same time, any captains and senior officers who read this book must report to me after reading this theory."

The Warsmith took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"Let's forget about this for now."

He turned to the next page.
-
Adro Branull watched the dazed Warsmith walk out of the data room with Robert Guilliman.

Narik Dregul hadn't taken off his helmet yet, so Adro couldn't actually see his face clearly, but the slight change in his walking posture still made the Salamander notice it, which was exactly the same as what Kefa Morag of the Death Guard did at the time.

Thinking of this, Adro couldn't help but feel a little worried.

He looked back at the Iron Warriors behind him and found that they all looked very... indescribable, as if they had been shocked by something. Adro kept this in mind, then walked forward and greeted the Lord of Macragge.

The latter was whispering something to the warsmith at this time, and the latter kept nodding. These two things changed quietly with his arrival. Guilliman stopped talking, and Adlo looked at him with a little regret, revealing a humble smile.

"Sir." He bowed and looked at the warsmith again. "This is..."

"I'm fine." Narik threw out this sentence in a stiff tone before he asked a specific question.

Robert Guilliman looked at him, then at Adro, and in the end could only smile helplessly.

He patted the warsmith on the shoulder and said, "Take your brothers to rest, Deck 20, Narik. We will discuss those issues another day."

"I understand, sir, thank you for your generosity."

The Warsmith saluted solemnly, and with a single gesture he asked his brothers to come forward and march in formation. A group of Iron Warriors began to march proudly on the Ultramarines' flagship, and even a victorious soldier was responsible for leading them.
Adro resisted the urge to sigh at this and looked at Robert Guilliman. Coincidentally, the latter was also staring at him at this moment. The pair of blazing eyes under the short white hair did not blink, and an indescribable power burst out from them.

The Son of Nocturne was awed, and felt genuinely frightened by this power. This had nothing to do with how he felt about the Lord of Macragge himself, it simply came from his instinct as a living being.

Adro wanted to look away, but found that he couldn't do it at all. He was forced to stare into those eyes, deeply fascinated by the flames in them that seemed to be emanating from a furnace.
It was not until Robouti Guilliman took the initiative to speak that he was freed from this influence.

The Primarch shook his hand as if nothing had happened, and then walked into the archives with him with a friendly smile. Among the tapestries, flags, and books, Robouti Guilliman's voice came softly into his ears.

"There is something I need to tell you before you put on your helmet, Adero. After what I've experienced, I now attach great importance to the psychological problems of soldiers. Although you may think that psychological defects are also a symbol of honor, but if things are as serious as you are."

He looked down at Adro Branule, whose expression kept changing, and then he began to stare at him until the latter's expression, posture and even his entire temperament changed, and only then did he end his stare.

"What's your name?" he asked 'Adro Branuel' seriously, as if he didn't know the salamander.

"Kathos Mechne," Salamander answered. "I am his brother, his captain."

"who?"

"Adro Branuel."

The man who called himself Kesos Mechan answered meekly. His lips trembled, and the voice he used was surprisingly different from Adero's. Then he bowed deeply.

"I apologize, my Lord, but I am already dead. I am just a personality constructed by Adlo's brain based on his memories of Captain Kethos Mechne."

"The shock he felt when he saw us die was too great, so he became mentally ill, and I was actually a protective measure."

Guilliman nodded expressionlessly.

"I know," he said. "I understand."

Caesus Mechanic straightened up.

"And I'm the last one," he said quietly. "We're all—no, they're all dead. Even before the alien pulled him into the stasis field. It was a cruel thing, he had to endure the destruction of two companies."

Guilliman looked up, patted his shoulder silently, then led him to the bookshelf and turned away silently. Caesos took a deep breath, put on his helmet, activated the communication channel, and turned on the eyepiece sharing.

He took the first book according to the instructions on the bookshelf and began to read. After reading Robert Guilliman's kind reminder, a chapter called the Ash Hammer came into his and his brothers' sight.

"Hammer of Ashes."

"The parent group: Salamanders."

"I must point out one thing. In addition to its unusual height (1.98 meters), the book given to me by the Military Affairs Department has another remarkable feature."

"I don't know if it's because of some confidentiality regulations, but the information that all the chapters mentioned in this book can provide is completely different. Some are very detailed, while others are extremely vague. Even their names have to be marked with a questionable mark."

"I am really driven crazy by the editors and the complicated operating mechanism of the Military Affairs Department. How did they turn the work in the office into such a torture that can torture everyone?"

"God damn it, they are so confident that they won't accept my reform proposals?"

"Back to the point, the Ash Hammer is the first successor to the Eighteenth Legion. (If the information in that damn book is correct, I hope they are.)"

"The Salamanders were badly hurt during the Heresy. First by their betrayal, then by what happened in the Warp, and finally by their heroic efforts to protect the people of Macragge."

"I need not speak of the horrors of that war. Any Ultramarines should read the books and materials about it, to understand how much blood your cousins ​​shed for our own duty. We must remember it and never forget it for a moment."

"In short, due to the severe damage they suffered, the Eighteenth Legion did not split up the chapter at first after it was established. It was not until five hundred years after the end of the Great Heresy that their size finally returned to the standard level."

"At this point, they have probably surpassed the standards in the Bible by a lot. I hope no one will bother them for this. If I can contact the Military Affairs Department directly, I will definitely update the book once a year."

"I hope others are doing the same. After all, they are also one of the authors of the scriptures."

"As the first attempt of the Salamanders in the Chapter Era, I think Vulkan probably spent a lot of time on the Ashhammers. Please see the evidence below."

"The Hammer of Ashes not only enjoys the same right to recruit soldiers from Nocturne as the parent group, but is also very well-equipped. Please note that the well-equipped here is compared to the Sons of Vulcan, so if you have read the book carefully, you should know what this means."

"At the same time, thanks to the good cooperation between Vulkan and the Mechanicum, they have gained the friendship of a Forge World. They have three battleships, an Emperor-class battleship, a Nemesis-class, and an Apocalypse-class."

"That's a lot of firepower, and having battleships means they also have a large escort fleet. So they have a very good relationship with the Imperial Navy."

"After all, the Sons of Vulcan have always been reassuring comrades on the battlefield, and most soldiers would probably want to fight alongside them if they had the chance. Knowing that the Sons of Vulcan are watching your back is simply a relief."

"However, this is not enough. Due to the huge size of the fleet, they have to recruit a large number of auxiliary troops to maintain normal operations. This force is also very meritorious and has a long history. Its name is Embers."

"In most cases, the descendants of the Embers will also become the source of soldiers for the Hammer of Ashes. After all, Nocturne can only provide so many children of school age each year. In addition to these characteristics, the Hammer of Ashes also has a very significant feature, which is its powerful melee ability."

"Generally speaking, I'm not a big fan of close combat. Why would you engage in close combat with an enemy if you can solve the problem with bolts, plasma, and flamethrowers?"

"The Ashhammers obviously thought the same, so they deployed a large number of Destroyer Squads. However, their melee capabilities are really strong, even strong enough to be described separately."

"Unfortunately, the damn book provided by the Military Affairs Department did not include any case to prove this, so we can only imagine their bravery on the battlefield with regret."

"Their first chapter leader was Barek Zitos, a member of Vulkan's personal guard. He had made outstanding contributions and was very powerful. I have personally seen him fight eight enemies alone on Terra. In addition, the Ash Hammer also possesses a special ability called Dragon Flame."

"When they are on the verge of death, a part of their body will spontaneously combust, either the face, a limb, or the torso, and then quickly spread to the whole body."

"This flame does not seem to be a natural fire. It will burn the flesh of the Ash Hammers and turn their armor into twisted metal, but it will not damage their bones. Before they truly die, the Ash Hammers will become indestructible."

"The extreme heat of the flames allows them to melt any alloy (including ceramite) with a simple touch. And, if the weapon they hold is of sufficient quality, the flames can infuse it without destroying the weapon, bringing it to the same temperature."

"Therefore, they will do their best to learn forging techniques from the time they become recruits, hoping to forge a weapon strong enough to bear the dragon flame before they die."

"When an Ashhammer dies from the dragon's flames, they leave behind a tough skeleton covered in charred fragments of armour, said to be extremely strong. The Chapter recovers their remains and, as is tradition, consigns them to the three forges they have aboard their three ships of the line."

“Although the dragon’s flame has gone out, its warmth remains. Although the man is gone, his will lives on.”

"I cannot judge this behavior, but I admire their will and determination. Their weapons will be regularly brought back to the treasury on Nocturne and forged by Vulkan himself. It is said that a very complicated ritual must be performed to open it."

"No matter which chapter you come from, even if you are a mortal, as long as you can prove your courage in this ceremony, the door of the treasure house will be opened, and those who pass will be allowed to enter and choose weapons."

"Today, the relics of the Ash Hammers have been widely circulated in the empire, and all warriors are proud to own one. The Chapter does not seem to have any objection to this. They believe that this is the best tribute to the dead in battle and the best encouragement for them."

"Because they don't have to worry about what happens after they die. After they die in battle, their remains will be thrown into the furnace to help future generations. Their weapons will be inherited by the brave to protect more innocent people."

Caesar Mecken slowly closed the book with trembling hands. He didn't want to read any further for the time being.

It was good to know that the legion, no, the chapter was thriving. Not to mention such a glorious successor chapter - although he still felt a little weird about it, the Ash Hammers undoubtedly had Vulcan's blood flowing in their veins.
That is enough.

He smiled and sighed, using the neural connection to temporarily shut down the helmet's communication permissions, and then whispered.

"Adro, our younger generations are just as brave as we are. Can you see that?"

His fingers suddenly twitched, and after more than ten seconds, the twitching slowly stopped. Adro Branuel looked at the book in his hand, silently opened the permissions, and turned to the next page with tears in his eyes.

He couldn't help feeling excited.
-
Kefa Morag stood before a large door that slid open, looking inside. It was a very simple living room, designed for a warrior like him.

A bed fixed to the ground, with no signs of use and not looking soft. Not far away was a practice dummy, used for simple exercises without armor.

Then there is a table, a chair, and a private storage compartment built into the wall, which is also open.

A pale blue display flickered beside it, instructing the Death Guard in High Gothic to set a code known only to him.

Kefa Morag watched all this in silence until several minutes had passed before he stepped closer.

He had already replaced his armour, which was being repaired in a small foundry aboard the Macragge's Glory, along with the armour of three hundred and sixteen other Death Guard.

The Ultramarines were as generous as ever. The captain who led the way even arranged a separate base for them.
This was really beyond Kefa's expectations.

Moreover, this kindness made it difficult for him to breathe.

The door closed behind him with a heavy thud. Temporarily free from the outside world, Mortarion's personal guard suddenly fell to the ground, as if he had lost all his strength.

He gritted his teeth and propped himself up with his hands, and began to sweat profusely from the unbearable violent impact.

Just now, he inevitably recalled the past.

He thought of the death of the Primarch.

He thought of the tortured man, the deformed and distorted face with bloodshot eyes and a low roar.
Unyielding, unyielding, never surrendering. The man shouted these broken words that were not comprehensible, and suddenly looked at them, blood flowing from his eyes. Then, there was a flash of golden light and thunder.

Kefa Morag closed his eyes, lowered his head, rested his elbows on the ground, and began to breathe slowly and deeply.

One beat after another, one beat after another, until the two hearts in his chest began to beat steadily and he regained the strength to stand up.

The Death Guard despised his own cowardice, clenched his fists, tore off his training shirt, and lay on the bed. He closed his eyes and began to recall what he had read in the reference room, trying to distract himself.

He did it very successfully, or maybe Robert Guilliman wrote it very well, and his thoughts were immediately brought to the unfamiliar name and word "Sub-Group".

He had no sense of the terrifying time of ten thousand years, but now that things had come to this, was there any way he could escape from it instead of accepting the reality?

The Purifier. He said the name silently.

A fleet-based regiment - Kefa didn't actually know what the word "fleet-based" meant, but he could understand it literally, after all, it was a later compound word. In his time, this word did not exist just like the Purifiers.

This chapter's specialty is quite brutal. As the name suggests, they are good at clearing Chaos pollution and conducting extermination operations.

Their predecessor was a Destroyer unit during the Death Guard Legion era. Kefa had the opportunity to join them, but he wanted to be closer to the Primarch, so he rejected their invitation.

The thought of this incident made him feel helpless. How could such a coincidence happen?
He sighed and shook his head, worried about what the Purifiers might encounter. After all, they were by no means unknown, and their specialties determined one thing - the Purifiers had to face the most cruel and bloodiest battlefields.

And, this is indeed the case.

Kefa recalled the contents of the book, which clearly stated that the Empire had even begun to consider calling in the Purifiers as the last response plan before using the Extermination Order.

Once they receive the signal, they rush over and start to deal with it. This process is often accompanied by devastating reconstruction of the natural environment, not to mention the local society. If the situation is bad enough to need to call them, the local civilians will probably have been wiped out.

However, since they bear such a heavy responsibility, they are bound to encounter misunderstanding and even disgust from others.

However, Kefa Morag knew that these descendants who had inherited the blood of the Primarch would certainly not care about this matter. After all, they had another thing to do.

They were to kill Calas Typhon, or Typhonus, and those who had betrayed the Primarch with him.

In the culture of the Death Guard and the Purifiers, they no longer use these two names to refer to it, but directly use the derogatory term "evil creature".

To be honest, Kefa thought this was very appropriate.

Kefa saw it when he had watched from afar as Mortarion was being tortured. In the darkness, its form was bloated, huge, and ugly, not even remotely like an Astartes. Its armor even seemed to have the texture of flesh.
Mortarion's guards nearly broke their teeth.

Caras Typhon, Typhon, I hope you die without a burial place. I hope that wild beasts will eat your internal organs, vultures will peck out your eyes, and I hope that you will be nailed to the stake and burned to ashes by the flames of promethium.
He suddenly sat up, held his neck, and began to swallow fresh air in big gulps. Excessive hatred came back from the bottom of his heart, almost overwhelming his reason.

Every second he had spent with that evil creature in the past was transformed into a bone-eating poison, causing him so much pain that he wished he died.

Kefa Morag even began to wish that he could go back in time. If that were possible, he would kill it before it was too late. Even if he had to bear the infamy of killing his brother, or be executed by the Primarch himself, he was willing.

The hand holding his neck began to slowly tighten, and his breathing not only did not improve, but even began to get worse. Kefa immediately realized that he had to divert his attention quickly, otherwise the sequelae of his excessive trauma would most likely kill him.

By that time, he would probably become the first Death Guard to commit suicide.
He quickly recited the name of another sub-regiment - the Death Legion.

It was clearly a war group, but it had the name of a legion. A cruel joke, or perhaps a deliberate protective measure. After all, the first group of people who died were people like him, a group of incompetents.

Witnessing the death of their primarchs, yet being unable to do anything, they could only watch as they exiled themselves, erased their names, and only wanted to fight to the death.

Kefa knew that if he had not been taken away by the alien and placed in the stasis field, he would have responded to the call when the Holy Scripture was released and become one of the dead. For a group of cowards like them, dying in battle was already the best outcome.

Kefa Morag slowly opened his eyes.

At some point, he had let go of his right hand that was clenched around his neck. His breathing became steady again, and the suffocation he had felt just now had disappeared without a trace.
The Deathly Legion.

The fleet-based regiment can have a home planet, but refuses to have one. Their original purpose was to rush to death, to erase their cowardice and to seek liberation.

Even if they accepted new duties and became new protectors and guards, they still wanted to die. Under the influence of this concept, they gradually withered away over the past ten thousand years, and it was even difficult to maintain a full staffing.
Kaifa frowned, and couldn't help but recall his reaction when he saw these things in the data room.

That was the first time he felt dissatisfied with the deceased - how could this be? The old duties could be ended with death, but what about the new duties? And what about the new deceased?
The new protectors who were born from the protected had no sins against the original body, nor were they incompetent cowards, so they did not need to bear the sins of their predecessors.

A flash of anger suddenly appeared in the guard's sharp gray eyes.

If possible, he must find the current dying legion. Although he may not be qualified and in a position to give advice, he must try.

He knew that the Legion of the Dead had been reformed and was no longer as extreme, and that new culture had emerged, such as the yearning for death.

They regarded the equipment of the dead as precious relics, carefully recovered them after the war, used them for worship in shrines, and passed them on to every new soldier as an important inheritance. But this is not enough, it is far from enough.

Rushing to death is indeed the mission of the Astartes, and it is also the wish of the first group of those who died, but these later ones do not have to do so.

They are protectors, and they will indeed step into death's door one day, but until then, they must fight as hard as they can.

Yes, fight your best.

Kefa Morag stood up.

No, trying your best is not enough - you have to use all your strength to kill, fight, and protect. You have to fight until the last drop of blood in your veins disappears, you have to swing your sword until your hand has no more strength, and you have to protect hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands, or even millions of people.
Let the original body rest in peace.

The Death Guard slowly closed his eyes, made the Sky Eagle Salute, lowered his head, and began his daily mourning.

(End of this chapter)