40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 601 119. Dark Expedition (Forty)
Calistarius leaped forward into the dark elevator shaft.

His hands were like iron hooks, sinking deeply into the wall, firmly lingering on the places that could hardly even be called edges. Then he turned around, nimbly jumped onto a pitch-black steel cable, and began to climb up.

At this moment, the chaos had left him, and his mind was extremely clear. The entire internal structure of the Red Tear had even formed a holographic map in his mind that could be zoomed in and out at any time. Even the details that he would not even pay attention to on weekdays appeared one by one.
For example, here is an old elevator that is almost reaching the end of its service life.

Only a few mortal servants still use it. These people are responsible for transporting some of the scribes' work to the clerk's office. Due to the cumbersome weight of the empire's stone tablets, they usually choose to use this shortcut to save time and energy.

And now, Calistarius has become one of them.

He had to take this shortcut to reach the eleventh deck of the Red Tear, where there was a small cabin that had been unused for a long time but had a very long history.

It has existed since the time of the Great Crusade, and was once used by Librarians to provide them with a quiet place to meditate and hone their talents.

There were many similar rooms, and Calistarius alone knew of thirty-two. After the Edict of Nikaea, these rooms were not abolished, and although the Librarians had moved out of them, they would still return from time to time to seek inner peace.

It could be said that this was a tradition - as a think tank, Calistarius naturally had a separate cabin.

He made special modifications to it, removing the bed and some precious relics of art, and instead filled it with many books, as well as a weapon rack and armor rack that he built specifically for himself.

However, logically speaking, he did not need to travel such a long distance to find weapons and armor. However, from the 22nd deck where the ceremony was located to the 16th deck where he was just now, let alone finding the armory, he did not even see a single living person.

Calistarius didn't believe that everyone was dead, so he took a long detour to use the emergency communication platform to call the main bridge, but still received no response.

The only thing he got on the communication channel was a burst of noise and the pre-set alarm sound, which kept echoing in the raging flames.

Since waking up or returning, Calistarius has seen nothing but corpses. Familiar or unfamiliar, humans, demons, monsters, all mixed together into a scarlet swamp. He himself was dragged into it, unable to leave, unable to breathe.

He almost didn't dare to think about what the lack of response meant.

Calistarius took a deep breath, put aside unnecessary thoughts, concentrated his energy, and continued to climb upwards, but at this moment the steel cable in his hand began to vibrate rapidly.

A sharp sound of steel friction came from above his head, and Calistarius looked up and saw a falling elevator. Sparks from the rapid friction were blooming wildly from its bottom, bringing a burst of heat before it even got close.

The young think tank's pupils shrank, and he jumped immediately to change the cable. But he heard a second sound - the distinctive sound of the saw blade of the chain saw weapon turning.
Then came a third sound, a roar far more brutal than that of the chainsaw weapon.

Calistarius held his breath, quietly tensed his muscles, held the steel cable with one hand, and waited for the opportunity. After just one blink of an eye, the elevator passed Calistarius with strong winds and dazzling sparks, and then quickly went down.

He could clearly see two figures fighting on it, one wearing black and red armor, and the other
Calistarius no longer hesitated or waited. He exhaled the cold air that remained for a few seconds, and then jumped down resolutely.

He wears no armor and has no weapons, but don't forget that he is still a psyker.

Psionics have nothing to do with armor or weapons. Psionics themselves are their most deadly weapons.

As he fell, the world began to slow down before his eyes. A pale electric snake suddenly appeared in the center of his palm, which had not yet been clenched. It buzzed and expanded in just an instant into a huge energy ball that was enough to illuminate the entire wide elevator shaft - even Calistarius himself was surprised.

Psychic lightning can be considered the most basic psychic spell. He has used it at least eight thousand times, but never once has it been so violent.
To be able to be this powerful.

However, the window of opportunity is brief, and Calistarius must unleash the spell before it harms him.

He stared at the other figure on the elevator and rushed towards it. The black and red warrior he was fighting with keenly caught his presence, and then immediately turned around and swung his sword.

The blood-stained Man-Splitting Saw in his hand changed its direction and even slowed down. It should have chopped down the opponent's chest at a high speed, but now it blocked a huge battle axe from a distance.
A second later, Calistarius dropped from the sky.

The lightning in his hand started from the top of his head and poured into the body of the demon. It roared wildly, and its skin and flesh were immediately torn apart. The pale electric snakes drilled into its filthy flesh and blood, wreaking havoc, and blood and flesh splattered, and bones flew everywhere.

One second passed, and the next second came quickly. Soon, the saw was swung again. A head flew high into the air and fell into the endless darkness at the bottom of the elevator shaft. The elevator followed closely behind, carrying the huge corpse and chasing its head.
Calistarius clasped his left hand tightly.

“Hold tight!”

Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers, roared at him and immediately ignited the jump pack on his back.

It was definitely not designed to carry two Astartes, but luckily Calistarius was not wearing armor at the moment, so their subsequent 'jump' was completely smooth.

Before the fuel ran out, the Flesh Tearer brought him back to the ground platform, away from that dark place. As soon as he landed, before he had time to catch his breath, Calistarius heard the voice of the Flesh Tearer.

"In the name of the throne."

The man-splitting saw suddenly flashed and crossed Calistarius' neck.

"Who are you?" Gabriel Seth asked coldly.

His face was covered with many small scars, some of which had stopped bleeding, while others had not. His armor was also covered with scars, and the dirty blood covered the surface of the armor, coating it with a layer of bloody gauze.

His anger was palpable, even though he had just accepted help from Calistarius.

The young Librarian slowed his breathing and replied in a controlled tone, "I am Calistarius, my lord, I am—"

“—I fucking know it.”

Seth interrupted him angrily and roughly, his fangs looming at the corners of his lips.

"The Librarian of the Blood Angels, I know, I know that. But I don't care. I only know that he was declared brain dead hours ago, that the ritual to decipher the psychic signal failed, and that you, creature, took over his body."

Calistarius inevitably took a deep breath and urged himself to look him in the eye. The renowned Gabriel Seth, Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers, was a man with a terrible temper. Some described him as the most brutal of the Emperor's Angels of Death, and even among the Flesh Tearers, he was an outstanding one. This was true both in terms of combat prowess and the rage hidden in his body.
Previously, Calistarius thought it was just an exaggerated rumor, just like some people in the Empire said that Yago Sevitarion of the Midnight Blade was a complete lunatic, which was almost a slander.

Now, he believes that there may be a reason why those rumors have spread so widely.

However, Gabriel Seth did not act immediately.

Calistarius knew how valuable this was, and with this alone, the Chapter Master of the Flesh Tearers could prove one thing: he was not a monster.

The staring continued.

Calistarius did not explain, for he knew the uselessness of words. He stared fearlessly into the Flesh Tearer's black eyes, suppressing all instinctive reactions to the weapon pressing against his neck.

He did not resist or explain, but just stood there calmly, allowing Gabriel Seth to analyze everything about him. A minute later, the man-splitting saw was put down and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

"Can you still fight?" Seth asked briefly.

“Yes,” said Calistarius.

"Very good." Seth nodded, turned and left.

His blood-stained cloak suddenly swept through the flames, and the headless corpses nailed to the wall suffered less burning pain, but their flesh had already begun to melt.

This, like their deaths, had been forged in the furnace of war. Calistarius hurried after him, and was asked another question.

"How many times can you cast a psychic spell like the one just now?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "At least twenty times."

Seth glanced back at him and suddenly an ugly laugh broke out of his throat, as hoarse as two pieces of wood wet with blood rubbing against each other.

They advanced silently, striding along this road of death. After about three hundred meters, a faint shouting sounded within their hearing. The Flesh Tearers immediately started running—in fact, running like crazy.

Calistarius thought he would fall behind, but he was wrong. He didn't even have to put in much effort to catch up with Seth in power armor.

He frowned in surprise and doubt. All the wrongness contained in everything he had experienced before came to his mind at this moment and turned into a question to himself.

What have you become, Calistarius?

No one answered this question.

Ahead of him, Gabriel Seth roared into the middle of a battle.

The way he announced his arrival was extremely bloody, the man-splitting saw swept across, easily splitting several bloodletters in two. Before their bodies had even hit the ground, the Flesh Tearer rushed to other targets.

His charge was unbroken, and so was his roar. If he had not been swinging his sword like a champion, Calistarius would have seen him as a brutal beast, but he was not.

In fact, he was not a cunning warrior. Although he rushed into the ground formation alone, he never met the big guys who might hinder his steps.

From the beginning till now, he has always chosen the low-level vampires. Of course, there are also powerful individuals among the vampires, but those individuals are usually very easy to distinguish.
He rushed forward and killed along the way.

He tore off the heads of demons, dismembered them with skin and bones with a man-splitting saw, crushed their skulls, and never missed any opportunity to create more bloody killings.

"Demonic!" the Flesh Tearer roared. "In the name of Sanguinius—!"

He held the man-ripping saw high in the air.

Calistarius clenched his fists, and a blinding flash of light burst out from above everyone's head in the next second. A thundercloud was summoned from the High Heaven by his will, and golden lightning instantly descended, beginning to cleanse the demons with unrivaled power.

One of them hit Gabriel Seth with incredible precision. Instead of causing any damage, it gave his weapon and armor a layer of dazzling golden light.

In the following killing, every swing of his sword would draw the lightning. The Flesh Tearer couldn't help but burst into laughter, and in the interval between the battles, he rarely took the time to nod to Calistarius, as if in approval.

However, as the instigator of all this, the young think tank could not relax at all. He was even a little terrified - how could it be possible?

Why is this happening? The thunderclouds, the golden lightning
Is that really my strength?
Calistarius wanted to think more, but he no longer had the time.

Amid a burst of bombs, a group of Astartes wearing blood-red power armor launched a counterattack.

They seized this great opportunity and fought with extreme ferocity, without any hesitation, and every attack by each person was aimed at sending all enemies in front of them to extinction. They were filled with an indescribable rage and
A picture suddenly flashed before Calistarius' eyes.

The cold vacuum, the boiling rage, and a scarlet meteor swept across from the other side of the virtual realm.

Clad in brass armor, he rushed through the asteroid belt and rolled over the burning wreckage of a battleship. His hair was as red as steel needles. He held a steel whip in one hand and a spear in the other. He had sharp teeth and scarlet eyes.

It crashed into the center of the flaming Red Tear, with thick smoke billowing out.
When it reappeared, it had already passed the other end of the Red Tear, holding a being with pure white wings in its hand. Amid the swirling debris and twinkling stars, the demon disappeared.

Calistarius roared as he woke up from the illusion.

(End of this chapter)