40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 621 7. Pest Control (I)

There was an inhuman roar in the distance, but Azrael ignored it and focused his attention elsewhere. He hadn't realized that this was a valuable talent, but it didn't matter because he would always use it well.

Years of training, genetic modification surgery and natural alertness made him aware of a slight friction sound coming from above his head. An idea arose from the bottom of his heart and was then put into practice.

Azriel turned around and raised his sword. The energy field crackled in an instant, blue light flashed, and a flesh and blood body hissed and hung on his sword.

The thing's four hands were still moving, and its long, sharp claws scratched at his shoulder armor, causing sparks and metallic wailing.

Azriel twisted his wrist hard, then swung his arm violently, cutting the failed attacker who had not completed the attack in half, but it was not dead yet. Its four degenerate - or perhaps evolutionary to them - claws were still struggling, trying to kill Azriel.

The Dark Angel took a step back, narrowly avoiding this chaotic and crazy attack, then stabbed with his sword, piercing its head completely.

Viscous blood splashed out, staining the road surface of the mine red. Their blood was not the green color described in the information, nor was it the pus that Azrael had seen before. Instead, it was almost the same as that of humans, except that it was too viscous.

This discovery made him hate these aliens even more. Without thinking, Azriel knew why this phenomenon came into being.
But now was not the time to think. Some huge force shattered the wall along with a roar. Among the flying rubble, another purebred Genestealer pounced towards him. Its four deadly claws became increasingly terrifying in the narrow space.

In a split second, Azrael realized he couldn't dodge the attack, so he adopted another strategy. He raised his sword slightly, charged forward, and rammed the pureblood's attack head-on, sending it flying.

Its sharp claws didn't even have time to leave a scratch on his power armor, but this was not the end. Azrael calmly slashed horizontally, splitting the monster in two from top to bottom.
Although it seemed like an easy victory, Azriel knew in his heart that he had actually narrowly escaped death twice. Moreover, now was not the time to celebrate as his mission was not yet completed.

Azrael put away his sword, turned around and ran. Indescribable dense sounds came from behind him. He didn't need to look back, he knew what those sounds meant. But now he just needed to run.

He ran towards the direction where the roar came from, counting the seconds silently.

At the eleventh second, he passed a turnaround with crates. At the thirteenth second, there was a loud rumble behind him, and the flames of the explosion carried fragments of meat and chitinous shells across and splashed in front of him.

At the 19th second, he reached the second-to-last mark. At the 22nd second, another explosion was heard. At the 25th second, he jumped up, rushed out of the cave, and jumped down from a height of nearly six meters.

Countless aliens rushed out from behind him, carrying flames, screams and bloodthirsty desires.

They were greeted by the Dark Angels' explosive bombs, promethium flamethrowers and plasma, and the deafening roar of Asmodai.

Azriel selectively ignored the last one. He didn't hate Asmodai, he just simply refused to listen to the roar. He was tired of it when he was still a bait in the cave, and even temporarily blocked Asmodai on the communication channel.

He stood up, sheathed his sword, and walked over to another Dark Angel, who was crouching over the body of a Genestealer mutant, observing and recording.

"Captain Sufist," Azrael called. "The mission is accomplished."

His captain hummed absentmindedly, followed by a dozen seconds of silence.

Azriel was a little confused. He didn't understand what was going on that was worthy of the captain's attention, but he soon understood because Safist took the initiative to explain.

"Look at this monster, Azrael, do you know what it is?"

"Aberrant species," Azrael answered quickly. "Extremely strong, even surpassing us in terms of physical strength alone, and powerful in attack, but unfortunately weak in intelligence, which can be easily dealt with through coordination and tactics."

"Yes, coordination and tactics."

Sufist stood up in thought. He was not wearing a helmet, but he didn't need one. An iron halo was waiting behind his head.

"Actually, any enemy can be defeated through coordination and tactics, but you'd better forget this idea before stepping on it."

"Why, Captain?" Azrael asked in confusion. "Isn't this the information sent by the Inquisition?"

Sufist turned around and looked sternly at Azrael, who had a certain degree of genetic mutation, so he had white hair, which was considered a bad omen.

The lower half of his face was covered by an intricately crafted pale gold mask, hiding the missing parts. The maker had skillfully used the curves of the metal to mimic his former lips and chin, making him look the same as before, even more majestic.

"Coordination and tactics are established while we can still use them, but soon we will be in a much worse situation than now. Look around, Azrael, how many third and fourth generation hybrids do you see?"

"There aren't many of them, right? This means we've already reached the heart of their lair. The further we go in, the more purebloods and other genetically mutated monsters there will be."

"They are endless, and our number will not change. You must learn to adapt, Azrael. The reason why tactics are complicated and varied is so that we can adapt to local conditions and use them at any time."

"So, Captain, having no tactics is also a tactic?"

Sufist didn't smile, but there was a clear flash of similar emotion in the gray eyes beneath the white hair.

He nodded, then returned to the center of the team, issued new orders, and began communicating with other teams, asking them to gather around him.

The Lion's request was to act in secrecy, so the 300 Dark Angels who accompanied him here were temporarily divided into combat teams at the beginning of landing. They carried a large amount of heavy firepower and entered the intricate underground system of this quasi-nest city through various means to re-check the mines and drainage pipes.

They have achieved great results, especially the team of Sufist. According to the current situation, they only need to regroup to break into the heart of this Genestealer cult, meet the so-called patriarch, and then kill it, severely damaging the entire cult.

Standing in the team, Azriel carefully thought about the entire strategy, but the new light guns placed in the crates he saw not long ago flashed before his eyes.

He frowned, feeling somewhat uneasy. Although he had already told the senior officers about this, both they and Azrael himself knew that infiltrating both the upper and lower classes at the same time was one of the Genestealers' unchanging strategies.

On Banjo-1, some nobles or leaders must have been infected, but they arrived early, so there is still a solution to all this - as long as they raid and kill the patriarch, everything after that will be much simpler no matter what.

But, will things really go this smoothly?
The lion pulled out the Spear of Dionysus from the body of the last pureblood. Staring at the ugly face of that thing, he couldn't help but be a little curious: What would an alien see when being stabbed by this spear?
"It's an alien, so it can only see death." Leman Russ said. The lion drew his spear and walked towards Khalil on the bloody ground. The disadvantage of not wearing armor was revealed at this moment - his boots.

This pair of thick leather boots, which were not prepared for combat, were extremely slippery in a place filled with blood and flesh, so he had to consider in advance where to take the next step every time he took it, and his gait became quite strange.

Russ uttered a slight laugh, but the lion ignored it.

He had long since learned to ignore this stupid wolf in battle. If ten thousand years was not enough to teach him this, then he might as well just crash headfirst into the Spear of Dionysus and die.
"Then come in and keep me company?" Ruth asked faintly, with a smile that could not be concealed in his voice. "I have no objection, Leon, but can you bring in some wine?"

The lion took a deep breath and threw out a series of complicated thoughts, including the idea of ​​retaliating, from his mind. Then he started talking to his companion covered in blood.

"What are you thinking?"

"I wonder when the riots and rebellions will happen," his companion replied softly. "With such a large-scale clearing operation, unless I can directly shock them to death through the psychic network, they will definitely find something wrong."

"Therefore, the third and fourth generation hybrids among them are likely to come out in droves to the surface and incite the poor people of Banjo-1, or directly assassinate a few officials who are used to being domineering in public to ignite emotions. I think their first targets must be military camps and communication institutions."

"Tell me you notified the local army, and then tell me why you didn't just shock them to death with your psychic power," the lion demanded succinctly.

His expression was not very happy, as if he was suppressing his anger. Khalil was a little surprised by this, but he soon realized that the anger was not directed at him.

The lion slowly sat down on a broken boulder.

This stone once belonged to a heavy wall. Three minutes ago, it was still doing its job on the wall, until some force it could not resist shattered it in a blue light, sending it flying and crushing a group of Genestealers.
It no longer had any duties to perform, but the lion didn't mind giving it a new one for a short time.

He held the Spear of Dionysus horizontally, placed the spear on his knees like a meditating Caliban knight, and closed his eyes.

Then there was a long breath - when he opened his eyes again, the deep green eyes of Lion El'Jonson had been replaced by a kind of glacial blue.

Leman Russ smiled happily, then stood up and twisted his neck.

"Oh, uncle! It's been such a long time!"

He rushed towards Khalil with a spear in hand and a grin on his face. The latter glanced at him with raised eyebrows, but did not dodge. Instead, he let Ruth pick him up, but his voice became a little strange.

"I say, Ruth."

"how?"

"What's with that name?"

"Don't you think that's a fair name?"

Ruth asked back very enthusiastically, then laughed and let go of Khalil, laughing so brightly, as if he had played a very satisfying joke.

".It's up to you." Khalil shook his head. "But I really didn't expect you to do this."

Russ blinked at him. "It could have always been possible, Khalil. It just took the stupid lion a long time to realize it. His Caliban way of thinking is like a knight's armor. It is only useful in a few situations. It is completely inferior to our Fenrisian sense of smell."

"Actually, I just want to know why he let you out at this time?"

"Because I asked him to," Ruth said. "He owes me a few favors, big ones, so he has to listen to me sometimes."

Khalil wisely remained silent at this time and did not comment on the matter. Russ then picked up the Lion's previous question: "So, have you notified the local army?"

"This is the first thing I did after sending out the secret key. Don't worry, Russ. I used my psychic powers to investigate and found that not many of them were infected. As for now, they have probably been found and shot for some time."

Ruth nodded. "That's a bit strange, isn't it? They didn't even prioritize the defense forces."

"That's because they have infiltrated almost all the nobles and officials." Khalil said, smiling slowly. "My experience in the local Ministry of Justice building was not a pleasant one."

Russ smacked his lips and picked up the spear, then casually slung it over his shoulder. "So, one last thing?"

"Because I can't," Khalil replied very calmly.

He opened his coat and showed Russ the hole that had not yet healed. The pupils of the Fenris man suddenly shrank, and some intuition beyond reason helped him understand what Khalil could not say.

But along with it came more questions. He frowned for a long time, and finally couldn't help asking.

"So, you are now?"

Khalil smiled playfully: "I am just an ordinary psyker who wants to try to become a human again - come on, Russ, we have to go to the water plant."

"Six seconds ago, the chief issued an order to his purebloods through the mental network, asking them to rush to the water plant and water circulation system of Banjo-1."

Leman Russ bared his fangs and nodded with a half-smile.

(End of this chapter)