40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 636 19. Judgment (I, Zabril, 7k)

Shefa looked up from behind his desk and glanced at Rental Sable, who knew the meaning of his gaze but did not stop what he was doing.

Several documents were rustling in his hands, which was extremely disturbing. He had been doing this for several minutes, and his purpose was obvious, but Xiefa didn't want to let him achieve his goal so easily.

So he lowered his head again and continued to deal with the work in his hands - he was looking through many lists. He had to find three thousand suitable people from the list of criminals jointly provided by the Ministry of Military Affairs and the Ministry of Justice, and then take them to a new place.

A penal corps called the Last Chancers.

Shefa didn't really like the name, but it was apt.

At this time, in the second drawer at the lower left side of his desk, there was a thick stack of pardons waiting.

They have legal effect. As long as Xie Fa signs and seals them, those who may receive the pardon will no longer be guilty. They will be free, no matter how serious the crime they have committed.
This is the last chance.

Shefa was certain that among those he was about to select, some would fight to the death for him until they received a pardon.

But others probably won't do so. They know that they have already committed unforgivable crimes. Unless the Emperor really appears, these people will not have any thoughts about the pardon order, even if it has the Emperor's seal on it to prove that he agrees to it.

Xiefa's right index finger, which was sliding across the data pad, suddenly paused.

帝皇
He narrowed his eyes, raised his head again, and looked at Rental Sable. The Inquisitor Guard, who had regained his freedom, was now holding the document and looking at him, with an expression that Shefa was very familiar with spreading across his rough face.

Everyone who interacts with him seems to have the same expression at some point, and the reason is really thought-provoking. Most people might feel uneasy about this, but Shefa doesn't, he even feels satisfied.

"Is there anything wrong with you, Sable?" Shefa asked deliberately.

"Yes," said the sable gruffly. "I come on behalf of my mistress, who asked me to ask you when we can leave."

"at any time."

"at any time?"

"Yes, you can leave at any time, as long as I agree."

Renthal Sable took a deep breath, then put down the papers, clenched his fists, and placed them on the table.

Shefa looked down at them, completely unmoved by the veins on his hands. In fact, he even wanted to smile.
He enjoyed being with people like Sable; to him, they were simple and easy to understand.

"But this is the Lion's ship." Sable responded in a somewhat suppressed tone.

"Yes, this is Lion's ship, but he has left the matter entirely to me, and you are a talent, Mr. Sable. I have a mission on hand that will greatly require someone like you."

"I am the bodyguard of Cyrano van der Leff."

"It is common for inquisitors to borrow guards from each other, Mr. Sable. Are you not aware of this?"

Sable took another deep breath: "How long will I have to work for you?"

"Ten years," Shefa said thoughtfully, and added, "If we're lucky - of course, your mistress will come along and provide us with a little help."

"From what I know, she has a good relationship with several wandering merchants who have been active in the Storm Star Region for many years. I hope to use these relationships."

Sable sneered: "I don't think they will like someone like you."

Shefa nodded, acknowledging his statement. At the same time, a low hum came from the data pad in his hand.

The sable glanced at it quickly, but Shefa unconcernedly laid the data pad flat on the table, allowing the flashing article belonging to the lion to come into the former's sight.

He spoke slowly, "Yes, they really don't like an inquisitor like me, but they will definitely be very happy to have a good relationship with a colonel specially appointed by the Ministry of Military Affairs who holds great power."

"Besides, your mistress can even take this opportunity to further her friendship with them, so why not?"

After he finished speaking, he stood up, straightened his military uniform, picked up his military cap and put it on, then strode out of his office.

He walked with his head held high and his eyes looking forward, which showed a kind of power that made people calm and convinced. But this was just a superficial appearance, just a deliberate disguise.

A relatively young colonel in the Military Affairs Department should have this kind of gait, and he needed to make people believe it - after all, not many people knew his other identity.

The fewer people who know the truth, the better. Although confidentiality regulations seem redundant in most cases, their necessity has been proven by the lives of generation after generation of inquisitors.

He strode into an assembly hall used by the Dark Angels' servants. It was always crowded here, there was never a lack of things to do on a warship, not to mention that this was a warship belonging to the Astartes.

The daily routines of the mortal servants are highly consistent with those they serve. According to Shefa's observations, the servants on the Rational Front even use the training grounds they usually use right next to the Dark Angels' grounds.
The young and strong among them have to maintain strict training every day, and then they will do their own things, such as maintaining weapons and armor, delivering messages, delivering necessary incense to the meditating knights, or delivering food and wine at the dinner.

They have lived with the Dark Angels for generations and are proud of it. If they gain honors in war, they can even put their own names together with the Dark Angels and let them flutter in the wind on the flag.

Throughout the empire, such a relationship is rare. Almost every warband needs mortal servants, but there are not many who can do this.
And Shefa knew the reason behind this - the lion.

Without his approval, the atmosphere within the Dark Angels would never have changed to this extent.

But this also aroused his curiosity. Although the Inquisition did not keep the battle records of the Dark Angels during the Legion period, from some rare cooperative battles, the style of the Lions ten thousand years ago was quite cruel.
What made him what he is today?

Questions arose, and Shefa's memories followed suit. The lion treated him very politely, and even when he was furious, he still remained rational.

Xiefa didn't think it was because of his identity, so his thirst for knowledge became even stronger.

With this thought in mind, he boarded an elevator that led directly to the top floor of the Edge of Reason.

After pressing the button, the strong feeling of weightlessness immediately began to tear at Shefa's body. He had to reach out and hold the handrails reserved for mortals to stabilize his body, while silently holding his breath.
Ten seconds later, accompanied by a gust of cold wind, the elevator door suddenly slid open, and a long corridor appeared in front of Shefa. Two Dark Angels wearing Terminator armor stood on the left and right of the elevator exit, staring at him in silence.

Xiefa bowed to them and then walked in.

It has been more than a year since he boarded the Edge of Reason, but, including this time, he has only been here three times.

The Lion didn't often summon him here. Most of the time, they met at the door of the interrogation room. Although he didn't come here to work for the Lion, since he had already boarded the Front of Reason, it was understandable that he did something.
Shefa suddenly stopped, and the badge he had placed on his chest was trembling with coldness. He instinctively raised his right hand to his waist, and then realized that he was not wearing any weapon.

It was an awkward situation, but Shefa still forced himself to calm down and became acutely aware of one thing—he actually didn't know what the vibration of the badge meant.

So he turned and stared.

Sure enough, he saw a familiar person.

Standing in the darkness, Khalil smiled at him.

"Very perceptive, Colonel Shefa," he praised. "I thought you would notice me later."

".It is the badge's function, sir."

Khalil walked out of the darkness, smiling and shaking his head. Shefa frowned in confusion, but did not ask for an explanation, and walked into the door with Khalil.

The world behind the door is probably very different from what most people imagine a Primarch's private room to be. The Lion did not place too many things related to official business here. In fact, there were not many things for daily life. There was only a bed that fit his body size thrown quietly in the corner.

The rest of the place was filled with weapons, some hung on the wall, some placed on weapon racks, and carefully classified.

Swords were placed together, silently waiting for the day to be unsheathed. Knives were crossed, murderous, silently calling for blood. Various types of firearms that had been maintained were placed inside transparent display cabinets, waiting to be used.

There were many kinds of them, and each one fit the original master's hand. Shefa was dazzled by the sight, and had to remind himself to stay calm - although he was not a regular soldier, who could keep a calm mind in the face of so many magical weapons?

At least he couldn't, so he silently turned his gaze to the center of the room.

There was a training ground of moderate size reserved there, where the lion was fighting with two combat servants with his bare hands.

They are highly modified, with every inch of their body surface covered in hard alloy plates. Of course, this is nothing in the face of the power of a Primarch, but the Lion obviously has high demands on himself.

The robot servants were also equipped with real weapons, and their joints were also modified. The most crucial point is that each of them holds two power swords, and the special joint structure allows them to launch attacks beyond the limits of human swordsmanship.

Xiefa couldn't help but worry about the lion, who told him with his actions that his worries were meaningless, but Xiefa couldn't grasp the details at all.

He only knew that the lion seemed to throw two punches, and then the two combat servants fell to the ground with sparks. It was not until the force field on their power swords dissipated that the heavy echo caused by the Primarch's attack reached Shefa's ears.

Then, there was the voice of the lion.

"Thank you, I have something I want your help with."

Xie Fa naturally had no reason to refuse, but after only half an hour, he began to regret his rash decision. But at that time, he could no longer refuse.

He could only sit on a cold iron chair and stare at an Astartes in front of him, whose name was Zabril.

A Terran Dark Angel, a veteran from ten thousand years ago.
-
When the mortal in black and red uniform sat down in front of me, I admit that I was a little confused. In my perception, I was helping a group of survivors fight against the rebels.

At that time, the rebellion in Lower Nest had been going on for more than four days, and the local ruler acted extremely cold-bloodedly. He dispatched troops but did not allow them to enter Lower Nest to help the civilians who were being massacred.

I know what he wants to do. I've seen that fat, big-eared fool in a portrait. His orders are as easy to understand as his greasy face - he just wants to protect himself, guard the road between the lower nest and the upper nest, and let the rebels fend for themselves.
I saw with my own eyes that he sent his own soldiers to guard every road and every bridge, and did not allow any fleeing people to enter.

These arrogant guards even dared to shoot officers who tried to help the refugees, and anyone who dared to resist them was ruthlessly suppressed. It was hard for me not to feel angry, so I chose to use my own power to do something.

But what now?

The smell of mortal blood faded, and the group of people who had fought beside me disappeared. The boy I jokingly named the guard officer and the crudely made flag in his hand also disappeared. He should have been behind me.

I saw rare courage in him, and I admit that I liked him. If I were still in the legion, he would have become my servant, but he was gone, and the enemy was gone too.

Those crazy rebels should have shot at me. Their helmets and armor were covered with words slandering the Emperor, and their expressions were extremely crazy.

I had even thought of a tactic. I would cross the burning pits and collapsed building materials to reach the simple trenches they had dug temporarily, tear apart the machine gunners with my tactical short knife, and then take the stun grenades from their bodies to create greater chaos.

I am only one person, so I must let chaos be my ally. But
Damn, what the hell is going on?
"Lord Zabriel?" The mortal called out my name without respect and added a hypocritical honorific.

"Will you please look at me?"

I followed his instructions, looked him in the eyes, and prepared myself to attack. Regardless of whether this was true or not, the person who dared to put me in this situation must be punished.

I swore an oath to protect the people there from war, and while this can't make up for what I've done or make me feel any better, it at least proves that I'm still a knight.

But my vow was broken.

I didn't want it to happen, but it was destroyed.

"Thank you for your cooperation, sir."

The mortal nodded to me, and it was only then that I noticed the presence of a celestial eagle on the hat he was wearing, shining with golden light.

I immediately became nervous. Don't get me wrong, I still follow the Emperor. If he sends me his will and asks me to sacrifice myself for him, I will give my blood without hesitation.

But I have been on the run for too long. I have spent nearly four hundred years hiding in the material world. I can no longer stand under the Sky Eagle with my head held high like I did before.

The things I once believed in and fought for have now become my shackles and even a thorn in my side.

I think this is a kind of sadness, because I was really hurt by the eagle.

The mortal probably noticed this, but he didn't say it. I saw a thoughtful look in his annoying blue eyes, followed by another hypocritical smile.

"You may call me Shefa, sir."

"Thank you for what?" I asked deliberately.

He kept smiling and didn't answer my question. Instead, he looked at the information in his hand and asked me more questions.

"You are of Terran descent, are you? Born in Hive Starkholm?"

I was startled, and although I concealed my reaction well, shock was shock - how did he know?
This information should be top secret, and even my brothers should not know these things, but this mortal who called himself Shefa easily said these two things in a plain tone.
Granted, it might not matter, but if he knew that, what about the rest?

Sure enough, I heard him reveal more secrets.

"You served in the Third Great Company, as a knight of the Second Squad of the Third Company of the Fifteenth Regiment, a deacon of the Conclave of the Three Keys, and one of the founding members of the Deathwing. What an impressive resume."

Hearing this mortal speaking in a dry voice about things he shouldn't even know stung me again, and this time it hurt even more.

Part of it was his tone, but more of it was outrage: Who on earth had revealed these secrets to someone who shouldn't have known them?
Moreover, since he could know these things from that document, then how many people knew these secrets during the process of this document being circulated?
I couldn't believe I was feeling terrified.

"Anyway, sir—" the disgusting Shefa spoke again. "—we must get down to business."

The main topic? What main topic? What do you want to do? I wanted to ask, but the surrounding environment caught my eye. This dim and dark iron-gray room made me immediately realize what he meant by the main topic.

Then I became furious as never before.

"You want to interrogate me?!"

I roared and lunged at him.

In less than a third of a second, I could crush his neck, but I won't do that. I want to control him and get some of the things I want to know from him, such as where I am now and how they brought me here.
In my imagination, my hands were now around the neck of the so-called Shefa. However, in the real world, I remained where I was.

Yes, I controlled myself. It was difficult, but I did it.

If I didn’t have enough self-control, I wouldn’t have been able to escape for so long. Strangely, when I realized that my self-control had improved, a face that I didn’t want to see appeared in front of me.
That is the face of my Primarch, Lion El'Jonson.

Why did I think of him at a time like this? I had no answer.

"I wouldn't call it that, but since you think so, let's just treat it as an inquest - will you?"

His words made the corner of my eye twitch.

God damn it. I silently cursed him, countless curses stuck in my throat and echoed up and down. The words slipped from the shallow part of my throat like an adventurer who failed to climb a mountain, and fell into the abyss.

I had to force myself to calm down again, and this time, I still succeeded.

I looked at him, raised my chin, and said calmly, "Whatever you want."

"Well, Master Zabril. Now, here is the first question: Are you still loyal to the Empire?"

"Which empire?" I asked coldly.

I wasn't trying to provoke him, I just wanted to know which empire he was asking about. Ever since Caliban's exile, the changes in the world have been tearing my heart apart.

I knew of the Heresy, and I stood among the rousing crowds as priests denounced Horus Lupercal, Lorgar Aurelion, and Alpharius, three names so heavily and inextricably associated with traitors.

At first, I couldn't believe it - Horus Lupercal started the Heresy? He wanted to kill the Emperor? In the name of Terra! How could such a thing be possible?
But the more worlds I passed through, the more plausible this became. One or two worlds might be explained as duped, but everywhere I went, people were spitting on their names.

So I have to believe that after the war on Caliban ended, another rebellion was born.

Moreover, it is much larger in scale and has a much greater impact.

Three hundred and ninety-two years of escape allowed me to confirm this with my own eyes. People have become ignorant and fanatical. Almost every world is complacent, and war has never been far away. The Great Rebellion is not the end, but the beginning of another nightmare.

Traitors and aliens. These things that we had driven away during the Great Crusade have now returned, and there is also a new enemy - Chaos.

Just thinking of this word makes me shiver. The truth of the Warp is unbearable, and the changes in this world are also unbearable for me. The Empire is still called the Empire, but it is no longer the Empire I know.

It has been changed forever.

"The Empire of Man."

The foolish and arrogant mortal who thought he could interrogate me replied, still sounding nonchalant.

He sits very straight and his uniform is neatly arranged. In the past, I would have admired such a person. But now, I just want him to repent.
"I'm afraid the Empire I know is not the same as the one you know."

I told him so and he sighed.

This alone made me furious—What? My answer disappointed you?

I controlled myself with difficulty, and he spoke again: "Well, let me rephrase it, Master Zabril. Are you still loyal to the Emperor?"

I nodded without hesitation.

It's almost instinctive, and as ridiculous as it sounds, it's true. I am loyal to the Emperor. And I remained loyal to him until the very end.

The Emperor did not betray us, it was my brothers and my Primarch who betrayed us. The Emperor did not rain fire upon us, nor did he rush into our midst with sword in hand to slaughter us.
The Emperor sat on a torture device, wounded, struggling to maintain the Astronomican. Everyone knew it, they cried about it, but I saw more - I knew that the Emperor had not changed.

He is still the same Emperor I swore my allegiance to, and I am his Angel of Death, the original Angel of Death. I will fight for him as he fights for us.

"Very good, thank you very much," said Shefa.

He nodded and slowly stood up. I looked at him in confusion, not understanding what he was going to do. But he looked at me with a lack of interest, his face full of absurd helplessness.

I was stunned, and gradually I realized what he was doing
He raised his right hand, took off his hat, pressed it to his chest, pressed the glittering eagle with his fingers, and then spoke in a low voice.

It was hard for me to hear what he said because a door opened behind him and someone I knew very well walked in. I knew who it was without even having to identify him.

My blood began to boil, a rage that was beyond my ability to resist overtook me, and I allowed it to take hold of me.

I heard a voice screaming, "Traitor!"

Was that me screaming? Maybe, but I didn't want to admit it, because the scream sounded very weak.

"Interesting, you call me a traitor," he said, and stepped aside to let the damned mortal go.

I stood up, panting, and it was hard to breathe, hard to even live. My first thought was for my gun, and I reached for it, but it wasn't there, and neither was my knife.

I am armed with nothing but this armor with blurred logo and myself.
But that's enough.

I rushed at my Primarch, and he knocked me to the ground. It was as it should be, wasn't it? How could I possibly fight him? I knew this from my days on Caliban, when I saw him slaughter his own children, the recruits, with the lion sword in hand.
They had just finished their training, and wearing ceremonial armor, they wanted to meet the Gene Father. They met him, and were killed by the Gene Father himself.

I got up trembling all over, and he stood there, looking at me with empty hands, without trying to stop me.

"Come on!" I roared at him, and then rushed towards him again.

He looked at me, and time seemed to stand still. I saw his eyes clearly, but they were no longer the same as before. The emerald green I was familiar with was gone, replaced by a dark green that had experienced the vicissitudes of life.

This made me start to observe him instinctively. I noticed that he was old, obviously old, and his hair and beard even seemed to fade.
He reached out and grasped my right fist.

A question arose in my mind.

"Already." I said tremblingly. "How long has it been?"

My Primarch gazed down at me with pity in his eyes, and he sighed.

"Ten thousand years," he said.

My eyes went dark.

(End of this chapter)