40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 641 24. Pardon (Part 8, k)

No one could have predicted it.

I mean, who would have thought? Who could? Watch him walk out from behind that ridiculously shabby stone throne, dressed like a retired rich man, a full ten minutes after we'd been there?
I am ashamed of myself.

I should have noticed that, right?
I am a superhuman, although I never consider myself to be so, and even think the statement is a bit ridiculous, but it is the fact.

I am a superman. I have perceptions dozens of times better than ordinary people. I can hear the slightest buzzing sound made by a gun when a person pulls the trigger, so I should have known that he was standing behind the stone throne.

I should have known.

it should.

It's ridiculous, 'should have', it sounds full of regret. 'I should have improved', 'I should have been faster', 'I should have achieved more'.
Statements like these exhaust me physically and mentally. These clichés are just part of self-comfort and are lies themselves.

Repeat them ten thousand times, and then, I'll get another sentence.

'What happened on Caliban should not have happened.'

Is it possible? Of course not. Some things are destined to happen. Caliban is destined to rebel, just as the lion's existence is destined to be unnoticed by us.

He is the most formidable beast in the world, and he can hide anywhere without being discovered if he wants to. I'm not saying he's as good at hiding as Conrad Curze or Corvus Corax, the lion is just patient.

Any top predator is patient when hunting, keeping its fangs and teeth still until the moment comes.

I looked up at him, unsure if this was the moment.

His difficult deep green eyes made me shiver.

"Relax, Zabriel," said another.

I didn't look back at him. I didn't want to, at least not now. His eyes were as cold as a wasteland. I could only see my own reflection in them, and I had refused to look in the mirror for many years.

I know I'm aging, but I don't have a firm sense of it. What does it feel like to live nearly four hundred years? Some people might call this longevity or immortality, but for me personally, this is not immortality, it's just slowly turning into a specimen.

"You're shaking."

The man continued to speak, his usually calm tone this time carrying obvious concern.

I was grateful to him, but I couldn't help feeling pain - couldn't he see that I just wanted to be in my own world?

Maybe he could see it, but he just didn't want me to do it.

But why?

I turned to look at him. I wanted to question him, or at least say something like, why do you have to force me to ask me this?
But I didn't say anything in the end. After all, he did these things out of good intentions, and I
I guess I'm just terrified.

The Lion did this once before, coming upon us without a sound. He did something similar, can you understand? He cut us to pieces, blood coating his black armor.

He was killing, killing us, and we were just staying where we were, like lambs. I had seen sheep on Caliban, good animals that ate rocks, gave milk, wool, and meat, all good for the common people, and were even convenient to kill.

They didn't even bark when the farmer walked towards them with a knife.

We didn't scream, we just died.

I ran away at that time. I think when I came to my senses, I had already started running, and many people were with me.

We hijacked a ship, a destroyer, I guess. After that, what I can remember is not very clear, most of the images are not coherent, they seem jumpy and torn.

One moment I was on the bridge of that ship arguing with someone about where to go next, the next I was wandering alone in the desert with no one around me. But most of it was just a nightmare. I haven't told anyone about this, but now there's probably no point in hiding it.

After all, it's just me here.

Yes, I have nightmares of a burning Caliban, lions with swords, scattered corpses, and his bloody green eyes.

This dream tormented me for a long, long time. I couldn't meditate, close my eyes, or even keep quiet.

I shouldn't be so fragile, but the things in my nightmares were things I believed in my whole life, things I fought for for years, and they were overturned in an instant, and I didn't even know why.

So, please forgive me.

"Knight Zabril," the man called me again. "Do not sink."

There was a hint of warning in his voice, not really noticeable, but I heard it. I looked down at him for a precise reaction, but his face was expressionless.

I looked at him, and after a moment, he raised his right hand and extended it toward me, his palm naturally curved. I recognized this etiquette, from my hometown of Terra - he was going to shake my hand.

I wanted to laugh a little bit, because handshake is usually used when meeting or leaving, and his way of using it was wrong.
But did he really mean that?

I looked into his eyes, the cold wasteland itself
I held his hand.

"Thank you, my Lord," I whispered, hoping my voice wouldn't tremble.

He seemed not to hear me, and continued: "Hold on, knight."

I hope I can do what he wants.

A voice came from afar.

"You are all here," the lion said, speaking slowly and with the same authority as before.

We stared at him intently, everyone was silent, torches burned quietly on the edge of the stone pillar. The air became very heavy, not yet to the point where we couldn't bear it, but slowly approaching the limit.

I saw at least a dozen people twisting their fingers hesitantly, wanting to put their hands on their weapons.
I hope they keep doing it.

I don't know what broken part of me came up with this idea, but I really hope they draw their weapons - at least to show some attitude, right?
"If anyone wants to draw a sword, do it as soon as possible," the lion continued. "I allow you to talk to me with a sword."

I heard many swords being drawn.

"Very good. Honesty is one of the virtues of a knight. Now that you have weapons in your hands and I don't, I think we can officially start this conversation."

Suddenly, someone shouted, "What does that mean?"

The lion looked at him: "What?"

"You said we were armed and you weren't—"

The man squeezed out of the crowd, he had a pale face, his hair was tied back in a short warrior braid, and he was almost sweating. I remember him, Zark, an exile like me.

"—what does this mean, Primarch?"

His tone was aggressive.

The lion looked at him calmly, then began to answer: "This means that I allow you to swing your sword at me."

After this sentence was spoken, we didn't speak for a long time.

I felt my throat tighten and an unusual thirst engulfed me. Dry mouth was just the basic symptom, followed by dizziness, stupor and a series of terrible speculations that made my brain swell and ache.

What does he mean?
"Any other questions, Zacher?" the lion asked. "If not, I want to get to the point as soon as possible."

Zaker stopped talking, holding his sword in a sullen manner, and retreated back into the jungle of black armor, becoming a part of it again. So the lion nodded and wanted to continue the conversation.

He had already opened his mouth, and the words were stuck in his throat waiting. However, by coincidence, a voice sounded almost at the same time as his.

I knew the man who was speaking. It was Knight Sergeant Averka, my mentor. He had trained me and about twenty other men when I first entered the Corps.

But he looked much younger than me now, and his long black hair still hung on his shoulders like before. He used to laugh and joke a lot, but now he looked serious.

He was also one of those holding the sword.

"What kind of topic, great lion? Kill us again?"

The lion looked at him and shook his head: "No, if I were to do that, you would be executed immediately."

"Yeah—ah." Afkara drawled, smiling a little bit meanly.

"You just sent a mortal to read some nonsense like church prayers in front of us, and then you threw us out of the interrogation room and let Zabril take us to see the so-called chapter master."

"Honestly, Primarch, I really don't understand what you want. I didn't understand it ten thousand years ago, and I don't understand it now. Maybe I am slow or stupid, but are you really not going to explain it?"

The lion ignored his bold taunt, and just repeated calmly: "I said, if I want to kill you, I will kill you at the first opportunity."

"Why don't you do it?" Afka asked, raising his voice. "Why don't you just kill us? Why bother with all that, if you really want to do it? Do you want to kill us, father?"

He still maintained his aggressiveness, but I could see a very well-hidden pain on his face.

We had a conversation yesterday and he said he couldn't believe he was on Lion's boat because the last time he saw him, Lion was busy leading his men charging at them.

I guess I understand what Afka is doing right now - at the end of the day, he just needs a reason.

I don't know why, but I feel a little sad.

Are we tamed? With a wave of the lion's hand, we can abandon the betrayal and pain of the past and fight for him again? I don't know if I will do this, but Afka will.

He looked mean and stood there indifferent, but he was actually begging. He wanted the lion to tell him, 'I never thought of that,' and then he would sheath his sword, kneel on one knee, and renew his oath of loyalty to the lion.

Emperor, what are we? Lambs? Slaves?
The lion brought me back to reality with his cold voice.

"Yes," he said slowly. "There was a time when I wanted to kill you all."

Afuka's eyes widened, his hopes dashed, and he showed his disappointment very clearly. As for the lion, he was very perceptive and knew what Afuka wanted to do, but he refused, and refused very directly.

I can't describe how I feel about this - is it more joy or disappointment? I don't have an answer, I just know that Caryl Rohals is sighing.

I looked at him.

"Knight Zabril, some people in this galaxy just don't know how to talk properly, don't they?"

He seemed to be joking, but I failed to laugh and the lion continued again.

"I will not deny this. At that time, I did want to kill you. I searched most of the galaxy and brought Luther back. I wanted him to solve your political struggles and factional strife on Caliban."

"I was hoping he could calm you all down, stop thinking about those ridiculous politics and focus on the real danger, but I never expected my own hometown to attack me with artillery fire."

"Who was on the ship? Who has answers? Do you have any? As soon as we reached the ground on Caliban, the bombing started all at once, as if everything had been planned. And then there was the attack, the real attack that couldn't be covered up."

"My own legion's armored divisions charged at me, and the three companies that had returned with me to Caliban were killed or wounded in an instant. Amid the blood, I saw my sons charging at me in full armor."

The lion walked down the steps of the stone throne and stood in front of all of us. The burning firelight danced on his expressionless face and faded blond hair, casting deep shadows, and his breath seemed to be wet with blood.

"Please tell me, what should I do then?"

What else can you do?

I took a deep breath of the cold air, feeling it flow through my three lungs, and a wave of bitterness followed.

He's still brave, I think.

During those days in exile, I saw all kinds of darkness. Until you see it with your own eyes, you will never imagine what price those people living in pain are willing to pay to escape reality.
If possible, people would be willing to give everything to escape from the current pain and the present compromise, just like the lion at this moment.

There was no doubt that he was in pain. His brows were furrowed and his expression was between sadness and solemnity. For a man like him, this was the maximum degree of sadness that could be expressed.

He is not the kind of person who cries. He would rather fight than cry. He never runs away, you know? It is a rare quality, a sword held firmly in the hands of a lion. However, any sword is double-edged. He never runs away, which means he will never waver.

In the gradually freezing air, I couldn't help but start thinking about a possibility: if he accepted Afoka's advice, if he didn't say these words out loud.
"I had no choice." My Primarch's cold voice shattered my fantasy. "It was Luther who pulled me back. He heard several precious call signals from the communication channel, from orbit and the monastery."

"Someone was asking what was going on and why the ship's weapons were firing without permission. So I changed tactics and rushed to the communications center with the remaining men."

"We contacted them, and then I recorded an audio message asking all those on Caliban who were still loyal to the Emperor and the Empire to be prepared. The war began, and three minutes after we left, the entire communications center was completely razed to the ground."

"The electromagnetic bomb exploded in the city shortly afterwards, and the communication channels were completely disrupted. We couldn't get in touch with anyone or communicate with anyone anymore. I think you all know what happened next."

Yeah, we all know
But I didn't know the things that the Lion mentioned. I believed he wouldn't lie, and what he mentioned about the communications center was quite consistent with some of the doubts in my memory.

I quickly recalled the whole thing again, no matter whether it would lead to a more painful lesson, I had to do it. Fortunately, this time, my memory did not betray me, and I returned to Caliban that day with great clarity.

The burning sky and forest, the bombed-out city, and we killing each other.
I quickly realized one thing.

“He was being hunted on Caliban,” Caryl Rohals said dryly, emphasizing my conclusion.

Yes, all of this was premeditated. Lion and Luther, the two most important people in the Legion, were bombed right on top of them when they just returned.

I imagined the scene—their feet might have been on Caliban’s grass for only a few minutes when the sky suddenly changed color.

This really gives me the chills, because whoever could do this must have known their whereabouts very well and must have been fully prepared.

It was a ridiculous and absurd idea to be an enemy of a lion, but the man still did it. Judging from the results he caused, he was definitely not a fool, so I believe he must have had some kind of support at the time.

This gave him great confidence, and he even thought he could kill the lion once and for all. But he was not an arrogant man, and like I said, he was prepared.

The second round of bombing immediately landed on the communications center. The Lion said it was razed to the ground. That place was a fortress solid enough to make the Imperial Fists and the Iron Warriors unite to protest. So what weapons did the ships in orbit use?
I don't believe there is any possibility of accidental discharge.

There are also electromagnetic bombs that destroy our communication capabilities, making it impossible for us to understand the situation and resolve misunderstandings, and we can only sink deeper and deeper into the vortex of killing.

Until everything is irreversible.

God damn beast.

I'm going to kill him.

I gnashed my teeth until they made a clattering sound, using the force that could chew metal on my own teeth. Soon, I heard a crisp cracking sound.

Numbness, itching and pain spread from my mouth. Blood and saliva mixed together, carrying the broken teeth through my gums and tongue, and were swallowed into my stomach.

None of my brothers spoke anymore, each of them was venting his anger in some way.

Some gripped their swords tightly, some took deep breaths, some gritted their teeth like me, and some were completely unable to control themselves, their whole bodies tense and letting out indescribable roars from their throats.

Caryl Rohals let go of my hand.

"Logically, I shouldn't be here, Knight Zabril. I guess you have questions about this, too?"

He asked an inappropriate question, which I didn't really care about. But I needed this to distract myself, otherwise I would definitely drive myself crazy. So I followed up on his question.

"Yes," I answered incoherently, the fragment of tooth stuck in my throat, creating a sneaky pain.

"Actually the answer is very simple. The lion invited me here," he replied calmly.

His voice reverberated in the hall, no longer gentle but resounding, compelling one to believe it.

Everyone started looking at him. Not everyone could recognize who he was at first glance like I did, but the medals on his chest were genuine. No soldier would ignore what they represented.
Soon, with their help, the name Caryl Rohals began to spread among my slightly slower brothers.

They looked at him in disbelief, as if they were looking at a pharaoh who had lived from the days of ancient Terra or something like that, but not at a human being.

"You have missed many things since the Caliban Rebellion. I have no intention of discussing them, except to point out that Lion El'Jonson swore an oath back on Terra."

He walked forward, his back straight, and passed through us, walking to the front of the stone throne and standing beside the lion.

He looked much smaller than the lion, which was not the case when I remembered him. The shadow cast by the dancing fire continued to spread on the medal, but his shadow shrank at his feet like a needle tip and did not extend backwards.

This is unnatural, the lion stands next to him, but his shadow has been lengthened.
I could vaguely hear some strange echo.

"And the specific content of this oath is actually very simple." He continued, seemingly unaware of our suspicions.

"Lion El'Jonson swore that one day, he would execute all the masterminds and accomplices behind the Caliban Rebellion in the name of law and justice. And, if possible, he would ask a midnight blade to record the trial."

He raised his right hand, stroked it across his chest, and nodded seriously at us.

"That's why I'm standing here," the instructor of the Eighth Legion said coldly. "In the name of the Emperor and Konrad Curze, I am here to witness and record this."

As soon as he finished speaking, a strong wind blew up, and a sticky darkness like a living thing rose from under his feet, engulfing him in our horror. But this was not the end, the darkness continued to roll, extinguishing the light and devouring the flames
Even the temperature began to be taken away.

Yes, my subconscious told me that the temperature was taken away, and some force did not allow them to exist here. Then, a ferocious claw tore through the darkness and stood in front of us in the completely extinguished hall.

The first thing I noticed was that he was 4.2 meters tall. The second thing was that the armor was still terrifying.

The last thing was his face, that pale, hideous face of bones.
The lion spoke slowly.

"Judgment begins from this moment, my knights."

"You have been coerced into becoming accomplices in a conspiracy, but ignorance is not a crime. You have not abused the power given to you by the Emperor during your escape, and you have even performed many righteous deeds. This is noble. You opened your hearts to me in the interrogation room, and did not hide your dissatisfaction. This is honesty."

"Therefore, I declare you not guilty."

His words made me stand still for a long time.

"but--!"

Suddenly, a roar resounded through the hall. The lion looked at us with his hair and beard standing up. His hands, which were behind his back, had already fallen to his sides without him noticing. Veins on the back of his hands were bulging. I was familiar with his angry expression, but this time, I didn't feel afraid.

"The real criminals, the real murderers, are still at large," he said in a low voice. "So I am recruiting you to join the Legion again, and hunt them with me. Those who are willing, please raise your weapons. Those who are unwilling, I swear that I will not force you."

With a clang, I drew out my sword without hesitation, and pointed it towards the sky along with the other seventy-four swords.

But I was so excited that I forgot one thing - the Lion was referring to the Legion.

Which legion?
-
"I didn't expect you could change back, Khalil."

The tall skeleton chuckled, and with a flash of blue light, the mortal in a formal suit stood still.

Lion El'Jonson frowned, stared at him and took a deep breath: "I don't care how you did it, don't do it again next time"

"Why? That gesture is obviously more convincing to them."

"I'm sure they don't need any extra convincing," the lion said expressionlessly. "Besides, I almost wanted to stab you again with the Spear of Dionysus."

".Isn't this necessary?"

"I think so very much." The lion uttered a few words through his teeth. "Leman Russ would agree too."

Khalil sighed and wisely did not comment on the incident, but he was still surprised by the lion's sharpness. Not only did he know the true purpose of the 'blade', he even guessed why Khalil let the Spear of Dionysus pierce his chest that day.

This can no longer be explained simply by the so-called "intuition of the beast of Caliban". From this point of view, the lion's changes are probably much greater than they appear on the surface.

"in addition."

After careful consideration, Khalil spoke again.

"I believe you mentioned the word 'Legion'. Could I have some clarification, Lion? This report is to be given to Malcador after all. Even if you were the Primarch, you would probably be criticized for reorganizing the Legion without giving any reason."

The lion turned around, a faint smile slowly spreading between his beard. The torches in the hall had been relit, but the two of them were now standing far away from the stone throne, as if it was something taboo.

"I never said it was the Legiones Astartes, Khalil. Also, where do you think all those Fallen Angels we captured before went?"

This sentence made Khalil silent for thirty seconds, and then he said, "Please tell me this was Ruth's idea."

"not mine."

"You should know that I will put these words in the report, right?"

The lion snorted and folded his hands, then fell back and leaned against the stone pillar. "As you wish, Your Excellency the Grand Inquisitor. Anyway, this matter does not violate any imperial laws, and the same is true for the Astartes Codex, right?"

"Those people are on the missing or dead list. They are not Dark Angels. Even if I really let this unorganized Fallen Angel Legion appear in front of the world, what can they say? Anyway, everyone knows that we have the final say over the interpretation of the Holy Scripture."

"The high lords, nobles, and officials will riot." Khalil said darkly.

The lion laughed. "They won't unless I do it. But if that day comes, then that's something you need to worry about, Your Excellency the Inquisitor."

Khalil understood but nodded helplessly, but the lion seemed to be getting happier.

He chuckled, and a few words of Caliban slang mixed with the Fenris tribal dialect poured out, followed by a few complex and varied gestures, which brought a sense of majesty and elegance when he did them.

Put aside the slang and dialect, which are all positive and proactive, but the gestures.
Khalil looked at him inexplicably.

"What's wrong?" the lion asked belatedly, frowning.

"Those signs—did you learn them from Ruth?"

"Yes, what's wrong? Russ said he learned it from Conrad. When I met Yago Sevitarion a few years ago, I greeted him with this. Isn't this one of your Nostramo's native languages?"

Khalil took a deep breath, smiled, and spoke slowly.

"First, Leon, this is not the local language. It is a way of communication, but it is not a language, it is a gang gesture."

"Second, Russ never learned anything from Conrad. All his knowledge of the Nostramo gang was acquired from Yago in exchange for a few Grox steaks."

"Third, you just 'asked' me about my health and wished me good health in the future."

Ten minutes later, an enraged Lion El'Jonson rushed into his personal armory and seized a spear.

With Khalil's help, a phantom soul briefly materialized through him and took on a physical form that could be touched. This soul was Leman Russ, the Wolf of Fenris, the Primarch of the Wolves.

This was the first time in ten thousand years that he felt the world without being possessed.

The first feeling he got was from the lion's right punch.

"Asshole!" The Caliban man yelled in his armory. "How could you do such a thing! I was wondering why that bastard Yago Sevitarion always looked unhappy when he saw me!"

"What did I do!" the Fenrisian roared, then rolled over alertly to avoid his brother's follow-up pursuit, and grabbed a shield to start fighting back. For a moment, the heavy sound of fists hitting shields was endless.

The lion roared and demanded, "Khalil! Tell this bastard what he did!"

He received no answer from Caryl Rohals, only a faint chuckle.

The lion frowned, raised his fist and turned back, only to find that Khalil was gone. Instead, standing there was a thin black figure wearing a moonlight-like crown.

"Hi." Conrad Kurtz smiled at him and winked. "Long time no see, bro."

The lion was stunned, and before he could say anything, he heard a wolf howl. Leman Russ ran past closely behind him, almost knocking him to the ground.

"I knew you were not dead!" the Fenrisian laughed.

(End of this chapter)