40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 643 26. Actual Combat Day (Part )
To be honest, as an agricultural world, the environment of Minolis II is quite favorable.

Not only that, this planet also has excellent transformation potential, it can completely become a high-level agricultural world. However, there are obviously some lazy people in the Ministry of the Interior who did not properly coordinate resources.

At least, for now, this is still a feudal world, ruled by the Fain family for generations, where advancement and antiquity coexist, and large tracts of farmland cultivated using ancient methods are casually left outside the city. It is obvious that peace has existed for a long time.

In Khalil's opinion, the reason why this place can still maintain its rating as an agricultural world is simply because it produces enough food every year.

The fact that such results were achieved while farming using traditional methods gives us a glimpse into what the environment of Minoris II is like.

A breeze blew by, and the horizon was slowly turning pale. Soon, the sun would rise. Khalil looked down at the wheat around him, and he could already imagine how it would sparkle at dawn.

He gave a fleeting smile.

"Sir." A voice came from behind him. "We are fully assembled."

"Good morning, Zabriel," Khalil greeted without turning his head, offering an invitation. "Would you like to see the dawn?"

The Angel of Pardon—the pardoned fallen angel—walked up to him silently, waiting. After a few minutes, the edge of the fish belly white turned into golden and brilliant light, and the light gradually emerged, which was extremely soft and not dazzling.

A huge fireball slowly rose from the horizon, spreading its light across the wheat field. The wind became a little stronger, the temperature was quite comfortable, and the wheat swayed gently.

Khalil reached out and touched them, sighing.

"Sir?" Zabril asked.

"It's a pity," Khalil said. "Many people will be displaced, and there will probably be no one to harvest the crops."

The Angel of Pardon fell silent again, but his right hand unconsciously clenched the sword at his waist. He knew very well that what Caryl Rohals said was right - no matter what the outcome of this war was, many people would be displaced or even die.

And the initiator.
Filled with hatred, Zabril pronounced the murderer's name: "Eldar."

Khalil turned slowly, his back to the rising sun. With just this simple movement, the light of dawn disappeared from Zabril's sight.

They seemed to have some kind of spirituality and spontaneously did not cross Caryl Rohals, making him a kind of dividing line.

Zabril bowed his head in awe and no longer looked at him.

Khalil spoke thoughtfully, "The difficulty of this mission is that we have to kill two birds with one stone, Zabril."

"Yes, my lord - but the enemy is not difficult to deal with. We will attract all their attention on the front battlefield."

"Only seventy-five people?"

Zabriel looked up and gave a cold, confident smile.

"That's enough," he said. "Besides, there are actually seventy-six of us."

Khalil was slightly startled, then he burst into laughter. He turned his head to look at the back of the wheat field, where the other seventy-four angels of pardon and a servant wearing pale white training armor and robes were standing there quietly waiting.

Two Sokaren Stormbirds landed on a wide road that was a long way away, rather than stopping in the wheat fields. These were things that were hard to come by for ordinary warbands, but were common among the Dark Angels.

A single Sokaren can carry fifty Astartes or five Dreadnoughts, and it also has powerful firepower and superior defensive capabilities. Compared with it, the Thunder Eagle even seems unreliable.

"You're going to let him go to war like this?" Khalil asked with amusement. "He's okay with this?"

The old knight grinned. "He has already spoken his mind once he knew he was going to follow us, my lord. Besides, I don't think he would shy away from a fight."

"Indeed. But, training armor?"

"The protective capability has been additionally modified and has reached the standard level of power armor, except that it does not have power assistance. We are all looking forward to when he will find out about this. I think his expression will be very interesting."

Khalil smiled, without commenting on Zabril's bad taste, and just raised his hands to salute. The sky eagle flapped its wings, and Zabril put on the winged helmet he had regained, saluted solemnly, and turned away.

The Stormbird took off with a bang half a minute later, carrying them to the battlefield of last night and today - that is, the dark side of Minoris II. The local defense forces have regrouped, full of anger and sadness waiting to be released.

Inside the cabin of the Stormbird, Zabril spoke slowly.

"Our main tactical goal is to capture the enemy commander alive. I have personally added a few secondary goals, such as severely damaging them or beheading enough alien heads. The relevant data has been sent."

He paused and concluded his speech in the silence of the communication channel.

"This is our first battle after returning to the Legion. Brothers, we must wipe out the shame with victory. In the name of the Emperor and the Lion."

He received seventy-four uniform battle cries: "In the name of the Emperor and the Lion!"

Only one person did not speak. His face under the raised visor was trembling slightly, and his lips were tightly pursed. A complex anger was spreading quietly on this person's face, but it was not difficult for Zabril to decipher.

Anger at the alien invasion, and anger at their battle cries.

I'm afraid you think we are not qualified to call out their names anymore?
Zabril sighed secretly - he had completely understood the character of Asmodai, a simple and stubborn young man. To put it bluntly, he was just a young boy who had difficulty getting along with the world.
Several familiar faces flashed before the old knight's eyes, followed by nostalgia and sadness. He did not speak, but just counted silently for a few seconds and waited quietly.

The Stormbird landed smoothly one thousand two hundred and seventy-four seconds later, and the Angels of Absolution emerged from it fully armed, bringing indescribable courage to the local defense forces who were unaware of their true identities.

The remaining officers and political commissars began to shout and yell, asking them to stay where they were and not to go forward and "touch the angels' armor," or else they would be severely punished.

Zabril looked up and saw the smoking homes of these soldiers, their cities destroyed, their families and friends tortured to death in terror.

They tried to resist and defend their homeland, but were beaten back by the alien's blasphemous weapons, leaving their armor and weapons behind, while the support troops and heavy firepower seemed to be dead and motionless.
It was not until recently that they were truly sure of this - the aliens had infiltrated them long before the attack.

Why is there no support? Because the support is dead, because the defense system has been paralyzed, so everything else follows naturally.

Eldar raiders race through the city in their sinister vehicles, dragging people from their homes, painting the streets with blood, slaughtering for fun, and laughing as they take away the remaining survivors.
It was a nightmare experience, but not anymore. In their view, the Dark Angels have come, so the aliens must be killed.

Zabril knew what they were thinking and he highly agreed with it.

Twelve minutes later, he and his brothers charged into the aliens, killing them under the firepower of their ridiculous poison crystal rifles.

Zabriel used the combination of shield and sword for the first time in a long time. In the temporary five-man team, he served as the vanguard, so the sword and shield was the safest combination.

Behind him on the left was the fireman Rohok, whose heavy bombs sounded so solid and reliable. On the right was the secondary attacker Kai, a deadly swordsman who could accurately kill those stupid aliens who tried to break into the formation with agility.

At the end of the team were Afka and Beverdan, the Knight Sergeant and the disabled Librarian. Zabril was not worried about the Knight Sergeant, as he had obtained a two-handed power axe.

With this precious weapon from the war hounds, and his own skills, Zabril believed that Afcar could cut down any enemy that stood in his way.

But Bevidan's condition may be a little bad. He lost most of his left forearm and his fighting ability was reduced to a certain extent.

Although he is a think tank, Zabril still hopes that he will use less psychic power. After all, it is a dangerous power and should only be used in dangerous moments.
For this purpose, the old knight deliberately placed his only attendant, Asmodai, behind the think tank.

In this way, he no longer had to worry about anything, and Zabriel threw himself into the killing wholeheartedly.

An Eldar tried to attack from the front left, but he cut it apart with his sword. The creature was neatly split in two from the left shoulder, and the blood and pink flesh under the dark skin trembled.

Zabril did not let it go, but struck it with a lightning-fast shield strike. The battle shield locked on his left arm exploded with great force, smashing the corpse into a pool of flying flesh.

The sky was filled with "raindrops" splashing everywhere, and Zabril rushed in. He heard the sound of collisions through his eyepiece, but he ignored it. The long sword in his right hand stabbed out like a poisonous snake, stabbing the two aliens together, breaking their chests and crackling their force fields.

Zabril twisted his wrists to shatter them, then without looking back he kneeled and shoulder-butted a roaring twisted flesh creature that was charging toward him, stopping it abruptly.

Its swollen body is covered with multiple injections directly implanted into its flesh. The deep color brings a strong visual impact, but they are by no means just beautiful decorations.
The thing took a half step back and rushed towards Zabriel again as if nothing had happened.

The old knight narrowed his eyes, took two steps forward, and struck its jaw with his shield. This blow directly knocked the dark mask off its face, revealing a face that was simply chilling.

Even a warrior like Zabriel couldn't help but shrink his pupils, but despite this, his sword still pierced its chest with unparalleled power.

At the same time, Kai's slash also arrived, and a head flew high. The headless monster stood there for a few seconds, and the chemical agent that replaced the blood gushed out of the blood vessels, and the team had already gone far away.

Similar scenes were constantly played out here, with fifteen battle squads of the Angel of Absolution harvesting the bodies of the Eldar pirates with their familiar tactics, creating extremely favorable conditions for the defense forces' charge. The two Storm Birds occupied the sky, constantly spraying fire rain. For any commander or person with a little military talent, what exactly this meant was self-evident.

Therefore, the expression of Eloiseen Shallan, the Archon of the Decaying Heart Conspiracy, was so gloomy.

"Or not?"

He asked a woman standing behind him, a human woman. She was wearing a long court dress, as red as blood, and had a beautiful face. Her blonde hair was tied up behind her head, and her watery blue eyes were unusually wide.
But to Eloiseen Shallan, she was just a pleasing monkey.

She is now called Catherine Fain, a betrayer, a witch obsessed with power, strength and darkness. She got in touch with the Decaying Heart forty years ago, and has been traveling between the star regions here, gathering intelligence for them and pointing the way for them.

If asked, Elosian would have been forthright in admitting the importance of Katherine Fahn's role in his ascension.
But don't expect him to be grateful. As long as there is an opportunity and conditions, Elosien would be very happy to peel off Catherine Fahn's beautiful skin bit by bit with his own hands.

But not now.

Now, in order to stay alive, they must work together.

"No!" the witch screamed, sweating. "The blockade is still in place!"

blockade
Elosien uttered a derogatory name for humans to express his anger - in his opinion, this statement was ridiculous. What kind of power could block a node of the webway and prevent them from leaving quickly? Psionic power? Who could be so powerful?

Damn it.
Elosien waved his finger irritably, asking the snakemen in his war chamber to stop the so-called Astartes. He didn't know where this group of modified strong apes came from, but they really caused him a lot of trouble.

His ships were loaded with 40,000 carefully selected slaves, waiting to be returned to Comoros for delivery. How much profit could this bring? Eloiseen didn't know, but he didn't care.

What he wanted more was fame - as long as he had fame, he would be able to move to a higher level, and then, further expanding his political power would be a foregone conclusion.

Now, there is only one obstacle between him and his ambition.
Who is trying to stop me from behind?

He roared in his heart, but his expression remained unchanged. This was the instinct of a consul.

Several names flashed through his mind, twisting those calm or elegant faces into a common smirk, followed closely by the taunts he imagined.

Ha! Stupid Elothien, you were blocked from entering the webway. This is what you get for working with monkeys!

Yes, I cooperated with the monkey, but so what? You idiots, it's just a tool in my hands! Just wait, I, Elotheen Shallan, will trample you all under my feet sooner or later.
His almost insane anger was torn apart by a sudden explosion. The consul immediately looked back and found that the several warships he had robbed and modified were all engulfed in flames.

The monkey slaves he captured were escaping quickly in their own four-wheeled vehicles with the help of a group of monkey soldiers wearing ridiculous armor.
Elosien screamed silently and ordered the Nightmares and elite warriors he had hired at a great price to go and save the situation.

He was already a little reckless. Although frustration was a necessary part of every conspirator's life, Elosien was still a little too young.

Although he was of noble descent and had the courage to seize every opportunity, he had never suffered any setbacks. With the help of Catherine Fine, he went a little too fast.

But does it matter? Can those monkeys defeat his guards?

The answer was quietly revealed half a minute later with a splash of blood - not only is it possible, but it's also very easy.

That blood came from a nightmare, a deadly blade with superb skills and absolute adherence to the terms of the contract.

And he died, and the Clive broadsword, which he regarded as his life, was held in a pale hand.

In the next ten seconds, the Clive broadsword was pushed to the peak of killing by this hand.

Its former owner had spent his entire life trying to catch even a fleeting glimpse of this truth. Tragically, within a second of his death, his killer had demonstrated it in all its glory.

Everyone except him could see this rare spectacle - a vicious, cruel and elegant skill that blossomed silently.

The remaining four nightmares were knocked to the ground at the same time, their swords shattered without exception. Their armor fell to the ground shortly after, without any sign of destruction before that.

The nightmares were trembling naked, their skin and flesh slipping away bit by bit, but they did not actually fall off, but instead stuck to their bones like blooming petals.

Suddenly, they were transformed from dangerous warriors into flesh and blood works of art for anyone to see. Eloiseen was stunned as he watched, unable to describe what he had just seen.

That kind of beauty, that kind of cruel beauty that blossomed between life and death, made him suddenly let out an indescribable cry.
After his screams resounded throughout the battlefield, the nightmares' blood began to gush out steaming from the cracks in their skin, flesh, and bones.

After this, Elosien Shallan was not surprised to see his warriors turn and run, throwing away their armor and helmets without hesitation. So he also grabbed a poison crystal rifle and began to shoot at his warriors without hesitation.

"Go back!" he screamed. "Who told you to run away?!"

More and brighter rains of fire swept in from behind his warriors. It was the human monkeys firing, and the crude and backward weapons in their hands were far more lethal than their elegant weapons.

Red beams of light or flying bullets knocked down his warriors one by one, while the graceful dancer holding Clive's broadsword stood quietly behind the monkeys.

His black and red coat was embedded with a thin body. Even at this distance, Eloiseen could still see how thin and pale he was.
How could anyone imagine that he could burst out with such power and grace?
Ilosien observed the calm face through the scope, and suddenly the image of the naked face after the black and red coat was taken off emerged in his mind. He couldn't help swallowing.

How beautiful. He thought in ecstasy, and then immediately felt disgusted with fear: How could I use such an adjective to describe a monkey?! Am I sick?!

Another explosion sounded from behind him, and Eloiseen looked back to see that his snakemen bodyguards were dead in pieces. The instigator was standing in front of him, with the bloody sword in his hand hanging on the ground, and broken bones stuck in the gap of his left shield.

As for his partners
Eloiseen turned her eyes imperceptibly and looked at the witch, only to find that she had already knelt on the ground pitifully, pretending to be a suffering civilian, and kept muttering the name of her current husband.

Despicable monkey! Elosien roared in his heart. At this point, his conspiracy group has been completely killed or injured, from the bottom to the top, every link has suffered a heavy blow, and his only hope of escape is now trying hard to get rid of him.

Elosien's throat rolled, he took a deep breath, and was about to say the word "surrender" in the monkeys' language in humiliation, but a sword was raised at high speed and placed across his neck.

"Silence."

Elosien heard the mighty space ape say this in his own language, with a strange accent and a calm tone, as if giving an order.

The Archon felt a surge of anger in his heart, but he concealed it well, and then he actually shut his mouth, showing no intention of speaking again.
Yes, he planned to find another way to escape. Although he was a young consul, he already knew what was required on the path of conspiracy, the Broken Road - nothing more than will, wisdom and strength.

He may still be inexperienced, but if it comes to fighting, Elosien is confident that he can beat anyone.

He stood there quietly, observing the actions of the monkeys in front of him. He watched the monkeys behind them clean up the battlefield and behaved very obediently, but the dark desires in his heart did not stop.
He wanted to launch a surprise attack now, first kill the monkey closest to him, then steal his weapon, then kill all the other monkeys and take the vehicle in the chaos to escape.

The monkeys had the ability to fly, so he only needed to steal a boat to get away from this situation, and it would not be difficult to make plans to return to the Comoros. He also had a few safe houses and some assets, so it was only a matter of time before he could make a comeback.

As long as there is enough money, the decayed heart can be rebuilt quickly
All his fantasies were shattered by a calm voice that rang in his ears.

"I have something to ask you," the voice said.

The world before Eloiseen collapsed in an instant. There was no light, no battlefield, no corpses or blood, only darkness itself.
He turned back tremblingly and saw a wasteland filled with ashes.

A person just stood there waiting for him quietly.

Elosien instantly fell to his knees, unconscious.

Khalil took a step back, anticipating the man's touch. He raised his head and smiled at Zabril, but at this moment a crying woman ran into his arms.

"My Lord! Oh, my Lord!"

She leaned on his chest, exhaling a honey-like fragrance, her blue eyes filled with tears, and her expression was so pitiful that I could feel even more sorry for her.

"Thank you for saving me, sir!"

She spoke passionately, psychic energy flashing out of her eyes in clever forms, approaching Khalil at lightning speed.

Khalil punched her to the ground, then caught the lightning and crushed it into powder in front of her.

"You're welcome, Leona de L'Are," he deadpanned. "Now, let's talk about your connection to the Ten Thousand Eyes."

The witch, whose real name was called, suddenly screamed.

(End of this chapter)