40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 651 34. Belated Judgment (Part , The Knight Who Did Not Help)
How did it come to this? he asked in confusion. Why are we taking up arms against each other?
Serafax dragged himself toward the ruins.

Whatever walls had once been magnificent, now only ruins remained, flames burning wood, charred marks from the explosion were visible on the broken bricks, and bits of human tissue still hung from the flying shrapnel.

There were also some people - some who had not died in the bombing - who were screaming indecipherably beneath the rubble.

Serafax could have saved them, but he didn't, even though it wouldn't have been difficult for him to do. With just a little more attention and a few tricks, he could have saved these people from death.

But he didn't do that.

He wouldn't do that.

There's no point, a voice somewhere in the back of his mind warned him.

They would die anyway. The bombing was still going on, and they could be crushed to pieces at any time. Even if they managed to escape to a bunker, how could they guarantee that they would not fall under the attack of tanks and artillery?

The civil war on Caliban has begun, and the participants are armed with deadly weapons. They are a deadly legion, holding many taboo secrets, and all are armed to the highest standards.

The Emperor gave them this power so that they could slaughter the enemies of humanity, but this is what happened.
Serafax wondered if he had thought about this day - or if he had foreseen it.

The wizard had difficulty figuring out the answer.

He walked in silence. The screams in the ruins were extremely clear to him. The blessing of the Lord of Change did not change his inner self. His hearing was still sharp.

Because of this, Serafax can even infer the current location, status, and even gender and age of these survivors.
He heard some children shouting.

"Suffering lambs," a voice said to him. "Shouldn't you exercise the virtue of chivalry? You should save them, that is the right thing to do."

"How dare a demon discuss virtue with me?" Serafax asked coldly.

"A knight stood before me and watched me die without helping me?" the demon whispered with a snicker.

It was provocative, Serafax realized, and he quickened his pace in indignation - but the demon did not let him go so easily.

It stretched out its tone and began to mock sarcastically: "Please open your eyes and see the reality, Master of Ten Thousand Eyes."

"You are no different from the scum in your warband. You despise them, but you are no better. They will drag everyone out of these ruins and kill them, and you will let everyone die without helping them."

"From this point of view, you are not even as good as them. At least they dare to face their own desires. They know why they kill, but you only use a great and noble goal to cover up all the darkness in your heart and convince yourself that this is necessary."

Serafax steps into a burning forest unmoved.

"I thought you were here to help me," he said quietly. "I don't see how laughing at me would do you any good."

The demon sighed very gently.

"Help is a very general term. My temporary friend, there are countless ways to help someone. The help in your eyes and the help in my eyes are two completely different concepts."

"But I want to correct one thing. I'm not laughing at you. I just want to tell you that if a person doesn't even dare to face his own true thoughts, then what he wants is doomed to fail."

Serafax ignored it.

He raised his hands, and the forest fire that had spread completely spread out spontaneously, almost as if it was bowing down and curling up on the path he had to pass. Just like that, he stepped into this path of fire in silence.

Ashes and charcoal of plants and trees exploded and scattered under his feet, turning into ashes and smoke. The destructive power of Tzeentch was surging and boiling in his body.
He looked up into the distance and saw a fortress.

It was located in the burning forest, with its outer walls mottled and broken in many places. The glory it once carried had long since dissipated, but the unique emblem of the Order Knights was still clearly visible, firmly standing above the fortress gate.

The former site of the Grand Order of Knights.

Countless knights and young apprentices had trained in this fortress before Caliban returned to the Empire. The Lion himself ordered it abandoned and rebuilt elsewhere, and the reasons for this were many and varied, and Serafax alone knew of hundreds.

Some people think from the perspective of a lion, while the sinister intentions of others are overflowing, flowing between words and turning text into a dark quagmire.

These people claimed that the Lion did this in order to gain more say in the empire - or, in other words, to show his loyalty to his father.

It is not difficult to understand where their argument is based. However, although this idea is ridiculous in the eyes of those who know the truth, it is very credible to the general public.
At least, that's how it is for the Calibans.

"They never liked the Imperials who migrated from Terra, right?" the demon asked in a relaxed tone. "These Imperials used the machinery they brought to build factories, changing the landscape of Caliban and the traditions of the Calibans."

"The forests disappeared, but their lives did not get better. Before the imperialists came, they were woodcutters and farmers. After the imperialists came, they were still woodcutters and farmers, but with one more way - to enter the factory."

"In contrast, the Imperials can live in the upper levels of the hive and enjoy a wonderful life. Where is the leader Lion El'Jonson who led them to join the Empire? Ah, he is realizing his glorious ambition among the stars."

"Unfortunately, he has no time for your business!"

The demon couldn't help laughing. Its laughter sounded like two pieces of flint rubbing against each other, and the sparks that flew out could ignite a fire at any time.

And that is exactly its purpose.

As Serafax walked toward the fortress, some memories came to mind.

He was not the first Calibanite to join the Legion. When he was born, most of the forests on Caliban had been cut down. The Great Crusade was a great cause, but any great cause is ultimately inseparable from the people.

Countless worlds are supplying materials for this purpose, and Caliban is no exception. Most Calibans will work in factories for their entire lives, until they die of illness or are lucky enough to have a reserve knight born in their family.

As a child, Serafax showed no extraordinary talents, but this was not a big problem for his parents, who were hunters who lived in seclusion in the forest and were unwilling to enter any eco-cities or hives to serve the Empire.

Out of respect or fear for the lions, the imperial officials did not force them, so a considerable number of people chose to stay in the wilderness, away from the conveniences of modern life, preferring to be accompanied by torches and hunting bows.

When he was five years old, Serafax's father gave him a small bow and a skinning knife.

Unlike Serafax, who had to wait until he was eight years old to fully master the bow, skinning was a skill he learned early on, though his age and physical strength limited him to only being able to handle creatures like rabbits or squirrels.

At the age of eight, he set out into the woods alone to test his skills with a bow and arrow—and, of course, he got lost.

Every forest in Caliban was extremely dangerous, and even an old hunter like his father would only hunt on the edges and never really go deep into them.

However, he did not tell the young Serafax about this at the time, probably because he thought that a child who couldn't even draw a small bow would not have such courage, but he obviously underestimated his son.

Serafax shot a deer that morning.

He was able to draw the bow, but only for a short while. He couldn't keep the arrow on the bowstring for long enough, so the arrow didn't penetrate the deer as he had hoped, but only stabbed into it.

It screamed and ran into the bushes. Serafax chased it without hesitation and got lost.
Until now, he didn't know how long he had been lost.

All he knew was that when he regained consciousness, a group of giants in black armor had surrounded him. The leader was particularly tall, with blond hair, holding a sword in both hands, and standing under a statue of a blindfolded knight.

Trembling, Serafax heard the knights asking the man what to do with him.

"You found him outside the fort?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Very good, then let him join the Legion." "Yes, my Lord."

This was Serafax's first memory of the lion.

In the midst of hunger and fear, he escaped death and joined the First Legion as a reserve. From then on, he never saw his parents again. He had looked for them, but the wooden house was completely empty, with no one in sight.

Serafax finished his recollection, slowly raised his head, and saw a statue surrounded by vines and moss.

The blindfolded knight, with an old horse wounded by an arrow lying at his feet. He held the shield in front of his chest, holding the sword in his left hand, the shape of his eye sockets vaguely visible behind the black cloth, as if he was staring at the thieves who shot arrows in secret and injured his companions.

Be alert to invisible threats.

Serafax took a step back, bowed slightly to him, and then walked into the overgrown courtyard.

It didn't take him long to reach the deepest part of the courtyard. Two heavy wooden doors inlaid with metal greeted him silently amid the vines and dust.

At this moment, the ground was shaking, which meant that the bombing had officially begun, and the fleet of warships parked in Caliban's orbit would gradually split into several different groups.

The radicals intend to join in and go to the surface of Caliban. The cautious ones want to enter the orbital space station and find the culprit who ordered the bombing.
Whatever they chose, it would have no effect on the matter. Serafax felt sorry for them, but it was the truth, and they could not change the future.

He had witnessed Caliban's rebellion hundreds of times, and not once had they escaped the shackles of fate.

Serafax raised his right hand, and the two doors gradually twisted and deformed under an irresistible force invisible to the naked eye. The metal collapsed, debris flew, and the wood creaked.

A rotten air rushed out through the remains of the door. Serafax ignored it and stepped inside. The brazier that had been dried up suddenly lit up, illuminating the hall as bright as day.
Serafax took a deep breath.

A large, winged creature steps out from behind him.

"I'll ask you one last time—" it lowered its head and said, "—Do you really understand what you are doing?"

"I know."

The demon smiled, an expression that was not easy to achieve with its bird-like head. "No, Serafax, you have no idea how crazy your actions are."

It raised its right paw and then clenched it. With a flash of silver light, a curved staff was held in its hand.

There are many characters on its surface. These characters come from different races, some of which are extinct, and some still exist. There is even High Gothic on it.

"For endless variety," the demon said with a smile.

Light burst forth from deep within the fortress.

Serafax didn't look again, but just closed his eyes, and the past events flowed through his mind like running water.

A moment of confusion came to my mind.

Do I really know what I am doing? For a moment, he asked himself this question, full of fear of the unknown. However, in just a moment, this fear was wiped out by his own hands.
-
The ground shook and trembled. The sky was darkened with flames as the deadly firepower of the First Legion wreaked havoc on their homeland.

Ordinary weapons are made to kill, but these are different. They are made with the tactical purpose of "destruction" as the standard.
They were supposed to be pointed at the enemies of humanity, but now they are pointing their guns at their compatriots and even their blood relatives.

The Lion wondered what was going on in the minds of those who pressed the launch button.

Frowning, he shrank his body and approached the observation window of the concrete bunker in a half-kneeling posture.

The original garrison was burned to charcoal by an incendiary bomb not long ago, so the angels of pardon and the lions were able to file in and take a short breath here. Since leaving the abandoned underground waterway, they have been running around on the battlefield.

They must constantly identify the direction, find a way to the old site of the Knights amidst the bombardment, and avoid anyone they see along the way.
The situation on Caliban was extremely chaotic, and the black paint that the First Army was proud of became a nightmare at this moment. It was no longer easy to distinguish between enemies and friends, and everyone shouted for the name of the lion and then pointed their swords at each other.

They couldn't get involved, it would seriously slow down the process, and if they got entangled with the past, who knew what would happen? The angels of pardon reached a consensus on this matter, and the process was quite simple.

As for the two young men, it is better not to mention their situation.

After a brief observation, the lion withdrew his gaze. Before he could speak, Zabril handed him a makeshift helmet.

Facing the lion's puzzled gaze, the old knight raised his hand and pointed at the think tank who was resting at the end of the team: "Bevidan thinks you may need to hide your face in case of emergency."

The lion was silent for a moment, then looked down at the helmet in his hand. It had no logo or decoration, and looked like an old-fashioned knight's helmet, except that the visor could not be opened. Its surface was black, with a simple matte finish.

".Bevidan."

"Primarch." The Librarian immediately opened his eyes and looked over.

The lion raised the helmet in his hand towards him, rebuking him and asking with a smile: "How did you come up with the idea of ​​using psychic power to make a helmet for me on the battlefield?"

Before Bevidan could answer, he raised his hand and put the helmet on. The shape was just right, and as for the weight, that was not a problem that the lion needed to consider.

He left the bunker and walked to the other end of the trench. The Angels of Pardon followed him silently and began to march on their former homeland.

The war has expanded, and now it is not just the Dark Angels who are killing each other, but also the Auxiliary Army and even the civilians who are caught up in it, unable to escape. War will not let anyone go, it is an extremely greedy beast, and it will never be restrained by anything.

People can choose when a war starts, but they cannot choose when it ends.
The lion tightened his face, cut off his thoughts, and focused all his attention on how to skillfully use his perception.

In this complex situation, he was the only one who could lead the way. If possible, they had to avoid everyone and successfully reach the old site of the Knights within 22 hours.

Leaving the trenches, a plain that was turning into scorched earth appeared before their eyes.

The defensive positions planned for the defense of Eco-City are facing a large-scale artillery bombardment, the density of which is so high that even the convoys of civilians leaving the city passing behind the positions are caught in the bombardment.

The lion sees clearly and his anger is clear.
If he knew who had given the order, that person would be put to death. Whatever the reason, what was wrong with the civilians of Caliban?
"Primarch." Seeing him stop, Zabril immediately whispered to remind him. "We can't stop."

"I know," the lion replied in a low voice.

Before he even finished his words, a shell broke through the fire blockade of the position and landed in a convoy not far away. Several hovercrafts were immediately smashed to pieces. The shock wave and air waves carried metal and human body fragments everywhere, causing secondary casualties.

The wails of the civilians rushed into the ears of the Angels of Pardon. The old soldiers were indifferent and just silently grasped their weapons, waiting for the Primarch's orders. Only the two young men took a step subconsciously.

Asmodai rushed forward particularly fast, and if Knight Sergeant Afuka had not quickly grabbed him, the squire in training armor would have rushed to the disaster site and been killed on the spot by the second falling shell.

The lion exhaled slowly, as if he had made up his mind.

Zabril gripped the hilt of his sword, then loosened it. He already knew what their Primarch was going to order.

Frankly, he was proud of it.

"Follow my orders, Dark Angels," Lion El'Jonson said in a low voice. "Once the bombing is over, go and rescue the civilians immediately, but remember not to reveal your identity, understand?"

"What about you?" Azrael asked.

The lion did not answer.

(End of this chapter)