40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 652 35. Belated Judgment (VIII, Plot)

Lion El'Jonson had lived for many years. In the material world, he had literally lived for ten thousand years, a number that was not small even in mythology.

Many people called him the Son of God with awe, believing him to be another kind of god, a demigod. One who was far superior to them, and who could fully prove why the Emperor was a god.

There are so many of them that they can be lined up from Caliban to the farthest ends of the galaxy. Anyone in the Empire who believes in the 'God-Emperor' will also believe in him and pray to him at some point.

The Lion never heard it, not even once. He could not hear it, and he did not want to hear it. So he would not take a day off every year on the Feast of the Emperor's Ascension to listen to the people's prayers, as Sanguinius did.

The fact is, even if he could hear it, he wouldn't answer.

After ten thousand years, he has learned that silence is golden.

This is why he chose to remain silent about Azriel's question - there was no point in answering. Only young people like him and Asmodai who still had hope would have hope in the Lion, thinking that he would reveal the answer.

People who are more familiar with him and this world like the Angels of Absolution will not ask for answers. They will only do their best to save, kill, and execute orders.

But then again, how precious is the hope in the hearts of these young people?
This cold world has not yet extinguished the passion in their hearts, and the lion does not want them to lose it.

After all, while this impulse made them want him to say, "I'll wait for you," rather than "I'm doing it alone," it also made them secretly hope to save more people as they ran towards the bombed convoy.
They always want to save more people, but the world doesn't allow it.

This world basically only allows one thing.

The lion held the lion sword tightly and strode into the burning forest. Although it might seem a bit disrespectful to say this, after getting rid of the responsibilities of a guide and leader and being alone again, his speed was several times faster than before.

It has always been like this, no dark angel dared to say that he could keep up with the lion in the forest. He almost merged with the forest, even though it was filled with choking smoke and visibility was extremely low, with all he could see were ashes and flickering flames. This inhumane and horrific scene had no effect on him.

Long before he met Luther, he had already learned to coexist with the forest. It was not a friendly companion, in fact, it did not want Lion El'Jonson to be its companion at all, but it had no way to refuse.

Few could resist him.

The lion swung his sword and cut off a fallen tree.

There was something - something he couldn't even describe - that was in the air.

How should it be described? Smell? No, smell is not enough to describe its full appearance. Although it has a strong smell of decay, this is just an appearance.

If the Leo had to find a word that best describes the reality that exists beneath this decay, the word he would use would be evil.

To expand upon, pure evil.

It is like cancer. It comes suddenly in a happy family without any warning. It will destroy the life of a husband, wife or child without any reason, making the loved ones feel miserable and tears fall on cold and stiff faces.

This is an evil that must be destroyed, and the Lion is all too familiar with it.

He had fought it more than once.

Serafax.
The Lord of the First Army began to swing his sword with an unprecedented killing intent, destroying everything along the way that blocked his way to the former site of the Order Knights. This was just the beginning, and his speed was even gradually increasing.

Of course, this was a risky move, but he did not think about hiding his whereabouts. On the one hand, it was to allow the Angels of Pardon to catch up with him more easily. On the other hand, it was also a kind of announcement to inform Serafax of his arrival.

He didn't believe that the traitor would come here unprepared and empty-handed. In the lion's heart, he was even prepared to see the former site of the Knights Templar being transformed into a blasphemous and corrupt fortress.

In this case, Serafax would definitely monitor the surroundings to prepare for the arrival of him and the Angels of Absolution. He was cautious by nature. As the son of a hunter, he had only made one mistake in hunting in his life.
This yet-to-be-confirmed fantasy caused more rage and made the lion's blade even colder, and his extraordinary skills burst out along with the cold and fully controlled rage.

At this moment, what the lion didn't know was that he had actually surpassed himself when he cut off the fake shoulder armor in the court of King Rupercal.

Three minutes and twenty-six seconds later, he used his sword to cut open the sturdy door of the old fortress.

The door collapsed, dust flew everywhere, and all that was seen was a desolate scene.

Memories of the training ground, the stables, and the scattered courtyards where the servants lived came back along with the wild weeds growing rampantly in the courtyard, but failed to drown his thoughts. Instead, they made the lion even calmer.

He looked around, and suddenly an inspiration flashed through his mind. A feeling rising from deep in his bones immediately aroused his vigilance - it felt almost like someone was scratching his bone marrow with a feather.
He gripped his sword tightly and heard a familiar voice.

"Do you miss this place, Primarch?"

The lion turned his gaze to the statue in the center of the courtyard. The blindfolded knight was still on guard with his shield, guarding his fallen companion. Unseen threats were lurking in the darkness, and he was old, tired, and alone.

He took off his helmet and hung it on his belt.

"You were going to see me here, and now I am here. Come out and die."

"I'm sorry, my Lord—"

Serafax's voice came faintly from the open inner court, with a strange tremor, as if he were being boiled or cooked. And his trembling tone proved how correct the lion's perception was.

The pain is self-evident.

The enemy is being tortured, which should be a good thing, but Serafax is not an ordinary 'enemy', he is a wizard.

He embarked on this path of no return as the genetic offspring of Lion El'Jonson, and the blessings he received were so many that they were even enough to change part of his existence in the material world.

This proves that he has fallen into the hands of Chaos - for them, suffering often means sacrifice, and seeking more power from the gods they believe in.

The Lion pulled three fragmentation grenades from his belt. They fell into his hands, tightly packed together and firmly connected by a wider metal wire.

The lion pulled out the safety pin and threw the three missiles, which carried the piety of the Mechanicus and the destructive power they carefully prepared, tore through the air and whizzed into the inner court.

Fire and vibration broke out at the same time, and shrapnel and sharp metal pieces flew everywhere and flew back at a rapid speed, making a terrifying sound.

The lion didn't even bother to look at them. He raised the sword in one hand and slashed it horizontally. With one strike, he completely destroyed all the fragments of different sizes, speeds and positions at the same time.

There is no doubt that what he did has far exceeded the limits of swordsmanship.
Half a second later, tongues of fire burst out from the inner court, and Serafax strode out after them.

The wizard's vestments were no longer the simple ones before, but became like flowing silver, shining with dazzling light. Nine human skulls with chaos octagonal stars engraved on them surrounded him, with sharp teeth and dark eye sockets, screaming silently.

Without a word, the lion charged at him.

The wizard's first spell struck him accurately after he took the second step. The twisted light blue snake shook the air with the unique crackling sound of lightning and attacked the lion.

This strike was exactly what it was, as fast as lightning in the true sense, but still not as fast as the Lion Sword. The twisted and violent lightning snake was cut in half, and its aftershocks fell into the open space without slowing down, and sank into it, and began to create terrifying sounds and movements underground like a living thing.

The lion himself was unharmed. The sword flashed, and before time had really begun to elapse, the edge of the lion's sword had accurately hit Serafax twenty-five times in a row, the last blow being fierce and determined, causing his head to fly across and land accurately at the lion's feet.

The wizard's headless and mutilated body stood there, shaking, blood overflowing from the severed flesh and bones, carrying a sweet smell that shouldn't be there.

He looked like a piece of meat with many holes in it, but it was filled with precious wine. The pale bones were the wine glass, and the internal organs that rolled out of the cut chest and abdomen were the essence of the solidified wine.
There was a flash of light, and Serafax stood there intact. The vestments, as hot as flowing silver, were corroding his flesh and blood, and the half of his face that had not yet burned was filled with genuine pain.

He exhaled deeply, deeply, the air still smelling of blood. In front of him, a blue light shone, and the Lion Sword's attack was firmly blocked by the shield. Its strength was far beyond the price he could afford.
"Will you listen to me, Primarch?" Serafax asked with a glimmer of hope.

On the blade of the sword, the lion smiled coldly.

The battle continues.

This battle has nothing to do with knights, flags, or any honor, but it has its own purity. The lion is the kind of person who will not hold back once he makes up his mind, and he will use every bit of strength in his body to kill the enemy - note the difference here, it is to kill, slaughter, and destroy, not to win.

He was concentrating on doing this, and no matter how Serafax used magic to resist and resist, it was useless. These invincible evil magics of the warp were nothing in front of Lion El'Jonson. They could only cause him a little trouble, and then they would be completely destroyed by the Lion Sword.

Between life and death, Serafax clearly saw the eyes of his original body, and he saw the deep green glowing in them. Then Serafax began to retreat, acting as if he was losing the battle.

But he possesses the power of Tzeentch and many blessings of Chaos, so victory or defeat on the physical level is merely superficial.

This world is so cruel that doing good deeds may not necessarily bring rewards. But if you do evil, even the smallest evil, the benefits will come to you, and you won't even be able to refuse them.

Some are so corrupted that they become messengers and agents of Chaos without even realizing what they are doing.
But Serafax is different.

He was prepared, as he always was.

When he was about to pass the Knights' test to become a real knight, he spent a full half month investigating the places where the beasts appeared and read every relevant book. When he made up his mind to establish the Ten Thousand Eyes, he did the same thing.

He first visited some men or women living in seclusion in the wilderness. Most of them were liars who pretended to be ghosts, and only a few of them had the "real stuff". Naturally, these people were extremely terrified of his appearance.

And this is exactly what Serafax wanted. Through torture, he obtained some basic knowledge of mysticism, and then he studied for many years.

The Imperial psychic manual had been of great help in this regard, and although it nearly cost Serafax his fledgling warband, it was still worth it. The knowledge in the book had made him advance rapidly in his knowledge of psychic powers and the Warp.

Nine centuries later, he came into contact with demons. Countless time and lives passed by, and he became what he is now, with a changeable demon king firmly bound to his life.
It will do whatever he asks.

"boom!"

The lion sword pierced through the shield, and the lion's faded beard and hair fluttered in the air. His eyes were bright and sharp, without any sign of wavering.

Serafax's retreating steps suddenly stopped, and his chest was pierced by the lion sword.

The lion did not miss this rare opportunity. He twisted his wrist and was about to slash the sword horizontally to cut Serafax into pieces - however, the lion's sword failed to cut open the wizard's flesh and blood again as he wished.

The lion looked closely and found that there was a skinny bird claw covered in blood hidden on the chest of his traitor son, and the lion sword was captured by it.

"Devil!" The lion finally spoke, with no concealment of the hatred on his face.

This extreme emotion became a second force beyond anger, causing the originally balanced wrestling process to suddenly become one-sided. The lion sword successfully penetrated the wizard's body, and the bird claws curled up in pain.

A cry burst out from deep in Serafax's chest. He stood up straight with an expressionless face. A straight crack suddenly appeared on his pale neck, extending all the way to his belly.
Then, something came out from it.

Serafax fell to the ground trembling, and the burning fire finally went out.

The lion roared and raised his sword.

Time stopped at this moment - the trembling wizard, the bloody demon stretching his body, and Lion El'Jonson who had been swept by murderous intent and anger and turned into a machine of destruction.

And Caliban, crumbling and burning.
All these things fell into Conrad Coates's eyes, making him tense his body in the quiet cemetery, with terrifying blue veins emerging around his face.

A demon that was half-kneeling beside him waiting for orders immediately raised its head, and a hint of anthropomorphic concern appeared on its ferocious beast head.

"Primarch?" it whispered in a horrible cursed voice. "Are you alright?"

After a few seconds, the Night King finally stood up. He scratched his chest with the sharp fingers of his right hand thoughtfully, leaving five faint bloodstains.

The soft light that the Moonlight Crown had been emitting began to change, becoming scarlet, ominous, and full of violence. The wind that had always been blowing in the cemetery suddenly stopped, and countless heavy sarcophagi began to creak, as if the resurrected dead were knocking on the stones inside.
"Primarch!" the demon called out in shock.

Before it could finish its words, Curze quickly grabbed the crown from its head and threw it into the darkness. Without it, the only light in the cemetery disappeared immediately, but this was not a problem for the demon or him.

The demon with the animal head looked around cautiously, but he could no longer see the shaking sarcophagus. At the same time, the wind started to blow again.

"so close."

Curze smiled and spoke, calling its attention back. The demon looked at him in confusion and fear, but all he got was a shrug as if nothing had happened.

"You look like you don't trust me, don't you, Keg?"

"What? Of course not, Primarch! I just..."

"Alright, alright." Curze hugged it affectionately. "I'm fine, go back and do what you need to do. I have something to do and need to leave for a while. Tell Fell that since Van Cleef and I are not here, he will take charge. Don't let the ghosts go too far."

The demon nodded, raised his hands, and made a sky eagle gesture on his chest. A burning golden light followed his movements and roared in from the other end of the chaos, immediately beginning to punish this daring demon, burning fiercely on his claws.

It should have been destroyed by the darkness that pervaded the cemetery the moment it appeared. However, with Curze's tacit consent, this did not happen.

It was not until the flames had burned for thirteen full seconds, with the demon's claws almost exposing their bones, that Koz stretched out his right hand and casually extinguished the flames with one hand.

The demon stood up and saluted him solemnly, using an extremely primitive etiquette that belonged to a bygone era. The Lord of the Eighth Legion nodded to it, with no attitude visible on his pale face.

Then, in front of the demon, he stepped into the darkness without warning.

Countless voices began to echo in his ears, welcoming, reporting, calling. It was so noisy that even a well-trained psychic would become a mindless walking corpse the moment he heard these voices.

However, this was nothing new to Curze. He had gotten used to their company, and if he returned to the darkness one day and didn't hear their voices, he would probably still feel uncomfortable.
Responding to their words one by one, the Night King walked towards a path specially reserved for him.

He walked towards his father.

——Okay, which one?
(End of this chapter)