40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 654 36. Belated Judgment (IX. Plans Cannot Keep Up with Changes)
One thousandth of a second later, the lion sword collided with a bent wooden stick.

An indescribable loud noise and light were born without reservation from the intersection of this blow, and thousands of wailing souls flashed across the surface of the wooden staff.

Amid the explosion, the light, and the tiny screams, the lion took a step back.

He wanted to swing his sword horizontally again, seize the initiative and speed advantage, and exile the evil creature before it cast a spell, but he failed. The evil creature just tilted its staff slightly, and another silver light suddenly flashed from the tip.

The light easily tore through the laws of nature and brought a cold wind that even a lion could hardly resist - this immediately aroused his vigilance.

This was not the first time he had dealt with Tzeentch's demons, and he was well aware of their difficulty.
Although ordinary battles are dangerous for both sides, they still cannot escape the process of asking and solving questions. But fighting with them is different. This group of noisy bird creatures will not ask questions one by one. What they prefer to do is to ask a hundred questions in an instant.

Can't see or understand? Good, that's what they want.

The cold wind was biting, and an incomprehensible evil force seeped into the lion's bones through the gaps in the armor, making him feel truly cold.

He disliked the state religion, but the armor itself had been blessed by several devout priests. However, judging from the current situation, either those priests were not devout enough, or the power represented by the demon and the evil magic it used was beyond the scope of what "faith" could normally affect.
So you're not here, father.

The lion gripped the lion sword tightly and sneered.

well.

The cold wind intensified and turned into a gale, blowing out all the flames around the fortress. The temperature instantly changed from a terrifying wildfire scene to an extremely cold glacier. The grass and trees died abnormally, and the dark ice slowly spread across the ground.
The lion was blown back and had to block with his sword.

The broad blade of the Lion Sword blocked his face, and only the blindfolded old knight in the courtyard could see his expression clearly at this moment - his hair and beard were flying wildly, his face was frosted, and his pair of deep green eyes were serious and cold, without any sign of retreat.

The next second, with a low roar, he took a step forward despite the venomous wind that scraped his bones. Then he took the second step, and the third step.
When he took the fourth step, his slow pace turned into running, and then into a charge. The lion sword was lowered, and the blade cut across the ground, sparks flew, and the ice was cut off.

The Lord of Change immediately let out a scream, and Serafax barely crawled up from behind it. His bloody face was in a mess, and only a vague shape could be seen.

Whether he actually saw the lion's appearance at this time is a complete unknown. However, one thing is very clear - he was not panicked.

Serafax even remained unusually calm in the face of the murderous charge of the First Primarch Lion El'Jonson, who was unstoppable by magic.

He held a mirror in his right hand.

Silver light flashed, and large patches of light suddenly appeared around the demon. Once they appeared, they quickly turned into an inverted magic circle. Dozens of fireballs whizzed out from them and hit the lion directly, completely covering every corner in front of and behind him.
The fireball exploded, the ground shook, and the soil flew up, forming a miraculous sight like a backward waterfall. However, a broad and sharp sword pierced through it without hesitation, piercing and cutting through the earth curtain cleanly and neatly.

The lion rushed out, his right shoulder forward, his strength and speed wrapped in armor, knocking out gravel and charcoal like bullets.

The Lord of Change raised his scepter seriously, not only did he not underestimate them, but he also intercepted these "bullets". Then the wings behind him flapped, a blue light flashed, the broken stones were integrated together, the ground trembled, the soil was pulled up and attached to the stone.

Through the combination of that extraordinary evil power, a giant sword that was not much smaller than the Lion Sword was suddenly born - without the slightest hesitation, more fireballs shot out from the light patterns, interfering with the lion's charge and vision.

The huge earth sword was not far behind, it hung upside down as if held by a ghost, and stabbed the lion closely behind the fireballs.
All of this was terrifying enough, but the Lord of Change still felt it was not enough and had even begun preparing his next spell. Pitch-black smoke rose from under his feet, with countless wailing human faces flashing in it.

It's so much about the Lions, but it's still not enough.

Lion El'Jonson reached it six seconds into the charge.

He is extremely firm and pure. He cannot be hurt by external objects, trapped by evil methods, or used by any scheme.

He is the kind of person who will never be shaken by anything as long as he holds the sword. Serafax's voice spread into the Demon Lord's thoughts along the mental link, floating like catkins.

He was already extremely weak, and the demon had clearly sensed this. If it wanted, now would be a great opportunity to take over his body.

Serafax can be called a perfect body, and he is fully capable of supporting it in the material world for another few centuries.
But no.

The thought of staying here for centuries seemed too boring and too conservative compared to what he had to do.

The Lord of Change opened his chest without hesitation, letting the lion sword pierce him. The smoke screamed and wrapped around the lion, flashing like real smoke, sinking into his body and starting to bite him.

This would bring extreme pain - this was not an empty talk. The demon saw clearly that the face of the Caliban man suddenly turned pale and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, but his hand holding the sword did not tremble at all.

His five fingers were as steady as a python's teeth, biting the hilt tightly. He spun the blade, cut the demon in half without retreating, and then rushed towards Serafax.

It was truly terrifying. The Lord of Change exclaimed in admiration.

The last spell condensed in its eyes.

Eight seconds after the charge began, the lion's sword approached the neck of the defenseless Serafax. His slash was perfect, holding the sword with both hands, and his strength and speed did not decrease at all.
The sword undoubtedly cut off Serafax's head, but the last thing the wizard did before his death was very simple.

He raised his right hand, and silver light burst out from his palm, like the birth of the world.

The lion heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him.

He turned around and saw the beheaded demon opening its beak in triumph. One of its eyes flickered like a mirror, framing his figure firmly.

Nine thousandths of a second later, the mirror merged into one, the lion disappeared without a trace, and Serafax's headless body fell to the ground with a bang, and then stood up again shakily.

He turned around with difficulty, ignoring the demon's corpse and walked towards the inner courtyard.

The blindfolded old knight stared at all this in silence, and another ray of light burst out from the wide-open inner courtyard behind him.
-
"Come closer to me!" Zabril shouted, and his order was faithfully and unreservedly carried out - everyone, whether civilians or his brothers, ran to him sooner or later after hearing the order.

Seventy-seven Astartes and the twenty-one civilians who survived huddled together behind a shelter made up of the rubble of vehicles.

Things are getting worse.

Zabril instinctively tightened his grip on his bolter.

How to describe this? He had no idea, he could only say that everything happened in an instant.
The lions stepped into the depths of the forest. They rushed to the convoy to rescue civilians. Bombs fell on the defense line. Groups of armored troops rushed down from the distant hills like a tide, making the already shaky defense line even more dangerous.

People were dying every moment. When Zabriel was busy dragging a child out of the arms of her father, who was only half dead, his keen perception told him that two of his legion brothers were being killed in the bombing about seventy meters behind him.

What killed them was a powerful artillery bombardment.

Zabril did not feel sorry for them. To be honest, it was a blessing to die under the bombardment, because you would not even leave a complete body, and death would only happen in an instant. Compared with tens of thousands of other ways to die, this was already a better one.

But he was indeed angry.

Ten thousand years ago, he was confused, helpless and angry, like a child trapped in his home and unable to find a way out. Ten thousand years later, he is still experiencing all this on Caliban, but the difference is that he is no longer confused.

The anger just grew.

Why? Why?
Zabril looked down at the girl lying in his arms. She was completely stunned. Her complexion was healthy, obviously she had been exposed to the sun frequently, but now there were two sickly blushes on her cheeks.

She was almost indifferent to everything in the outside world, and only trembled when more shells landed, and then she grabbed the side of Gabriel's hood more tightly.
"We must evacuate." Their newest recruit, Azrael, spoke in a forced calm tone.

Zabriel did not criticize his attempt to remain calm. To be honest, this performance was quite good. At least he understood what calmness meant. The old knight turned his eyes silently behind the eyepiece and looked at his squire.

Asmodai, who was wearing heavy training armor, did not put down his visor. The half of his face that was exposed was covered in sweat, and his gnashing teeth and deep hatred worked together seamlessly.

However, his expression was completely inconsistent with his behavior. Although he acted like a fool who had lost his self-control and the last bit of intelligence, he always kept the mother and child firmly behind him.

Zabril would not admit that he felt a sudden urge to laugh.

"You are right, Azrael." The old knight said, and then called their only think tank. "Confirm the situation, Beverdan, I will give you the authorization."

Since there were civilians present, he used a more obscure statement, but this obviously did not satisfy the survivors.

A man who had lost his wife and parents suddenly broke free from his stupor after hearing these words, and his mind briefly returned from his madness. Tears rolled out of his eyes, he roared, jumped up hysterically, and began to scream continuously.

"What on earth happened, sir?!" he asked with tears and laughter, like a child who asked his parents for candy but was not satisfied.

And Zabril noticed that his parents' blood was still on his face, and his wife's pendant was clutched in his hand, with only a hint of gold showing.

"Enemy attack." The old knight answered unusually calmly, his heartbeat slower than usual when he lied.

"In the name of Leon - these traitors must be executed!" Hearing his words, an old man wearing glasses suddenly spoke among the civilians.

The Angels of Absolution were silent at this, but most of the survivors responded to his words. Zabril suppressed the urge to sigh and calmly sent more commands to the communication channel through the neural link.
He had considered almost everything, including the layout, arrangements, and how to deal with various emergencies. Except for one.

In the next second, Bevidan broke into his thoughts almost screaming.

+It's a lion! +
what?
The Think Tank continued to scream.

+It's Him! +
Zabril was silent for half a second, put the girl down, suddenly stood up with his gun raised, and poked his head out from behind the wreckage of the vehicle that was used as a cover.

In the torrent of armored vehicles rolling forward, he saw a group of figures appearing against the current from no one knew when and where.

There were two people in black armor, winged helmets, and solemn leaders. One had golden hair and armor, and his emerald eyes reflected the sword light. The other had white hair and was old, with his prosthetic limbs and one arm hidden under his cloak.

After Zabril retreated back into cover, he felt his blood freeze.

He took a deep breath, then stood up again without hesitation.

This time, he did not focus on the group of people swimming upstream, but strictly used the skills he gained from tactical training to accurately and quickly analyze the direction in which the current situation would develop.
Flanking was a tactic that the Lion loved very much, and he used it very well. Many times, his enemies were shot and killed by explosives before they even realized they had fallen into a trap.

This time seems to be no exception. The armored unit that broke through the defense line faced head-on another force led by the Lion. The First Legion has never lacked destructive firepower, so it is likely that the armored unit will find it difficult to gain any advantage at their hands.

The old knight immediately decided to evacuate the place and divided the plan into two steps.

The first is to escort the civilians to a safe place away from the fighting, and the second is to leave immediately after doing this, and never get entangled with any party in the fighting.
However, plans never keep up with changes.

A voice broke into his communication channel.

"Zabriel." Sir Luther of the First Legion called him in the center of the battlefield. "We need to meet."

The old knight's right hand trembled and the grenade launcher almost fell.

(End of this chapter)