40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 656 38. Belated Judgment (Eleven, Cycle)
Everyone has something unforgettable, no matter young or old, rich or poor, beautiful or ugly.

A dissolute rich kid can have a past that is so pure that it makes people blush, and a homeless person huddled and shivering on the street corner may have once been sitting in a palace and enjoying delicacies.
Zabriel is no exception, but compared to ordinary people, his "unforgettable things" probably date back to a long, long time ago.

At that time, he was only fourteen years old and had just completed the basic training within the Knights. As an apprentice of the right age, his life in the Knights was not easy, and any knight could impose severe tests on him.

In addition, he also had to stay in the training ground to accept continuous assessments. For a teenager, this was not an easy thing to bear, even with honors as a basis.

So he had to find a way to vent.

For Zabriel at that time, this method could be embodied in a period of time - before going to bed every night, he would squeeze into the dormitory with apprentices like him, and under the dim candlelight, they would discuss the results of the day's training and encourage each other.

The discussion would not stop until the old man who was responsible for taking care of their daily lives came in with a ruler and extinguished the candles.

However, this peaceful time of finding joy in misery did not last long, as he soon completed advanced training and began undergoing transformation surgery.
Things changed quickly after that, and Zabril never had a long late-night conversation with anyone again - but he always thought about those late nights from time to time, or rather, the feeling they represented.

It was a quiet, transcendent power that could calm him down at any time. Unfortunately, he had not encountered it in his heart for a long time.

Until now.

Until he and Luther set out on a forest path together.

He knew this place. Zabril inevitably realized this, and he hesitated a little, but the old knight just walked silently and did not make any suggestions, even though he knew exactly what Zabril was feeling at the moment.

The mottled light from the forest hit his cloak, revealing stains and dust that shouldn't have been there. He walked very fast, his gait was extremely agile, and he ignored the increasingly dark environment. Even his white hair looked a little sharper.

Zabril followed Luther closely, not leaving his side. They kept moving forward at this pace through the forest until light replaced darkness and embraced them once again without hesitation.

A fortress that was being slowly built appeared in front of them. As long as they looked over the cliff, stream, and a not-so-large grassland, they could see it clearly.

All around it, the forest was being cut down by swarms of Crawlers, ancient and effective agricultural machines from the Mechanicum.

With just one operator, it can perform a complex series of tasks, including harvesting trees, removing stumps and roots, and then improving the land to make it more suitable for construction or farming.

So, as discouraging as it may be, one crawler is literally as efficient as a hundred workers—and there are at least a hundred crawlers here.

Many people wearing traditional Caliban costumes were being instructed by an official in another open space. The official held a data tablet in his hand and explained step by step the standard process of how to stack stones.

The people were confused by his words, and it showed on their faces. The official was getting impatient, so he took off his hat, on which the imperial emblem was clearly visible.
A prosperous scene.

However, when Zabril connected these images with his memories, he even got goose bumps.

After the Lion led the Knights to kill all the behemoths on Caliban, perhaps it was fate that the original warriors of the Empire and the First Legion also arrived here at the same time.

After that, many things happened naturally.

Caliban, from top to bottom, came under the banner of the Great Crusade and the Empire, and everyone began to reform with one heart. What was happening before Zabril was part of this, and the very beginning.

The fortress was called Oduruq, and it was the headquarters of the Knights of Order under the leadership of the Lion.

At this time, it was being transformed so that it could serve as the First Legion's future base on Caliban. More importantly, it would become a gathering place.
The Emperor is coming.

It has been awarded this honor.

However, when Zabril joined the Knights, the Fortress of Oduruk had become a huge fortress, and the Emperor had long since left. He never thought that he would be able to witness this scene with his own eyes.

Although it is indeed a matter of honor, upon closer thought, it is a little too weird.

Luther turned around, his white hair sternly brushed across his forehead in the mountain breeze. The old knight's voice was extremely calm, with a deep tone that came from a lifetime of experience.

"I'm sure you understand where we are at this moment, Zabril."

Zabriel understood this, but he still couldn't avoid feeling a little confused - and the source of this confusion was actually very strange. It originated from a thought that flashed through his mind.

Luther seemed to have not had a drink of water for a long time.

Zabril felt that he needed to take some initiative, so he seized upon the thought and allowed it to take over him.

"Are you thirsty, sir?" he asked.

"Do not."

Luther said, pausing briefly, then continuing immediately, but without using the form of words.

His face was like a mask carved from stone, without any possibility of emotion, all rough and hard. Zabril's absurd question did not bother him at all.

He raised his right hand and pointed to the fortress of Oduruk, his arm straight as a flagpole. Following his guidance, Zabril looked over again, but he did not see anything worthy of a second look.

In doubt, he had to give up all the initiative.

"Sir, I don't understand."

"Look carefully," Luther said.

There was no logic in what he said, and if Zabril was not a Dark Angel, he would be very annoyed by now. But this is actually a Caliban proverb used to refer to an event that has special meaning to the Knights.

"Here?" Zabril asked.

"Yes."

The old knight nodded to him, and suddenly pressed the dagger at his waist with his prosthetic left hand. His muscles tensed up and made a muffled sound.

"I will be your bodyguard."

Zabril struck his chest with his right hand, then knelt on his knees, facing the fortress, and untied his belt. He took off his sword, spear, and winged helmet from it and placed them in front of him, then he closed his eyes and remained motionless.

Luther stood solemnly behind him. His eyes, which should have lost their sharpness due to old age, were not cloudy at all. They were still bright, even a little scary.

Even though it was quiet and peaceful here, he did not let his guard down at all, as if there was really something spying on him in the dark forest.

Zabril calmed down, and in just twenty seconds, he entered a state of meditation without distraction. His perception began to become more sensitive, insects chirping, birds singing, breeze blowing. He captured all kinds of things, but none of them really moved him.

In his mind, in his imagination, these things do not exist
The details of the Oduruk Fortress emerge in extraordinary detail.

Felled forests, bundles of wood, transport trucks coming and going, dust flying, wood chips swirling, falling on the shoulders of workers.

Not far away, on the battlements of the fortress stood patrolling knights, looking at these peasants in their eyes with a mixture of pity and disgust.

They did not yet know what drastic changes were about to come to Caliban. Once upon a time, war was the exclusive domain of knights, a symbol of their identity, and a reason for their existence.

All of the above will be completely changed after the arrival of the Empire. In the following ten thousand years, Caliban's auxiliary army became famous in the galaxy for its extremely high quality. No one knew that they were once despised providers, and as for those who despised them, they have disappeared without a trace.

Zabril did not sympathize with them. He was proud of being a descendant of the Knights of Order.

Unlike other knightly orders, the Order never cared about status, and never agreed with the idea that only nobles could become knights - as long as they could prove that they had outstanding character and achievements, the Order welcomed everyone.

In his opinion, it would be an honor for these knights to stand on the battlements of Oduruk, if the Emperor was not coming.
etc--

Zabril's eyes snapped open.

He reached out and took the winged helmet and put it on. The eyepiece zoomed in and the knights standing on the western battlement came into view again.

At this time, the legend of the Empire and the Emperor had already spread throughout Caliban from the mouths of messengers, and everyone knew the glory of mankind's past and the horror of the old night. They had not yet seen the Emperor, but they had begun to look forward to the moment when they would meet him.

Most people were eager, and even those who were extremely rational only slowed down their pace in doubt.
These knights were different. Their expressions at this moment did not contain any kindness. Zabril frowned and ordered the analysis system to read the lips. A mechanical voice followed, and the helmet faithfully executed his order.

"How can we allow this to happen? This so-called empire will take Caliban from us, and our traditions and honor will cease to exist."

"Look at what they are doing. The forests are disappearing, the apprentices are more willing to listen to the orders of the Astartes than their original mentors, and now even those farmers can become part of the war!"

"We are going to take back Caliban."

"But what will Leon do? He won't be on our side."

"Let him die. He is the same as those monsters who call themselves Astartes."

"Maybe we should try to win over Luther."

Zabril subconsciously reached out and grasped the sword. The analysis function was still sending these words to his ears, but he no longer wanted to listen.

The heavy anger was weighing on his rational nerves - if anyone asked, Zabril would admit it very straightforwardly: Yes, he was furious now. Luther raised his hand and pressed his shoulder.

"This incident actually happened, but not at this point." The old knight said expressionlessly. "In the history I know, they only started plotting two weeks before the Emperor's arrival."

"There is a separate secret room under the assembly hall of Oduruk, where these people would go in the middle of the night to discuss their plots. In the end, they came to a conclusion: they could never match the Empire on the battlefield. Therefore, if they want to achieve their goals, they must do whatever it takes."

"What did they do?" Zabril asked, not realizing that his tone was full of hatred.

Luther lowered his head and let go.

"They wanted to assassinate the Emperor," he said softly. "This was ultimately stopped by young Zahariel, and here their discussions were advanced, and so the decision was made earlier."

"Now, they intend to foment rebellion before the Emperor arrives. See those workers beneath the walls? They will be the first victims."

"In two days, an out-of-control Crawler will crush dozens of workers and destroy a portion of Oduruk's wall. They will seize the opportunity and escalate the situation - a stupid plan, but it has never happened in our history. I think you probably know who is pushing this."

Zabril stood up with incredible speed.

He didn't know who Zahariel was, although his name was very similar to his, but he only cared about how to stop this.

"What are we going to do, ser?"

"We don't have to do anything," Luther said. "I've done everything I need to do."

Before he finished speaking, everything around the fortress suddenly became blurry, as if covered by a layer of light cloth. No matter how hard Zabril looked, he could not see clearly.

He didn't understand what happened, he only knew that the sky suddenly darkened, starry night and darkness descended on their heads, and then daylight returned.
All this happened not quickly, but it was difficult to think about its meaning. Even though Zabril had tried his best to understand, his mind was still as dull as a piece of wood.

Zabril looked at the battlements, but he no longer saw the traitors. The machinery that had been running under the wall had now gone deep into the forest, and none of them came close. The official was still sitting there, waving the data tablet in his hand, explaining the rules and regulations to the people who came to work.

He glanced around, alert, but he didn't see anything noteworthy, only order. It seemed that, just as the old knight said, he had done everything he should do.

Zabriel turned his head in astonishment and looked at Luther, but he no longer saw the white-haired old man.

Luther disappeared, leaving behind only a door flashing with golden light, a winged sword emblem, and a withered yellow letter. The wax stubbornly stayed in the middle of the envelope, and an eagle fluttered its wings in it, ready to fly.

The Dark Angel bent down to pick up the emblem and letter, but did not open it immediately. He returned to his meditation place, re-equipped himself, checked the power armor and the weapon itself, and then took a deep breath - until he was sure that he was fully prepared, he opened the letter.

"If you are reading this, Zabril, it means I have done everything I should have done."

"I know you are probably still confused, with many questions lingering in your mind, waiting to be answered. I have some friends who love to communicate with mysteries, but I am different, so I will tell you directly what is going on."

"Caliban is a cursed world, once tainted by Chaos until the advent of Lion El'Jonson. I believe you are very familiar with these events, the killing of the beast, and the battles with the Knights of Sirius."

"But, looking back, have you ever felt something indescribably strange?"

"From our perspective now, those beasts are actually just a manifestation of Chaos pollution in the material world. No matter what kind of beasts they were, Chaos' claws have firmly grasped them."

"That's the question. Why is there Chaos pollution on Caliban? And if it is really Chaos that is causing the trouble, simply killing the behemoth will not be able to stop the spread of pollution."

"Be sure to be vigilant about this, Zabril. There are things hiding in the darkness, hungry and waiting for you and me."

"Now, on to the second thing—what do I need you to do?"

"It's simple. Do you remember the legend about how Oduruk was founded?"

“A cave, a lone knight. He patrolled day and night, and selflessly provided help and protection to others. People admired him, joined him, and together they dug and built the first Oduruk Fortress.”

"Find it, Zabril. Find it, and you've found us."
-
The lion never thought that he would see Luther again.

However, he was indeed ready. As long as the throne gave permission, he would immediately lead his men to Terra to dig up the remains of the many Dark Angels who had died there.

He had no doubt that Luther's body was among them.

In the past, long ago, he had considered the possibility of Luther's death, and many times, but none of these considerations could go to the end. He always felt a little irritated before the end, and threw the thought away halfway and turned to do other things.

Yes, he was running away, and this was destined not to last long. When Luther announced in front of everyone that he was the traitor who deprived others of their honor, Lion immediately realized that this was the moment.

At that moment, rage, astonishment and sadness combined to knock him to the ground, then pulled him up and roared in his ear: Luther must die!

Leon did not follow this thought, but he did not reject it completely either.
Over the next decade or so, he began to consider more than once how to face death. Not only Luther's, but also others'. For example, Corswayn, his brothers, and himself.

Most of these thoughts were cold, but they served him well when he actually saw the body of Leman Russ with his own eyes.

Everyone will die. He told himself very calmly when he was in Terra.

Therefore, no sacrifice is unacceptable.

So when the Lion counted the number of men and saw no Luther after Caryl Rohals's final disobedience to his divinity, he remained calm.

Until now, until he had seen Luther with his own eyes on Caliban.

Is it the chaotic timing that is causing the trouble?

The lion asked himself, he secretly hoped that this was the answer, but the truth was always cruel - Luther, who walked slowly from the end of the path, had a head full of white hair and looked as old as a stone statue that had been beaten by wind and rain for thousands of years.

His cape was torn, his prosthetic limbs were covered with rust, and the important parts of his joints were even exposed. His belt was empty, with only a power dagger and a burst gun left.

This is not the outfit that Luther would have worn in the past. In the past, the Grand Master of the Order Knights, Luther, would have worn carefully maintained power armor and rode a warhorse through the woods. His armor was spotless, his power sword was safely in its sheath, and he would probably be followed by a team, waving the flag of the Order.
And now, the lion saw a homeless man with white hair stopped a few meters away from him.

"It's been a long time, Leon."

The lion raised his lion sword towards him, completely unmoved, the blade pointing coldly at Luther's neck.

Luther's response was a tired smile. He raised his hands to show that he was harmless. There was no weapon in his empty hands, but the lion still did not let down his guard, and the sword in his hand was as still as a mountain.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly.

"Luther." The tramp answered obediently. "A member of the Grand Knights, former Grand Master."

The lion stared at him steadily, and after a few seconds, he finally made a decision. He lowered his sword, narrowed his eyes, and suddenly sneered.

"No you're not, you've been kicked out."

"I thought you had rescinded this order."

"Not yet," said the lion. "Now explain why you are here?"

Luther shook his head. He did not answer the lion's question, but instead asked a rhetorical question: "Here?"

The lion frowned.

Luther sighed, put down his hands, and changed to a more labor-saving standing posture, but he did not put down his cloak to cover his hands, appearing to be very cautious.

"Where do you think this is?" he asked.

"Caliban."

"That's right, but only partially." Luther said noncommittally. "This is not the Caliban you are familiar with, Lion--"

"--I know."

The lion interrupted him, deep anger bursting out from his wrinkles that were similar to Luther's. Strangely enough, this anger was not directed at Luther. Moreover, he had not shown his emotions so naturally for many years.

"You mean to say this is Caliban before we killed all the beasts, right? I know about that."

As the lion spoke, he raised his lion sword again and pointed it at the lifeless beast lying beside him. He still looked angry, but his tone was strangely restrained, as if he didn't want to cause any misunderstanding.

Luther glanced at it, a complex emotion flashing across his face.

"I'm afraid it's not just that, Leon. In this day and age, killing a behemoth is something that only exists in myths and legends. No one has yet accomplished this feat. Follow me."

He turned around and walked deep into the forest. The lion was annoyed, but he followed him. The beast's body was left there, and the dirty blood seeped into the soil bit by bit. In the darkness, a sound similar to the spitting out of a poisonous snake sounded stealthily.

(End of this chapter)