40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 694 76. Resurrection (V)

The moment the light came, the lion raised his hands uncontrollably, trying to avoid the light that was neither dazzling nor terrifying, and could even be called gentle.

This didn't make sense, but a voice inside him whispered softly, as if breathing: You must do this, or you will be completely destroyed.
but it is not the truth.

The fact is, someone reached out his hands for some reason and grabbed his wrist. Those hands were rough and powerful, the surface was like sandpaper and millstone, and contained a thousand pounds of strength, even a lion could not match it.

Despite this, the owner of these hands chose to use only a little force, as if he was afraid of hurting the lion. He pressed down the lion's hands little by little, so that there was no longer any cover.

The soft golden light came towards the lion, making it collapse to the ground uncontrollably.

He barely propped himself up with his hands and knelt on the ground without any image. He felt that the light was like thousands of smooth sharp blades brushing against his flesh and soul, opening thousands of tiny wounds.
After that, some kind of cold and sticky fluid flowed out from the wound, causing extremely strong dizziness.

Was he injured? He must have been injured, otherwise he would not have bled so much. However, was it really blood that flowed from these millions of wounds?

The lion reluctantly opened his sore and painful eyes, and instinctively realized that something was wrong. He raised his hand, and in the double vision and dizziness, he saw a hand of rotten black.

He stared at it in confusion for a while before realizing that it wasn't actually blood. How could human blood look like this? The black water in his hands, which seemed to be mixed with dust, looked extremely disgusting.

The lion was slightly startled, and finally, he remembered -

"—you have bled dry," said his father.

The lion raised his head.

For a moment, he couldn't believe that his call was actually answered.

It is true that as a son, he did have a desire to be reunited with his father, but he never indulged it.

Ten thousand years ago, he had always held a code of conduct. This code was cold and ruthless, and when other brothers tried to win their father's attention for a moment through military exploits, philosophical ingenuity, improved technology, or other things, only the lion would be disdainful.

He knew that he had a father, but he knew even better who his father was.

But, only at that moment, only at the moment before death, he really wanted to see him.

Even just a stone statue at the bottom of the hive city would be enough. He needed him so that he could have the last bit of peace before his death.

He really wanted to ask, have I disappointed you?

"Never," said the father. "You always make me proud."

The lion did not answer, but whispered in his heart: But I failed.

My father smiled, and it was a very bitter smile.

"Who hasn't failed?" he said, his voice gentle and calm. "The man standing before you is the greatest failure in human history. No one can compare with me in this matter, but I am still standing here."

No, no.
After struggling, the lion finally made a trembling sound with his decayed and shriveled vocal cords. People are always like this, complex and changeable. He longed to see his father, but when his father really came as promised, he was unwilling.

In other words, when the pain of death was briefly forced away by the arrival of his father, the lion's sanity returned.

He realized what he had done and he couldn't accept it.

"Don't. Don't talk to me as a father." The lion said in pain. "Let him come, let him come here instead."

"Who?" asked the father puzzled.

"Emperor!" roared the lion.

The father squatted down slowly and restrainedly, then sat on the ground with his hands on his knees. He looked directly into the lion's eyes and spoke softly.

“Are just two words of comfort and affirmation enough for you, Leon?”

"Let the Emperor come here." The lion said stubbornly, unaware that his voice was gradually returning to normal.

The father sighed and smiled a little sadly. Then he asked jokingly, "Why? Is it difficult for you to accept being my son?"

"The Empire, the humans, my Legion. They need him." The lion whispered back, but looked away. "I need him."

"I'm afraid you only have me now, Leon," his father said slowly. "So, tell me, what do you have to do?"

The lion looked at him, frowning, and reluctantly realized that he probably had no choice now. However, even so, he remained silent for a long time before he slowly spoke.

Starting from Kamas, he described the cause, process and final plan, leaving out no detail. Then he turned to the war. The extent of the Chapter's control over the entire system, how the fleet was deployed, and the planned functions of each unit.
He even explained clearly the internal identity codes of each communication channel, which was a trivial matter in his father's eyes, without hiding anything.

Moreover, once he started talking, he couldn't stop. He then sat on the ground like his father and talked even more attentively.

However, the hard battles and dangers were all glossed over in a very bland tone, as if these things were not personal experiences but stories from the tavern heard from others.

His father interrupted him at the right moment, with confusion, curiosity, and deep sadness.

"I thought you came to me to ask for a second chance, Leon. But look at you, are you telling me your last words?"

"Yes," said the Lion.

After he finished speaking, he let out a long breath, then immediately closed his mouth and whispered in his heart.

This is the last words.

The father was silent for a while, then asked, "Don't you want to do it again?"

miss you.

"Then why are you saying this?"

Because I'm dead.

Just like you said, I bled dry. I couldn't figure out where I was before, but now I remember. I died while I was still in that illusion. And before I died, the desert was swallowing me up.
That is not a normal place, the power of Chaos permeates every inch of land, and I can hear the screams of innocent people. Therefore, my body must have been polluted, and Chaos will never let me go.

I ask you, Emperor, to tell my Legions to destroy it, whatever it may be, as the sons of Mortarion fought for him. Tell them to fight it, and say it is my will.

His father looked at him quietly for a long time before he uttered a brief comment: "You are still very perceptive."

The lion didn't understand what he meant, nor did he want to think about it, but continued to speak his mind. He had never been so frank with his heart before, this was the first time, and probably the last time.

He was willing to take it seriously. Frankly, to this day, I still don't know how you shaped our bodies and souls. The best craftsmen can't understand what you have done to us, let alone a tool like me who only knows how to kill.

However, I don’t understand why you would give such powerful power to a group of weak-willed children. Wouldn’t weapons or tools be better than humans who hold power?
I thought you did this just because you had your own considerations, but I was wrong. You simply can't be ruthless. Compared with your position, your hands are too soft.

You never really saw us as tools, as you should.

Just like the second and eleventh points, if you had made up your mind and made your attitude clear early on, things would not have reached the point where it was irreversible. You always want to believe in the brilliance of human nature and think that we will slowly correct ourselves. But you seem to have forgotten that we are human beings, and humans are a very complex animal.
You should be more ruthless, Emperor. Just like now, you shouldn't respond to my desperate request, come here, and even really prepare to give me a second chance. This won't work.

I refuse.

Ten thousand years have passed. I have experienced ten thousand years of war, and I have never seen an ordinary person come back to life. The power of the warp is another matter. In the pure material realm, there is an abyss between life and death that no one can cross.

And now, you want me to bring a Primarch back to life? How much will it cost you? I don't want to know the answer. I would rather die.

Besides, dying in battle with my alter ego doesn't hurt me. He was a powerful opponent, a younger version of me, with many innocent blood on his hands, and his crimes are unforgivable. Killing him would only make my blade more glorious.

Furthermore, I also know that my soul must still be in your hands. You have other plans for me, right? Like Russ? Or like Mortarion?

Whatever it is, I accept it, Emperor. I only ask that you please stop doing this, stop sacrificing anything for me, it's not worth it.

Father's expression finally changed, and not for the better.

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He was angry, and it was obvious from his gloomy face and the wrinkles between his brows. His lips were tightly pursed and curved downwards, as if someone had taken a knife and carved a groove into his skin that was as dark as brown paper.

However, apart from this, the pair of eyes shining under the gloomy brows showed something compassionate.

"Worth it?" my father finally asked. "Who do you think you are, Lion El'Jonson?"

The lion looked up at him, clenched his teeth, and uttered two words very sincerely.

"tool."

His father suddenly reached out and grabbed him, and a thunderous sound rang out furiously, bringing out his denial and echoing over and over again.

"No!"

"That's the truth," the lion said. "That's how I think I am."

"Who allowed you to do this?" the father accused in a scolding tone.

"Only myself," the lion said, slapping his hand away, his cheeks still tense.

"I am a handy and useful tool. Don't rush to refute me. No one defines me in this way. This is my own conclusion. Think about it. I have a photographic memory, full of energy, and I don't need to eat or sleep."

"A hundred staff members plus the most advanced thinkers need several hours of theoretical calculations, but I can do it in just ten minutes. Dozens of experienced generals in their prime can mess up a simple joint naval battle in one room. But what if it's me?"

"Those complex commands, communications, and deduction models are nothing more than numbers in my eyes. As long as I put them in the right place, the direction of the war can be controlled by me."

"I have fought for ten thousand years, Emperor. It took me ten thousand years, together with Ferrus, to transform the Segmentum Obscurus into what it is today."

"I dare not say that people live and work in peace and contentment, but at least there is no longer rampant corruption and oppression in the Misty Star Region, and there is no longer the darkness that should not exist. People can enjoy the dignity they should have long ago."

"The aliens still exist, but they have been controlled. There are outposts on the edge of every galaxy. Once their traces are found, the fleet will be called immediately to destroy them."

"Trade will develop, cold worlds will get coal mines and heating tools, barren worlds will get food and environmental transformation machines, and polluted worlds will be visited by colonists after being repaired."

"I have done everything I could, and I have not failed you. But tools break. Would anyone repair a broken shovel or hoe? Even if they do, it is no longer useful, so why not just get a new one?"

My father sighed deeply, deeply.

"You're not a tool, you're my son, Leon."

"Only part of you is." The lion raised his hand and touched his chest, saying, "Just like you are only partly my father."

What a cold answer this was! At least my father seemed really hurt at this moment. He finally put down his hands dejectedly, his lips trembling, his face showing astonishment, pride, regret and guilt.

This might be his most human moment in recent times, but as the only two people here, the lion did not look at him. He just adjusted his posture, knelt in front of his father in a meditative position, and slowly lowered his head.

But what he waited for was not consent or rejection.

“Long time no see, brother,” Mortarion said.

The lion raised his head sharply.

His brother, the long-dead pale king, stood before him in all truth. His long gray hair had turned into a pure, elegant white, and was casually draped as before. He wore a long, wrinkled robe, and his hands and feet were wrapped in bandages.

An inconspicuous lantern hung on his waist, trembling slightly. His eyes were burning with golden flames, like the blazing sky fire that had cleansed the entire Terra ten thousand years ago, containing pure violence, but firmly bound in his eye sockets.

Mortarion walked slowly forward, his thin face still hollow, his high cheekbones making him look gloomy and stubborn.

Finally, he stopped a few steps in front of the lion and just looked down at him.

The lion stood up and returned the equally urgent gaze.

“Are you surprised to see me?” Mortarion asked.

"Yes," the lion replied, still observing his brother intently, and even his answer sounded like a dream. "I am surprised."

Mortarion smiled.

"No way," he said, his tone was very rare and gentle. "You are just wondering why I am here, that's all. But the answer is actually very simple. I now have new responsibilities, such as comforting the dead like you."

The lion was silent for a while, then suddenly said, "Don't you have anything else to do?"

His words made Mortarion frown more obviously: "Of course, brother, in fact, I have a lot of things to do."

"Why don't you get busy then?"

"Because I can't help it." The Lantern Death finally couldn't help it, his eyebrows were furious, and his tone became gloomy. "Who told you that I am a brother? Listen, Leon - I have something to show you."

He turned around and a door appeared in front of him. He stretched out his hand and pushed it open a small gap, and a cold wind and snow whistled in from it.

(End of this chapter)