40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 695 77. Resurrection (VI)

The lion strode into the door, and instinctively knew what lay behind it. Mortarion followed him silently, closing the door softly, the snow blowing in his face not stirring his white hair at all.

The lion turned around and saw this scene, his brows frowned instantly.

"what happened?"

"Nothing." The lion replied briefly, and then turned the topic to a question. "Where are we going?"

"Go watch an exorcism, man, it's as simple as that."

"Exorcism? In Fenris?" Upon hearing the answer, the lion's brows, which were already tense, began to frown tighter and tighter.

The reason was simple, because he knew that this was Fenris.

At the moment when a gust of cold wind slipped through the crack of the door, his intuition fished out the answer from the ocean and placed it in front of him. However, it did not reduce his doubts and anxiety in the slightest, but only intensified their impact on his reason.
The lion was no stranger to exorcism rituals. As early as the founding of the Psionic Academy, things related to it had been determined to be perfected and passed down from generation to generation. To this day, a legal psionicist officially certified by the Empire usually had to obtain qualified comments from three different subject instructors before he could officially obtain his status.

However, apart from these three, subjects containing complex knowledge such as 'exorcism' or 'purification' are the only compulsory courses.

In other words, the talents of psychics will determine their future direction - they will serve in a certain army and give full play to their understanding of pure psychic magic; they will be sent to a certain world to cooperate with the local law department to investigate supernatural phenomena, check clues one by one through prophecy or dreaming, and solve problems with the least loss; they will join a certain secret strike force, bestow powerful blessings on friendly forces on the most dangerous battlefield, and use terrifying curses to eat away the flesh and blood and even the soul of the enemy.
No matter what they choose, exorcism is always the first choice. But this is a common situation in the Empire, not in Fenris.

There are no official psychics who follow the rules and regulations to handle their identities, do things legally and in compliance with regulations, and accept dispatch and deployment. There are only an endless stream of priests, shamans, voodoo chieftains who came from nowhere, and even tribal elders who can only perform one or two magic tricks.
Expecting these people to conduct an exorcism ceremony according to the Empire's experience and regulations? This is simply ridiculous. According to the definition of the Psionic Academy, the ceremony arranged by the Fenris people is probably closer to "seduction" rather than "dispelling".

Furthermore, under the unique influence of this haunted place, which is unmatched in the entire galaxy, even a well-prepared exorcism ritual actually has a great possibility of failure, not to mention these primitive prayers.

If the wolf pack had not noticed this matter long before the time of Russ and conducted a comprehensive investigation, cleanup and confiscation of books, I am afraid that the number of evil spirits and ghosts that have appeared in Fenris in the past ten thousand years would have been dozens of times more.

The lion's mind raced, and in the blink of an eye he thought of many possibilities. He could no longer keep calm, and his face showed obvious worry. Mortarion saw it all, but made no comment or reaction, and just walked forward.

The grey snow passed straight through his body without wetting even an inch of his skin. The lion paused for a moment and followed closely. He wanted to ask something, but found that he, like Mortarion, could not touch anything on Fenris.
Soon, they came to the top of a high cliff, and the lion noticed more things were wrong.

He knew Fenris. Although the natural environment here was one of the worst in the entire galaxy, it had never snowed this thick as it did now.

At this moment, he stood on the top of the cliff, staring down, and all he saw was impenetrable gray-white, densely packed in every corner of his sight. Even though he couldn't touch them, the lion felt a sense of oppression in his heart.
Then he realized that this was probably related to the exorcism ritual that Mortarion had mentioned. However, his focus now shifted from the ritual to the scale of the snow itself. If it only covered this mountain range, it would be fine.

However, if its scale were larger, many tribes would probably suffer unexpected disasters.

“What are you thinking about?” Mortarion asked.

The lion took a deep breath, repeatedly reminding himself that he was now dead. Then he replied, "Nothing, where is the ceremony, brother?"

"It is just below this cliff, within easy reach. I do not wish to engage in riddles or to keep you anxious by keeping you in suspense, so I will speak directly - this ritual concerns you, and all the Librarians of the Son of Rus are here, maintaining the ritual."

The lion's pupils shrank suddenly, but he did not ask why his body was here. Instead, he suppressed the anger that followed and asked another question.

"Who allowed them to do this?"

Mortarion looked back at him and finally couldn't help laughing. "Who else do you think it was? Who else but Russ?"

"Russ?" The lion's face finally showed a look of pure astonishment.

The Grim Reaper with the Lantern turned his head and seemed to sigh.

"Yes, Russ. He saved you, as well as your loyal and respectable son Zabril. The latter carried your body on his back and traveled a long distance in the blizzard of Fenris with his instructions, hoping to seek support. Unfortunately, he encountered a Hur-Hal."

The lion clenched his fists in an instant.

Zabril.

When he said this name, he felt a soreness and swelling in front of his eyes.

Among wolves, it is considered a great honor to kill a Hur-Hal alone, and it is generally acknowledged that those wolves who are able to do this will have great things in the future, or at worst, they will kill a lot in a war and die in battle.

However, even if they were fully armed and prepared in advance, the mortality rate of this activity remained high for a long time. The species that could survive on Fenris were definitely not good, let alone this kind of beast that had surpassed the animal's instinct to forage for food, only appeared in blizzards, and was extremely fond of eating people.

Zabril Lion didn't think his situation was any better than his own. The Angel of Pardon must have been out of ammunition and food, and he might even have lost his weapons.

"Is he still alive?" the lion asked softly, his tone very cautious.

Mortarion did not answer the question, but reached for the lantern at his waist.

Suddenly, golden light became bright and penetrated the snow curtain straightly, creating a downward path in front of them. A series of steps of equal size and arranged in a certain numerical pattern appeared one after another.

"Come on," he said. "I'll take you to see him."

As soon as he finished speaking, Mortarion had never expected that the lion would suddenly break into a gallop, passing him like a bullet pushed out of a gun barrel by gunpowder, and swooping down at a speed so fast that it seemed to be falling.

Mortarion was a little surprised, but he still held the lantern in his hand to maintain the path for his brother, and waited a moment before going down.

He had deliberately given the lion plenty of time alone, but even so, when he reached the ground, the lion's expression still looked extremely emotional.

The wind and snow were raging, and the place was full of burning candles. The power of the psychic energy made them burn, and the light was piercing and almost pale. The lion stood behind the three people, saying nothing.

They were unaware of his arrival and continued to have brief conversations and long observations. One of them was particularly worried, with gray hair and an old face.

Mortarion shook his head imperceptibly, hung the lantern back around his waist, and examined the current situation. After repeated consideration, although he was unwilling to face such a Lion El'Jonson, he still decided to intervene.

The guide of the dead spoke after much hesitation, his tone extremely cautious.

"Brother, what are you thinking about?"

"I want them to stop," the lion said, not turning his head, his tone stiff. "This is just nonsense."

"mess?"

The lion turned his head, the anger in his eyes almost becoming tangible.

At this moment, his face in Mortarion's eyes actually burst into a light that was like returning to nature - at this moment, he saw again the king who seemed extremely cold and cruel because he was too sensible ten thousand years ago.

The aging brought by time has faded away, and the compassion, wisdom and patience brought by experience have also disappeared, leaving only the most primitive, rational and ruthless anger.

"They will kill themselves!" Lion El'Jonson roared, his fists clenched. "Anyone who knows a little about exorcism can see that the ritual has changed now!"

"It will not dispel any evil spirits, monsters or ghosts, but will only awaken those that have been dormant and long gone! Look around, Mortarion, and tell me, if that thing really appears in the world at this scale, how many lives will it take to kill it?!"

His voice was so fierce that it was almost deafening. But Mortarion's expression seemed a bit intriguing. In fact, it could be said that he was embarrassed and didn't know how to start.

The lion took a few deep breaths, suppressed his anger, and apologized to him: "I'm sorry I got angry with you just now-"

"--No, no." Mortarion was getting more and more embarrassed. "That's nothing, brother, but I want to tell you that they are actually doing the right thing."

The lion uttered a single syllable in astonishment.

"I mean," Mortarion deliberately stretched out the syllables, looking at the lion expectantly, wanting him to give the answer himself. But the lion didn't react at all, his brows were furrowed, he kept blinking, and couldn't say anything.

All right. The Grim Reaper with the Lantern shook his head helplessly. This is not my fault, Leon.

"They are summoning your spirit."

He spoke quite bluntly, and never stopped once he started, as if he had been suppressing his emotions for a very long time, totally ignoring the increasingly dazed expression of the lion standing opposite him.

"It's actually very simple. You made it complicated. You died. Yes, there is a price to pay for bringing you back. That's true. But there is always room for maneuver. You are a Primarch. How can we really let you die so simply?"

"Let's take a step back and assume that you really want to die and come to accompany me, then how many of those who will take over your duties and deal with your funeral will be exhausted to death? Have you ever thought about this problem?"

"To put it bluntly, the originally stable situation in the Hazy Star Region may even become more turbid because of this. Do you want to see this happen? Let alone the fact that Ferrus will stabilize the situation, I would consider it a sudden enlightenment if he can figure out the things in his own clan before the next century."

"Father went to you to talk to you, but you didn't appreciate it at all. You kept complaining and saying things like 'only part of you is your son'. I tell you, he was heartbroken when he came to me."

"But then again, this is really rare, and I actually have to thank you for this. I have never seen him look at me like this in all my life - why is he looking at me like that? Don't you believe me?"

"Well, I'll tell you frankly, brother, he doesn't have much time to be sober now. In other words, he has used all his little humanity on you."

After Mortarion finished speaking, he breathed a sigh of relief, and after thinking about what he had said and making sure that he was not wrong, the Lantern Reaper, who had not spoken to his brothers other than Magnus for a long time, finally felt relieved.

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He knew he had said too much and too clearly, but in the past ten thousand years, apart from participating in the Eternal War, he had been leading the dead souls to rest temporarily under the Golden Throne. The little free time he had was used by Magnus to play regicide chess.

Regardless of whether the game was good or bad, or the level of the game, it was just for fun, but the Fool was really restless. Even in the intervals between moves, he would talk about what he had heard from the ghosts recently.

Which governor was burned to death by the Night Blades for holding a living sacrifice, which judge had an unclear relationship with her guards, which alien was being hunted by his own race across the galaxy?
He talked non-stop, but Mortarion had little to say.

Unlike Magnus, the souls he extradited were all loyalists who died in battle. As early as the moment they died, they were drawn into a state of half dream by the power of the Emperor. To talk to them, he would have to wake them up, and he couldn't do that.

Therefore, in the past ten thousand years, in almost every chess game, he had been passively accepting Magnus's verbal bombardment. Now that he had finally caught the lion, he naturally would not let go of this opportunity.

However, Mortarion still didn't know enough about the lion.

There was a brief silence, and then Lion El'Jonson hit the nail on the head, shaking off all the other information his brother had revealed and focusing on the truth.

From this point of view, perhaps he has never actually changed, and he is still a sword sharp enough to hurt everyone.

"What's the price?" the lion asked in a low voice. "Also, you said Russ saved me. He's just a lonely ghost, relying on that spear to barely move. Why did he save me? Who is helping him behind the scenes?"

After saying this, he suddenly took a step forward in the wind and snow. Mortarion narrowed his eyes, looked down at the lion's feet, and saw a real footprint.

He smiled sincerely.

"Tell me the answer, bro."

"You can do your own research." Mortarion winked at him. "Goodbye, Lion. We hardly ever communicated in the past, but if possible, I really hope we can sit down and talk."

The snow was still blowing, but his figure was gradually obscured, no longer as solid as before. The lion rushed forward eagerly, trying to reach out and grab him, but he only caught nothing.

At the same time, the coldness came from all directions and invaded his body unstoppably.
The lion grunted and froze in place, but the anger in his heart did not diminish in the slightest - he gritted his teeth and put up a stubborn resistance, but it was of no avail, he could only watch Mortarion disappear bit by bit in the wind and snow.

come back!

The roar was stuck deep in his throat, difficult to utter. The Caliban people, who had wrapped themselves in rationality and allowed it to dominate their emotions and hearts, finally showed a little vulnerability and sadness.

The cold wind blew his white hair. Perhaps it was the cold, or perhaps it was because he was really old, that the endless sorrow broke through his defenses at this moment and pierced deeply into his heart of flesh and blood.

"Why.?"

The lion lowered his head and asked himself. The funny thing is that even he himself didn't know what he was looking for. He was asking why, trying to find an answer, but what was the question?

What was the price of his resurrection? Who did Russ ask for help? Is he okay? Mortarion, have you been okay for the past ten thousand years?

as well as.

Have I disappointed you, father?

"Never," his father said. "You have always been my pride, please believe it, Leon."

Warmth swallowed up the coldness, and the distant singing replaced the humming wind and poured into his ears. The lion slowly closed his eyes. For some reason, he felt extremely tired. The wolves howled, calling the names of the deceased, one louder than the other, one louder than the other, like thunder.

Bjorn slowly raised his head.

"Almost done." He commented simply, his right hand already reaching for the axe at his waist. "But there is one last thing to do."

"What's the matter?" Zabriel asked hoarsely, wrapped in a cloak and struggling in the cold.

The lone wolf did not answer, but slowly pulled out the axe, held it tightly, and walked towards the center of the ceremony venue.

The cold light engulfed his figure, and Zabril swallowed his questions. But he was lucky that there was someone beside him who didn't follow his own way like the wild wolves.

Azek Ahriman spoke softly with sympathetic compassion.

"You're a veteran, Zabril. So you've been on some covert missions in the past—shady assassinations, that sort of thing. But I suppose that no matter how sure you are, you always have to take a moment to make sure your target is dead after you've pulled the trigger or swung the blade, right?"

The Dark Angel turned his head mechanically and stiffly, as if he didn't understand what he said.

The blind man greeted him with an expressionless indifference, and the dark red cloth wrapped around his eye sockets stinging like flying blood.

"Don't act like you've suddenly lost your ability to think, Zabril. I shouldn't be that hard to understand."

"I beg you to explain yourself."

The blind man suddenly formed a seal with his left hand behind his back, and then he spoke calmly.

"This is an exorcism ceremony, yes, but it is divided into two steps. In the first step, the rune priests call on the nature spirits of Fenris to expel all the remaining evil forces in the lion's body - or swallow them, you can understand it yourself."

"The second step is to reverse the ritual. It is not enough to simply exorcise the evil spirit. His soul will not come back on its own. Therefore, the nature of this ritual needs to be slightly changed. From exorcism to summoning the spirit, it only takes one step."

Holding the seal, Ahriman deliberately paused for a few seconds before slowly speaking the last sentence.

".As for now, we just need to confirm whether the person who came back is him."

Zabriel lowered his head deeply for a long time, then he uttered a whisper.

"You guys are crazy."

The blind man smiled and did not deny it, but quietly dispelled the seal with his left hand.

(End of this chapter)