40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 66 65. The Eighth Legion (one, five chapters in one)

Conrad Coates never imagined that time would pass so quickly.

Fourteen days, have they passed like this?

This rare learning time was an extremely fulfilling process for him. He only lost his mind once, and after that, he never did it again.

Fulgrim once tested whether Khalil had said anything about this. He told Curze that he didn't need to take it too seriously. But Konrad Coates just smiled and denied it.

In fact, Khalil never asked him how his classes and studies were going.

He didn't need to ask.

And now.

"We're leaving, bro."

Standing on the deck of the Emperor's Dream, the Chemos man spoke in a solemn tone.

"The galaxy is vast, and we still have a few brothers who are still wandering among the stars like you. Everyone is looking for them, and neither father nor we will let them wander. So, as promised, we are leaving ”

Conrad Coz nodded silently, but he had no idea what to say at such an important moment. He had a lot to say, but he couldn't say a word.

Apart from the Primarchs, no one else stayed on the deck. Curze didn't know whose order it was, but he could guess.

But, why don't you choose to show up at this time?

He pursed his lips and nodded. Fulgrim smiled and patted his chest. He no longer wore the purple tulle he once loved. Instead, he dressed very smartly and held a thick notebook in his hand.

"How about I tell you the name I gave it next time we meet?" Fulgrim asked with a wink.

"good."

Ferrus Manus stepped forward and smiled.

These days, it was not the first time that Curze saw him smiling, but to be honest, this was the first time that he saw Ferus smile so naturally.

"We will meet again one day, brother. It won't be long."

Next was Rogal Dorn - 'The Rock' walked forward calmly and nodded towards him.

His face was expressionless, but he said very sincerely and seriously: "Take care, Conrad."

"Is this what you want to say?" Fulgrim shouted beside him in disbelief. "We have been discussing it for several days -!"

"—He didn't say anything," Rogal Dorn said calmly. "Never mind, Conrad. Anyway."

He was silent for a moment, and finally patted his brother, who was still shorter than him, on the shoulder with his right hand.

"See you then, brother, be sure to take care."

After saying this, he turned around and gave way. Lorga Aurelion walked forward with a complicated expression. Seeing him, Curze's expression also became complicated.

".I don't know what to say, brother." Luo Jia said in a low voice. "But please believe that I have no bad intentions towards you."

Gazing into those eyes, Coze nodded slightly.

He knew that Luojia didn't lie - maybe Luojia Aurelion did say something to Khalil that he shouldn't have said, but that didn't mean that he wanted to deny everything Luojia said.

If he did, Khalil would be the first to be upset about it.

"I believe you, Luo Jia." He whispered. "But I also ask you not to say that about Khalil again."

There was no answer, the golden-skinned giant just sighed heavily. He held the tome tightly in his hand and gave his brother a sad but still enthusiastic smile.

"Goodbye brother, they've said take care of themselves a lot, so I won't say more. But I will be praying for you, every day."

Lorgar Aurelion pursed her lips.

"Peace to you, peace to Nostramo."

"Thanks."

The moment of farewell was fleeting, the Primarchs departed one after another, and the deck was once again empty. Conrad Coates still stood here, as if waiting for something.

Five minutes later, a tall giant came from the other end of the deck. He walked through those wide portholes with a plain expression, but it was as if he was born to belong here.

"Conrad," he greeted. "how?"

".Ten minutes left." Conrad Coates replied in a low voice. "They will dock with the Emperor's Dream from here. That ship is called Nightfall."

"Night. It goes well with Nostramo."

The giant smiled. He was far taller than Conrad Coze, but their faces were equally pale, and even their eyes were equally bottomless.

"So, have you decided what to do?" Khalil asked gently. "I remember we discussed this topic last night."

".Forgan said, I need a speech, but I don't need a draft."

"Yeah, speech." Khalil nodded. "Indeed, such an important occasion requires a speech. Improvisation seems good too."

"Then...I plan to remember all their names." Conrad Coates said seriously.

Khalil raised his eyebrows in surprise. "This is no easy job, Conrad."

"You know they have a total of 20,000 people, right? This number is not much compared to other legions, but with 20,000 names, you have to connect these names with their faces and personalities one by one. You Do you really plan to do this?"

"Yes," Conrad Coates said firmly.

"If they are really my Legion, then that's what I should do. I should respect them, shouldn't I, Khalil?"

The giant who was asked by name burst into laughter after a period of silence.

He nodded: "Yes, yes, you should respect them. While there is still time, do you remember another thing we discussed last night?"

"."

"Conrad?"

"."

"Come on, Conrad. We agreed."

Midnight Ghost hissed back, "That's fine with you."

Khalil's expression became very strange, and he asked softly: "Really? Then how are you going to explain to them that I am a giant with a height of four meters and two?"

".I have no idea."

"No, no, you can't answer them with four words: I don't know."

Khalil laughed again, but this time, he seemed a little helpless. "Come on, tell me, how are you going to introduce me to them?"

".You are a Nostramo."

"Very good, then what?"

".You raised me."

"Just a partner."

"Khalil, could you please stop saying that word?"

"Why?"

"If you mention it again, I will tell them that I don't know."

Khalil raised his hands in surprise, an ancient gesture of courtesy. "Okay. So, what happens after that?"

"you--"

Midnight Ghost blinked, raised his head, and began to fiddle with the pendant gifted by Fulgrim on his chest.

"——You were rewarded by the Emperor for this. He transformed you so that you can be four meters tall."

"There's not much difference between making up a completely unrealistic story and lying, Conrad."

Khalil frowned.

"I don't remember that I ever taught you to lie. Moreover, how do you want them to believe that the transformation technology mastered by the Emperor can make a person grow to four meters two? I am even taller than you!"

"What should we do?" Ghost asked blankly. "I don't want you to use psychic powers to disguise yourself, that would be weird."

"What's weird?"

"It's just weird." Ghost said insistently.

"."

Khalil couldn't help but sigh.

"Well, let's not discuss this matter for now. But I won't appear in front of them right away. You can go meet them first, give a speech, and have a military parade. How about that?"

"Then where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere." With a sigh, Khalil tapped his temple. Two points of cold blue light flashed away, and he just disappeared without a trace.

Midnight Ghost's eyes widened. "Khalil?"

"I am here."

A familiar voice came from beside him. "That's it, Ghost No, Konrad Curze. Don't speak Nostramo once you're on board, do you understand?"

"oh"

"Straighten your back."

"oh."

".Remember, don't be nervous."

"good!"

——

Take a deep breath.

Take a deep breath and calm down, Fel Zalost. You've imagined this scene a million times, haven't you?

There is nothing to get excited about, stay calm, stay peaceful, and maintain your pride and honor as a member of the glorious Eighth Legion.

Show your genetic father what you look like, make him proud, make him smile.

Take a deep breath.

Felzalost opened his eyes in annoyance.

An annoying pale face swayed from side to side in front of him, and even deliberately tapped each other with his fingers, making a sound of steel clashing. And this sound was the main reason for interrupting his meditation.

He spoke sharply: "I swear to the father of genes, Adebeman Basili, if you make that annoying noise in front of me again, I will put you in the infirmary for six weeks!"

"Oh, six weeks? The doctors will kill me."

Although he said these words, a successful smile appeared on Adebeman Basili's pale face.

He tapped his breastplate, the decoration of the Imperial Sky Eagle so conspicuous on it. The MK2 expeditionary power armor reflects light spotlessly, and the joints are covered with oil. It has obviously been maintained recently.

He grinned and began to laugh.

"Look at your appearance, Lord Zalost. How can you still look like the Eighth Legion?"

"We were chosen by the Emperor to atone for our sins. We are the judges of crimes. We destroyed Saragon's conspiracy and the heresy that secretly bred psykers. And you are so uneasy now?!"

He couldn't help but rolled his eyes and started yelling loudly.

"Your Majesty the Emperor, please help me forget Felzalost! He is far from the reliable person I remember!"

Taking a deep breath, Felzalost slowly stood up.

He is also wearing a precious MK2 power armor. Gloomy blue and black constitute the main colors of the armor. The shape of a human skull is carefully outlined in white on the iron surface. The double-headed eagle logo is on the right shoulder. sparkling with light.

"Are you done? I know why you look like you are looking for trouble, Adebeman."

He suppressed his anger and asked.

"I have said that I voted to resign out of integrity - did you understand the situation, Adebeman? Is that pathetic lust for power the only thing in your mind?"

"that power?"

Adebiman smiled, but it was a sneer.

"Power is bullshit to me!"

He cursed in High Gothic mixed with a form of Terran slang. "I am your adjutant, I am your adjutant! Adjutant! Fel Zalost!"

"You are our company commander and think tank director, why do you want to resign from your position?! If the father of genes refers to a new third company commander, how will our brothers respond? Huh? Not to mention who the brother is. What will it feel like, tell me, what are we going to do?”

Fel Zalost pursed his lips and suppressed all his anger in his heart. He could see Adebeman's sadness at this moment, and he could completely understand the reason for his sadness.

but

"This decision was reached jointly by the eight company commanders and all the team captains after forty-seven meetings, Adbeiman."

"We have unanimously agreed to step down from our positions and retain only the most basic military ranks and establishment. Only in this way can the original body better accept and manage his legion. Tell me, Adbeman, is this decision unjustified?"

Adebeman Basili did not answer.

"Answer me, Adbeman Basili!" Fel Zalost shouted in his usual commanding tone.

Immediately afterwards——

"——Just right, company commander!" Adebeman immediately replied in a low voice. "It's completely legitimate and there's nothing wrong with it."

Felzalost stared at the lowered warrior, at his brother, and after a moment of silence, he sighed.

"You have to let me scold you and exercise the power I have given up before you will be happy, right?"

"The commander of the third company is and can only be Fel Zalost." Adbeman replied in a low voice.

"Don't make me sound so noble." Feier shook his head.

"We are all sons of criminals, and our bodies are full of sin. Every battle we fight is atonement, every second we live is stolen time, and it is the mercy of the Emperor that allows us to stand here."

"But at least you are much better than some people." Adebeman said softly. This sentence is less like a rebuttal and more like a narrative. But his words made Feier frown suddenly.

"Which people?" Feier looked at him sternly.

"Those people - you know who I'm talking about, Captain."

"Call me Fel, or Zalost, or just call me brother."

".Anyway, you know who I'm talking about."

Adebiman whispered. "They are all sinful people, but they do not cherish this precious opportunity. They deserve to die just like their father."

"Be careful, Adebeman, they are also our brothers."

Adebiman shook his head and did not refute this statement. He left the quiet meditation room and went to the bridge, leaving Fel Zalost alone.

He stood calmly, with a worried expression. Although what Adebeman said was not recognized by him, Fehr actually knew that what he said was right.

The Eighth Legion is an honorary legion. However, few people know that it has actually tasted a lot of blood since its birth.

Its source of troops comes from Terra's underground prison - which has actually become a huge underground hive.

There is no light or fresh air, darkness is the norm as always, and any bit of light is a gift.

In such an environment, the prisoners gradually deteriorated, becoming cruel, strong, and smart. In contrast, their skin becomes pale and their personalities become taciturn.

They call themselves the children of the night, and the people above the prison never provoke them, but just let them fend for themselves.

Until the arrival of the Emperor.

He chose the sons of prisoners, he took them out of the bleak prison, and he gave them new life.

Felzalost closed his eyes sadly and stopped recalling the dark past of the Legion. He did not understand why the Emperor had chosen them, but he would not delve into the reasons.

Emperor, some within your legions have forgotten your favor and have unknowingly followed the path of their fathers. What should we do?

His question went unanswered. The ground shook, mechanical sounds slowly rang in it, a slight sound came from the wall, and then, a voice sounded from above him.

"We are docking with the Emperor's Dream." The voice said, looking extremely solemn. "Get ready, Eighth Legion, we will meet our genetic father with our own eyes."

Yes.

Felzalost snapped his helmet on.

We'll see for ourselves.

——

Straightening his back, Konrad Coates slowly walked into the dark crowd.

He walked slowly—very slowly, in fact.

He maintained this speed, tensed his muscles, and passed them slowly. The crowd in power armor surrounded him. Although they very considerately opened a wide path to the main bridge,

Calm down, Conrad. He kept telling himself in his mind. You have to be calm.

——This stiff walk lasted for eight minutes before it ended.

At the end of the road covered with bright red carpet, a high platform appeared, without much decoration and with square edges. Conrad Coates could even tell that this metal creation had just been built.

He lowered his head, and when he raised it again, his expression had changed to a serious one. This seems to be an instinct, and he can use it like an arm without having to use it too carefully.

He walked up to the high platform and felt a chill coming from his right wrist.

Under the stage, there were 20,000 pairs of expectant eyes.

How to speak? How to speak? How can I speak?

Conrad Coates took a deep breath.

"Good day, soldiers of the Eighth Legion."

A serious and heavy voice sounded the next moment. His voice echoed on the deck packed with twenty thousand people, and every syllable of the High Gothic language was perfect - his mind was blank at the moment, but he knew clearly what he wanted to say and what he should say.

However, he was startled by the sound transmitted by the installed microphone.

Is this my voice? Conrad Coates asked himself. I actually sound so strange?

"My name is Conrad Coates."

He ignored the feeling and continued talking.

"Unlike you, I come from Nostramo. It is an eternal night star. Atmospheric pollution, synchronization with satellite orbits, and the weakening of the sun have shaped it into what it is today."

"It was cold and ruthless. The nobles controlled everything, from industry to the most basic basic necessities of life. They recast all order."

"This place is full of sorrow and suffering. Soldiers of the Eighth Legion, I have no intention of hiding this from you. Therefore, I will tell you the truth directly. It is not perfect, and it can even be said that it should be destroyed, but it is my home planet. ”

He paused for a moment, wondering how they would react. But the 20,000 pairs of eyes in the audience just stared at him through their eyepieces calmly and silently, without saying a word.

Conrad Coates knew that this was what waiting meant.

He took another deep breath and suddenly looked to the empty right hand side of the high platform. There was no one there, and the light source cast softly from above, forming a grayish light in front of his eyes. Staring there, he slowly raised his right hand.

".Also, please allow me to introduce you to my adoptive father."

His words were tantamount to dropping a bomb in the audience. The soldiers of the Eighth Legion who had been silently paying attention to him now looked over. Their helmets and goggles concealed their emotions, and Konrad Coze But he was so calm that he was indifferent.

He had to do it.

"We'll talk about this later, Conrad."

With a sigh, a tall giant appeared at the other end of the platform. It comes from nothing, is extremely abrupt, and extremely difficult to understand.

At this moment, countless dangerous sounds sounded.

The sound of a gun being drawn, the sound of a chamber being cocked, a dangerous buzz, and the sound of a power weapon's decomposition stance being activated - their distrust was palpable.

Although many people put down their weapons after realizing that the object of Conrad Coze's words was this tall giant, nearly half of the people still held them firmly.

"Please put down your weapons."

Conrad Coates said seriously. "This is my adoptive father, Khalil Lohars. He raised me and I am who I am because of him. Without him, there would be no me."

The audience was still silent, and after a few seconds, there were slight sounds.

The warriors of the Eighth Legion complied with their Primarch's request. Even if they are full of doubts now.

"Thank you." The pale giant said sincerely. "Otherwise I don't know what to do - I learned about it fourteen days ago."

"I learned of your existence. Twenty thousand people have inherited my blood. From a legal and genetic level, you are my sons, and I am extremely confused about this."

"I don't know how to face you. I have never experienced this in my past life. Now, I have seen you with my own eyes, but I still have doubts. This doubt is lingering in my heart and has not diminished at all."

"I still don't know how to face you. I know that you should have many questions now, and they must all be about my adoptive father. But this matter is not important now, because I will explain it to you one by one. ”

"Remember, this is my promise."

"I"

The pale giant closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"I would like to ask you to do something for me, soldiers of the Eighth Legion." He said softly. "I would like to ask you to take off your helmets and let me see your faces with my own eyes."

There was still no answer from the audience, only a series of mechanical sounds.

The helmets were taken off and held between the arms of these superhuman warriors. Their faces were extremely pale and their eyes were dark, but they were not completely dark like the Nostramos.

At this moment, all 20,000 pairs of eyes were staring at their genetic father with complicated expressions. No one spoke, no one made any sound, not even a grunt in the throat.

There was only silence in the huge venue.

Conrad Coates reached out and grabbed the sides of the platform to prevent himself from falling due to dizziness.

He gritted his teeth, and the shock of witnessing the truth with his own eyes forced his muscles to tighten, and a different kind of throbbing began to tumble in his heart.

He had never felt such an emotion in his life, and the first second he felt it, he had already begun to cherish it.

The giant standing beside him glanced at him silently. Although his face was still calm, his right hand twitched slightly.

".Thank you, thank you very much."

Conrad Curze said hoarsely. "Thank you, soldiers of the Eighth Legion. It turns out that what my brother Fulgrim said is true. I will understand when I see it with my own eyes."

"Now, I understand. You are my sons, that's for sure, no one can argue, no one can change it. But I still have one last question to ask you."

Holding the metal iron platform, Konrad Coates asked slowly, carefully, and softly.

".Will you accept me?"

——

Wait, wait nervously.

He was so nervous that even the ends of Fel Zalost's fingers began to tremble.

There was a short queue in front of him, and there was only one person in front of him. But this is because two Terra Hours have passed. Two Terra Hours ago, this team was hopelessly long.

And if Feir turned around and looked at this moment, he would see another long and despairing line.

At the end of the line was a room that had been tidied up not long ago.

Their Primarch was among them - and after they had made their stance clear with a chorus of 'Accept', their Primarch issued his first order.

Although Felzalost preferred to call the words a polite request, everyone - including him - regarded it as a sacred command.

Their Primarch said: Prepare a room for me, warriors of the Eighth Legion, and I wish to meet you one by one. I want to remember your faces and your names. This is my oath.

Who can say no?

No one can.

Thirty minutes later, it was his turn.

finally.

Taking a deep breath, Feier slowly opened the door and walked inside. The brothers behind him stared at him silently, no one said anything, they just waited quietly.

Behind the door is a wide space, which used to be a training room, specially used to train new recruits in close combat skills.

There were even traces of the training machines being violently dragged away in the center of the hall. Needless to say, Feier could understand what kind of embarrassing posture they looked like when they were dragged away.

His brothers would never let these machines go away with dignity.

There is a chandelier overhead, hanging gently, emitting a soft light.

Because they have lived underground for a long time, the soldiers of the Eighth Legion cannot look directly at the sun or too bright light sources on weekdays, even after transformation.

This is one of their few weaknesses, so they all have night vision goggles installed in the eyepieces of their helmets.

However, Fell was not wearing his helmet at the moment. He doesn't need it either.

Trembling, he walked into an iron table, behind which sat a pale giant in a chair.

His black hair was neatly combed, and he was wearing a decent shirt. A sparkling prismatic gold-plated pendant swayed on his chest. Both hands were placed on the table, and his nails were neatly manicured.

What am I looking at?

Felzalost thought angrily, why should I pay attention to so many details of the Primarch's appearance?

"Please take a seat."

His origin spoke gently, in a very soft voice, with a noble accent in High Gothic.

"Only when you sit down and communicate with me as an equal can our conversation truly begin."

Feier sat down tremblingly, but when he pulled out the chair that belonged to him, he moved too quickly, causing its four feet to rub against the ground and create sparks.

He lowered his head in shame, expecting to receive some kind of admonishment, but unexpectedly, their original body just spoke softly.

"Don't be nervous, what's your name?"

".Fel Zalost."

"My name is Conrad Curze, Fair, nice to meet you. Do you allow me to call you that?"

I? Do I allow it?

Feier looked at him blankly: "Father, father?"

The pale giant smiled gently: "Call me Konrad or the Primarch. You are a Terran, aren't you? You are both Terran."

"Yes, yes, Primarch."

"Tyra, what does it look like?"

Feir was stunned. He didn't expect to hear such a question from his original body.

His heart was already extremely excited because of this special meeting, and at this moment, he directly lost the ability to think - he froze in his seat, and it took him three seconds to recover.

"What's wrong, Phil?"

".No, no, it's okay, Primarch. I just didn't expect you to ask me this question."

"Don't use honorifics."

".What?"

"I said, don't use honorifics, Feir." The pale giant looked at him with a relaxed and natural expression.

"You don't have to talk to me like this, you don't have to be formal, you don't have to be too serious. I am your Primarch, but that doesn't mean I'm nobler than you. Superiority is a ridiculous word, don't you think so, Fell ?”

".I-I don't understand, Primarch."

Felzalost said with a confused mind. "Can I answer that question about Terra?"

He asked almost pleadingly.

Conrad Coates burst into laughter—this was not the first person to lose his temper in front of him, but every time he saw him, he felt a sour warmth emerge in his heart.

Time and time again, this feeling resurfaced, leaving an indelible mark on his heart.

Conrad Coates treasured this feeling carefully in his heart.

"Of course, Phil, actually, the right to answer or not is up to you."

Curze said gently. "If you feel that this question involves your privacy, you don't have to answer me."

Phil Zalost thought carefully before answering - it was not that he had not heard what Conrad Coates said, but he did not allow himself to answer such a question casually.

The current members of the Eighth Legion are all Terran. How can he answer such a question casually?

Moreover, he did not allow himself not to answer.

"Terra is the cradle of humanity and our home planet. The original body."

Felzalost spoke in a low voice.

"But my impression of it is already very vague. We grew up in an ancient underground prison. It was almost like another hive, but underground."

"The environment was harsh, but we were all used to it, so no one noticed anything. It wasn't until the Emperor pardoned us there, and after I passed the selection, that I saw what it looked like with my own eyes."

"Terra is a huge hive, the original body. It is not special, and the natural environment is extremely terrifying, but for some reason, it occupies a very important place in my heart."

"Ah just like how I feel about Nostramo."

Conrad Coates sighed slightly. "Your description strikes me as familiar, Fell. However, Nostramo is slightly different from the Terra you describe. It is special."

Fel Zalost saw his original body, the pale giant, laughing coldly.

This was the first time he had seen such emotion on their genetic father's face, and for some reason, he felt that this was what he should look like.

"special?"

"Yeah, it's very special. What's special about it is that it's so bad."

Fair looked at Conrad Coates in astonishment, who shook his head with a smile and said: "If you want to know, I can tell you a story or two in advance. I originally planned to arrange this matter for the official military parade tomorrow. above."

"If that doesn't bother you, Primarch," Fel replied quickly.

Are you kidding me? How could he not want to know?

"I'll tell you if you drop the honorific," Conrad Coates said slyly. "How about it?"

".Is this a joke, Primarch?"

"no."

".I'll try."

"Very well—so, where do I begin?"

With a long sigh, Konrad Coates pursed his lips and spoke after a brief silence.

"I have roughly described to you what kind of place Nostramo is. However, words are very pale after all. If you can't see it with your own eyes, you may not believe that there is such a place in the world. "

"Nostramo is a planet divided and ruled by nobles and gangs, Fell. The only order that exists in it is power, which is violence. Apart from this, anything else is superfluous."

"The people at the bottom are either workers or miners, and both of these terms are just rhetorical beautification. The real and appropriate description should be slaves - no, maybe even worse than that."

"At least slave owners regard slaves as their personal property and value their lives, don't they? But in Nostramo, the people at the bottom...are food, materials, and furniture. They are nothing but Anything other than a human being.”

"The only thing they can't be is human beings."

Fel Zalost was stunned. He didn't know how to answer the original's words.

This description is horrifying even in the dark underground prison at the bottom of Terra.

Prisoners were given food rations, and cannibalism was an unforgivable crime throughout the underground prison. No one would do such a thing, and these sinful people tacitly did not cross that line.

Even among criminals, there is a hierarchy of crimes.

The descendants of the prisoners will firmly remember the crimes of their ancestors in their hearts, including warlord crimes, war crimes, serial killers, and people who deceive the world. Only one of them has never been cannibalistic.

but

Looking into the pure black eyes of his genetic father, Feier gradually realized that he was serious.

"Surprised?" Conrad Coates asked with a smile.

The smile on his pale, ghost-like face was so calm and peaceful, as if he was talking about something that had nothing to do with him.

At this moment, Feier suddenly remembered that their genetic father grew up in such an environment.

"you"

"You." Coze shook his head. "It's 'you', Phil. I've said it many times, don't use honorifics."

".Is this the kind of environment you grew up in, Primarch?"

"Yes." Conrad Coates chuckled and nodded.

Apart from that, he did not explain any more, but Felzalost suddenly felt an extremely strong anger boiling up from the bottom of his heart. This anger came so suddenly that he almost forgot a question.

Why didn't their primarch unite Nostramo?

"We can help you." Fel Zalost said while suppressing his anger. "We can help you clean it up, Primarch."

"That's something to be discussed later."

Conrad Curze smiled. He said nothing more. He just stood up and extended his right hand to Fel.

Ancient etiquette reappeared today. It originated from Terra, but Fel, who was of Terran origin, did not understand the meaning of this gesture at all.

The Eighth Legion has always been alone. Their mission is to punish those who dare to cross the last line. Whenever such people appear, the Emperor of Mankind will send them to spread his anger.

As a result, they have almost no communication with other legions.

They even rarely communicate with the Mechanicus, let alone the auxiliary army.

Companies and squads are the most common combat units in the Eighth Legion, but on their battlefields, there is no bombing, vehicle coordination, group charge and so on.

Their war is completely opposite to the conventional war.

Fel Zharost looked at his Primarch blankly.

"This is a handshake." Conrad Curze said patiently. "An ancient etiquette that can be used when meeting or saying goodbye. It comes from Terra, Fel, don't you know it?"

"I don't know, Primarch." Fel lowered his head in shame. At this moment, a hand pulled over his right hand surrounded by armor.

"The handshake is very simple, Fel." Conrad Curze said with a smile. "There are no strict requirements. You just need to do this-look."

The pale hand and the gloomy blue-gray steel were tightly clasped together.

Fel stared at this scene in a daze, and his thoughts drifted to an unpredictable distance.

——

Nightfall is a battleship of the Queen of Glory class. These ships are all huge. Khalil has read about them, but he never thought that a ship could be so big.

Eighteen kilometers long.

And among all the Queen of Glory battleships, Nightfall is not even a particularly large one.

The largest one is called the Indomitable Truth. It is the first completed Queen of Glory class battleship, which is twenty-six kilometers long. It belongs to the Dark Angels.

An interesting name - but Khalil prefers to call it the First Legion. It's easier to remember.

What an exaggerated data. He thought, and then recalled the weapons and equipment in the data. For Khalil, they are even more exaggerated.

It's really the combat power of the interstellar era.

Khalil thought so, and walked silently through the dark corridor - the daily living habits of these soldiers of the Eighth Legion are exactly the same as those of the Nostramo people.

The same fear of light and love of darkness.

The difference is that the former is a habit, and they choose to do so even after the transformation. The latter has become what they are today in the long torture of generational change.

The Nostramo people have no right to choose.

However, this can still be regarded as a weird coincidence.

Just like the pale skin of the Terran Eighth Legion soldiers, and their combat style.

Punisher who is proficient in fast strikes?

This concept coincides with the combat style that Khalil has always loved. In fact, if you look into the time, he is actually the imitator.

Imitators I have never met.

Unfortunately, with the changes in his body, the "quick strike" is now far from the actual situation.

In the past, he pursued speed because he could not fight for a long time and because he did not want to have a head-on conflict with the gangs. And now the speed is because the gangs can only hold on for so long.

Killing quickly, isn't it fast?

He chuckled and turned his head. There was a calmness that came from nowhere on his gloomy and pale face, and his dark eyes stared at the corner of the corridor.

Just like that, he looked at that side quietly for a while before turning around and leaving. Ten minutes after he left, some dark shadows flashed by.

- Conrad, you really caused me a lot of trouble.

Khalil thought helplessly. Of course he knew who those people behind him were.

He persuaded Conrad Coates more than once, but the latter didn't seem to listen at all.

In fact, if Khalil followed his idea, he would never make his identity public so soon.

But Konrad Curze had already done so.

He introduced Caryl Rohals solemnly and seriously in front of 20,000 people, forcing him to show up, and even used the adjective "adoptive father".

A four-meter-tall adoptive father.

An adoptive father who could suddenly appear from thin air.

Although Konrad later promised him in a rare mature tone that he would explain everything to the Eighth Legion.

However, Caryl still didn't know how to tell him. The most embarrassing part of this was not about whether to explain or not.

In terms of legal and blood relationship, the 20,000 Astartes of the Eighth Legion were all sons of Konrad Curze. Although they just met today, this point was irrefutable.

And not long ago, he openly announced in front of these 20,000 people that Caryl was his adoptive father.

I really should have taught you about human relations earlier, Konrad.

With a sigh, Caryl continued to move forward. His goal this time was the upper deck of the Nightfall, and he had already visited the lower deck. He intended to take in every detail of the ship as quickly as possible and remember them firmly.

It is true that the soldiers of the Eighth Legion were wary of him, but their primarch had already spoken, and Khalil Lohars could move freely on the Nightfall - so they had no choice but to follow resentfully. Behind.

Honestly speaking, Khalil was unwilling to do such an obviously privileged act, but now that Conrad Coates had said it, he had nothing to say.

It is not easy to say openly and righteously in front of those 20,000 pairs of eyes that are full of doubts about him, Konrad Coates, you are not doing this right.

Or, hissing in Nostramo to communicate with the midnight ghost - at that time, the scene might become even more ugly.

There are so many things. Khalil thought darkly as he walked silently through the steel corridors, passed through some rumbling rooms, and arrived at the upper deck in the air that didn't smell very good.

The place is as complicated as a maze, with rooms, secret passages, corridors, and one door after another, with the servitors staggering through it.

These combinations of flesh and steel were kindly provided by the Mechanicus - to be honest, Khalil didn't know much about them, but his impression of the Mechanicus was not good. The image of the servitors is one of the main reasons.

Their bodies were shriveled and clad in red robes, with the emblem of the Cult Mechanicus gleaming on them.

Almost all of their internal organs have been removed to prevent unnecessary loss of energy.

Their brains have also been operated on, so that only programmed programs and instinctive reactions remain, without any thoughts of their own.

Stopping where he was, Khalil stared at a servitor shaking away.

There was an exposed pipe on the back of the latter's head, stuck in the center of its pale back. Some semi-solidified objects like black blood flowed slowly in it. It opened a door and quickly disappeared inside.

Khalil couldn't help but sigh again. He turned his head slightly and glanced at the dark corridor behind him. Then, he turned around.

"Good evening, everyone." He greeted politely towards the long and narrow corridor behind him. "Can you come out and talk?"

No one answered.

"I'm sure I'm speaking authentic High Gothic."

Still no one answered.

"All right."

Khalil shook his head.

"Those two warriors lying on the ceiling, you don't have to torture your arms anymore."

"So are the three warriors squatting in the shadow behind the sixth window. And the one standing just a few steps away from me. You are so good at using the simple tactic of darkness under the light. "

As his words ended, a total of six Eighth Legion Astartes who had been following him finally reluctantly walked out of the darkness.

They surrounded Khalil in silence, and the servitors still came and went calmly, paying no attention to the little episode that happened here. Maybe it's the programming, or maybe they really don't matter.

"Good evening."

Khalil calmly repeated his greeting again. "How are you feeling today?"

No one responded, and after three full minutes of dead stares, an Astartes with the Sky Eagle logo engraved on the top of his helmet slowly spoke, his cold blue gloomy armor shining brightly.

His voice was also changed by the voice changer built into the armor, making it hoarse and terrifying. Khalil raised his eyebrows, feeling a little novel about this simple and practical terrorist tactic.

However, the Astartes did not answer him or greet him politely, but rather rudely raised a new question.

"who are you?"

"Khalil Lohars."

"We know your name." The Astartes replied angrily. "But we want to know the real answers."

"The real answer is these words, Khalil Lohars-" He smiled, raised his hand, and pointed at his pale face. "——Remember?"

No one answered, only silent stares.

These six giants, who were much shorter than him, surrounded him without fear, as if they were silently extorting a confession.

Khalil was not offended. In fact, on the contrary, he admired their actions.

Not everyone has this kind of courage.

All right.

Khalil chuckled.

"You all must be very curious about me - and I also know that among the entire Eighth Legion, you six are definitely not the only ones who are curious about me."

"It's not just curiosity." said the Astartes who spoke first. “It’s much more than just curiosity.”

"I understand."

Khalil smiled and nodded. "And I also have a solution. There should be a large training room on the Night Veil, right? As soldiers, you should conduct many kinds of training on weekdays, am I right?"

The six Astartes looked at each other slowly, their power armor humming, and then they nodded slowly and unanimously.

——

"bring it on."

Khalil said softly.

He stared at the young and pale face in front of him and slowly raised his right hand. The vicious jab was completely knocked away by him. However, what Khalil did was far more than that.

He grabbed the attacker's wrist and pulled it forward slightly, causing the attacker to lose his balance completely.

With the world spinning, the attacker fell to the ground in the next second, and Khalil's left hand had already touched his throat, with his index finger, middle finger and thumb calmly resting on his Adam's apple.

The young man's eyes widened, and it took him three seconds to realize what had just happened.

His face quickly turned red, and it was easy to detect anger and embarrassment on pale skin. But this young face quickly suppressed his emotions.

Khalil smiled slightly, appreciatively released his hand, and let the young man stand up.

"Do you want to continue?" He asked softly.

Without answering, the young man just silently made a boxing gesture again.

This time, he put his right hand behind him, shook it slightly, and put his left hand completely down, with his arm bent. Khalil had never learned boxing, but he quickly realized the meaning behind this gesture.

Raise your shoulders to defend, and then hit me with your back fist

Good strategy, it should be played this way. After all, I am much taller than him, and my arm span is much longer than his

"Are you sure?" Khalil asked again.

The young man bared his teeth in anger: "Yes!"

"Okay."

Without further probing, Khalil bullied forward.

His first step was so fast that it was almost impossible to detect his next move.

The young man's eyes widened again at this moment, but not because of confusion, but because he had a premonition of what was going to happen next.

He tried to raise his left hand to defend, but it was too late. Khalil easily grabbed his throat, still without force, just letting his fingers rest calmly on it.

"Continue?" Khalil asked softly.

The young man panted for a long time, then shook his head in frustration and walked off the ring.

Some people who were obviously familiar with him patted his shoulders and comforted him. And more people just began to rush to the only entrance of the ring.

They were not wearing power armor, and their upper bodies were naked. The faces and bodies exposed were either weathered or still looked young. But it didn't matter. Khalil looked at them calmly, waiting for the next challenger.

Although he acted so calmly, he actually wanted to laugh at himself.

What are you doing? He sighed and asked himself. Fighting them with bare hands is simply bullying them

The people in the audience didn't let him think too long, a new warrior walked up the steps, waved his arms proudly, and entered the iron cage.

The Astartes under the ring roared and shouted his name, proud and loud.

"Siani, Siani, Siani!"

"Siani?" Khalil greeted softly. "You seem to be very popular."

"Not really." The warrior made a face. "They don't usually do this, they just think I can beat you. After all, I have been the bare-handed fighting champion for five consecutive years."

"Really?"

"Of course!"

Siani laughed.

"I'm from Terra, Khalil Lohars, I don't have a last name, only a first name. I'm the son of a prisoner, so you can call me Siani of Terra!"

"Okay, Siani of Terra." Khalil smiled and nodded. "How do you want to fight?"

"Of course it's hand-to-hand combat! How else can you fight?"

Siani made a face again. He was not handsome, but he acted very naturally and generously. "Come on! Lohars!"

"Okay."

Carill walked forward with a smile, stretched out his fist, and tried to touch him. The latter was stunned for a moment, but soon realized that this was a ceremonial gesture. Then, he immediately smiled and bumped fists with Carill.

After that, their fight began. There was no extra nonsense, no bells being rung, only the slow pace and the sharp eyes.

Siani deserved his five-year championship title.

Before him, Carill had fought with 133 people, and Siani was definitely the best among them.

He had a fierce cunning in close-range hand-to-hand combat, which provided him with an instinctive quick reaction. Relying on it, Siani even repeatedly avoided Carill's jab attacks.

Not only that, he even managed to find time to counterattack, and three of his punches flew by Khalil's nose after the counterattack.

"Terra's Siani, you are indeed very strong."

Khalil praised sincerely, but did not get Siani's approval.

The latter frowned for the first time, he took the initiative to distance himself, stopped where he was, and shook his head against the iron cage made of cold and gloomy black metal.

"What are you doing?"

He shook his head and said so.

"You definitely have more than these two moves, Rohals. Just standing in front of you, I already feel a little short of breath, and you actually pretended to fight me back and forth"

"Are you insulting me?" Terra's Siani asked sincerely.

He was very angry. Looking at that face, Khalil thought so.

"No." He answered calmly.

"Then why don't you use your full strength?!"

Siani suddenly roared. "The Primarch calls you his adoptive father! I am now fighting face to face with the adoptive father of our Primarch, and I am using all my strength, Khalil Rohals! This represents my respect for you! Do you know what this means?"

". I know."

Of course I know.

"Then let me see your full strength!"

Siani grinned. Raising his arms, he rushed towards Khalil.

This was completely different from the style he was used to in previous fights. It was almost like a desperate fighting style. But Khalil could see the sincerity behind this reckless behavior.

Siani from Terra is willing to believe the words of his genetic father, and is willing to believe that Khalil Lohars, a giant who can make even the Astartes feel terrifying, is his adoptive father.

But he didn't want to believe this identity, this name, and this person.

Therefore, he wanted to see the truth for himself.

Khalil clenched his right hand and stepped forward to punch. A huge, almost explosive sound swept through the entire arena the next moment. Siani stopped in place in a daze, while Khalil's right fist stopped next to his right cheek.

For a while, no one spoke, and even the shouts of the Astartes below the ring stopped.

Siani's hearing fell into a terrible stagnation. He could hear his own heartbeat ringing alternately through the conduction of his bones, but could not hear anything else. He almost thought he was deaf until Khalil spoke and asked softly. .

"Do you feel it?" Khalil asked softly.

".I feel it." Siani replied awkwardly.

Sighing, Khalil didn't answer the question. He just smiled calmly and nothing more.

Two minutes later, Siani walked off the ring. Khalil stared at the silent crowd and began to wait for the next challenger.