40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 68 67. The Eighth Legion (3, 5k)

Acid rain was pouring down, and Enrik Barbatos could swear to Terra that it was the most psychedelic urban scene he had ever seen in his life.

The neon lights cut through the thick dark purple clouds, and the eerie spiers spread into the distance one after another. Underfoot were crazy shouts and terrifying screams. These two sounds mixed with the gunshots made the world weird and crazy, like the bells before the impending destruction.

He let out a grunt from his throat.

"What are your instructions?" a man asked behind him. "Captain Enric?"

Enric didn't need to look back to know who this was - the former sword fighting master in the company, Richter Nar. However, to be honest, Enric doesn't really want to meet him now, let alone talk to him.

Richter is a serious, persistent, old-fashioned and serious person. He is not very similar to most members of the Eighth Legion, but the reason Enric doesn't want to meet him is not because of his serious personality, but because he doesn't want to talk at all now.

But he must answer.

"It's okay." Enric said in the communication channel. "Just thinking."

"I see."

Richter simply responded and then remained silent.

He has always been like this - when he is not fighting or not involved in some scenes where he needs to speak, he can be taciturn and very much like a soldier of the Eighth Legion.

Staring at the living hell-like scene below, Enric couldn't help but ask himself.

What kind of world is this? he thinks. Why can people sink to this level without any reason?

After the short orbital landing, the 20,000 people of the Eighth Legion dispersed to start their 'banquet'. They were no strangers to this, or rather, scattered small-scale battles like this were what they had been doing.

But Nostramo was different.

Nostramo was different from all the battles they had fought before, and all the sins they had experienced.

"I thought I already knew how to spell the word sin."

Enric smiled mockingly, jumped up without warning, and jumped off the spire.

Raindrops streaked across his eyepiece, and various visual readings scanned line by line. The sound of hunting wind also came from behind him, and it was Richter's voice. He will act with Enric tonight.

But how to act?

The hive city named Quintus was extremely crazy. His brothers shuttled between the upper and lower hive cities, and the curses and whispers in the communication channel never stopped.

The once taciturn soldiers of the Eighth Legion began to describe the scenes they saw - those hellish scenes - on the communication channel.

Shattered corpses.

A nobleman who was intoxicated by the potion and smeared himself with makeup and danced among the naked dead people.

The scattered body parts were wrapped in black cloth and hung in the butcher shop.

The gang of ghouls outside the corpse-burning factory who don’t look like humans or ghosts.

There are also children, children used as soldiers.

Enric landed calmly on the top of a building. Under the helmet, his expression was indescribable.

"Richter, what do you think?" he asked simply. "In your opinion, how should we move within this hive city called Quintus?"

"There are already eleven separate teams clearing the nest, my company commander."

Richter stubbornly called Enric the title of company commander. After landing, his right hand was always pressed on the hilt of the power sword at his waist.

The Eighth Legion don't like to use guns much during stealth operations.

"Yeah - so? Give me more advice, Richter."

"I am no longer your lieutenant."

So said the old-fashioned man. "So I can't give you any more advice unless you are willing to be reinstated."

"That's for tomorrow, and the Primarch will tell us what to do at tomorrow's meeting - so stop being stuck in a rut, Richter."

Enric squatted down, and his gloomy blue armor disappeared into the night.

There were some crazy people running around in the streets, running from alley to alley. They roared a hissing phrase, brandished guns or swords in their hands, and smeared their faces with blood.

Staring at them, Enric captured a unified character - these people carved it on their foreheads, engraved it deeply, and the blood started to spread to the entire face from there.

"Those words."

As if Richter could read his mind, Gothic sounded softly in the night. "My company commander. Have you noticed?"

"Of course I noticed."

Enric stood up calmly, his power armor buzzing. He turned to the other side of the building and watched as a madman ran into an alley.

"A cult?" Richter asked softly.

"Not necessarily. But I have reservations. Adebiman of the third company said that he encountered a strange phenomenon in another nest city. I blocked him without listening to his detailed description. But I think it shouldn't be any better than How good are other people's accounts? Is this a hell star? Is there room for a cult to exist here?"

"People will always need faith."

"people?"

Enric laughed, his voice hoarse with overwhelming rage, and rustled in the voice channel: "You call these things people?"

"Judging by appearance alone, yes." Richter said noncommittally, and then jumped off the building.

He already knew what his company commander wanted to do, and this tacit understanding didn't even require verbal communication.

Enric followed closely behind, and they landed quietly at the entrance of the gloomy alley.

The huge sound was reduced to almost silence by several buffers during the fall. Moreover, the crazy rain curtain and the broken echo coming from not far away also helped them eliminate the sound to a certain extent.

In the darkness they stood silently, watching their prey approach from another alleyway.

The latter was not wearing a shirt, his naked body was very thin, and his arms were covered with needle holes left after injections.

He had a pale face, and his dark eyes were moving wildly. The blood on his forehead made the color of the entire face messy and abstract, like a painting of a crazy person.

Without many words, Enric reached out and grabbed him.

The latter was frightened at first, and then calmed down after using the remaining light to catch a glimpse of Eric's tall body.

The cult believer began to cry and laugh, pointing the dagger in his hand at his forehead to deepen the line of carvings. Blood gurgled out, but his hand became heavier every time without stopping at all.

Richter stepped forward, grabbed his throat, and ended his miserable life. Enric placed the corpse next to the wall, and then squatted down. He stared at the bloody and messy forehead and firmly memorized the alien text.

"Cult."

Richter said.

"And most of them worship an image about death. The height of this image may be very similar to ours, otherwise he would not be so calm when seeing you."

"You still love speculation as much as ever."

"Just some reasonable speculation based on the existing facts, Captain, what should you do? Track down this cult? According to my experience, the cults in these hives will always lead to some huge darkness."

"You don't have as much experience as I do."

Enric shook his head and carefully observed every detail of the corpse. But he did not forget to continue the conversation with Richter. "Logically speaking, there shouldn't be only one cult here."

"."

"This hive is not small, Richter. To be honest, I really don't understand why this world has become like this."

"In the past, the depravity we witnessed with our own eyes was traceable. Even the slave-catching teams that used merchant ships as cover were just for money. But what about Nostramo?"

"There is no trace of the madness here, and it seems to have existed since ancient times. But it's not like we haven't seen the creations of technology, right? Even the air filters that can be seen everywhere here are unimaginable on some planets. "thing"

Enric sighed with a slight sigh.

"They can obviously be better, so why have they fallen like this?"

"."

Richter didn't answer.

Enric frowned slowly.

Richter's reticence is divided into periods, and now is not the time for him to be silent.

what's the situation?

Enric breathed calmly, but the right hand on his knee began to move backward little by little. There was a bolter at his waist, so securely fastened to his belt that no movement could dislodge it unless he reached down to remove it.

Enric's movements stopped.

He didn't touch the gun - he had done this action tens of millions of times, and he was so familiar with his gun that he couldn't be more familiar with it, but

He didn't touch his gun.

No, there's nothing there.

What his fingers touched now was blank air instead of a solid handle.

"Avenging evil spirit."

A voice sounded in the dark alley, a little thoughtful. Then, there was the sound of the bolter's magazine being unloaded. Enric was very familiar with this and it was impossible to hear it wrong.

He stood up stiffly, turned his head slowly, and saw a giant more than twice his height staring down at him.

Richter was leaning against the wall behind, silent and speechless. His right hand was still on the hilt of the sword, but he did not pull it out. The posture was quite awkward, and one could intuitively feel his emotions at the moment through the power armor.

"Lohars Lord."

Enric bowed his head in greeting.

"Why are you here?"

"In a sense, this hell is my home - so why can't I be here?"

".You also want to attend this dinner?"

"I was invited, wasn't I? You were also present when I was invited, Enric."

Khalil chuckled and handed the bolter back to Enric: "Sorry, taking your weapon away is really helpless. I don't want to hear the huge sound of this kind of firearm in Quintus tonight. Sounded inside.”

Enric reached out to take the gun with difficulty, and with a click, he reloaded the magazine, and then put the gun back on the armed belt around his waist.

"So, a vengeful spirit?" he asked. "What does that mean? Can you tell me a little bit about it?"

"That line." Khalil raised his chin. "The words he carved on his forehead were in Nostramo and were called Vengeful Spirit."

"Revengeful evil spirit?" Enric repeated again. "A cult?"

"If you look at it according to strict standards, yes, it is a cult. However, this cult was established not long ago, not even two weeks."

"They worship this vengeful ghost?" Enric asked, his tone a little solemn.

"Yes. They regard it as an omnipotent and omnipresent embodiment of killing, a tall ghost that only haunts the dark. One thing is interesting. They don't understand the name of this ghost. The word revenge.”

Khalil chuckled: "They don't know who the target of revenge is. Isn't it interesting?"

I have absolutely no idea what makes this interesting, my lord. Enric cursed.

But the question came back.

Who is Khalil Lohars?

"Are you familiar with Nostramo?"

"What, you want me to take you around?"

".If you say so, it's true."

"Stop the honorific and I promise you." Khalil chuckled, his expression was relaxed, but his tone was calm. "I don't like people using honorifics when talking to me."

".Caryl Lohars?"

"Caril, or Lohars. It would be a bit too dignified to call him by his full name, wouldn't it, Enric Barbatos?"

The tall giant chuckled, jumped up in the next moment, and disappeared into the alley. His voice rang above them: "Follow me, Enric, Richter. I will fulfill my promise."

The former Eighth Company Commander of the Eighth Legion looked at each other and his adjutant, and silently began to climb.

They can't jump that high.

——

Frankly speaking, if you asked, Enric would tell you.

But no one is asking now.

So, he just thought it was a bit absurd - such a powerful giant living in such a shabby mansion?

With his back to them, Khalil spoke, his tone still very calm, and he couldn't hear much.

"How? First stop on our tour of Quintus."

"Where is this, Khalil?" Enric paused for a moment, finished his words, and swallowed the honorific that was about to come out.

His behavior made the giant smile. The approval was obvious, but for some reason Enric felt a strange emotion running through his heart.

He clutched it angrily and threw it to the other side.

"This is a shelter - or in other words, a shabby house that I made with my own hands using scrap materials that I picked up. Well, although I think it counts as a house, one of the visitors last time insisted that my Very poor workmanship.”

He laughed again. At this moment, neither Enric nor Richter knew whether Kalil was joking or not.

But the giant didn't explain.

"See that door?" Khalil asked softly.

Of course they saw it - how could they not? That door was so conspicuous, and it looked extremely abrupt and strange next to the broken iron sheets and wooden boards.

". It seems that you are not as poor at craftsmanship as you say, Khalil. This door looks very strong."

Enric heard his adjutant—his former adjutant—say this. Richter's tone was calm, but due to his familiarity with him, Enric could completely hear the feeling of stagnation that he didn't know what to say.

"Really?" Khalil asked thoughtfully. "Thank you for the compliment, Richter. But this door is not my work. I don't have the skills to make such a door."

He stepped forward and wiped the surface of the door with his hand. On the door panel that had been turned pitch black by the turbid acid rain, a tightly clenched black fist suddenly appeared in the white paint.

"."

If he hadn't been wearing a helmet, Enric would have wanted to rub his eyes.

What did he see?

"Is that the symbol of the former Seventh Legion, now the Imperial Fists, Lord Khalil?"

Richter asked very quickly. He blurted out and added the honorific back. But Khalil didn't care this time. He turned around and nodded calmly. "Yes."

"The Imperial Fists came to Nostramo before us?"

The sword fighting master of the eighth company slowly grasped the hilt of the sword at his waist. ".My lord, may we get an explanation?"

"They have not been here, their primarch has been," Khalil replied shortly.

After a moment of silence, Enric took a deep breath of filtered air, and Richter's body began to sway.

How could they not hear the hint behind this sentence?

And Khalil continues.

"The Emperor and his sons were here before you. What, you didn't know? Didn't anyone inform you about this?"

"No, Khalil." Enric said hard. "We know nothing except that the Primarch has been found."

"Um"

Khalil chuckled and shook his head: "This is beyond my expectation."

He walked to the side of the building nonchalantly, turning his back to them. Taking this opportunity, Richter quickly took a step forward and began to carefully observe the solid door.

Enric wanted to join him, but out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Khalil turning around.

"Richter, there's nothing to observe about that door. It's just a door." Kalil said dumbfounded. "You don't have to look so closely"

The sword fighting master of the Eighth Legion straightened his back suddenly.

"I'm just interested in architecture and design recently."

He used literate High Gothic grammar and began to say a long list of words that sounded like Enric had a headache.

"I think this door is really a rare treasure, made by a primarch myself, so I really can't restrain my pursuit of beauty in my heart. Please forgive me for my offense to this door."

"Richter has indeed become somewhat interested in architecture and design recently." Enric said sternly. He got stuck talking so many times tonight that he found it unbelievable.

However, in any case, proper cover-up is necessary, otherwise, the scene will be too embarrassing.

Khalil smiled, shook his head, said nothing, and dismissed the topic lightly. Richter glanced at his company commander gratefully, but Enric's face under his helmet was miserable.

Khalil didn't let the bitterness last long, though.

"I have something to ask you." He said calmly. "Do you mind telling me, Enric, Richter?"

35,000, 90,000 words and 30 updates, which means there are still 55,000 words left to pay back.

There will be another chapter later, so don’t wait, I am really slow in revising it.