His hands were stained with blood, a low incense candle was the only lighting in the hut, and the power he communicated with resided in the bones hanging on the chains on the wall.
The air is filled with smoke, a layer of putty wraps the bones, and the forked tongue hangs from the jawless skull.
He moved very slowly, erasing the words that appeared on an ancient silver plate. He summoned him three times, forcing the other party to reveal three secrets.
In the end, he didn't get what he wanted.
The warp responded to his silence, and his questions received no answers. He wanted to know what the darkness that shrouded Armageddon was, but even the demon remained silent, preferring to be destroyed by him.
Just as he finished writing on the silver tablet, he heard the door open.
Suddenly the candle flames flickered, and he put down the blood-stained silver plate, reaching for a copper bowl with both hands. At the same time, heavy footsteps sounded behind him.
"Why so troubled, brother?"
The only answer was silence. He listened carefully, his senses being able to distinguish the characteristics of the smallest sounds. This was his innate talent.
The rhythm of footsteps, the presence or absence of breathing, and the operating sounds of the servo system in the armor, all of these are as clear to him as the lines on the palm of his hand.
"Brother Zaharie."
He didn't raise his head, but looked intently at the red water in the bowl.
"This is not like you, being so quiet."
There was still no answer, and the footsteps stopped. Only the slight collision of armor was still there.
A total of three people appeared, and he blinked, trying to guess the identities of the others.
Then he raised his hand and shook off the remaining pink water droplets on his curved fingers. For people like them, power is an intricate mirror that includes perception, control and belief.
At this moment, he should have been suspicious. He should have turned around to see who had come in through the door he had sealed with his own hands. He should have reached out and pulled out a weapon to defend himself.
"Brother Miso, I hope this is not your response to the method I chose. If so, you can just say it, and I will tell you that that is the method I chose, and others will also
Agree.”
Muttering to himself, he took a black cloth from the side of the bowl and wiped his hands. For some reason, the scars on his knuckles were aching.
"Laman Stephens, I have heard your silence, and all of you must understand that I did it out of necessity,"
In his mind, he recalled the words he had previously asked from the tortured devil's mouth. That guy could understand the future in a way that he could not understand. Maybe this was quite dangerous, but it didn't matter. He believed that he could control it.
"A crisis has emerged between the realm of reality and invisible matter. I encountered those nightmares day after day. The dark star has begun to appear, but it has not yet fully bloomed. We need some extraordinary means to get through this.
One level.”
After saying that, he threw the cloth back into the bowl, water splashed everywhere, picked up the gauntlet from the table, and put it on carefully.
"I know you're scared."
He looked down at his palm, which was splashed with water, and bent his fingers to adjust their position.
"Yes, I mean fear... There are many forms of fear, and those are the more common ones on the battlefield. Watching your comrades being knocked down, watching your blood relatives fall into black rage, watching the situation on the battlefield take a turn for the worse.
, seeing such a crisis, how else can you react? What else can you feel besides fear?"
He straightened his fingers one by one, and his mind was split into two parts, equating the forcibly snatched words with a more direct and unbelievable result.
"You regard those shadows as monsters and are eager to kill them, but you should not be afraid of what I do. I am not your enemy."
After saying these words, he held his breath.
Why don't they answer?
If you want to take action, why haven't you seen any movement?
"I have always thought that I am this kind of person, not good at words and clumsy in thinking."
He reached out and picked up his dagger, the silver blade smeared with blood.
"But at this moment all I ask is that you listen."
Then he was ready, and his two hearts violently pumped hot blood into his body.
"Listen to me and trust me."
Suddenly, he turned around.
"I believe you, Brother Callistarius."
This was another being speaking, but the voice almost scared his soul away.
He turned around and saw only a noble mask, in the shape of a crying handsome man with long hair, golden tears frozen on a face full of sorrow.
The next moment, the silver blade missed and fell to the ground. He was dumbfounded. When he came back to his senses, the hut was empty, with no one around.
The sound of the dagger hitting the ground broke the silence in the room.
The two hearts in his chest beat like heavy hammers. He stood blankly for a while, and then walked towards the door of the room, his staggering steps causing echoes in the room.
I saw that the warning seal he had arranged with his own hands had turned into fly ash, but the door was intact and there was no sign of it being opened, so he reached out to open it and then stopped.
What just happened?
Is it an illusion?
Is it an attack?
Is it a warning?
Why did Sanguinor suddenly speak to him?
In confusion, Registrar Callistarius, an honorary member of the Blood Angels Think Tank and the First Company, sighed softly, feeling that the future was becoming increasingly confusing, especially after the chapter set off to support Armageddon.
This feeling is getting stronger and stronger.
As the think tank of the Chapter, in addition to managing the Chapter's classics and archives, he is also responsible for the divination before the Chapter goes on an expedition.
The results of the divination are not good, but the danger does not come from war. It seems that there is a darker existence waiting for them there, at least that thing will never be green skin——
In order to know what it is, he even does not hesitate to use certain taboo powers - even among think tank groups, he is known for his boldness.
It was this kind of boldness that made him stand out in the "Curse of Sin" boarding operation against the ruined space city. However, the vast majority of soldiers were already far away from psychic powers. For someone like him who has a tendency to "play with fire", it is even more difficult.
It is easy to be isolated, so his friends are basically smart
Library.
"Oh, I've been feeling restless these past few days——"
After finishing the divination, he chose to meditate on the spot for a while, but suddenly his personal communication channel was accessed.
"Calistarius the Registrar."
It was the voice of his apprentice Gaius Lecheros. Amidst the static noise, the other party seemed to be waiting for his response.
"What's up?"
"Did I bother you?"
Callistarius looked at the empty dark cabin, and then responded slowly.
"No, just tell me."
"what happened?"
With that said, Callistarius stood up and picked up his helmet from the table.
"It's almost Armageddon."
"Understood. I'll be there soon. Is there anything else?"
"Well...I just received the latest news. We are not the first ones to arrive."
"Oh? Who is that?"
"It's the Astral Knights and the White Templar Chapter. They are both sub-groups of the Imperial Fists."
Callistarius was stunned for a moment. For a moment, his mind seemed to capture something, but soon he found nothing as before.
"strangeness--"
Confused, he left his room, leaving only the incense in the darkness slowly dissipating——