Chapter 312 Waiting for the Rabbit

In this day and age, no one even knows that even the colonists who have lived here for more than four centuries know that there was once a castle on the North Pole of Tessaguarsa that exceeded any cruel and dark imagination of the world.

It was a hell hall created by the pain, hallucinations and corruption of Konrad Curze in his final days by those from the highest heaven and himself, and the Eighth Legion's faithful execution of the ravings of their genetic father. .

But the foundations and tiles of flesh and blood, the human beings solidified in pain, the hallways and carpets that were always howling alive in pain, the steps and halls of living eyes and teeth and tongues, these things are in the thousands. Annihilated in the ruthless and long-lasting obsidian sandstorm for years, together with the memories and soldiers of the Eighth Legion thousands of years ago.

Dissolved in the wind of time.

But Talos remembered, Talos knew, that Talos had watched them - the last members of the Broken Eagles of the Night Lords who followed the teachings of the Primarch, come to an end here, and the death scenes of everyone, including his own. The genetic seeds of the Eighth Legion's prophets bear this curse from God and the Father.

Now, just as Talos had seen in his fever and nightmares, they were once again standing in front of the ruins of this castle that had collapsed to only a few ruins. There was just one more thing that was often played in his image ball, but But the figure never appeared in his second sight.

"There is no need to let the mortals here know about this place for the time being."

Lamizane turned around.

Behind him was a cluster of midnight and scarlet battle armors, as well as more believers of the Mechanicum, who presented the Ohm Messiah to the Lord of the Night through the "friendly academic exchange" that Dietrian had with them. war machinery.

——Although in the opinion of Lamizane, who was invited to watch the rare "friendly" academic exchange process of the Mechanicus, Bishop Dietrian relied on his being Chaos to study anything and dare to use it, so he came alone. He kicked off the gym style of the mechanical priests of the Origin Chapter.

(*...I don’t know what you are describing, but it feels like something incompatible with this place, so I won’t ask any more questions.)

"You are getting smarter and know where the boundaries are, which is touching, but becoming less lovable is a side effect. Oh, oh, cubs will always grow up, and when they become handsome, they will lose something. Very cute.”

(*...You'd better not do this, I guarantee you will regret it.)

If the Night Lords expressed any horror at hearing their genetic father's soliloquy in this very ominous place, they didn't show it in their body language.

They just marched in silence and entered the catacombs of the castle one by one.

"I must say that although the term catacombs is not appropriate, it can describe the state here. - Markarian?"

The high-power servo voice of the Dreadnought roared from behind, "My Lord." A searchlight on the head of the Dreadnought was always turned on in this completely dark tomb passage, mainly for people outside the Night Lord sequence, and the War Philosopher himself was very concerned about it. There are so many treasures here that the original function of each room can even be pointed out thousands of years later, which makes their progress and arrangement very easy.

"How's the situation with Talos?"

"Still in a coma. The body temperature is quite high, and antipyretic drugs have no effect. It is a high fever caused by overactivity of psychic energy and cells. Valier reported that Talos has been unwilling to cooperate with him in treatment, and his coma and fever are so severe. Fast and hard."

Markarian paused, "His ravings and writings... were very numerous and specific."

"I've seen it, I've seen it too." The Lord of the Night, who was holding a data pad and asking the Mechanic-Priests to dig a huge shaft, cover it with cloth and spray-paint it, replied. "Do you believe the future will be changed? Markarian?"

"My Lord." The War Philosopher was silent for a while, and then moved on. "You...have indeed changed a lot."

(*More than just a change! None of you noticed! Markarian!)

"So what do you think?"

"I feel sorry for the brothers who are not here at the moment - Sevita, Shen, Malek... Maybe I should stop picking on Dietrian when the battle is over. After all, strictly speaking, it was his obedience that made me After meeting you, I can fight with you again.”

(*...Some people deserve to live, and some people deserve to die.)

"Ha. Then you might as well allow him to continue painting outside your amniotic fluid chamber. He must be very, very happy."

Fearless made a metal friction sound like the sound of reloading, "This may not be feasible, my lord, but I can allow him to polish the armor for me."

Just now, he led them through a distance of several hundred meters and suddenly arrived at the remaining cones on the ground through a secret passage that they didn't know about. However, he suddenly reached the deep part of the tomb through a collapsed tunnel. At the bottom, he sometimes stopped for a moment, and then began to direct his descendants to do some strange things, including but not limited to pulling out some iron rods from a gap in the wall that they didn't know about and laying them across the ground at the required angle. , or the Midnight Ghost asked them to push several heavy stone bars and stone beams to the positions he designated and place them strictly.

The workers of the Origin Chapter were obviously not as confident as the Night Lords, especially when they found that they might be separated from their brothers and were driven into a semi-abandoned room or a collapsed secret passage in groups of three or six. The news that these strange heretics still exposed their evil true colors and wanted to make them the new flesh and blood foundation of this place spread among the crowd. After receiving the instructions that they would take back their weapons and prepare for battle, speculation about holding a blasphemous ceremony began to prevail again.

There were many doubts, but it didn't matter. They were all Space Marines. When they saw the appearance of the enemy they were about to face, they would immediately know what to do.

"Okay." When they stuffed the last designated waste cable into a broken push rod on the wall-no one knew what kind of push rod it was, it looked like it had not been used for at least decades.

"What should we do next? My Lord."

"Next... wait and see."

——————

In the sacred and solemn Mandulis Chapel on Titan, someone was waiting for visitors.

The smell of holy incense slowly spread out from the incense burners hidden in the niches. The servitors were busy patrolling, constantly lighting the flickering and extinguishing candles here. The little flames slowly spiraled up around the sculptures of the heroes of the past in the smoke of the incense.

"Is it finished?" The first person who spoke was wearing silver-gray Terminator armor, and the azure eyepieces shone brightly on his crusader helmet visor. His armor was etched with so many past achievements and glories that the heavy records of these histories covered the surface of the entire set of power armor.

"Yes." The visitor replied. He was also wearing silver-gray armor, with the Nemesis Power Sword hanging on his waist. "It has been completed and confirmed to be sent."

"The finishing touches in the Astronomical Court?"

"Make sure no one finds out."

"The fortune teller?"

"After getting the result again, I have personally sealed him in the secret room."

"Very good." The waiter nodded slightly. "We have waited for such a short and long time. So much so that sometimes I almost feel in a trance that maybe this is our reality."

He turned around and looked at the uneven surface of the golden dots reflecting the candlelight on the altar. It was an unknown masterpiece carefully decorated by the technical slaves of the Chapter half a century ago. It showed the image of the Emperor before the Horus Heresy. The Emperor with a laurel crown turned his head and seemed to begin to realize the disaster, heavy damage and death that the rebellion in the near future would bring to him, his descendants and the Empire.

The azure eyepiece slowly moved down, scanning the vivid and exquisite images of the knights kneeling on the ground surrounding the standing tall Emperor - no heroic fighting posture, only pure piety.

This is a gift from the Terra Council and the Inquisition, and also a kind of implicit admonition, which reminds them that no matter how powerful they are, humility and obedience to the will of the Emperor are the highest virtues of the Chapter.

The visitor also saw this, and he reminded the other party.

"Patience."

"Yes." The other party murmured, "Patience."