Those Who Have Nothing Left to Be Taken

Fulgrim had described the war to Konrad Curze Curze — Curze had expected to hear some beautiful descriptions from the Chemos, but Fulgrim did not.

In fact, his tone at the time sounded very much like that of Ferrus Manus.

"War is essentially a collection of killing techniques," Fulgrim said thoughtfully.

"It's an ancient yet advanced discipline, brother. It demands precision, rationality, and speed while simultaneously suppressing your humanity, and then it demands that you embrace violence while possessing all these qualities of composure."

"It requires you to use swords to cut down enemies, and it also requires you to use artillery and bombers to turn all enemies into a mixture of flesh and ash, and it may even require you to make heavy sacrifices at times. So, if you decide to start a war, make sure it ends quickly."

The Chemos shook his head and murmured softly.

"The longer it goes on, the more terrifying it becomes."

Konrad Curze Curze didn't understand what that sentence meant then, but now he does.

He finally understood the bitter expression on Fulgrim and what lay hidden behind his words—it meant he had grown up, but was he happy about it?

The answer is no.

Moreover, even now, having become a part of the war, he doesn't feel he understands anything about war; he only knows how to do one thing.

He knew nothing but killing.

Konrad Curze Curze closed his eyes, then opened them again, ending his brief moment of reflection and refocusing his attention on the battlefield before him.

The Xenos pulled the triggers of their guns, and a torrent of crimson light surged toward him and the warriors behind him. The ruins of the collapsed city buildings shielded them from the onslaught of fire, and after four volleys, they stopped, allowing Van Cleef to immediately organize a counterattack.

A company commander's hoarse roar echoed through the communications channel, "Exterminate them all!"

The Eighth Legion silently emerged from the ruins, like shadows of the dead. They opened fire, and the Xenos' loose lines were instantly torn apart. Since their appearance, not a single Xenos had sought cover or tried to escape.

They almost thirsted for death, and this attitude led them to obtain what they sought.

Countless mangled bodies, ravaged by the bombs, fell limply to the ground, their agonizing screams echoing across the entire battle line. They were almost silent, communicating only with strange murmurs, uttering these horrific screams only in moments of death or intense emotion.

The counterattack continued for a while, and Van Cleef saw the result he wanted. The company commander then led the charge out of the ruins, leaping over corpses and obstacles, lowering his stance, and advancing swiftly through the carnage. Behind him followed a silent torrent of somber, deep blue.

The Eighth Legion charged into them with indescribable hatred, and a bloody massacre immediately began. Knives, swords, claws, and even punches aimed at vital points, severed limbs and blood fell into the dust, brewing an even thicker layer of blood and horrific scenes.

Konrad Curze Curze looked away and asked a question over the communication channel. He felt nothing about what had happened, not even a hint of pleasure.

"How much longer?" he asked emotionlessly, sounding not like himself, but like a stranger.

Just as he was waiting for an answer, another storm of lasers swept in from the city ruins not far away. The Xenos launched another counterattack, but this time, they didn't come on their own.

Konrad Curze Curze vanished from his spot in the next instant, rushing towards the advance of his legion. The twelve hunting squads behind him watched the Primarch disappear into the distance, gripping their weapons and guarding the rear for their comrades and the Primarch.

"Conservatively speaking, it will take another thirty minutes for the Primarch."

"I'm giving you forty-five minutes, Yarod," Konrad Curze Curze said to his sixth company commander over the comms. "Blow up that power plant, send them back underground."

"Understood, Primarch." The Sixth Company Commander answered crisply and decisively. He then immediately hung up the communication without hesitation.

Curze hurried through the dusty wind, his cloak fluttering in the wind.

Frontal assaults have never been the Eighth Legion's forte, and few of them carry heavy firepower, but the enemy is different.

The laser storm just now was formed by those combat robots. They are already difficult to deal with even when they appear in small groups, let alone in such a large group. The distance of more than a thousand meters was covered in an instant. He crossed the bloody and muddy land in fourteen seconds and appeared at the forefront of the battle line.

The massive, cumbersome silver machine relentlessly unleashed deadly torrents, while his legion lay in wait among the ruins and the corpses of his enemies.

Now, the opportunity has arrived.

Konrad Curze Curze took a deep breath of the filtered, slightly bitter air, tasting it on his tongue, and then clenched his right hand tightly.

A sharp blade appeared just like that.

The grips, once meticulously crafted by Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus, were gone, replaced by molten metal, embedded between his gauntlets like the interlocking teeth of a monster—primitive, yet chilling. The blade itself had lengthened many times over, gleaming with a dark light, outlining a cruel shape in the air.

Konrad Curze Curze didn't utter a battle cry; he drifted silently, like a dark cloud hanging over the heads of those abominable metal creatures, and began slaughtering them. No fighting machine was worth his attention for more than a second; all problems were solved with a single swing.

Van Cleef roared again, and the Boltgun began firing precisely in short bursts.

They are fighting alongside their Primarch.

It was the first time, yet it felt as if it had been rehearsed millions of times.

Konrad Curze Curze severed half of a machine's body, stepped away, and was immediately and completely destroyed by a barrage of explosives.

Explosions erupted in quick succession, one after another. His scarlet cloak billowed wildly in the gale, its edges charred black, yet he himself remained unharmed. He pursued his next prey, a plasma beam fired from behind pointing him in the right direction.

A machine staggered, a huge hole appearing in its back. The leader of the Eighth Legion lunged forward, ripping out its core and flinging it behind the enemy lines—into the midst of the Xenos.

A bomb struck it precisely just as it was about to disappear. A huge flash of light appeared in one corner of the eyepiece, and the sound was deafening, but Konrad Curze Curze felt nothing at all.

He waved his arms coldly, even finding it tedious.

Three and a half hours into the battle, the ground collapsed, and the true form of Harkosus I was finally fully revealed to the Eighth Legion. It was no longer shy, no longer silent. It roared, Thunder rumbling across the ground.

The city crumbled, flesh torn apart, fangs snapped shut, Harkosus I wild beast, began to thirst for the blood of the Eighth Legion. And it had already tasted quite a bit. It had greedily licked the blood of the Pale Ones from Terra.

Curze couldn't help but recall the armored corpses he had seen with his own eyes, and a hatred all too familiar to the Night Haunter surged within Konrad Curze Curze, flashing through his mind, followed by a voice that resounded in his heart.

Are you alright? How's the legion?

It's me, Konrad Curze.

+I know, how are you? What about the Eighth Company?+

We are fighting underground.

Konrad Curze Curze swung his arm, a gloomy blue flash passing by, like a silent and still lightning bolt, utterly destroying the last fighting machine.

It fell to the ground, its one-eyed head tilted and flashing with electricity, before being completely crushed by an iron boot, merging with the flesh and blood of its creator, becoming a different kind of battlefield dust.

+Underground?+

I sank that spire into their home.

+This doesn't sound like the function a building should have. Also, I see something, Karyl.+

What did you see?

"All of this," Konrad Curze Curze replied coldly.

He stood still, gazing into the distance, seemingly looking down from above, even though he was standing on the ground. All he could see were wreckage.

Those who haven't walked this path themselves wouldn't understand. The air is thick with dust, even covering the Power Armour and obscuring its original color. Not far away is an area being bombarded by Storm Eagle; the smoke and dust have grown into giants, raging and roaring across the once azure sky.

Konrad Curze Curze personally issued the order; he knew many civilians would die, but that was no longer his primary concern.

He forced himself to throw away some things, and he had no idea whether he would find them again later.

Konrad Curze Curze knew only one thing—he had to do it; he had to maintain the stability of the front lines. Otherwise, given the current numbers of the Eighth Legion, they simply couldn't possibly engage these Xenos in direct combat. There were too many of them; unconventional methods had to be employed.

+ Fulgrim said that war means the loss of humanity, Karyl, I think he's right.+

This is just one of the prices you have to pay, Konrad Curze.

The voice coming from the psionic communication was serious and gloomy, unlike Karyl Lohars. In a daze, Curze saw again the monster who had committed cruel murders in the rainy night of Nostramo. He smiled silently and blankly inside his helmet—just now, he had actually felt a touch of nostalgia.

War will continuously take things away from you until you have nothing left to take.

+You sound like you've already become that kind of person, Karyl.+

No, there are still some things that haven't been taken away from me.

You seem to be smiling.

I do have it.

Konrad Curze Curze lowered his head, sheathed his blade, and, without being taught, automatically hung up the psionic communication.

He had to rush to the next battlefield and there was no time to continue this conversation.

I'm writing this rather slowly; I plan to focus more on quality.

Also, it's being written now, so don't wait, it'll probably be around 9 or 10 o'clock.