4 Preparations

Fer Zalost lowered his head, trying to ignore something in order to get into the focus he needed.

But he failed; he couldn't do it—he could clearly hear his own breathing and the whooshing wind in his ears, so loud that he almost doubted whether he was on a mountaintop.

He could still hear his own heartbeat and the sound of his blood flowing, all of which made his senses so tense and sensitive.

He angrily held his breath, trying to resist one of the sounds in the most primitive and simplest way possible, and this was like flipping a switch—next, his hearing, sight, smell, and even the touch of his skin all disappeared.

In an instant, everything vanished from him, leaving only a soft darkness and a flame within it.

Its edges were jet black, its interior crimson, burning quietly.

A few minutes later, Fer suddenly opened his eyes.

His body began to convulse, his arms flailing and legs kicking grotesquely from violent muscle spasms. He rolled over on the iron bed before finally collapsing to the ground.

So Jairzinho Guzman, who was waiting nearby, immediately helped him up and forcibly injected him with a mild sedative. A dozen seconds later, Fer calmed down, breathing heavily, his two hearts pounding loudly in the quiet room.

"I failed," Fer said with difficulty. "I couldn't take the ceremony any further, I'm sorry, Instructor."

"Your apology was completely unnecessary," Karyl said.

He stepped forward and carefully observed Fer's eyes. Fell's eyes were tired, as if he had just gone through a great battle, and his arms were still trembling, the twitching of his muscles uncontrollable.

Jairzinho Guzman, meanwhile, took out a notebook and began recording some new observations.

They have been back in Nostramo for over two months, and everything is being created from scratch in an orderly manner, from planning for future recruitment to the "division of responsibilities" that the company commanders have been discussing at length for the past two months.

Therefore, the same applies to what just happened.

It has been going on for three weeks, and it will not be discussed publicly or recorded—even the report in Guzman's possession will actually be burned after a period of time.

"Something must be wrong," Fer said.

The Third Company Captain and Chief Librarian pondered, but couldn't come to any conclusion. He couldn't find where things went wrong; he didn't know what was preventing him from completing the ceremony—until Karyl spoke up.

"That's true, but the problem shouldn't lie with you."

The Night Lords instructors lowered their heads, a cold glint flashing in their eyes, and the intricate patterns tracing the iron bed lit up in an instant.

The hazy blue light slowly advanced along the indistinct patterns, forming a kind of flesh and blood around the characters and lines like a liquid, and then abruptly changed color after it was fully formed. The Blue Radiance of psionic energy vanished, replaced by pitch-black flames that danced silently across the floor.

The medical officers and Librarian watched this scene solemnly; no matter how many times they witnessed it, they could not ignore what the flames truly represented.

Fer spoke in a low voice, asking, "So, where do you think the problem lies?"

"This ritual is used to make a vow." Karyl looked up at Fer. "And you've already made a vow, Fer. A man cannot step into the same river twice."

He shook his head, chuckled softly, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. "Such a simple question, and I only just realized it now. I'm so sorry to have wasted three weeks of your time, Fer."

"Don't rush to apologize, Instructor—" The Chief Librarian member straightened up, his expression finally softening. "So, the key issue is, we need to find someone who hasn't taken an oath to participate in this ceremony?"

"I think that's how it should be," Karyl said, not paying attention to Fer's choice of words.

"Then," Fer nervously licked his lips, his eyes pleading, "Can we..."

Karyl did not answer Fer's question immediately.

He certainly knew what Fer was trying to say, but, as Konrad Curze Curze had said, it was far too early to start conscription.

Every Astartes is a superhuman; within years they will become meticulously tuned killing machines. Therefore, the selection of personnel must be extremely careful, especially for an organization like the Midnight Blade.

Their role in the Great Crusade was not merely that of conquerors. They also had to navigate the extremes of humanity, serving as Inquisitor and executioners. Both roles required certain qualities, or risked moral decay.

Furthermore, even disregarding these considerations, they still need to go through the ritual.

But what is needed to pass the ritual is more than just a firm will.

Karyl couldn't help but sigh—witchcraft was troublesome enough, let alone this kind of witchcraft that had one foot in the realm of priesthood. Malcador was truly in the same lineage as the Emperor; after handing him the relevant books, he didn't care about anything else.

Therefore, given the current situation, if they want to have a complete understanding of the "twentieth surgery" before the official conscription, they will inevitably have to "force the seedlings to grow faster."

"Instructor?" Jairzinho Guzman waved his notebook, interrupting Karyl's thoughts. "What do you think? By the way, I think Fer Fell might still be in a somewhat dazed state."

"What do you mean, Jairzinho?"

"What I mean is, Fer Fell, the conclusion you just made almost scared me to death."

Guzman answered expressionlessly; the medic had maintained this expression ever since returning from the Macragge's Honour. Normally it was fine, but now, looking at that face as pale as his own, Fer felt an urge to punch him.

Moreover, Guzman continued.

"Find an innocent child of school age, then throw him onto that iron bed and let him lie there, facing the darkness we've all witnessed?" The healer shook his head. " By the Primarch, by Terra, by my life..."

"Didn't you throw me up there many times too?!"

"That was at your request, and you are an adult." The medical officer shook his head, saying nothing more, yet it seemed he had said everything.

Karyl stared at them silently, a faint smile playing on his lips.

--

Konrad Curze Curze frowned silently.

"In other words, if we want to clarify everything about the ceremony before the official conscription and minimize the risks, we must find one or more eligible children to come?"

"One is enough." Karyl squinted, feeling the cold wind blowing in his face, and shook his head. "Mass recruitment is not possible right now, Konrad Curze, so one will suffice. But I suggest you think carefully before making a decision; after all, once he swore his oath, he will join the Legion no matter what."

Konrad Curze Curze fell silent in thought. After a moment, he nodded. "Let's do it. This matter must be resolved."

Karyl nodded to him and closed the window of his office—yes, they weren't on the Nightfall, but in Nostramo.

This is Konrad Curze Curze's office and study, located in the heart of Quintus Hive. It's newly built, but some things inside are old, such as a chair and a heavy door.

However, compared to the heavy door bearing the gleaming Imperial Fists emblem, the chair was treated much more strangely. Konrad Curze Curze placed it in an inconspicuous corner, which was quite puzzling.

However, despite this, no one inquired about the reason.

"Indeed, this matter must be resolved—however, before I leave," Karyl turned back, "I have something else to discuss with you, Konrad Curze."

"What is it?" The Night Haunter looked up from the mountain of documents and asked calmly. He seemed unconcerned about the sheer number of documents.

"Don't tell me it's that time of year again, with their company commanders fighting amongst themselves. I don't want to deal with something like this again. Last time, finding eight company commanders wielding real swords fighting in the dueling cage was enough to give me a headache."

"No, this time it has nothing to do with them—of course, they have been arguing with each other lately, but so far, it hasn't been very intense," Karyl replied noncommittally.

Curze scoffed, "Low intensity? Does not using real swords in the dueling cage mean low intensity? My high-ranking officers are actually fighting each other over something that hasn't even been officially drafted yet. Tsk, whatever."

He put down his pen with a headache, stood up, and took a sip of the cold water filtered by the water filter. It tasted slightly bitter, not much different from the kind he remembered liking.

"What are you trying to say, Karyl?" Konrad Curze Curze asked, tilting his head as he held a black water glass in one hand.

"I'll be leaving soon," Karyl said slowly—he wasn't surprised to see Konrad Curze Curze' expression change drastically in the next few seconds, and even his posture shifted.

His posture, which had been relaxed and natural, now appeared as if he were under threat, his eyes narrowed and his shoulders raised.

"Where are you going again?" Curze asked.

"Go support one of your brothers, or rather, stop him from doing something," Karyl replied, spreading his hands in a calm tone.

"Who?"

"Perturabo —have you heard of that name?"

"Fulgrim mentioned it." Konrad Curze Curze put down his water glass, crossed his arms, and began pacing around his office. "He said Perturabo wasn't a bad person, just a bit eccentric. I asked him why, but he didn't say more, only that I'd understand later."

"Eccentric personality." Karyl couldn't help but recall Malcador's assessment of this Olympia son, whom he had yet to meet. A subtle feeling welled up within him, causing him to sigh involuntarily.

"It seems my guess back then was right after all." He chuckled. "Among your brothers, normal people are a minority, and even those who are normal have limited abilities."

"You could have just said Rogal Dorn," Curze said irritably. "But you just mentioned support, so this is going to be another war with us involved?"

"That's about right."

"So, that's the Legion's business." Curze nodded decisively. "In other words, you need manpower support—don't shake your head just yet. I know you want to; every time you want to deny me, you glance to your left."

"Really?" Karyl raised an eyebrow and deliberately glanced to the right.

Konrad Curze Curze covered his forehead in exasperation and sighed, "Stop joking, Karyl. I'm not in the mood for jokes right now. Who knows how you'll come back this time? I don't want to see your bones again, and I'm sure Jairzinho doesn't either."

The Midnight Blade instructor subtly averted his gaze, offering no response to Konrad Curze Curze's question.

"In short—" Konrad Curze Curze said solemnly, "This is a Legion matter, and I'm the one who calls the shots in Legion affairs. I'll allocate you three large platoons—no, five—and you'll go directly there on the Nightfall."

Karyl turned his gaze back in surprise.

"What?" Curze picked up his water glass again and even smiled.

"You think I'd ask to come with you, don't you? No way, Karyl. I know what I'm supposed to do. Besides, the order didn't mention me, did it? Otherwise, you wouldn't have just said you were going to provide support."

Karyl smirked, deliberately drawing out his words: "Alright then."

"Wait, what do you mean by that?"

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me," Karyl said. "However, since the Legion Commander's resolve is so high..."

"You—" Konrad Curze Curze frowned sharply, but ultimately said nothing. He could see the smile and another emotion in Karyl's eyes, even if there had been some anger before, it had now vanished without a trace.

At this moment, Konrad Curze Curze did not feel anger or other negative emotions; he was just slightly sad.

He didn't even know where this sadness came from.

"Go," he said softly. "There's no need to try to comfort me. I'm no longer the Night Haunter; I can't leave Nostramo during this time."

He looked up at Karyl, gazing at him, while the latter stood quietly in place, his smile unchanged.

But I have one request.

"Speak, Lord of the Legion."

"You're not allowed to abandon us and fight alone like last time," Konrad Curze Curze said sternly. "That's my only request, Karyl."

"Yes, sir." Karyl nodded obediently. "As you command, Lord Legion."

There's another 3,000-word chapter. I originally tried writing a two-part story, but it failed. How about I aim for 10,000 words today? I shouldn't make any promises too easily; the next chapter might be very long. Sometimes I can't stop myself when I'm writing.