Karyl's Sense of Humor Was Very Unusual

Van Cleef sighed deeply, a rare occurrence for him, and his repeated sighs finally drew the attention of Mollez. The adjutant looked at his company commander with puzzlement and handed him a dagger.

Van Cleef reached out and caught the dagger, then sighed and tossed it away. It flew in a deadly arc, striking a training target with pinpoint accuracy.

Mollez's expression finally changed a little.

"Company commander, are you throwing a combat knife at a rifle target?" The adjutant raised his hands in shock. "That's not something you would do."

Van Cleef stared at him silently, his expression looking as if he were being brutally punched in the diaphragm with Power Fist gloves.

His gaze was so complex that Mollez could hardly comprehend it—after a brief silence of a few seconds, Van Cleef shook his head.

"You wouldn't understand." He looked up and drew his Boltgun from his waist with lightning speed. Without even glancing at the target, he fired three shots.

The first shot hit the target, causing it to vibrate. The second shot hit the edge of the target, abruptly stopping the vibration. The third shot hit the edge of the spot where the combat dagger was, sending it spinning back perfectly to land at the adjutant's feet.

Mollez bent down to pick it up, but his expression wasn't very pleasant.

"How am I supposed to understand if you don't tell me?" Mollez asked angrily, casually sheathing the dagger back into his belt.

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me," Van Cleef said dejectedly. "Who could have imagined such a thing? By the Emperor's grace."

Mollez turned and left angrily, not understanding what was wrong with his company commander, why he was so dejected on the day of the new recruits' selection.

Gazing at his departing figure, Van Cleef's eyes were filled with melancholy.

The company commander lowered his head bitterly, removed the magazine from the Boltgun, picked up a piece of oilcloth, and began to maintain his weapon.

At the same time, he also entered into meditation. Meditation was something that many Astartes highly valued, as it enabled one to maintain focus. Van Cleef mechanically disassembled the parts, wiped the surfaces, oiled them, and reassembled them.

He could have done it without even looking. But the more he did, the calmer his mind became. He inevitably recalled what had happened in the secret room.

--

"I'm five years old," Konrad Curze Curze said with a smile. He watched the company commanders' dumbfounded expressions with satisfaction, his smile remaining unchanged. "What? Is there a problem?"

"How long have you been here?" asked Sixth Company Commander Yarod.

"What do you think?" Curze countered, skillfully answering a question with a question. "How long do you think I've been here, Yarod?"

". I have no idea."

"Take a guess," Curze said with a laugh. "It's fine, it's better than you guys constantly guessing my age behind my back."

"We—" Fer, leaning on his sword, began in a loud, almost mechanical tone, "—we didn't guess your age!"

"So what were you doing?" Curze raised an eyebrow. "I heard the whole thing, word for word. Are you saying there's something wrong with my hearing? By the way, Fer, the way you angrily denounced the company commander as a fence-sitter was quite amusing."

"Uh, thank you?" Fer said, feeling dizzy. Beside him, Van Cleef looked up in despair.

"Ah, ah, don't be like that, Company Commander." Curze looked at him gently. "To be honest, your two guesses were the closest to the correct answer. In other words, you are indeed a winner. So why are you frowning? Winners should smile."

Van Cleef attempted a smile, and his expression at that moment elicited a look of shock bordering on awe from Anric Barbatos.

"To be honest, I initially thought your bet was about something else," Curze sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "But I didn't expect you to be so concerned about my age. Is it really that important to you?"

"To be honest, the Primarch isn't actually that important," Second Company Commander Dar Vanolarus replied honestly.

"Really? Then why were you shouting the loudest just now?"

"Okay, it's actually quite important."

"A little?"

"It's important," Dahl Vanolarus said with a somber expression.

"So, you now have the correct answer," said the Night Lords.

A smile returned to his lips. He had been taught so well that even Karyl, still shrouded in darkness, couldn't discern his true emotions—a rare but memorable occurrence.

Karyl silently noted down the expression and began to wait for further developments.

"So why don't you all give a round of applause to celebrate?" Curze gently advised. "Isn't this a moment worth celebrating?"

"."

The company commanders exchanged glances, none of them responding—but in fact, someone had already slowly raised his hands, involuntarily beginning to echo the Primarch's words. Although he was quickly stopped, Curze did not ignore him.

"Ah, isn't this my Fourth Company Commander Carl Delasok?" The Night Lords waved to him happily. "Would you like to applaud me?"

"I"

"Um?"

Carl Delasok, with a death wish, lowered his Chainsword and clapped. Neither too fast nor too slow, neither too soft nor too loud—the standard applause appropriate for social occasions.

Curze smiled and nodded at him, "Thank you, thank you. So, let's get down to business now?"

As soon as he finished speaking, Curze's expression changed instantly. His smile vanished, leaving only pure seriousness. He frowned, and his right hand lightly tapped his left arm.

"During this period, a total of 14,321 new members have joined us," the Night Lords said slowly. "This number is far greater than I anticipated. I salute you, Raquel."

The company commander of the Seventh Company, whose name was called, nodded awkwardly. His name was Rakel Zarorek—yes, he was one of the unfortunate ones left behind in Nostramo.

"The eight companies can be the first to select new recruits, but I don't plan to abolish the hunting squad system. Our tactics are inherently flexible and adaptable, and the existence of squads will allow infiltration tactics to operate even better."

"We have two more years to prepare. Thanks to Torak, the new recruits have completed their transformations, but that doesn't mean they are now qualified warriors."

"During this period, you must test them as many times as possible—by any means, in any way. If anyone fails these tests and develops psychological problems, report the list to me as soon as possible."

"They won't, Primarch," Raquel Zarorek said softly. "They passed the hardest hurdle the moment they swore their oath."

"Besides that, there is only death," Raquel murmured to himself.

The Night Lords nodded slightly, remaining serious.

"Recruiting new soldiers can continue. After the Great Crusade begins, we will return every eight calendar months to replenish our ranks. Also, a Mechanicum fleet from Mars is heading towards Nostramo. Has any of us dealt with them?"

The company commanders looked at one of them—the fifth company commander, Toran Katorifik, who had the most Techmarine under his command. This was also related to his personality; he had always been fascinated by machinery.

Especially those that can trigger a violent explosion.

"Tolan?" Curze looked at him. "How is it?"

"Primarch, I'm not sure if I can communicate effectively with them," the Fifth Company Commander replied cautiously.

"The Cult of Mechanicum is rife with factions, and even Tech-Priest from the same Forge World can have countless disagreements. You say they're from Mars, but I can't guarantee that one of them might be a priest who happened to have trained my Techmarine."

"Fine."

Curze smiled reassuringly at him and then immediately handed the matter over to him.

"You'll be in full charge of this matter. Report back to me regularly. Don't worry, Toran, they'll work hard to learn Nostraman, even for the sake of the Adamantium."

"Uh--" The fifth company commander nodded reluctantly, as if he'd been punched in the jaw. "--Yes, Primarch."

"Well then, the important matters have been discussed." The Night Lords smiled again. "Is there anything else you would like to say to me?"

The company commanders looked at each other in bewilderment once again.

Watching this, Curze deliberately feigned disappointment and sighed, "Well, it seems age really is a problem."

"No, it's not what you think, Primarch," Fer quickly interjected. "Age is merely an illusion to the Primarch; it means nothing. You've proven yourself many times already."

"So you guys make bets in private, open betting, and some people even place bets on both sides, all just for fun?" Konrad Curze Curze asked casually.

Fer Zalost shut his mouth, his face ashen, and the company commanders gave him a few dangerous glances.

"Nobody's going to object? Okay, Van Cleef."

The company commander, whose name was called, responded to his Primarch with a serious expression, as if he were receiving orders on the front lines. "Yes, I am, Primarch."

What do you usually use to place bets?

"."

"Um?"

The person who loses the duty time must share their duty time with the winner.

"Ah, very good. So, where do you usually do this recreational activity? Do the new recruits participate as well?"

"The second artillery position was usually on the lower deck. There were about a dozen empty rooms behind it. The new recruits weren't involved, so they didn't know about it."

"Thank you, Van Cleef," Konrad Curze Curze said sincerely. "Now, you may continue your duel."

In front of the company commanders, he smiled, opened the door to the secret room, and walked out. A deathly silence fell over the room.

The company commanders looked at each other hesitantly. Some were ready to continue the duel, while others wondered if they had lost their minds and why their words sounded so foolish.

They communicated in silence, unaware that a tall Shadow was gradually rising upright in the darkness.

"Ahem." Karyl coughed softly, breaking the silence. "Good evening, everyone?"

He was dressed in a rather formal suit, with his hands behind his back and a very serious expression.

The company commanders stared at him, their expressions gradually shifting from shock to calm. After an awkward silence, Fer Zalost even burst into laughter.

"Haha, you were here just now? But it's nine in the morning in Terra now," Fer asked awkwardly.

"Yes," Karyl nodded. "I know it's nine in the morning in Terra, and this is the first joke I prepared. Besides, I arrived much earlier than Konrad Curze."

Fer stared at him, then fell silent, stunned.

"So, you watched the whole thing?" Yarod asked with difficulty.

"More or less," Karyl said. "You've failed your daily anti-submarine warfare assessment again, but this time it's understandable, since you didn't have any extra attention to spare for it from beginning to end. Okay, I have a few jokes to tell you, do you want to hear them?"

"A joke?" Anric Barbatos opened his mouth hesitantly. "Is this some kind of hint, Instructor?"

"What? No, of course not. I've been preparing a joke just for this occasion. You can ask Jairzinho if you don't believe me." Karyl frowned and began to explain patiently.

"I knew you'd most likely end up in this situation, so I prepared a few jokes to lighten the mood. Konrad Curze won't be angry at your behavior; in fact, I think he even somewhat approves of you taking this bet. Am I saying too much? Anyway, I'm going to begin."

He coughed lightly and remained silent for a few seconds. During those few seconds, the eight company commanders had different thoughts, but only Van Cleef truly realized one thing—the jokes their instructors had prepared were unlikely to be very funny.

Because he had just actually explained to them why he wanted to tell jokes.

"Okay, first joke— Jack is a rookie hitman who likes to use shrouds as disguises, but his face quickly rots away. Why is that?"

"Because the shroud he used was from a dead person!" Karyl smiled and held up a finger. "How about that?"

The company commanders struggled to use the kind of applause that Carl Delasok had previously demonstrated for them.

"Thank you, thank you." Karyl nodded happily to them. "Now for the second one, cough—a hitman, a serial killer, and a surgeon have checked into the same hotel, and while waiting for their food in the hotel's restaurant, they started talking to each other."

--

Van Cleef slowly raised his hand and covered his face.

He couldn't think about it anymore, absolutely not. He didn't want to relive those embarrassing jokes. What's more embarrassing than the jokes themselves is that the person telling them isn't even aware of it.

Not only was Karyl oblivious, but he even told more than a dozen jokes with great enthusiasm before stopping. To be honest, Van Cleef would rather listen to Xianni laugh for two hours than recall a single word of those jokes.

After all, what joke would spend 600 words explaining the differences in knife handling between a killer, a serial killer, and a surgeon? What do these three things have to do with jokes?

The company commander sighed, his face ashen, and turned around to see his adjutant walking over, also looking ashen.

"Company... Company Commander," Mollez said, his lips trembling. "Primarch... Primarch, he—"

"--I know." Van Cleef smiled seemingly gently. "It's alright, Mollez. Hey, I have a few jokes I'd like to hear?"

Update complete. These two chapters were relatively lighthearted. I did it on purpose.