47: Bitter Hatred

"Brilliant!" the people on the platform exclaimed in praise.

Akurduana looked down, slightly dazed, and saw his fingers twitching. The boning knife, stained with blood, was in his hand.

What used to feel comfortable to hold is now terrifyingly hot, burning his hand like lava. The urge to wield a knife has completely vanished, leaving only lingering pain.

He numbly relaxed his muscles, loosened his fingers, and the military knife fell, creating continuous ripples in the pool of blood.

If he could, he really wanted to escape. He wanted to get away from this nightmare until he woke up, or to completely succumb to it.

But he can't do that.

He had to get the job done.

He cannot escape; he has no such right.

So he bent down, picked up the knife, and walked to the other man. The latter was kneeling on the ground, with a deep gash in his abdomen, from which blood and internal organs poured out. He was about to fall into the abyss of death, but there was no trace of attachment to life in his eyes. Only calmness.

Akurduana knew him; in fact, they had known each other for many years.

"Tacitus," Akurduana uttered his name, slowly raising the boning knife but never bringing it down.

The man called Tacitus glanced up at him, his expression unmoved, as if he had never been injured. He calmly gestured with his chin to Akurduana, beckoning him to come closer.

Akurduana was initially reluctant to do so. He understood the suffering Tacitus was enduring and only wanted to end the matter as soon as possible. However, he soon realized just how selfish his thinking was.

So he put down his knife, knelt on one knee, and prepared to listen to Tacitus's voice, keeping his head down so that the latter would not see his expression.

He understood what Tacitus had rejected, and therefore he could not help but suffer.

"Don't make that face," the dying man said solemnly. "I also came here willingly, and Fabius Bile Bile convinced me just as he did you. Like you, my hands are stained with the blood of my brothers."

He opened his mouth and took a deep breath of air filled with the stench of blood. Akurduana looked up and saw his scarlet teeth and his gradually dimming purple eyes.

"I understand," Akurduana replied in a low voice.

"But something's wrong with him." Tacitus lowered his head and began to exhale slowly. "He wants Fulgrim to live, but why, Akurduana? What's the reason? When he speaks, I can smell the stench of lies; he's lying to us."

"I will find out why."

"No, no, you must—" Tacitus coughed, blood gushing from his mouth. "—Warn them, there are still people who don't realize this, warn them, brothers."

His head was drooping lower and lower, and his voice was becoming fainter and fainter until it became a kind of breathy sound, and then it disappeared completely, without a sound at all.

He did not close his eyes; even the exhaustion of death could not keep them closed. He died with his head tilted back, his eyes fixed on someone on the high platform.

Without even looking up, Akurduana knew who he was looking at.

He closed his eyes, raised his left hand, and used his five fingers to dab the bright red blood that had welled up from Tacitus's mouth, then smeared it on his own face. The blood was still warm, as if Tacitus were still alive.

Then, he tossed his former treasures away like trash.

Two Sons of Horus approached from the side, carrying shackles. They stood far from Akurduana, their expressions complex.

One of them bent down, picked up the boning knife, and placed it on the weapon rack beside him. The other hesitated before throwing the shackles at Akurduana's feet.

Unaware of what was happening inside the arena, the Servitor emerged from the pre-reserved passageway of the circular arena and carried away Tacitus's remains. Their movements were swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Akurduana watched him leave.

A moment later, he returned to his cell with bloodstained hands.

He had been moved to a different cell, an order personally given by Horus Lupercal. Now, he was reunited with his brothers, though there were only five of them in total, it was better than nothing.

"Tacitus," Akurduana said to them.

One of them looked over, forcing a smile, and asked, "What did our stubborn sergeant say this time?"

He believes there's something wrong with Fabius Bile Bile.

"Of course he's problematic," another said. "Did you see the look on his face when he spoke? There wasn't a trace of sadness on that bastard's face. He told us all he tried to keep Fulgrim alive."

"If he's really as good as he claims, why would he betray us? And what about this so-called 'healing ritual'?" His face contorted. "I'm going to kill him."

"We have no choice, Tavitz," the first man said, trying to calm his brother. "Everyone knows this whole thing has been problematic from the start, but we have no choice. Even if we refuse to fight, Horus will force us to. He might even threaten us with the life of the phoenix."

"He's been doing that. Vespasian, watching every single battle," Tenth Company Commander Sol Tavitz replied somberly to Lord Commander Vespasian.

"He sat on the high platform watching us die, his voice filled with threat and malice. I can hardly believe how much we trusted him before."

"I believe this is not the end, gentlemen," Vice Commander Abdemon began, his voice slightly somber, joining the conversation.

He stood ramrod straight in a corner of the room, as if he were undergoing his daily training. Unlike the others, he was not only shackled but also had his hands locked in chains.

In the past few days, he had attacked all the Sons of Horus he had seen. He should have been punished, but the wolves of Horus were ordered by their master, so the only punishment Abdemon received was to wear another pair of shackles.

Horus even publicly praised him for his courage in the dueling arena, behaving as kind and warm as ever.

To this, Abdemon responded with a disdainful and contemptuous sneer in Horus's presence.

"This is certainly not the end, it's just the beginning. I checked the porthole on the way back, and the Vengeful Spirit is moving. Where do you think they're going?" Akurduana said, changing the subject.

He didn't actually want to talk about anything at this moment, but he had to set an example—just as Fulgrim had taught them, when danger comes, what difference is there between those who are capable not stepping forward and those who run away?

There are no cowards among the Emperor's Children who run away.

"I can't think of an answer," Vespasian.

The Lord Commander frowned deeply, his expression bitter. He took full responsibility for the defeat in the war. Despite numerous attempts by others to persuade him, Vespasian refused to change his mind.

Akurduana understood that this self-torturing, stubborn idea actually made Vespasian feel a little better.

Vespasian continued, "They captured our fleet. Even if they shot down most of the ships, leaving only the Pride of the Emperor and a few other cruisers, it's still a formidable fleet."

"A fleet of this size and scale will attract a lot of attention. Even if they're heading to worlds close to them for supplies, I don't believe no one will ask about it."

"So what if they ask?" Sol Tavitz retorted. "I'm sure they have ways of dealing with those who ask questions. Look at the lower decks; they should be teeming with crew and servants. Where are they now?"

"You're making a dangerous accusation, brother," Abdemon laughed. "The tone of your voice reminds me of Nikaea. Do you remember how that official from the Administratum questioned the Thousand Sons?"

"Of course I remember." Tavitz gave a similarly unfriendly smile. "He asked them where all the servants selected for the Thousand Sons went each year. Magnus, in turn, threatened him to mind his own business. Arrogant bastard."

"So," Vespasian softly, "Where did they take these people?"

They looked at each other, and no one dared to offer any more guesses. Finally, the last person in the room gave an answer. His voice came from within the heavy, dull steel, and the golden eagle wing on his right shoulder gleamed.

"That's not important, warriors," the speaker said coldly. "In my humble opinion, your best option is to rest, not to discuss such blasphemous words. We are already in hell, but what does it matter?"

The phoenix will eventually rise from the ashes.

Akurduana and his brothers bowed deeply, expressing their respect to the elder who had spoken. The guilt of murdering their brother temporarily subsided, and the words of the ancient sage Rylanor brought them a moment of light.

But only for a moment, because Fabius Bile Bile came again.

"Akurduana!" he shouted outside the cell. "Come out! Come with me!"

The chief swordsman slowly rose to his feet and walked to the cell door. As he passed, Sol Tavitz whispered, "Kill him."

"I will, "Akurduana thought.

--

Fulgrim looked at the scene before him with a slightly confused expression, not understanding what was going on; the things in front of him were terrifying.

This should be an ocean, but the sky is devoid of Radiance, only darkness. The sea is flat, without waves, only tiny ripples constantly washing over it. The whole world appears black, with occasional rumbles of thunder in the thick clouds, but no lightning.

He gazed into the distance; in the dim moonlight, the ocean resembled a crumpled and flattened sheet of aluminum foil. The water didn't look like water; the ripples formed moving black shadows beneath the surface.

Then, Fulgrim heard a voice, the voice of Ferrus Manus, filled with immense hatred.

"Traitor."

One more chapter.