39. A Table and Six People

Like a gust of wind, Yago Savitarion crashed into the conference room.♙♜ ❻9 🐙👽

The gates forged from Nostramo's enchanted Adamantium were useless to him; the two doors did not even serve as a barrier, allowing him to pass through them like a rippling curtain of water.

This scene, which defied all the laws of physics, did not surprise the other four people in the room at all—this was not their first time boarding the Nightfall, nor was it their first time having a conversation in this "conference room."

In fact, even more unrealistic things have happened to Jago Sevatarion.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," said Sevatar.

As he spoke, he forcefully clenched the muscles on both sides of his cheeks, his pale, sharp teeth protruding from his twisted lips, with bright red gums peeking out from within. This smile was by no means friendly, but the other four people present were already used to it.

After all, this was the best "smile" Jago Sevatarion could give.

Furthermore, you'd better not be too critical of him in this regard.

The official who insisted he practice smiling before meeting Sanguinius is now working day and night in the Sigillites's private staff, and has reportedly undergone three life-extending surgeries and thirteen emergency treatments.

As a court attendant responsible for etiquette, he shouldn't have been qualified to join the Sigillites's staff, but he received a personal recommendation from Sevatar.

It is said that Jago Sevatarion wrote a long letter of ten thousand words specifically for this purpose, with earnest words, and the reasons for recommending him were "extreme courage" and "complete rigidity" - which sounded exactly the kind of person the Sigillites needed.

His staff didn't need to think; they just needed to work.

Sevatar looked around, deliberately slowed down his speech, and began to speak slowly.

"But before we begin, I want to talk about something else."

His movements were then more than five times slower than his speech. This made him look like a malfunctioning Servitor, or a Daemon possessing a human body, unfamiliar with how to manipulate the fresh flesh and blood of the living.

In fact, the latter is probably closer to the truth.

Sevatar stiffly turned his neck, directing his gaze toward Skaradrik. Throughout the movement, his eyes remained fixed in their sockets like embedded jewels, without the slightest movement.

The Great Lord of Crimson Claws bowed slightly to show his "respect".

Sevatar grinned.

"Looks like you knew what I wanted to talk to you about all along, huh? Did you, Rick?" he asked cheerfully. "Did you plan ahead on the way here? Did you even try to imagine what questions I would ask you?"

"No, my lord, I beg you not to call me Rick. I have said this for one hundred and eighty-two years." The Grand Prince replied expressionlessly. "Furthermore, I swear to the eternal night, I have never thought of any of the above."

"So, what were you thinking about while you, you damned, stubborn, blockhead, standing on the Batwing waiting to board?"

"War," Skaradrik gritted out a single word, followed by another short phrase. "That's all."

"What kind of war?" Sevatar pressed.

"The War of Atonement."

"What? By the eternal night, what crime have you committed?"

Sevatar looked at him in astonishment, like a blind man who had regained his sight. Half a second later, he shook his head, sighed, and then put on a gentle smile, even opening his arms to Skaradrik as if to embrace the world.

"I beg you, Skaradrik. For the sake of our many years of friendship, please tell me, what crime do you think you've committed? Honestly, I'm incredibly curious about this."

"I killed an innocent person."

Skaradrik said so.

The veins on his forehead bulged out, like long, bluish-gray snakes throbbing and twitching on his pale, drowning-like skin, making his entire face look utterly terrifying.

"Therefore—" he took a deep breath—"I will return to the Chapter, find a successor, step down from my post, and embark on a Penitent Crusade in my own name."

Sevatar maintained her smiling and embracing posture, watching him without moving.

"Listen, Your Majesty, my good brother. If you continue, I might not be so happy. I might even do something a little irrational, do you understand?"

"But for the sake of you, you blockheaded idiot, I'm willing to temporarily set aside my innate desire for violence."

"I will use the wisdom I gained from the teachings of Konrad Curze Curze —something you lack—to explain why I am unhappy."

Sevatar lowered his hands, his smile vanished, and the muscles on his face stiffened again. All gentleness disappeared, leaving only a cruel chill.

"Are you listening or not?" he asked.

The Great Khan let out a low growl from his throat.

"Very good." Sevatar nodded. "First of all, a Penitent Crusade with only one participant is tantamount to suicide. I don't care if your chosen opponent is Xenos, a traitor, or those spineless, stupid Daemon, it makes no difference."

"If you participate, you'll die, and you'll die a meaningless death. Secondly, where the hell are you going to find a successor?"

"Did this guy grow out of the ground or fall from the sky? Who in the Crimson Claws can replace you now? Don't tell me about your Second Company or anyone else; in my opinion, they're simply not qualified."

With a forced smile, Sevatar approached Skaradrik, whose body was stiff and whose fists were clenched, and slid his sharp right index finger across the Great Khan's forehead. Blood flowed down, quickly staining his entire face red.

Then, he actually leaned close to the Great Khan's ear and began to apologize softly.

"Forgive me, brother, I am very sorry for this. However, if my actions or words have hurt your young, innocent heart, which is not yet fully mature, I apologize a second time."

"But your brothers are simply not good enough; none of them are as good as you. In the end, I have never heard of Chapter Master abandoning the Chapter and then launching a Penitent Crusade."

He smiled and reached out his hands, gently placing them on Skaradrik's shoulders, then put on a sincere expression.

"I've served for ten thousand years, and I've seen more strange things than your stone head knows any words, yet I've never seen or heard of any Chapter Master doing anything like this."

"If you do this, it means you've betrayed the oath you swore when you became Chapter Master. You'll betray your Chapter, your brothers, and everyone who has shed blood for the Crimson Claws. Do you know why?"

He looked into Skaradrik's eyes, then leaned closer, almost touching the Great Khan's forehead with his chin.

"Do you know why?" he murmured, repeating. "Answer quickly, Skaradrik."

The Scarlet Lord's face twitched as he uttered a Nostramo phrase, meaning "shameful betrayal."

Sevatar burst into laughter, then surprisingly began clapping and praising repeatedly.

"Yes! Because you abandoned them! You abandoned them and then went to pursue your own personal honor!"

"Ah, what a great Chapter Master you've been through. The Emperor must be very disappointed in you, no, not only him, but Konrad Curze Curze will be very disappointed in you too. And of course, me—in fact, I'll be very, very disappointed in you, Skaradrik."

"If you really dare to do that, I assure you, I will declare you a traitor and then banish you from one end of the galaxy to the other. When I catch you, I will use the Book of Night to slap your face until all the veins on that ugly face burst and tears and snot stream down your face."

Sevatar exhaled a soft breath, took a few steps back, returned to the gate, put his hands behind his back, and stared at the Great Khan without a smile.

"Alright, I'm done," he said calmly. "Now it's your turn to come up with excuses. Skaradrik, tell me. Let me hear them; I want to know if they're clumsy."

"."

Why are you silent? This is the moment you should say something, brother.

"I have nothing more to say," Skaradrik said softly. "But if I say nothing, will he really be satisfied?"

"Who?" Sevatar asked back, taking a step to the left as if to make way. A man draped in a thick black robe stepped out of the darkness right before their eyes, his hands emerging from his wide sleeves, which were wrapped in bandages and stained crimson with blood.

"Him?" Sevatar asked again. "Is he the one who just completed a perfect stealth right in front of you? Who is he? Please tell me, Skaradrik, who is he?"

"Instructor."

"What I want is a name."

Skaradrik took a deep breath and said, "Karyl Lohars."

Sevatar smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Mr. Smarthead."

He turned to look at Karyl, bent down to brace himself on his knees, and whispered in his ear, "So, Instructor, would you be satisfied if Lord Skaradrik did nothing?"

Karyl looked up at him for a long while before giving his answer.

"You've gone a bit too far, Jago," he said calmly. "This good guy/bad guy charade is outdated, and I don't think you should try to integrate me into the current Legion—no, the command structure between Chapter —that way."

"First, I have no such intention. Second, Lord Skaradrik is innocent; I explained this to him specifically before we set off."

"My mental state is unstable, therefore, everything I say and do in a state of frenzy should not be taken seriously. I will try my best to restrain myself and prevent similar things from happening again."

"Furthermore, Your Majesty, I must apologize to you. My words have damaged your reputation, and I am deeply sorry. I will do everything in my power to make amends as a token of my remorse."

Sevatar raised his left hand, covered his forehead, and sighed softly.

"Are you serious?" He straightened up helplessly. "Is this good guy/bad guy trope outdated? I feel like you're involved in it yourself."

Karyl glanced at him, then suddenly raised his hand and struck him hard on the back.

A chill instantly pierced through the Power Armour, penetrating deep into Sevatar's flesh and blood, quelling the immense pain he suffered from being resurrected, and calming his twitching muscle fibers.

Sevatar couldn't help but cough, and a mouthful of sticky blood escaped his control, gushing out and forming a crystalline mist in the air.

Sheher Cold Soul was dumbfounded.

Kaul Sahora's eye twitched, and he couldn't help but take a deep breath of cold air.

Skaradrik raised his trembling right hand, rubbed his temples, and his expression was extremely indescribable.

Of the five Chapter Master present, only the Hunter remained completely calm. His cloudy white eyes were fixed on Karyl, and the scriptures hanging on his Power Armour moved without wind, the scarlet characters lighting up for a moment before quickly going out.

"There can't be two bad guys in this play," Karyl said slowly. "Now, I'm a bad guy too, Jago."

"What good will it do you to expose me?" Sevatar asked sincerely. "I was almost getting Skaradrik to realize his mistakes, but now, how can I get this stubborn man to back down again?"

The king covered his face with his trembling right hand.

"There's no benefit to it; I just wanted to do it this way. It's like you having a better, more peaceful solution, but still insisting on doing things this way."

Sevatar shook his head, letting the topic drop.

"Well then—let's get down to business," he said with a sigh. "First, there's the problem with the Soul of Night. I'm sorry about that, Kaul. But, given the circumstances, I didn't have a better solution."

"What was the result?" the Shadow Knights' Chapter Master asked.

He showed no emotion or thought, as if the familiar names on the list of the dead were not from his own Chapter, nor were they his brothers. His face was only filled with pure calm, as if he already knew the answer.

Sevatar smiled slightly at him.

"I believe you have seen the torment he is enduring—so why do you ask, Kaul?"

"Because I am afraid," the Shadow Knights replied firmly and bluntly. "I fear that the future I foresee still requires waiting."

"I assure you, it has come, just as I promised you 140 years ago. One day, the future you see will become reality. Today is that 'one day,' today is the day Erebus will be punished."

"Then I have nothing more to say," Kaul said. "The Soul of Night died a worthy death; few warships have received such a glorious decommissioning. We will retire her name and find another warship to serve as our flagship."

"What kind?" Sheher Cold Soul interjected, seemingly quite interested in the question. "If you need it, brother, I can connect you with some people. I can at least give you a list to choose from."

"No need, Grand Commander. We act in the name of Claw; whether we have a flagship or not is not that important."

"Moreover, we should earn the honor of owning a powerful warship with our own hands. If this ship is to replace the Soul of Night as our new flagship, then this is the only way."

Kaul said calmly, his tone so composed that it seemed as if these matters had nothing to do with him.

Sheher paused for a moment, then nodded. He wouldn't say anything more; Kaul had shown his resolve, and he saw it clearly.

"Don't be so hasty, Kaul." Sevatar shook her head at him. "I must remind you of something: the Soul of Night and the Nightfall are both meritorious warships with a service life of ten thousand years. For so many years, she has shared the glory and hardship with the Night Lords."

Kaul looked at him, or rather, stared at him. The Shadow Knights, like a Servitor, uttered a short, heavy sentence from his vocal cords.

"What's the meaning?"

"That means she will respond if you call her," Karyl answered on Sevatar's behalf.

As soon as he finished speaking, the surroundings fell silent. His voice began to echo in the conference room and gradually spread outwards, forming a dull echo in the darkness.

Sevatar stood under the stark white incandescent light, turning to look at the vast darkness, his face expressionless, devoid of sorrow or joy.

Over the years, the Nightfall has undergone numerous modifications to meet various needs, and despite much opposition, Sevatar persisted in completing them all. This was one of them.

This is not just a simple conference room, but a cemetery. In the darkness, tens of thousands of blood-stained flags are fluttering.

These banners are not all from the Night Lords, nor are they no longer in use, but those who once waved them have vanished into the annals of history.

These might be military ensigns, ship's ensigns, or the flags of a small company; some are still relatively intact, while others have been burned, torn to shreds, and are unrecognizable.

Sevatar stared into the darkness, and in that moment, his gaze pierced through the cemetery, landing directly on a certain flag. Its first and last flag bearer was the same man, named Bellros von Sharp.

Will I get a response if I just call out?

Sevatar gave a self-deprecating laugh and looked at the other flags. The ancient relics from the Legion era were laid bare before him, all sitting silently on the walls, making no sound in the darkness.

The living should not call upon the dead.

"I... I don't understand, Instructor," Kaul stammered. "Reply? How should we respond?"

"Let's discuss this later, Kaul. As for now, Jago hasn't finished his work."

"I have nothing more to say," Sevatar said with a forced smile. "At most, there are two more things. First, announce that Erebus is dead; second, announce the instructor's return. That's all."

"Allow me to offer a suggestion." Sheher Cold Soul solemnly raised a finger. "These are two extremely important matters, Your Excellency Jago Sevatarion. Are you simply going to let them pass by like this?"

"Otherwise what?" Sevatar rolled her eyes at him, asking impatiently. "Go to all the trouble of announcing that Erebus has been killed?"

"To hell with it. It's enough that we and a few of our relatives know that this bastard is dead. The general public should never even hear his name, not even once."

"What about the instructors' return?" Sheher asked, puzzled. "Shouldn't that involve a bit of a fuss?"

"Alright, so how do we announce it?" Sevatar stared at him and shrugged. "Even ten thousand years ago, the existence of instructors wouldn't have been widely known. We didn't intentionally follow secrecy, but that's just how it is."

He stretched out his fingers and began counting on them for his brother, as if he were dealing with a toddler learning to speak.

"Aside from the Emperor, the Sigillites, the Imperial Primarch, the Adeptus Custodes, and some of their personal guards, very few people truly know him, do you understand?"

"And now, you want me to spread this news to everyone in the Ghoul Stars and the Ultima Segmentum, telling them that an ancient relic from ten thousand years ago has returned? Guess what their first reaction will be?"

"They'll wonder, who exactly is this old relic?" Karyl added.

He smiled and patted Sevatar on the back again, this time much more gently. "Then, they'll forget about it, because this old fogey has absolutely no reputation."

Sevatar turned around, smiled at him, and said in a brazen yet soft voice, "Why don't you say this to the Primarch?"

"Okay," Karyl said. "But I'll tell them it was your suggestion."

"Let's leave it at that." Sevatar turned to his brothers. "Anyway, I've said my piece. Does anyone have any objections?"

No one answered.

"Then let's adjourn for now. Clean up the battlefield, gather the troops, and send a distress signal to the nearby garrison. Ideally, we should be able to find a unit of Ultramarines. Come find me when everything is ready; we need to return to Nostramo."

As he spoke, he walked out of the conference room with Karyl without looking back, and the enchanted Adamantium gate rippled like a curtain of water once more.

Sheher Cold Soul, unconvinced, walked over and pushed the door with all his might, but it wouldn't budge an inch. He frowned, stared at the door, and silently tapped his breastplate.

Just then, another person stepped past him, and the door shook again, allowing him to pass through in a completely abnormal manner.

Half a second later, the Hunter's voice came slowly from the communication channel, hoarse and low, but very polite.

"I'll take my leave now, everyone."

"How did you do that?" Sheher roared at the door. "Come back! Explain yourself!"

All he got was a hissing sound from inside the communication channel.