83rd Black Crusade (XII, Massacre)

Hunting.

Karyl hadn't done anything this beneficial in a long time, and, upon reflection, the last time he was this angry was back in Terra.

If you calculate it that way, it seems that the last time he personally killed someone was also in Terra. Although his hands were stained with blood many times after his resurrection, those two monsters were actually not human.

One is merely a false shell, devoid of life. The other is a man-made beast, utterly devoid of intelligence. Therefore, strictly speaking, he has only just returned to the path of slaughter.

This was as abhorrent as ever, and he was as efficient, skillful, and calm as ever. On the crumbling Power of Honour, his kill count, which had been stagnant for ten thousand years, finally began to flow again.

The second person he killed was a fool who thought he was well hidden in the darkness. This man was also wearing human skin, and it was freshly peeled off. The screaming face lingered on his chest, the wet blood glistening, but he himself was completely unaware.

Karyl pulled him out of the darkness, tearing off his helmet and all the flesh from his face as he stared in shock. His limbs received the same treatment as he fell to the ground with a groan.

As his screams began to echo across the cold deck of the Power of Honour, the third, fourth, and fifth victims appeared.

They launched a surprise attack on Karyl, precise and brutal. One man provided cover fire with Boltgun, while the other two aimed at his neck and heart, one in front and the other behind.

Despite treating a mortal with such solemnity, the desired effect was still not achieved. The bomb was suspended in mid-air by psionic energy, the blades and claws were broken by fists, the Power Armour was stripped off, and the bones were broken and stuffed into his own body.

Karyl killed them in the simplest and most direct way, leaving Vanion Tasiad, who had just struggled back from the brink of death, stunned.

"Who exactly are you?" Finally, after the fifth victim's throat was ripped open by a Boltgun, he asked this question, his voice full of confusion and wariness.

Karyl did not answer that question; he had already set his sights on his sixth target.

He turned around and vanished like Ghost, sending a chill down Vanion's spine. At the same time, a heavy thud came from behind him.

He turned around and saw a head with a spine spinning as it flew out, crashing through the wall and charred by the remaining electricity amidst the wailing of the energy transmission pipes.

However, the murderer has vanished without a trace.

Vanion gripped his battle flag tightly, his muscles tense, when someone gently patted his right forearm. He whirled around, raising the flag high in his hand—

"--Didn't I tell you?" Karyl said, waving his hand. "My name is Karyl Lohars."

Emperor's Scythes stared at him for a long while before lowering the battle flag he had raised.

"It's just a name."

"A name is sufficient, Your Excellency," Karyl said.

He turned and continued into the darkness.

Everywhere were traces of battle and massacre. The bodies of the tragically killed crew members were nailed to this glorious warship. Its Radiance history was stained with blood, but they also put up a fight. Weapons were often scattered around their corpses.

Vanion glared angrily at this, yet couldn't help but let out a soft sigh, filled with sorrow.

Compared to him, Karyl's understanding was much deeper.

He calmly perceived another truth revealed by this incident: most of the rebels were executed on the spot, and tortured to death in a mocking and frivolous manner.

This is not something that can be achieved through pretense; only pure sadists could do such a thing.

Looking at this hellish landscape, it was hard for Karyl not to think of Nostramo, old Nostramo, the Nostramo filled with acid rain, the dead, sin, and depravity.

But that Nostramo has long since vanished; the current Star of Eternal Night is a completely different planet.

In the mouths of some cult followers and Daemon, it is referred to as the "Divine Realm" with a mixture of awe and disgust; of course, most Nostramo people know nothing about it.

They didn't need to know these things, nor did they need to see the real sky in their lifetime. The steel dome that had been built over thousands of years blocked people's view of the stars.

Undoubtedly, this is a shackle that hinders freedom, but it is also a necessary protective measure.

They lived ordinary, natural lives under its protection, and everyone was free to choose their desired future—except for farmers. The ancient profession of farming had disappeared on the Star of Eternal Night.

The food people eat now comes from several nearby satellites that have been modified by the Mechanicum. It is diverse and includes both meat and vegetables. The only drawback is that transporting the food from the satellites to the surface of Nostramo is dangerous and complicated.

This mission requires the accompaniment of a local Nostramo priest, or even better, an escort by Night Lords. Otherwise, no one can cross that sky unscathed.

Karyl stopped his thoughts and his steps, turning his gaze to the other side of the deck.

The Power of Honour is a Battle Barge; it is an absolutely massive ship with a complex yet orderly internal structure.

Conno Shipyards's outstanding design allows it to maintain most of its decks in normal operation even under the current extreme shutdown conditions, and it's incredible that its air circulation system can still function under such circumstances.

However, just now, a strange guest broke into his spread "capture net". It came from the outside world and from the places on the Power of Honour that had been completely swallowed by the void.

Karyl narrowed his eyes and began using his psionic powers again.

What he once resisted has now become his most powerful ally; in the moment when he is unwilling to use another force, it is the best choice.

With its help, the net extended once more. This genuine skill, which he had forgotten for ten thousand years, returned in a brand new guise, and with him as the central point, the entire Power of Honour fell into the net.

Every detail was now flashing through Karyl's mind; if he wanted, this network could tell him everything he needed.

He posed his first question: Where are they?

The net will completely reveal the remaining twenty-four red dots, their appearance, their emotions, and what they are doing and saying.

These people are activating the remaining escape pods on the Power of Honour. They are completely baffled by Karyl's existence and the power he has displayed, and can only speculate that he is some kind of Chaos Daemons in human skin.

Their plan was to use the escape pods to reach the surface of Sotha, rendezvous with the main force that had already evacuated from the Power of Honour, and then discuss what to do next.

Of course, they weren't idiots. Before fleeing, they had already activated the explosives planted throughout the Power of Honour. They had timed it perfectly, intending to use the disintegration of the entire warship to banish the Daemon, Karyl.

But how could the Daemon do as they wished?

Karyl turned around and extended his blood-soaked left hand toward the adjutant of the First Company of the Emperor's Scythes.

"What are you going to do?" Vanion asked warily.

He received no verbal response; the questioner answered with a more forceful action. Under Vanion's gaze, his blood-soaked left hand slowly grasped the flagpole of the battle banner, yet not a drop of blood remained on it.

The next second, everything spun around, and the surrounding scenery transformed into a vortex shape that could only be created by violent rotation. Even as Astartes, Vanion still felt a strong sense of discomfort.

Fortunately, this shock didn't last long, but his misfortune didn't end there. Just as he escaped the vortex, a deafening explosion rang in his ears.

Vanion instinctively bent over and rolled, and when he stood up, he saw a bloody mess.

The four traitors appeared to have been hit head-on by a cannon, their bodies splattering all over the wall, while their upper bodies, still attached to their heads, remained neatly stuck to the wall.

They were not yet dead, screaming instinctively. The horrific sight made Vanion grip the battle flag tightly, and as he looked around, he soon saw something even more indescribable.

But he did not speak out to stop it. He had no grounds, no reason, and no belief that he should stop this misfortune from befalling them.

Vanion had always believed in the simple creed of an eye for an eye, and besides, he didn't think these traitors owed him only a debt of teeth.

He stared at them with hatred until a calm voice rang out.

"Don't do that," Karyl said, his hands covered in blood.

With his back to the Emperor's Scythes lieutenant, he held half a corpse in his hand and was swinging it repeatedly, smashing it against a closed escape pod.

"What?"

Amidst the clanging of flesh and metal, Karyl spoke again, "Don't hate them. At least don't make them your life's goal to hate. They're not worth it, Lieutenant."

"Why?"

Karyl released his grip, tossing aside the half-corpse, and then dragged the remaining two targets out of the escape pod. They tumbled to the ground, quickly got to their feet, and launched a futile counterattack.

One charged at Vanion, while the other swung his fist at Karyl. Naturally, both options were thwarted. They froze abruptly, like malfunctioning Servitor, only their eyes remaining active.

"Are you trying to persuade me not to give up my life because of hatred?" Vanion asked slowly, gripping the battle flag tightly.

He seemed to have an urge to do something, and if Karyl hadn't been standing not far away, he probably would have already plunged the battle flag into the chest of the man charging at him.

"No."

"So what do you mean?"

"I'm just trying to save your soul."

After saying this, Karyl left the frowning Vanion behind and turned to look at the two men.

The net was still operating at full capacity, and their innermost thoughts and intentions were now laid bare. He could do this before, only the driving force was slightly different.

These two things may seem similar, but they are actually quite different.

To judge others from the perspective of a deity is to see everything clearly. This is a difference in status, a complete and utter crushing defeat.

In fact, the word "examine" seems somewhat biased, because the gods may not be interested in such things at all. They only need a fleeting glance to hold a person's entire life in their hands.

Using psionic energy is different; the process is far more difficult than the former, but it is also far more comfortable for him.

He needed this just-right clumsiness to remind himself just how hard-won his second chance had been.

Karyl was focused on his work, but Vanion, standing nearby, witnessed something once again that he couldn't understand.

At first, he noticed that the Power Armour on the two traitors was trembling. He assumed it was just a side effect of psionic energy, which wasn't surprising.

Although the mysterious Psyker traveling with him was extremely powerful, psychic energy was definitely not a gentle force, so this situation was within his expectations.

Then, this conclusion was completely overturned just three seconds later, because the two Power Armour were deteriorating.

Yes, regression.

The polished, smooth, dark blue armor plates transformed into raw ore and metal; the artificial muscle fiber bundles became unsynthesized raw materials; the rivets rotated; and the reactor vanished in a blue light.

The Black Carapace mysteriously vanished from the flesh, leaving no void, and the lost skin and flesh returned. Their faces, pupils, and pale skin then began to rapidly deform.

In the blink of an eye, the classic Nostramo appearance vanished without a trace, replaced by two naked, bald giants with strikingly similar features.

They each had a snake tattoo on their left cheek, and their eyes were vacant. One of them suddenly lowered his raised arm, turned around, and bowed to a spot on the empty deck.

"Yes, for Alpharius." He said expressionlessly, then turned into a pool of blood. His companion followed closely behind, turning into a pool of sticky flesh and blood.

But that wasn't the end of it. With a flash of blue light, their vanished forms were restored, and then they began to shrink rapidly, transforming from adults into infants.

Suddenly, a circular shadow appeared on the ground, then slowly rose, enveloping the two of them. The two infants floated in the imaginary nutrient tank, sucking their fingers, their bodies covered with various monitoring wires.

Vanion couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.

"How fascinating, forbidden flesh-and-blood techniques, hypnosis, blending lies with facts that never existed."

Hearing his companion's unsmiling assessment, Vanion involuntarily glanced over.

Whether by coincidence or not, the latter also looked over at that moment. He met his gaze, and from those unusually calm black eyes, Vanion read a turbulent undercurrent that, though not fully revealed, was still enough to overturn everything.

The adjutant suddenly snapped his jaw shut, his teeth chattering, his muscles clenching—he instinctively felt that no human being could possibly possess such murderous intent.

"Let's go, Your Excellency," his companion said again.

Where to?

"To your space station," Karyl said. "I have a shuttle that can help us get there."