104 Dark Crusade (28)

Hector Kargio gripped his gun tightly, then loosened it, then gripped it again.

His fingers rubbed incessantly against the handle of the reliable weapon, producing a soft, metallic scraping sound.

The sounds of the surrounding flames should have completely masked this subtle noise, but for the three people present, his hesitation was no secret; nothing could conceal it.

Even Roboute Guilliman noticed the subtle abnormality hidden beneath his calm exterior.

"Anyway—" He frowned, trying to steer the conversation back to what mattered most to him now, "—If you're going to shoot, then go ahead. But if you're not going to, then don't stop me."

He took a deep breath, resolutely turned around, and walked towards Naros City.

The thick smoke continued to spread, turning the sky above the city a terrifying charred black. Seeing this, the young giant became even more worried, and at the same time, his animosity towards Jago Sevatarion intensified.

He couldn't understand why someone could launch an attack on a group of innocent people without any investigation or clear facts.

If the so-called Imperium is full of people like this.

The stench emanating from the burning Orks corpses wafted through the wind; whether alive or dead, they were not a pleasant species, but the young giant seemed oblivious to it.

He gritted his teeth in anger and strode forward. A spinning bomb grazed his face, sending a burning sting through him. Then came a stern shout.

"Stand still!"

Roboute Guilliman turned around, looked at the man who was holding the gun firmly, and calmly shook his head.

"I said, aim for the head," he said, emphasizing each word. "There's no other way to stop me, Astartes. Can't you see that?"

"I don't know how long it took you to get here, but I imagine my presence is a problem for you, so you're here specifically to address it, carrying a certain responsibility. In that sense, you should understand me."

He raised his right hand and pointed at Naros.

"I have a responsibility to them," Roboute Guilliman said. "No matter how you see me, that won't change. Doubt, disgust, hatred. Whatever."

"All I know is that I swore to protect them, and I will never break my promise."

Kargio slowly lowered his gun; his hand remained Stone, not trembling.

His solid training had helped him kill many enemies, and this time was no exception. The bomb was originally aimed at his head, but at the last moment he slightly shifted his wrist.

He didn't know why he did it, he didn't understand, but he did it anyway, just like now, he put down his gun.

Jago Sevatarion returned just in time from the pile of corpses.

"How amusing." He smiled deliberately, adopting a sarcastic tone. "Were you swayed by this fake, brother?"

Calth's Sons did not answer.

"He is not trustworthy. He stole a Primarch's name and identity, and has usurped the throne in this remote, barbaric world. Who knows what other ambitions he harbors? Raise your gun, Kargio."

Sevatar deftly removed his gun from his belt, but instead of pointing it at "Roboute Guilliman," he aimed it at Calth's Sons.

At the same time, the smile vanished.

The previously plentiful air suddenly became thin for some reason, and Kargio even wondered if he was 10,000 meters in the air. He even felt a sense of suffocation.

But his reason told him: No, you are still on solid ground, you are standing right here. The reason you feel suffocated is because Jago Sevatarion is plotting to kill you.

He looked incredulously at the Imperium hero, at that indifferent, empty, and pale face.

In those dark eyes, Kargio saw not a trace of kindness; in fact, he saw not even a hint of human emotion.

Behind those eyes lay only a chilling killing intent, an intent not belonging to humans, but to monsters, to a place filled with darkness and devoid of light.

Sevatar gently placed his index finger on the trigger.

"Raise your gun," he said calmly. "Otherwise, you'll die with him."

"This is what you call an Imperium hero?"

Roboute Guilliman exhaled angrily and spat the words at Kargio before immediately turning to Sevatar.

"Listen, you monster—"

"--Bang!"

Dirt flew everywhere as Sevatar slowly turned his neck, his eyes fixed on the young giant.

The latter clenched his fists, his expression extremely ugly, and a deep pit had appeared beneath his feet, from which wisps of smoke were rising.

"Remain silent until I give my permission," Sevatar said softly. "And always remember one thing: never call me that word."

He turned to Kargio.

"I won't say it a third time, kid. Pull up your gun, or you'll die with him. You'd better think about whether it's worth it. He may look exactly like Roboute Guilliman, but he's definitely not your Primarch."

"Wait, what?"

"Did I tell you to speak?" Sevatar asked without turning her head. "Or are you some talkative fool who likes to interrupt other people's conversations?"

"Are you trying to gain attention this way? Ah, I suppose so. You like the feeling of being noticed, otherwise you wouldn't have stolen someone else's name. Since you've done something like this, I shouldn't have had any expectations of you."

"I didn't steal!" the young giant growled.

"Do I look like someone who cares about this? You stole it, otherwise I wouldn't be here. I'm only here to Judgment, understand?"

Sevatar chuckled dismissively, his laughter laced with disdain, his eyes still fixed on Kargio.

Calth's Sons looked back in silence, not understanding why Sevatar had suddenly become like this, nor why he had done such a thing.

But he believed in him.

Of course, the other person doesn't think that way.

The young giant roared again, his face contorted with rage.

"I didn't see any Judgment; I only saw an arrogant bastard who tramples on everything according to his own whims!"

"Is this how you conduct your so-called Judgment? You order the killing of innocent civilians and threaten to kill your own comrades with guns. Does your Imperium's law explicitly allow you to do such things?"

Sevatar finally—or rather, once again—looked at him.

"Macragge," he sighed softly, complaining, "I really don't understand, was he himself ever like that for a time?"

"Never mind."

He shook his head, released his grip, Boltgun fell straight to the ground. This inexplicable action, however, seemed like a signal to Kargio.

From the moment this inexplicable standoff began until now, he had kept his eyes glued to Sevatar's eyes, so he hadn't missed the blink or the subtle pointing gesture.

The Calth's Sons roared and turned around, bombs raining down into the air, creating countless sprays of blood and revealing the form of a monster.

It was hit without warning, but showed no sign of pain; its stiff hands, dripping with blood, still reached for Kargio.

The Calth's Sons saw its appearance clearly, and thus, a question arose: What is it?

Instinctively, he began to observe and attempt to analyze.

This monster, capable of lurking among them, wore ill-fitting, crude iron armor. It was about four meters tall and had an extremely bizarre shape.

Its limbs were too thin and long; the remaining unmelted skin had been stretched to its limit, which meant that its limbs were probably forced into this shape by some means.

Its muscles were twisted, and bones protruded abnormally beneath them, pushing up the bloody skin, making everything look nauseating.

But what truly caught the eye was the enormous tumor on its chest. At first glance, it appeared to be nothing more than a growth of tissue, but Kargio's instincts as Sons of Guilliman allowed him to see more details.

He discovered that the tumor had teeth, eyes, and hair.

White teeth, blue eyes, golden hair.

Suddenly, the hairs on his body stood on end.

The next second, a chainsaw pierced through his chest, and this cruel weapon began to perform the art of slaughter with extreme precision.

The person wielding it must have slaughtered countless of their own kind; otherwise, it would be impossible for them to use a chainsaw to dissect a humanoid creature whose muscles and bones were already beginning to twist.

In just two seconds, the monster was reduced to a steaming mass of minced meat and bones, but its torso remained intact, suspended in mid-air by the chainsaw halberd.

At the same time, the full appearance of the tumor was revealed to Kargio, and he could clearly see a face in the very center of it, showing a look of pain.

A face that belongs to Roboute Guilliman.

"This Domien?" The third person present uttered a name in bewilderment.

Sevatar calmly swung his chainsaw, flinging the tumor at his feet before vanishing again. Kargio was about to say something when he heard a hiss.

The sky suddenly darkened, and he instinctively looked up, only to see countless black birds. They were so dense that they blocked out the entire sky as far as he could see, and then they cried out in unison.

Amidst the deafening shrieks that nearly destroyed Kargio's hearing, a question instinctively arose in his mind: Where did they come from?

The question was answered completely within a single second of its creation: from the clouds.

Or rather, they are clouds.

No, that's not right, they are the sky itself. This flock of birds, fleeing in all directions for no apparent reason, is gradually revealing the truth of the sky's canvas, as if the painter himself is scraping away black paint with a knife.

The original painting, a terrifying work titled "The True Face of the Sky," was slowly revealed.

Kargio saw a tower, a gleaming silver spire. It sprang up from nowhere, so vast that it could occupy the entire sky.

Layers of lightning surrounded it, making it appear as if it were in the eye of a storm. And at the top of the tower, hovered an eye, a sharp, beastly gaze, intently observing the scene.

Or rather, he was gazing at the young giant standing not far from Kargio.

"Domien?" he muttered to himself, kneeling on the ground.

He ignored the face that was still trying to breathe, and instead walked into the pile of minced meat, finding the knight's head.

Blood stained his hands, seemingly without any abnormality, but Kargio saw tiny, maggot-like creatures wriggling within them.

He raised his gun and fired, turning the head into ashes and shattered fragments. Blood splattered all over the young giant's face, but he no longer showed any anger. From that slowly raised face, Kargio saw only one emotion.

Remorse.

Kargio turned his face away, unwilling to confront that familiar expression. The Primarch had shown the same emotion when he first met the real Roboute Guilliman through a hologram.

Even though a hundred centuries and ten millennia have passed, the Lord of Macragge still deeply regrets the tragedy that occurred on Calth.

He attributed every bloodshed, every sacrifice, and every hardship that had occurred in Calth to himself. At that time, his expression was exactly the same as that of the giant kneeling in a pool of blood now.

Kargio felt a sudden stirring within him, something deep within his genes affecting him through a connection he couldn't yet understand, and probably never would.

In that instant, he saw a roaring furnace and a giant with his back to him, behind whom was a cloak that seemed to gather starlight.

A calm female voice, one he had never heard before, whispered in his ear.

Roboute will always make mistakes, son, but he will always correct them.

Who? Who's speaking?

This time, his question remained unanswered. Another voice jolted him from his reverie; that voice belonged to Sheher Cold Soul.

Cold, furious, and with a chilling, razor-sharp aura.

"Where the hell did Jago Sevatarion go?!"

Kargio turned around and saw the Supreme Grand Master of the Blade of Judgement standing before him, covered in blood.

His armor was mottled and riddled with holes, with sparks constantly flying across its surface and joints. In his left hand, he carried a smoky, mangled corpse, its avian features still clearly visible.

Calth's Sons was silent for a moment, then pointed to the sky.

"That damned bastard!" Sheher roared furiously. "I'm going to report this to the Primarch!"

But your Primarch is not

Seeing the Supreme Commander's fury, Kargio ultimately didn't utter a word, but simply gripped the gun in his hand tighter.

He knew in his heart that no matter how many conspiracies were hidden behind the current situation, or how the situation had gotten to this point, he didn't need to think too much about it.

He only needs to know one thing.

War has broken out.