Chapter 564 82 Dark Expedition (Twelve, NIGHT LORDS)

Chapter 564 82. Dark Expedition (Twelve, NIGHT LORDS)

Vanion Tassiad had to admit that he felt dizzy. This dizziness came from the unstoppable blood loss, which was caused by a wavy long knife inserted into his chest and abdomen.

The knife was poisoning him, and he could even vaguely feel the serrations on the blade. They were like small teeth, biting his flesh and blood, pouring blasphemous and dark things into his soul.

Vanion had to recite the Emperor's prayer silently to gain a little peace, but at this moment, even this natural thing like breathing seemed much more difficult, so he turned to seek physical help.

He tried to hold the handle of the knife with his only remaining right hand and wanted to pull it out, but his fingers had just touched the handle when a bone-chilling coldness hit him heavily.

The handle trembled violently between his fingers, causing greater pain, but Vanion discovered another thing in the pain-the knife was alive.

And it was resisting him.

This conclusion can be proved by the simplest evidence, that is, a yellow eye that opened at some point on the end of the handle.

There should not be such a flesh eye on the metal and bone handle, but this is the fact, not only that, this eye is even bleeding.

Vanion stared at it with heavy breath, and his fingers, which were stiffened by the cold, danced in the air for a few seconds, and suddenly put them on the handle again.

This time, he was ready, and no matter how hard the long knife struggled, he did not let it break free. In the severe pain and more severe dizziness, he pulled the knife out little by little, completed his wrestling with it, and won a small victory.

However, the price required for this victory was amazing, because the blade was full of his own flesh and blood, and his feeling was not wrong, those saw teeth were indeed like teeth.

They were still deeply embedded in his flesh and blood a dozen seconds ago, biting around and devouring his internal organs.

Vanion looked down at his wound, and keenly glimpsed the rotten blackness in the bloody mess.

He immediately understood that he was poisoned and it was very likely that he would not live long. When this thought came to mind, the lieutenant of the First Company of the Emperor's Scythes immediately stood up from the burning ruins with gritted teeth.

He was surrounded by the bodies of Astartes, some of whom were wearing black and yellow armor like him, while others were different, with both black and dark blue. The armor was hung with human skins, skulls and other ornaments, and the blood-red bat wings and iron fangs turned their helmets into an ominous thing that could not be described in detail.

Vanion was not hindered by these things, but instead sped up and walked to a flag. A knight wearing a power armor in the color of the Emperor's Scythes was holding a giant scythe high on it, riding a white horse through the raging flames.

The horse was named Konabos, and it was the warhorse of a god in the ancient Terra mythology.

Vanion reached out and pulled the flag out of a corpse, and the end of the sharp flagpole made of alloy was full of blood. He looked down at the corpse with a pierced neck, and suddenly raised his foot and kicked its helmet away.

It streaked through the burning air, landed heavily, and disappeared into the darkness, but Vanion's expression gradually became serious.

He knelt on one knee with difficulty, leaned the flagpole against his arms, and used his right hand to open the eyelids of the corpse, revealing a complete darkness underneath.

God Emperor, Robert Guilliman.

He took a deep breath, then stood up and stomped the face to pieces.

Half a minute later, he found a Torchbearer Improved Short Assault Bolter with bullets still in it, as well as his own power sword and helmet.

The name Opal Day was engraved on the guard of the gun. Compared with their first chapter leader, the former captain of the shield guard company, and the truly glorious son of Guilliman, what am I?

Vanion smiled bitterly, put the flag behind him, and firmly sucked it up with the magnetic suction device of the armed belt, then moved the scabbard to his right leg, then sheathed the sword, holding the gun and leaving the burning ruins.

The air became extremely cold, and Vanion knew why. The sudden boarding attack destroyed everything of the Honor Force and completely dispersed the four companies of the Emperor's Scythe.

Now, Vanion couldn't even figure out whether there were any friendly forces on the ship besides him, because the shipboard communication had been completely paralyzed, and he was too lazy to use his helmet to call.

He was full of anger about this matter, but he didn't know who to vent his anger on. Although it was them who let the enemy board the ship and let the enemy ship approach, but.

Vanion stopped, raised his gun, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

A figure suddenly flashed in the darkness in front of him, rushing towards him in the firelight, with his hands raised high, and the cold light flashed. Vanion dragged his body to barely avoid the attack, and then immediately turned the muzzle of the gun and pulled the trigger to the bottom.

The assault-type short barrel and large magazine design brought about a volley of fire that finally hit the attacker. The explosive bullets did not really kill him, but the impact caused him to stagnate, which also gave Vanion a chance to turn defeat into victory.

He threw down the gun, pulled out the power sword, and rushed towards the attacker.

The furious blue light from the decomposition force field illuminated his appearance, and the helmet whose lower part was covered by human skin was flashing with two points of scarlet light. It was eerie, but it didn't make Vanion feel any fear in his heart. At this moment, there was only anger in his heart.

Fire flew everywhere, and the attacker blocked the attack with his sword, but fell right into Vanion's trap. He struggled against the sword, his knees sank slightly, and suddenly he retreated and let go, allowing the attacker's sword to penetrate deeply into the pauldron of his left shoulder.

At the same time, his half-remaining left hand suddenly hit the enemy's helmet. This ferocious attack regardless of injury made Vanion's wounds become more bloody, but it also made his enemy couldn't help but lean back for a moment.

It was this moment that killed him.

A cold light flashed, and the hum of the decomposition force field disappeared into the package of flesh and blood.

The attacker let out a low grunt, and his upper body and lower body slowly separated. The buzzing sound sounded again. In the blue light, Vanion gasped and fell to the ground again, but quickly stood up.

He had to rush to the main bridge and check the instruments. He didn't think that all the communication equipment had been destroyed in the attack. There must be one or two Meditators still usable.

Before he dies, he must transmit the true identity of his enemy back to Sousa, which will give them a huge tactical advantage. Moreover, even if not, it can at least increase the chance of survival for some people.

He retrieved his weapons and embarked on this destined to be difficult journey again, but this time, good luck did not favor him.

A brutal attack befell him again. A group of thugs who were dragging the crew found him. They knocked him to the ground, but did not rush to kill him. Instead, they first took away his company flag, and then Standing aside nonchalantly and condescendingly, he began to laugh.

One of them waved the flag gently, then kicked Vanion in the face, inserted the flagpole deeply into the wound on his chest and abdomen, and twisted his wrist.

He said in a strange tone: "This flag is really interesting, cousin. A knight on a white horse. Why, do you think of yourselves as saviors from above? It's a pity that you can't save anyone."

Vanion gritted his teeth and did not answer, so the man twisted his wrist again, as if he was deliberately forcing him to scream.

Vanion had no choice and immediately joined this special wrestling match.

He rolled back and forth in the abyss of pain, hatred, and shame, with sarcastic jeers ringing in his ears.

"These idiots actually let us on board."

"Yes, brother, I have never seen such a stupid lackey of the false emperor."

"Perhaps this has something to do with the fact that they are the sons of Robert Guilliman? You also know that the civil servant who can only modify documents likes to do this kind of thing the most. He turns cowards into superficial heroes. As everyone knows, A coward will always be a coward."

Amidst the laughter, the enemy responsible for tormenting him lowered his head, leaned against the flagpole and shrugged: "Hey, seriously, cousin, don't you think this is ironic?"

He raised his finger and pointed behind him, where an attacker squatting on the ground was skinning someone with a knife. Each drop of the blade brought with it a burst of screams, cries and pleas.

"Were you sworn to protect them?" his tormentor asked, suppressing a smile. "Now look what they got? Seriously, if you didn't interfere in these people's lives, they might have an easier life."

Vanion finally couldn't help roaring: "Despicable traitor!"

"Really? Is this the best counterattack you can give after everything you've been through? Well, cousin, I've had enough fun, you're just boring. Maybe this news will make you look a little more interesting. "

He let go of the flagpole, leaned down, and whispered in Vanion's ear: "Did you know? Our ship has sailed into your space station. Do you know what this means? I guess you should know."

He looked at Vanion's widened eyes, struggling limbs and continuous bleeding blood with satisfaction, and finally laughed behind the helmet.

But it wasn't over yet. He turned around and took a sailor with his hands and feet cut off and a mark of chaos carved on his forehead from his laughing companion. He threw it next to Vanion and began to wait for his last breath. Reaction.

The emotions that Scythe of the Emperor had been suppressing finally broke through the barriers of his reason at this moment, and his steel-like will was crushed amidst the crying and screaming of the crew member. Two tears slowly slid down his purple cheeks and fell into the dust.

"Well."

His tormentor looked at him bewildered, then pulled out the dagger from his waist, put it on his neck and shook his head.

"Seriously, cousin, you're making me a little sick."

He received a soft response.

"Indeed." Someone said behind him. "I didn't think I would see something like this."

The gunfire suddenly flashed, and a pale hand pierced his back, grasped his heart, and slowly lifted him up.

The bombs flew by, but none hit their target. The tormentor, whose heart was being held, roared unbearably, struggled endlessly, and was immediately thrown heavily into the ground.

The gunshots continued, and the bullets fired meaninglessly from the gun barrels rotated in the air at an extremely slow speed. Their target bent down calmly, grabbed a piece of armor plate on the torturer's chest with his fingers, and removed it lightly.

Then another piece, and the next one.

He did this methodically, allowing the giant who was much taller than him to struggle violently. His resistance seemed meaningless to him, and it was indeed the case. Whether it was punching or swinging a dagger, these attacks had no effect on him.

Ten seconds later, he inserted his fingers deep into the torturer's chest, tore open his chest, and lightly broke the rib plate and took it out, throwing it casually, killing the two giants who were firing at him.

Blood splattered, and amid the incomprehensible roars of his companions, the torturer saw his internal organs exposed to the cold air with his own eyes.

"Where are you from?" the man asked, then reached out and crushed one of his hearts.

The attacker was stunned for a second, two seconds - then he screamed.

"I'm asking questions. Are you not going to answer?" the man said.

He moved his fingers, pinched his vertebrae, and began to pluck the nerves wrapped around them, plucking them like strings. Then he began to break the little bone left by the rib plate.

He played the piano and drums quietly, causing great pain to the torturer, but also made him vaguely hear a gloomy ballad in this extreme pain. Long, gentle, overflowing with cold anger.

In this ballad, the torturer screamed, and his companions quickly turned around and ran away, disappearing into the darkness. The bombs fell, making a dull sound.

"Answer." The man said calmly in this rain of bullets. "Then I-"

He paused for a moment, stretched out his hand and grabbed the attacker's helmet, and his seemingly weak slender fingers turned the ceramic steel into soft paper, and with a casual pull, he turned the visor into crumpled steel.

The twisted face exposed below was sweaty, pale like a ghost, and his eyes were completely black.

This scene changed his mind. He stretched out his left hand, grabbed the chin of the torturer, and began to slowly apply force with two fingers.

Amidst the dull shouts, a good chin and a mouthful of teeth, tongue, and half of the flesh and blood on the face turned into a complex and indescribable mixture.

"My name is Caryl Rohals," he said, and then forced the mixture into the torturer's throat. "Remember that I killed you."

He raised his right hand, clenched it into a fist, and then slowly smashed it down, precisely controlling the force. He hit the flesh and blood deep into the attacker's throat, then the shattered digestive tract, stomach, and intestines. He persisted until his intestines were broken before he died.

After doing all this, Caryl stood up as if nothing had happened. He walked to Vanion, half-knelt on the ground, and carefully helped the dying sergeant up.

He no longer had the strength to speak, and could only use his eyes to beg Caryl to save the crew member who was lying next to him and was already motionless.

Khalil turned his head and looked at the poor man's body, then said: "I'm sorry, but he has rested in peace. But you are different, Adjutant Vanion Tassiad, you can still be saved."

The light of psychic energy shone from his eyes.