Chapter 565 83 Dark Expedition (Twelve, Massacre)

Chapter 565 83. Dark Expedition (XII, Massacre)

Hunting.

Khalil had not done this beneficial thing for a long time, and, thinking carefully, the last time he was so angry was on Terra.

In this way, it seems that the last time he killed someone with his own hands was also on Terra. Although his hands were stained with blood many times after his resurrection, those two monsters were actually not human.

One was just a false shell, without any life at all. The other was a man-made beast, without any intelligence. So, strictly speaking, he had just returned to the path of killing.

This matter was as disgusting as ever, and he was as efficient, skilled, and calm as ever. On the collapsing Power of Honor, his kill count that had stagnated for 10,000 years finally began to flow again.

The second person he killed was a fool who thought he was hiding well in the dark. This person was also covered with human skin, and it was freshly peeled off. The screaming face lingered on his chest, the wet blood glittering, but he himself was unaware.

Khalil pulled him out of the darkness, grabbed his helmet and all the flesh on his face in front of his shocked eyes. When he fell to the ground with a wail, his limbs received the same treatment.

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

They launched a surprise attack on Khalil, accurate and cruel, one person used a bolt gun as cover fire, and the other two aimed at his neck and heart respectively.

Treating a mortal so solemnly, it still did not get the desired effect. The bolt was stagnated in the air by psionic energy, the blade and claws were broken by fists, the power armor was stripped off, and the bones were broken and stuffed into his body.

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

"Who are you?" Finally, after the throat of the fifth victim was blown up by a bolt gun, he asked this question, his voice full of confusion and vigilance.

Khalil did not answer this question, he had already set his sights on the sixth target.

He turned around and disappeared from the spot like a ghost, which made Vanion feel a chill on his back. At the same time, a heavy object fell to the ground from behind him.

He looked back and happened to see a head with a spine flying out, smashing the wall, and being charred by the remaining current amid the wailing of the energy pipeline.

However, the murderer disappeared.

Vanion held the battle flag tightly, his muscles tensed, and his right forearm was gently patted. He turned around suddenly, holding the battle flag high in his hand--

"--Didn't I say that?" Khalil shook his hand and said to him. "My name is Khalil Rohars."

The Emperor's Scythe looked at him for a long time before putting down the raised battle flag.

"It's just a name."

"The name is enough, Mr. Lieutenant." Khalil said.

He turned around and continued to move forward into the depths of darkness.

There were traces of battles and massacres everywhere. The dead crew members were nailed to this glorious warship by their bodies. The glorious history was stained with blood, but they also resisted. Weapons were often scattered beside their bodies.

Vanion was furious for this, but he couldn't help but sighed slightly, full of sadness.

Compared to him, Khalil was much deeper.

He calmly realized another truth revealed by this incident: most of the rebels were executed on the spot, and they were tortured to death alive, with methods full of jokes and frivolity.

This is not an effect that can be achieved by disguise. Only those pure sadists can do such a thing.

Looking at this hell, it is difficult for Khalil not to think of Nostramo, the old Nostramo, the Nostramo full of acid rain, dead people, sin and depravity.

But that Nostramo has completely disappeared, and the current Eternal Night Star is a completely different planet.

In the mouths of some cultists and demons, it is called the "God's Domain" with awe and disgust. Of course, most Nostramo people know nothing about it.

They don't need to know these things, and they don't even need to see the real sky in their lifetime. The steel dome that has been gradually built over thousands of years blocks people's view of the starry sea.

There is no doubt that this is a shackle that hinders freedom, but it is also a necessary protection measure.

They live an ordinary and natural life under its protection, and everyone is free to choose the future they want-except farmers. The ancient profession of farming has disappeared on the Eternal Night Star.

The food people eat now comes from several nearby satellites that have been transformed by the Mechanicus. There are many kinds of food, both meat and vegetables. The only disadvantage is that it is dangerous and cumbersome to transport food from the satellites to the surface of Nostramo.

This matter must be accompanied by a local "priest" of Nostramo, or simply let Nightblade escort. Otherwise, no one can cross that sky safely.

Khalil stopped thinking and stopped his steps, and cast his eyes to the other side of the deck here.

The Power of Honor is a battle barge. It is an absolutely large ship, and its internal structure is intricate, but orderly.

The outstanding design of Connaught Shipyard allows it to have most of the decks that can be accessed normally even in this extreme shutdown state. It is incredible that the air circulation system can still operate under such circumstances.

However, just now, a strange guest broke into the "capture net" he spread out. It came from the outside world and also from the places on the Honor Force that had been completely swallowed up by the void.

Khalil narrowed his eyes and began to use his psychic powers again.

What he once resisted has now become his most effective helper. When he is unwilling to use another kind of power, it is the best choice.

With its help, the capture net was extended again. This skill, which had truly been forgotten by him for ten thousand years, came back with a new look. With him as the central axis, the entire Force of Honor actually fell into the net.

Every detail is emerging in Khalil's mind at this moment. As long as he is willing, this network can tell him everything he needs.

His first question: Where are they?

The capture net completely revealed the remaining twenty-four red dots, as well as their appearance, their emotions, and what they were doing and saying.

These people were activating the remaining escape pods of the Honor Force. They were puzzled by Khalil's existence and the power he displayed. They could only speculate that he was some kind of Chaos Demon in human skin.

Their plan was to use the escape capsule to go to the surface of Sousa, meet up with the large force that had evacuated from the Honor Force, and then discuss the next steps.

Of course, they were not idiots. Before escaping, these people had already activated the explosives placed throughout the Honor Force. They calculated the time correctly and planned to use the disintegration of an entire battleship to banish the devil Khalil.

But how could the devil get what they wanted?

Khalil turned around and stretched out his bloody left hand towards the adjutant of the Emperor's Scythe of the First Company.

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

He received no verbal answer; the person being questioned replaced words with more powerful actions. His left hand, which was full of blood, slowly grasped the flagpole of the battle flag under Vanion's sight, but did not leave any blood on it.

The next second, the sky and the earth were spinning, and the surrounding scenery turned into a vortex shape that could only be created after being violently rotated. Even as an Astartes, Vanion still felt a strong discomfort.

Fortunately, this excitement did not last long, but his misfortunes did not stop here. But just after he got out of the vortex, a deafening explosion sounded in his ears.

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

The four traitors seemed to have been bombarded by cannons, their bodies splattered all over the wall, but their upper bodies connected to their heads stuck neatly to the wall.

They are not dead yet and are screaming based on their instincts. Such a terrifying sight made Vanion hold the battle flag tightly. He looked around and soon saw something even more indescribable.

But he didn't say anything to stop it. He had no position, no reason, and he didn't think he should prevent this misfortune from befalling them.

Vanion has always believed in the simple creed of repaying tooth for tooth. What's more, he doesn't feel that these traitors only owe debts like teeth.

He looked at them with hatred until a voice spoke calmly.

"Don't do that," Khalil said, his hands bloody.

He had his back to the lieutenant of the Emperor's Scythe, holding half of the corpse in his hand, and was swinging it, constantly hitting a closed escape hatch with it.

"What?"

Amidst the collision of flesh and metal, Khalil spoke again: "Don't hate them. At least don't hate them as your lifelong goal. They are not worth it, your Excellency, Adjutant."

"Why?"

Khalil let go, dropped the half of the body, and then pulled the only two remaining targets out of the escape cabin. They fell to the ground in embarrassment, then quickly stood up and launched a counterattack that was destined to be futile.

One of them rushed towards Vanion, while the other punched Khalil with his fist. Rightfully so, these two different options were blocked. They suddenly froze in place like servitors whose programming went wrong, leaving only their eyes still active.

"Are you trying to persuade me not to give up my life for hatred?" Wagnon slowly spoke while holding the battle flag tightly.

He seemed to have the urge to do something. If Khalil hadn't been standing not far away, he would have pierced the battle flag into the chest of the man who was charging towards him.

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

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

After Kalil said this, he abandoned Vanion, who was frowning, and turned to look at the two people.

The capture net is still operating at full strength, and their inner thoughts cannot be hidden at this moment. He was able to do such a thing in the past, but the driving force was slightly different.

There may not seem to be much difference between these two things, but in fact they are completely different.

When you look at other people as a god, of course you can see everything clearly. This is a difference in personality, a complete crushing.

In fact, the word scrutiny may even seem biased, since the gods may not even be interested in such a thing. With just a quick glance, they can hold a person's entire life in their hands.

Using psychic power is different. This process is more difficult than the former, but it also makes him more comfortable.

He needs this bit of clumsiness to remind himself how hard-won his second chance is.

Khalil was concentrating on his work, but Vanion saw something he couldn't understand again.

At first, he found that the power armors of the two traitors were trembling. He thought it was just a side effect of psychic power, which was not surprising.

Although the mysterious psychic who was traveling with him was very powerful, psychic power was definitely not a gentle force. This situation was within his expectations.

Then, this conclusion was completely overturned in just three seconds, because the two power armors were degenerating.

Yes, degenerating.

The polished, smooth, dark blue armor plate turned into raw ore and metal, the artificial muscle fiber bundle turned into raw material that had not yet been synthesized, the rivets rotated, and the reactor disappeared in the blue light.

The black shell disappeared inexplicably from the flesh and blood, not only leaving no holes, but also returning the lost skin and flesh. Their faces, pupils, and pale skin began to deform rapidly afterwards.

In just a blink of an eye, the classic Nostramo appearance disappeared without a trace, replaced by two naked, bald giants with highly similar faces.

There was a snake-shaped tattoo on their left cheeks, their eyes were dull, and one of them suddenly lowered his raised arm, turned around, and saluted somewhere on the empty deck.

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

But this was not the end. With a flash of blue light, their disappeared forms were restored, and then they began to shrink rapidly, turning from adults into babies.

A round shadow suddenly appeared on the ground, and then slowly rose, including the two of them. The two babies floated in the imaginary nutrient tank, sucking their fingers, with various monitoring lines attached to their bodies.

Vanion couldn't help but feel a tingling sensation on his scalp.

"It's really interesting, forbidden flesh and blood technology, hypnosis, mixing lies with facts that never existed."

He heard his companion's comments without a smile, and Vanion looked over involuntarily.

I don't know if it was a coincidence, the latter also looked over at this moment. He looked at him, and from the pair of unusually calm black eyes, Vanion read a kind of storm that was not fully revealed, but was still enough to subvert everything.

The adjutant suddenly closed his jaw, his teeth collided, and his muscles locked - he instinctively felt that it was impossible for humans to have such murderous intent.

"Let's go, Adjutant." His companion spoke again.

"Where to?"

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