Chapter 584 102 Dark Expedition (Twenty-Six, Meeting with ‘Father’)

Chapter 584 102. Dark Expedition (Twenty-six, Meeting ‘Father’)

The Thunderhawk flew across the sky, the deck trembled, Sevatar put his legs together, and struggled to squeeze himself into a seat.

His current size is not close to the Primarch, but he is much taller than the ordinary Astartes, plus the fine power armor and the slightly obstructive cloak.

To be frank, his current posture is quite ridiculous. Although no one said it, Sheher Cold Soul was staring at him intently.

Sevatar buckled four seat belts and responded with a cold look. The Supreme Grand Master chuckled and raised his hand to point to the front cabin.

There is a place where dreadnoughts can be transported. The empty armed rack is reflecting a dark light. Sevatar glanced at it and narrowed his eyes.

There is no need to say what Cold Soul meant. Sevatar didn't say anything, but just gestured a little unhappy.

The cabin began to shake continuously. The strong airflow encountered after taking off was a dilemma that no vehicle could avoid. Perhaps those shuttles specially used by nobles and modified could resist it, but there was no such idea in the design language of Thunder Eagle.

Sevata closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing as if he had fallen asleep. In the invisible world of nothingness, a spirit leaped out of his armor and body and began to float around Thunder Eagle.

It was past noon, but the sun was still shining. There were many white clouds floating in the seemingly normal light blue sky. Thunder Eagle flew over mercilessly and tore them to pieces.

Sevata watched all this coldly, and a perception network suddenly bloomed with him as the center, covering everything around him.

Normally, he would not have to do this, but it was different now. Now, the situation on this planet has become overly complicated.

Orcs, Chaos, and Roboute Guilliman who appeared out of nowhere. If it was the real Roboute Guilliman who came here, Sevatar would definitely not be unresponsive.

The Lord of Macragge had become an eternally burning furnace many years ago.

He used his own pain as fuel to turn the rising flames into shields to protect innocent people.

The brilliance of the flames was so dazzling that Sevatar could see it clearly before he was forced to "promote", let alone now.

He opened his eyes, and the spirit returned to his body in an instant. The Thunderhawk began to land, and the heavy bombs under the wings were warming up.

Sevatar could hear their chilling voices. He had heard them too many times, but he would probably never get used to them.

And this voice could only prove another thing: the Sons of Calth had made some preparations.

The cabin slowly opened, and Sevatar took the lead to walk out of the cabin in the sound of mechanical operation.

The wind was rising, but their gunboat did not turn off the engine. All three engines were running at low power, ready to take off at any time.

The gunners had already aimed the turbolaser destroyers and heavy bombs at the city-state not far from them. As long as there was any abnormal movement, they would immediately open fire.

Five night blades followed closely and walked out from the other side of the cabin, standing in the sun and posing a vigilant posture. Sevata turned his head and glanced at Hectors Calgio standing behind him.

His eyes were like a sharp blade, piercing Calgio's helmet and entering his head.

With a stinging pain, the son of Calgio looked back speechlessly. He saw a pale, half-smiling face.

"From the perspective of the Middle Ages, this city can be called a fortress." Sevata said meaningfully.

"How about it, do you think normal knights and their serfs can build such a city? Look carefully at the city wall, it is mixed with metal."

Calgio took a deep breath.

"Your jokes are still as bad as ever, Lord Sevatar." Sheher Coldsoul said mercilessly.

He pointed this out clearly, and his tone even seemed serious.

The natural sharpness inherited from the blood of Konrad Curze and a certain intuition as the Blade of Judgment are gradually merging in the burning hot wind. If he is willing to take off his helmet, then everyone present at this time can see his trembling eyeballs.

But he will not take off his helmet. He, and Sevatar, will not take off their helmets.

The reason can be found in a group of stunned civilians not far away.

Calgio walked towards them, trying to slow down his pace.

He didn't want to cause "superman phobia" or let them misunderstand that he was going to launch an attack. Although Sevatar's implication and the city interior he saw in the sky had caused some bad emotions, he was a stubborn person.

From any perspective, Calgio believed that he must act rationally.

"Hello--" he greeted, trying not to sound so low, and took off his helmet.

Although some people of Koth were also born pale, at least they were not like the Nightborne, who looked almost as pale as non-humans or dead people.

To put it more clearly: he was one of the few people who looked like a human in this small coalition.

Ten steps away from the civilians, Calgio stopped. He stared at them, his eyes were not very kind, but they were not malicious either.

"- Is this Naros?" Calgio asked.

No one answered. The civilians holding hoes or shovels looked at each other in the unpleasant smell of burning orc corpses and the thick fog caused by chemicals, feeling uneasy, fearful, and unbearable.

Calgio could even vaguely hear their mumblings stuck in their throats.

He remained calm, listening to the sound of horse hooves coming from the east, and stood calmly. Two minutes later, a panting knight jumped off his horse and stood in front of the civilians.

Several others followed closely behind, riding horses and galloping, but none of them were as courageous as the first knight and dared to dismount.

They just stayed on the horses hesitantly, pulling the reins and turning back and forth. The warhorse was wearing a blindfold and could not see Calgio's presence, but it seemed to sense something and became extremely uneasy.

The Son of Calth saw all of this, but was indifferent, just holding his helmet and waiting quietly.

As the civilians talked back and forth, four minutes passed again, and the only knight who dismounted finally left the civilians.

He walked towards Calgio with a pale face, his left hand on the long sword at his waist. He walked until he was at the maximum distance he could bear before speaking.

"Who are you?"

"Is this Naros?" Calgio asked again.

The knight took a deep breath, and his gray beard perfectly concealed his fear. On his face that was old because of the war, Calgio saw a pair of fearful but firm faces.

"Yes - but who are you? And the few people standing behind you. Where are you from? Which lord's private soldiers are you?"

The Emperor, and Robert Guilliman. Calgio thought so.

"This has nothing to do with you." Calgio said calmly. "Now answer the second question: Have you heard of the name Robert Guilliman?"

A certain whistling sound suddenly sounded after this question was asked, and the speed was so fast that Calgio had no time to dodge, but he didn't need to do so.

He turned around and saw Yago Sevitarion and a huge sword in his hand.

That sword was not for mortals, not even for Astartes. It was too big, too heavy, and stained with mottled blood.

"Who are you?" a voice asked.

Calgio gritted his teeth, looked back, and saw a young face. There were no wrinkles on that face caused by pain and fatigue, his eyes were as bright as the lake, his golden hair was flying, and he was full of vitality.

This face was different from the one Calgio was familiar with, but he could still recognize whose face it was at a glance, and because of this

He fell into an unspeakable rage.

Sevitar stretched out his hand to stop him.

"Who are you?" The Son of Night spoke slowly. "Or should I say, who do you think you are?"

His words made the young giant frown, and more soldiers were coming and gathering behind him.

The cavalrymen who had not dared to dismount before finally had the courage. They drew their weapons, stood behind the man, and stared at Sevata and his men.

On the farther wall, the sound of the archer pulling the bowstring came into Sevata's ears from the wind.

How similar. He thought coldly. Leader, idol, protector.

He turned his head to look at Hector Calgio, who was gnashing his teeth.

It was really visible to the naked eye how much impact a young version of the Father of Genes had on him.

His rationality and willpower when facing the demon tide disappeared without a trace at this moment. Perhaps, he could calm down and pick up those precious things again, but this was not something he could do now.

From this point of view, Sevata sympathized with him.

All Astartes are like this. No matter how outstanding they are, they will be affected by their bloodline. There are very few people who can disobey their fathers or abandon this influence. Most people don't even realize that the Primarch is not always right.

Even me. Sevatar secretly laughed at himself: What qualifications do you have to pity him?

He gripped the giant sword tightly and then carried it.

"Want to start a war? This will not have any good results for you." He reminded the other party with good intentions. "I don't want to see things go to that point."

"Watch who you are talking to!" Someone roared. "You are talking to the Son of the Emperor!"

Sevatar looked at the man and nodded with a fake smile behind his helmet. His cold skull mask added a huge amount of solemnity to this frivolous action, as if he would launch an attack in the next second.

"Son of the Emperor. Indeed, Robert Guilliman is indeed the son of the Emperor, but-"

Sevatar was satisfied to see the giant raised his right hand and began to restrain his army. However, what happened next was beyond his expectations.

He saw the giant turned around and earnestly asked the knights, civilians and soldiers to return to the city. Rational, serious but gentle, he even listed the reasons why he should do so.

With his efforts, the originally tense atmosphere disappeared, and people returned to the city unwillingly.

Only Robert Guilliman, who was alone and unarmed, was left to meet the evil guests from other territories in their eyes.

Sevatar was not interested in their glaring, he just stared at the young face intently. He confirmed one thing again, that this false Primarch had no wronged souls entangled.

Moreover, he really sounded no different from Robert Guilliman just now. Maybe there was, but Sevatar could not see the difference.

He even felt that only Marius Gage or Ionid Hill, who were very familiar with the past Guilliman, could hear the difference.

He threw down his sword, took off his helmet, and walked straight towards the giant who was taller than him.

The latter showed a little surprise for a moment. Obviously, he didn't expect the face behind the helmet to be so ghostly.

Sevatar walked all the way to him, stopped, and then spit out a cold conclusion.

"You are not Robert Guilliman. I believe you should know this yourself, right?"

The young giant took a deep breath and then nodded slowly.

"Of course I know I am not him." He replied in a low voice. "But they insist on calling me that. They think I am so I must be."

"This city is suffering severe tests under the attack of the greenskins. For them, having a walking demigod means having hope and victory."

"But I know I am not him, so if you come because I used his identity and name, I hope you will at least let them go. Those people are innocent. They just want to survive."

He took a deep breath again, and his expression became faintly expectant.

Sevatar knew what he was thinking at a glance. He habitually showed a slightly sarcastic smile, and then shook his head.

"No, we are not here to check who is pretending to be his staff. We are a group of killing machines born after birth, one of the masterpieces of human genetic engineering. We are Astartes."

He saw that young face was briefly dazed for a moment.

Very good. Sevatar thought.

There is one thing that he has discovered since he first saw this fake. Strictly speaking, it cannot be called a "thing", but rather a "smell".

The smell of some gorgeous birds, the stench of some supernatural creatures that do not exist in the real world.

Very faint, very weak, but still detectable by him.

Sevatar slowly raised his right fist, and then clenched it.

Calgio and the young giant looked at him puzzled, until a few seconds later, a loud noise came from inside the city.

The giant turned his head in surprise and saw the billowing smoke. When he looked at Sevatar again, the expression on his face had turned into a kind of rage that Sevatar was quite familiar with.

"How dare you--!"

He pounced on him.

Sevatar sighed and dodged.

Hurry up and catch that damn thing, Sheher. He thought with narrowed eyes. Otherwise, this beating I got will be counted on your head.