Kalil raised his hand and displayed a glittering sigil to the Lord of the Eighth Legion.

It is silver-coloured with blood-like red trim and gold rivets. Its main body is a capital letter I, through which three horizontal lines of varying lengths are threaded to connect an eerie skeleton.

However, the skull's eye sockets were not empty, and two plump malachites strangely became its eyes.

Conrad Coetzes reached out to take it, feeling a hot heat from the first second he touched it. He frowned, and began to examine the mark carefully.

"What is this?" He asked.

"The Palm Print's Logo." Carlil replied. "Within the Empire, Machado is known as the Palm Sealer, but this is not a title unique to him. The Palm Seals used to be the name of a secret society that focused on preserving the history of humanity. ”

"Although it is now in name only, Makado intends to reactivate the logo and give it to a new, yet-to-be-established organization."

"What organization?"

"I don't know." Carlil shrugged. "It's not even established, it doesn't even have a name — the logo probably doesn't really do much for our mission. The reason why he gave it to me in advance was probably just to show an attitude. ”

Conrad Coetzes noncommittally placed the sigil back on the table, the skeletal malachite eyes glistening in their sockets. He stared at it and shook his head slowly.

"It doesn't matter." The Lord of Midnight said solemnly. "At least not for now, Carlile. I'm telling you that the First Legion is committing brutal murders, and it's not the enemy that's being killed. ”

There was a dull anger in his eyes, and Carlil smiled wordlessly, feeling a wave of familiarity.

If it had been in the past, perhaps Conrad Coetzes would have used his teeth grinding to soothe his emotions at the moment. Many of the nights that had passed, the Midnight Wraith had crouched atop gargoyles, coldly overlooking the entire hive.

And now, although he is very different, some things are still stubbornly preserved.

They are difficult to change, in fact, they will remain the same forever.

As the words fell, Conrad Coates stood up and carried the three stacks of papers stacked together from another desk dedicated to paper.

They're terrifyingly hard and incredibly thick, and, thanks to their dull hue, they look like unpolished steel plates when stacked on top of each other. Coates pulled one out of it like a treasure, and handed it to Carlil without looking.

"Look at it." He said.

Carlil did as he was told.

Next, his brow began to furrow. He saw the photographs and documents of one hundred and thirty-seven mid-ranking officers who had belonged to the Imperial Army, and saw their biographies, life experiences, and wars fought.

Some of them were Terra, and some were once even barbarians of the frontier world. Looking at the information alone, their lives don't seem to have much in common, and the only thing they have in common is only one thing.

They had all worked with the Dark Angels, and then, they were either killed in battle, or they were 'missing in battle, missing, missing', and there were many more junior officers, such as a non-commissioned officer or a gunner.

Their names and information were written down in neat notes. Carlil flipped through their lives through the words and the rough texture of the paper in his hand, without saying a word.

After a few minutes, he looked up, and another piece of paper had already been handed to him.

"And this one." Conrad Coetzes spat out a few words from between his teeth. "Look at this, Karil."

Carlil silently reached out and took it, and the contents of the paper were even more shocking. It is about a few thousand words, written by an array of contemplatives, with unique characters that are instantly recognizable as mechanical handwriting.

These thousands of words are a conversation between a soldier of an Imperial Panzer Division and an officer whose name has been erased. There is not a lot of useful information, but what is revealed in these words is quite sufficient.

"Private Mapala, what is the personality of your commander, Sergeant Tlynver?"

"He's a tough guy, sir. He is very demanding of us, but he himself has always led by example. ”

"What else? I heard that he was born into a military family, did he talk about it? ”

"Yes, sir. The sergeant often spoke of his father, a corporal who was part of the Imperial 799th Infantry Regiment and died in the battle to recapture the Per-1 satellite. He had great respect for his father, and the pistol he often carried with him was a relic of his father. ”

"Good. So, private, do you agree with the Dark Angels' claim that Sergeant Tlynver was killed by them for running away? ”

"I don't think so." (The agitation of the private's emotions is remarked in large bold letters here)

"In other words, you think your commander, Sergeant Tlynver, could never be a deserter?"

"Fuck Tyra! There was absolutely no way he could be a deserter, Sergeant Tlynver once led two hundred of us to kill thousands of barbarians in the ice and snow, and dragged it until the reinforcements arrived. He is our backbone, our hero, how could he escape?! ”

"Is it possible that he has a mental problem?"

"—a few emotionally charged curses omitted here—"

"Calm down, private. I'm just doing it routinely. ”

(The officer is silent for half a minute)

"Okay, now that my colleague has turned off the monitor, let's get down to business, Mapala, do you smoke?"

"I don't smoke, I prefer to drink, sir."

"Don't call me sir. Listen, I'm as skeptical as you are of the Dark Angels. Sergeant Tlynver is a man of great honor, and I respect such a man, and judging by his past history, there is no way he will suddenly escape from the battle. And there's obviously nothing wrong with his spirit, isn't it? ”

"Yes, sir."

(The officer in charge of recording recorded Private Mapala's very sad expression at the moment in two lines)

"Well, you and I are talking about one thing right now, Mapala. Do you know what this means? ”

"I know."

"Really?"

"I know, sir, we're talking about the monsters. The emperor blessed them to die, we fought side by side with them, I thought they were comrades-in-arms, and they fucking killed my commander?! Why?! ”

"Watch your words, Mapala, the wall may have ears."

"I don't care!"

"But the truth is to listen, judging from your confessions, Sergeant Tlynver was called away by the Dark Angels about three hours after the battle ended the second day, and what reason did they use?"

"I don't know, sir. The sergeant just walked into the barracks and told us he was going to talk to the angels and left. ”

"What was the tone of his voice when he said that?"

"It's normal, and he's still smiling."

"Very well, his body was returned to your position by the Dark Angels at eleven twenty-two Standard Terra clock that night, is that true?"

"Yes."

"What did he get killed?"

"Guns, sir, fuck (the officer described Private Mapala's choked and crying look in a few words) Blasters."

"Is it an Astarte-sized blaster?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well, this is the end of my inquiry. The monitoring will be restarted in three minutes, so let's get back to normal, Private Mapala. You're going to keep your mouth shut about today, okay? If the news leaks, we'll all die. Are you afraid of death? ”

"I'm not afraid."

"Yes, I can see it, and I'm not afraid. But I was afraid that the truth would not see the light of day, and I was afraid that Sergeant Tlynver would be spurned as a deserter. So, for Sergeant Tlynver, regroup, private. ”

(This is the end of the conversation, and Private Mapala leaves, dying in a battle a year later.) The officer whose name was erased made a note of the incident, noting that the note was written a year after the end of the conversation. He also writes that Private Mapala also died in a battle alongside the Dark Angels. ）

Slowly removing the paper from his hand, Carlil turned his head to look at the three stacks of papers, his face showing neither sadness nor joy. Conrad Coetzes crossed his hands and stood by the window staring at Terra farther and farther away, without saying a word.

"How many people are there?" After a long time, Carlil asked.

"It can't be carefully confirmed, the data is vague and sometimes even contradictory. The name of the recorder could not be traced either, and his name was completely erased. The Ministry of Military Affairs was unable to provide any information about him. ”

"Headless case, huh?" Carlil smiled. He grinned, his teeth fully exposed in the cold air.

"The First Legion seems to have a talent for that." He said with a slight sigh. "But this shouldn't be their highest level, there are more dead who may not even have names, but are simply marked as killed in battle, but then again, Conrad, do you know that the First Legion is mainly responsible for something?"

Conrad Coetzes turned his head and nodded slowly but firmly.

"I know." He said. "Fogen mentioned it a few times, and he talked about their mysteries and why they were so mysterious."

"In other words, our actions and tasks are inherently 'ignorant.'" Carlil smiled and said this, with no smile in his eyes.

He stood up and said the next sentence in a brisk tone, "Of course the First Legion has their reasons for doing this, don't you think?" ”

"I don't care." Conrad Coetzes hissed. "Innocence does not mean innocence, sacrifice is essential, but that doesn't mean that no one will go to them."

With a low grin, Carlil walked out the door to the Midnight Lord's office. In the icy Milky Way, Nightfall was heading for another sector at breakneck speed.

Finally kicked out ... Say it in advance, it will not insult DA and the lion king.

(End of chapter)