Van Cleef tilted his head and stared at the Fair Zaloster he knew, silent.

The surroundings are dim, almost a completely confined space. The ashes overflowed, hanging upside down, slowly but surely floating. Five chains of Fell's own work trapped him firmly to a pale stone pillar, the ground pitch black, not like metal, with a faint fire.

"I didn't expect them to actually work." After a long silence, Van Cleef spoke, breaking the silence.

Fell looked up slowly, nothing lit up in his empty eyes, and it took him a moment to respond to Van Cleef's words, looking sluggish.

"They work, just because I haven't really crossed that line yet."

"But you don't look like you're human anymore, Fell." Van Cleef said solemnly.

"Really?"

"Yes. Intellectually I know you're still Phil Zaloster, but instinct tells me you've become something else. It's as if the only person I'm talking to is a skin named Phil Zaloster, and the thing under the skin."

"It's not going to come out yet." Fair said.

He looked down at the five chains on his body, and exhaled a breath of cold air as if sighing.

"The Chain of Vendetta helps me maintain my personality to a certain extent, and most importantly, I don't have to hear those whispers for a while."

"Call it the Chain of Bondage?"

"I've never been very good at naming names."

"No, I think that's a fitting name." Van Cleef said. He stared at the chains, and a faint cry came from his ears.

The never-ending grudges of the dead broke through the veil and reached his ears at this moment. The voice cried blood, and the hatred was monstrous. He looked at it for a moment before withdrawing his gaze, and then the sound disappeared again.

"Really?" Fell asked suspiciously. "Do you really think so? I'll be honored for that, Van Cleef. After all these years, you have finally come to some extent to approve of a name that I have proposed. ”

"That's it."

"That's enough."

The gloomy room fell silent again, and no one spoke. Fell lowered his head again, as if in a deep sleep.

The cracks in his skin were growing, and his armor looked like steel that had been burned and cooled, and they were faintly deformed. Van Cleef knew it wasn't his delusion, and he could see the faint changes in the lines.

The MK2 power armor that followed Fell for so long is nearing the end of its life, after which will it metamorphose, be reborn, or be reduced to broken scrap metal?

Van Cleef knows the answer, but he won't say it right now.

"So, where are we now?" Phil asked.

He lifted his head again, shredded hair like burning embers sliding down his forehead, obscuring his hollow eye sockets.

"No, let's answer another question first. How many of us are left? ”

"Twenty-three thousand seven hundred and forty-nine." Van Cleef spat out a number with a blank face. "You should know better than I do, Fair. I don't believe you can't hear them. ”

"I can hear you. But I didn't dare listen. ”

"Why?"

"I can't listen at this time." Fell repeated. "It's not time yet, Van Cleef, you don't know what I've seen. My death cannot come before that moment, and I must die more worthwhile. ”

"In a way, that's not death." Van Cleef replied coldly.

"But it's not a promotion." Fell replied with the same coldness, but with a wry smile. "I'm starting to understand why the instructor has been pessimistic about this all the time, he knows better than anyone what it is."

Van Cleef was silent for a moment, then chose to change the subject, his tone very stiff: "How do you feel now?" Jaylzigiotto asked me about these things, and we need to write them down. There will only be more and more people like you in the future. ”

"There are already signs, right?" Fell asked, seemingly unconcerned. "I can feel some fires through the walls and the floor, well, the first thing you need to write down is not to leave me alone with them."

"Them?"

"Those who can already arouse the flames of fury." Fair said. "I have some kind of instinct. Actually, it's craving. If they are not stopped, I am afraid that I will make their death early. ”

"Understood." Van Cleef nodded at him. "So, the second one?"

"Second, I'm hungry for killing." Fell said in a low voice. "Far more than instinct or mission, more terrible than the urge of a beast to have its full belly."

"How intense?"

"A hundred times more terrible than you can imagine, I know that this longing may never end. It is a madness that should not exist, and its only purpose is revenge, revenge for all those who have died in vain. ”

Van Cleef silently gestured to express his emotions. Fell laughed, but didn't respond. For the next few tens of minutes, he described his feelings in great detail.

Fell believed that he had lost his sense of pain because his body was slowly sinking into some kind of chill. The latter is changing him, making him stronger, mending the wounds he has suffered every minute and every second.

But this is the exact opposite description of his cracked face.

Later, he mentions his power armor, and he can 'sense' a vague consciousness whispering to him within the power armor, unlike the terrible cries of landslides and tsunamis of the dead in vain. The voice was low and silent, as if it had not yet been born.

He knew that his power armor was changing, and he was afraid that it would be the same as the power sword he had left on the bridge of the Glory of Macurag.

Finally, he brought up one thing.

"I'm a little worried about one thing, Van Cleef." Fell Zaloster spoke slowly and calmly.

"What's the matter?"

"You." Fell lowered his head and looked at him. The mourning bird's eye sockets were empty, but there was a real gaze on Van Cleef's face, as sharp as a knife's edge.

The company commander narrowed his eyes: "What do you mean?" ”

"You're burning."

"Go on."

"I lost my eyes, but I gained a different horizon, a new way of seeing the world. I can tell that you've been burning for a long time, at least decades, and the fire inside you is so strong that I can barely look at it, but nothing has changed in you. What exactly are you now? ”

"Good question, I wish I could answer you, but unfortunately I can't. I don't know where I'm anymore. ”

"Aren't you worried about that?"

"Nope."

"You're not afraid that you'll be suddenly on a certain day?"

"No, I'm not worried about that." Van Cleef couldn't have smiled more distinctly, a smile so pure had never been born on his always gloomy face.

Fell froze, unable to understand why he was smiling at this moment, until he heard Van Cleve's explanation. Or rather, see.

With the snorting of flames, a series of long blurred shadows began to deform in the darkness.

——

Robert Killiman looked thoughtfully at the sword in front of him, keeping a precious silence. Several technical sergeants stood aside, tools scattered around them, their expressions slightly helpless.

It was forty-seven hours after leaving Coos, and almost all the damage on the top and bottom of the Maculag Glory had been repaired, even the assault boat that had sunk into a corner of the bridge had been somehow removed.

The sword was the only one, it was so deep in the broken holographic projection table that it could not be pulled out by any means.

They also thought of other methods, such as dismantling the holographic projection table and letting the sword come out on its own - the results were not good, and they tried three times in total, and all the tools that tried to destroy the holographic projection table were completely destroyed by the burning flames on the sword.

It's just that the people who try to pull it out are fine, even if they don't have their armor in direct contact with the flames, they won't be burned, but they can't pull it out.

"Okay, I think we'd better get here today." Killiman ended his thoughts and said to his technical sergeants.

"It seems that the sword that saved us is a stubborn temper. If it doesn't want to leave, I don't think it's a big deal. The Flare of Maculag isn't just a holographic projection table. ”

"Don't you think this will lead to some consequences that we can't predict?" One of the technical sergeants asked cautiously.

"I'll tell Midnightblade and let them figure it out." Kiliman said, smiling, but a little helplessly.

The technical sergeants quickly followed his orders and left the bridge, and the maintenance servants were taken with them. For a moment, all that was left was the quiet sound of the instruments working.

Killiman looked around, and suddenly he was in a trance.

Not long ago, it was a nightmarish scene, with demons raging, killing and blood spilling all over the ground. What now?

Now, the walls are brand new, the floor is smooth and waxed, all the instruments have been repaired, and the completely destroyed ones have been replaced.

Kiriman sighed, not sentimental, he was just worried about Makurag.

The Whisperers don't rest on their laurels, and Nightblade and the Ultramarines highlighted this in their joint post-war report

For tactical purposes, Kiliman doesn't think the Bearers will let this opportunity go. They were already in the Extreme Field, and the rest of the world had no idea what was going on with Couss.

They can continue to launch dastardly attacks, just as they did on Cowes.

Robert Killiman frowned, forcing himself to end his thoughts, he couldn't think about it anymore, and the immediate priority now was to get supplies and get the news out

He walked over to the sword with his hands behind his back and glanced down at it, the pale grip catching his attention.

It looked like it was made up of two sharp bones twisted and twisted into each other, with sharp, glistening ends. The sword grid is pitch black, looking straight and reliable, with a dull ruby set in the center of the sword grid. The blade was unobservable, and it was all sunk into a holographic projection table, wrapped in steel.

The Lord of Maculag looked at it like this, for a long time. Later that day, he returned to his office with a sword, sealed it himself, and handed it over to the Nightblades' ships.

There is one more chapter.

(End of chapter)