"Come out." Konrad Coetzes said.

He calmly reached out his left hand and picked up an alpha that was not quite dead. The sharp claws of the adamantite metal landed affectionately on the man's exposed spine, and the nerves and flesh that had been entangled were carelessly stripped away by him.

Even so, the alpha wasn't completely dead, and his vitality was surprisingly strong. However, of course, this is not a good thing, and he will not receive medical assistance.

Coates grinned at him, and thrust his fingers down the wound with his backhand into his still-throbbing guts. After the elaborate decoration of the silver-blue helmet engraved with relief, there was a muffled snort of pain, which would not invite half a penny.

Coates let go of his hand and threw the dead body at his feet like garbage, then slowly lifted his foot and stomped his chest.

Blood splattered out, and he smiled softly in the darkness.

The fog was rolling all around, so dark that no light could be seen, and there were corpses everywhere. Even a rough estimate suggests that hundreds of Alpha Legion warriors have died here.

"It's courage to fight me in the dark, brother." He said nonchalantly. "It's as courageous as you came with the legion to attack Nostramo, now see what you've got?"

He spread his hands in enjoyment, his black hair fluttering, and an undisguised malice was revealed on his pale face.

"The position of war commander should really be handed over to you." He said with a smile. "Horus sits on it, and someone will be dissatisfied. Leon sat on it, and there would still be people who were not satisfied. So, why don't you just let you go? ”

"After all, you have nothing but courage. Stupid people can be forgiven for anything, what do you think, Alpharis? ”

No one answered in the darkness, only the faint sound of the wind whistling by. Seconds later, a voice rang out between the fog.

"Good agitation, Conrad."

"It's my heart."

The man in the dark laughed hoarsely: "You can say that, but I don't think you will tell the truth to anyone, your hypocrisy scares me." ”

"Oh?" Coetzes raised an eyebrow. "That's an interesting assessment, some people think I'm an executioner or a butcher, and some people think I'm a corrupt judge who cares about human life – but you call me hypocritical?"

"Isn't it?" Alfaris asked rhetorically.

His erratic voice grew fainter in the fog, and the fog's obscuration was getting stronger, meaning that Nostramo would face more demonic attacks—Koz narrowed his eyes, but he wasn't worried.

Using the power of subspace to fight the Nightblade is really a shortcut to death.

"You've always shown a great dislike for subspace, but now? Look at your legion, great Lord of the Blades. ”

Alfaris imitated him, and chuckled, "Don't you think it's too ironic for even the Lord's Bearers to say that they are closer to the so-called 'Divine Grace' than you?" ”

"Well, that's true." Coates replied calmly, turning his head to look somewhere in the mist. "But you're talking too much, brother."

As the words fell, a blade leaped from the void onto his right hand, obediently clinging to his armor and letting the five sharp claws clench it.

A cold light appeared, a cold wind roared from the darkness, and the fog began to be stirred up, as if stabbed by countless blades, and became full of holes and scattered in all directions, and more heavily armed alphas were exposed, no longer sheltered.

The wind seemed to have come from tens of thousands of years ago, from a night when humans were still in ancient times, from outside the dark and lightless cave inhabited by some primitive tribe

In the age of savagery, in the age when the flame has not yet been kindled, darkness will always represent fear.

No one knows what awaits hunger in the dark, no one knows what they will encounter when they go out. The primitive people shrank in their stinking furs and slept peacefully, but the night watchmen could only stare at the dark cave exit with wide eyes, listening to strange noises and screams.

It had been blown from the wilderness, and Conrad Coetz was nowhere to be seen, only the sound escaped in the wind.

"I'll enjoy the slaughter, Alpharis."

A second later, the killing came. The Night King appeared like a ghost beside the Alphas, his blood-red cloak dancing fiercely in the cold wind. A low laugh rang out with the sound of a blade slicing through flesh, followed by screams.

A never-ending scream.

The Alpha Legion has never known what fear is, and everyone has supreme courage, otherwise how would they dare to come to Nostramo and face the blades in the darkness?

Until now.

Until they met Conrad Coetzes.

Thirty seconds later, he escaped into the darkness, leaving only a corpse in his wake.

The Alpha's elite were unable to resist and were scattered in formation, and they didn't even know how many of them had died in those short thirty seconds.

It was as if the shards of the corpse had been slashed by a thousand knives and the blood smeared the entire ground, and the blood had somehow merged into a stream and drowned their steel boots.

As far as the eye could see, it was scarlet, and even those who were still standing had the remains of their brothers hanging from them.

A soft laugh sounded in the wind, and it reached their ears like a whisper, and then, a ballad. It's just a soft hum, like a lullaby.

But the Alphas know that it is death itself that is announcing, making an invitation, expressing gratitude for their stupidity.

"Alpharis, let me give you a piece of advice."

The humming man opened his mouth, his voice full of laughter that could not be hidden, and he was so happy that the end of the ligatures was full of simple joy.

"You can hide, you can run, you can fight, and you can gather your legions around you. But I can see where you are, I know who you are, and you have been marked by me. And I will not kill you unless I kill every child you have brought. ”

He laughed maniacally, and the laughter dispersed. A round of silver light then appeared, like lightning, before their eyes, and the blaster opened fire immediately, but none of them hit.

Darkness is only darkness, and the silver light is hidden in the wind as if it had never appeared.

The alphas' hearts began to beat violently, and they couldn't tell where the enemy was, or even see through the eyepieces what was in the darkness that enveloped them.

Just as another breeze blew, the gunfire rang out again, and by the time the commanders angrily ordered a halt to the fire, there were a few fewer men on the edge of their respective ranks.

Their weapons were thrown to the ground in an orderly manner, but the people were nowhere to be seen, except for the screams scattered in the wind.

No one knows exactly what they've been through, and some have even begun to refuse to believe that this is the voice of a fighter they know. They think they are strong-willed, and they have long since abandoned their personal emotions and turned them into pure weapons

And now, they are beginning to realize one thing.

Fear is not an emotion, it is an instinctive response of life. No one is exempt from fear, and the word 'brave' is nothing more than keeping sanity in front of it, nothing more.

"Assemble!" Someone shouted in the dark. "Together, he can't be at the same time—"

"—you're too noisy." The Night Lord said mildly.

A flash of scarlet flickered in the darkness, and gunfire lit up a ghostly face and his smile.

A head then flew high, and the person who shouted was already in a different place, and the headless corpse flew out sideways and crashed into the crowd.

The blinding flames erupted in the next second, and the explosion engulfed the detachment, and the silver and blue dragon scales turned into fragments and flew in the air.

"He's here!" Someone shouted again. "Fire, fire!"

"Wrong, sir."

The ghost smiled a little regretfully, and fell from the sky, creating two more corpses, so that no one spoke again, and they began to use tactical gestures and the built-in tactical voice communication of the communication channel, and the neural link signal would send the words that had already been edited by itself.

Then, as if as a matter of course, a cacophony rang out from their communication channel, and Conrad Cozna's soft hum as if he had come from the land of the dead.

"There is nowhere to run." He chuckled. "There is nowhere to run."

The darkness surged again, and he turned into a shadow and swept over their heads, receiving a barrage of bombs. Then he rushed straight from the front of the crowd, satisfactorily stabbing several chests with his adamantite claws.

Hearts are pulled out, entrails are turned into sacrifices on blades, blood splatters, and death is everywhere. Discipline, will, bravery. None of this is useful, because it can only be used in battle.

And what they are going through now is not a battle.

"Do you regret it, brother?"

Conrad Coetzes asks affectionately in the dark.

"I'm sorry you infiltrated my hometown, planted bombs, created chaos, and sent people to infiltrate our orbital weapons defense platform, this is Nostramo, and your invincible infiltration tactics won't work here."

Alpharis didn't answer, and a head was thrown at him.

The eye sockets are deep, and the eyeballs are gone. The jaw vanished, and the mutilated tongue hung on Mori Bai's bones and bled blood. Conrad Coetze's voice passed by him in the next second.

"I told you, I know who you are, Alfaris."

Another rain of fire struck, but it was still in vain. The fog lifted, and darkness had long since taken its place. Alpharis, who was indistinguishable from the alphas, raised his right hand in the crowd and stopped them.

For the next five minutes, no one made a sound, except for breathing, until a raindrop of liquid fell from the sky and spilled over their heads.

The Alphas looked up, and their morale was finally irreversibly shaken - they finally knew where the warriors who had disappeared into the darkness had gone.

But they'd rather not know about it themselves.

Above their heads, corpses and entrails intertwined to weave a vast web. The bones are the base, the internal organs are adhered to, the blood is the background color, and death is its name.

The cold wind blew again, and there was a sound of footsteps coming from underground, and then two heavy, muffled thuds, as if someone was knocking on the door—knocking on the door at their feet.

"Are you there, Alpharis?" The Night King asked with a hidden smile. "I'm here to visit."

Alfaris looked down at the ground and sighed softly, "Your mysticism is a real headache, brother. If I had known you for what you really were, I would never have taken on this suicidal mission. ”

"It's too late to regret it now, brother." Coetzes said. "Again, you are the ones who started this failure. If this war had never happened, and if the evil creatures of the subspace had not plagued Horus Lupecal, we would never have such power. ”

"You actually sound sane again now." Alfaris said in amazement. "I thought you would be angry at what we did."

"I do, but that doesn't stop me from having a conversation with you." Coetze said calmly. "I know what you're trying to do, it's just a two-handed plan."

"If the infiltration plan fails, simply send the army out of Mandeville Point and use sacrificial rituals or formations to summon demons and turn Nostramo into a chaos-soaked planet."

"But I didn't expect that not only would you not be able to penetrate, but there would also be no souls to sacrifice on Nostramo." Alfaris replied with a wry smile. "It's even already impregnated by the so-called forces of Chaos."

Conrad Coetzes replied with a burst of laughter.

"So-"

The next moment, the voice of the Night King sounded from behind him.

"—are you ready to die, brother?"

A cold light flashed.

——

The fog was blown away by the cold wind, and the darkness followed and dispersed with it. Bloodied Conrad Coetz appears in the field of Nostramo.

Over the years, there are not many places left that can still be called 'wild', and most of the area has been occupied by industrialized equipment and newly built cities.

The moonlight shone down, illuminating his pale face. Coz stared thoughtfully at the head in his hand, silent, until the voice of Anrique Barbatos of the Eighth Company sounded, and he moved again, like the resurrection of the dead.

"Primordial—" Enric Barbatos said hoarsely, black flames burning in his eyes. "—Civilians have been evacuated."

"All evacuated?" Coates asked, turning his head.

"Yes."

"What kind of efficiency are you?" The Lord of the Blades asked, puzzled. "It's only been three hours since the start of the war, and you've evacuated civilians all over the world? Damn, if only you were so efficient with files. ”

"These are two different things, my lord."

"What's the difference? It's the same thing, I think you still do too little on a regular basis. ”

Coates said as he dropped the head that belonged to Alphares, as if throwing garbage.

He smiled coldly and stared at Enric Barbatos for a few moments before looking away and bringing up something else.

"So, what's the current situation with Nostramo?"

Enric hesitated to tap on his helmet, but before he could answer, Coates glanced at him, put his backhand around him, and simply led him to the shuttle that was parked not far away.

"Don't you dare to say this? Then I'll do it for you, the power of the Chaos Gods is fighting with the power of our dear instructor to tear this nostramo. It's over, it's as simple as that. Tell me, it's not easy, Enric? ”

The Eighth Company Commander nodded with a wry smile, responding to the words of the original body. A crack followed his movements from his face, and dust hung upside down and drifted into the sky.

"subspace."

Conrad Coetzes looked at him, paused, looked up at the moonlight, which was so bright that it was not normal at all, and cursed in a murmuring tone.

"And the idiot Karil Lohals"

"Uh-" Enric froze for two seconds, then took a deep breath. "—that's not quite right."

"How?"

"It is a felony to insult your superiors without reason in the internal laws you have codified."

"He's not my superior, and I'm not insulting for no reason, I'm here for a reason, Enric."

Coates glared at him, the Adamantite Claws tapping his shoulderplate menacingly.

"He's not here, why are you talking for him?"

The Eighth Company Commander smiled bitterly again, broke free from the shackles of the original body, and turned into a black flame and dissipated in place. When he reappeared, he had already reached the hatch of the shuttle.

"I'll wait here, Proto." He said.

The Lord of the Blades gave him a cold look, did not speak, and turned away from the place.

He didn't walk resolutely, and his pace was slow. The blade appeared in his right hand at some point, and the next second, he began to run, unbelievably fast.

He made his way through burning cities, empty mines, bright but dead nests, and finally arrived at a hut built on top of a building.

Gone is the door that Roger Dorn had made with his own hands, replaced by a simple and unpretentious wooden door. Coetze pushed the door in, his cloak cutting through the frame.

The room is simply furnished, with a table, a chair, and a corner with a mattress. It was a far cry from what he remembered, and they didn't have such good conditions at the time.

The Lord of the Night slowly raised his right hand, and the blade dissipated like a shadow, pouring into his hand. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, a pitch-black flame was already burning in his eyes.

The sky of Nostramo began to darken suddenly, and a flaming and broken crown appeared in the air, and countless people had seen it with their own eyes, but only a few understood what it was.

Inside, the air began to grow cold, and the Midnight Ghost waited peacefully until a tipping point came, and the world before him changed in an instant.

In front of him appeared a narrow corridor shrouded in mist, and an old man holding an Aquila scepter.

"Your father is waiting, Lord of the Blades." Machado, the Palm Print, spoke softly.

"Which one?" The ghost asked deliberately.

Macado looked up at him, and did not answer, but sighed.

"That knife—" He held out his right hand. "—we need it."

"I know, otherwise I wouldn't be here." The ghost nodded calmly. "But I want to see him."

"He's not here."

"Don't lie, Machado, I've always been able to tell what is a lie. He's here, let him come out. ”

The Palm Printmaker nodded silently, and the staff tapped the ground, the lie was dispelled, and the web-like scene dissipated in an instant. A wasteland full of ashes has taken its place, and the pale palace is now brighter than ever, and the world has never been so alive.

A skeleton stood right in front of him, the mask firmly attached to his face.

Midnight Wraith smiled and summoned the blade.

"Take the mask off." He spoke softly. "I want to see my father's face."

——

Twenty minutes later, Conrad Coetze boarded a shuttle and left Nostramo.

He's going to Terra.

With boundless hatred, with vastness of sorrow.

This chapter is 5k, and the update is complete.

It should update 1.3k today, but I'm a little tired, so I'll owe another day (hopefully not profitably)

(End of chapter)