40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 718 11. Joint consultation (1)

The light in the operating room is a pale and stable color, very bright, but not dazzling. The pungent smell of disinfectant and the large medical arm reflecting the bright lights make the atmosphere here even more cold.

A child was lying on an iron bed in the center of the room. His neck, hands and feet were all restrained, and a variety of medicines were injected directly into his body from the needles extending from the medical arms.

His eyes were widened to the extreme, and his expression was extremely painful - all thanks to his wide-open chest.

"You're calm," Jairzinho Guzman said to the trembling boy. "Keep it up, okay? I promise you this won't last long."

The boy made two short grunts in reply. The medical officer raised his hand silently and tapped a few times on the operating panel of the medical arm. A new tube of injection was pushed into the boy's blood vessel to help him stop the bleeding better.

Of course, its effect may not be that good for the boy's body at this time. Fortunately, the medical officer does not need too long.

He leaned down, close to the boy, and carefully observed the gene seed in his chest that had not yet fully grown, frowning.

Five minutes later, he left the operating room covered in blood.

This is the case with any major surgical operation, with blood flying everywhere, broken meat and bones, and the operating table will be as bloody as a slaughterhouse, sometimes even worse - after all, the animals in the slaughterhouse will be drained of blood in advance.

Without the flying blood, the large chunks of steaming meat and pale bones would not be so impactful.

"How's it going?" Sol Tarvitz asked.

"Very good, as I said four days ago, he is a born son of the emperor." Guzman replied with a frown.

"But you don't look like you think that's a good thing."

"No, I'm just worried about him."

As Guzman spoke, he took off his gloves and coat and threw them all into the waste disposal pool nearby. The machinery inside began to buzz, and flames spewed out, completely destroying them in a flash.

"Worry?"

"Yes, Chapter Master Tavitz. Considering what I am going to do to him next, and out of my sense of responsibility as a medical officer, I cannot help but worry about his life."

His answer was serious and serious, but Sol Tavitz lowered his head. He understood what Jairzinho Guzman was talking about - the day after the conversation four days ago, the medical officer of the Eighth Army came up with a brand new idea.

In that brief meeting, he described his current existence to them in an extremely rational tone.

He bluntly stated that he was actually a very special subspace entity now. This particularity was provided by certain events during the Great Crusade and his own career, and became extremely widespread after his 'death'.

Coupled with the tireless promotion of the 'Jairzinho Guzman Medical Association', an organization that now spans the empire, for many years, he had no choice but to master some power that did not belong to him.

But he was unable to describe this power in complete and detailed language, and could only briefly express it as 'healing' - "I don't think it can directly solve the Third Army's problem. But I think it can at least solve the problem." Give that kid some relief."

Fulgrim agreed to his idea on the spot and gave him extremely high authority to support him. However, Saul Tarvitz knows that turning ideas into reality requires great effort and cost.

"When are you going to start?" he asked.

"A week from now," Guzman said. "At that time, the great sage Belisarius Caul should have arrived. My instructor told me that this sage has some skills that may be helpful to us on this rugged and difficult road. "

Tavitz looked at him deeply, turned around, and strode forward, but stopped when he was about to leave the medical hall.

"If you need anything, just call me."

——

Anazion Sosa Kaur slowly opened his eyes, feeling cold, heavy, and sad from nowhere. He pursed his lilac lips out of habit, twisting them into a sullen expression again.

He sat up and wanted to get up, but he put his legs away and sat cross-legged. He raised his hands and covered his pale face with those generous hands that contained amazing power.

Time passed little by little, and the old-fashioned clock carefully made by Belisarius Caul was ticking on the wall, but Anazion never saw any movement. He seemed to be dead. Although he was still breathing, there was no longer any heat exhaling from his nose.

His shoulders slumped far down, giving his sitting posture a strange stiffness and numbness.

I don’t know how long it took before he finally came back to life.

His palm slipped down, and his fingers passed through the eyebrows, eye sockets, cheeks and chin in turn, and finally fell on his knees. He turned his palms up so that their palms faced upward, and spent another ten minutes savoring the silence of midnight.

The portholes in his room did not lower their visors, and those wonderful sights and twinkling stars silently observed the giant who was falling into unknowable silence, and finally woke him up with a strong flash.

Anazion Sosa Kaur opened his eyes suddenly, like a resurrected dead, breathing heavily.

His broad chest kept rising and falling, and his expression gradually changed from calm to doubtful. He quickly stood up, grabbed his training shirt and robe, put them on, and ran out the door barefoot.

Outside the door was an empty gray corridor, dark and dark. The never-stopping machinery roared from deep in the wall, the machine spirit was roaring, and Anazion no longer had the time to stop and listen like before.

He ran to the end of the corridor like a whirlwind, and then pushed open a heavy metal door - there were no complex security measures, no highly modified sentry guns, and even no basic security measures. He pushed the door open easily, and saw a huge, bloated and busy figure behind it.

His red robe dragged all the way to the ground, and the appendages behind him were connected to the pipes hanging from the ceiling. Countless screens floated around him in the form of anti-gravity, and the data torrent flickered endlessly.

Anazion Sosa Cawl, or the First Caster, suddenly forgot what he wanted to say.

After hesitating for a moment, he came to the man's side and looked at his workbench. There was a servitor lying on it. Judging from the mark between its eyebrows and the degree of modification, Anazion soon realized that the servitor was a death row prisoner who had committed a heinous crime.

Even though he didn't know much about the Empire, he would not sympathize with such a person. However, he was very curious why Belisarius Cawl would personally put such a servitor on his workbench.

He decided to ask a question.

"What are you doing?" He asked in as calm a tone as possible.

"Reprogramming." Cawl replied, his old and hairless face seemed to be smiling. "I want to make its program smarter, at least not always misjudge its body as damaged when performing daily routine checks."

Anazion was silent for a few seconds, and then asked: "Is it worth your personal work?"

Cawl finally laughed.

"Of course it's worth it. No matter what it did in the past, the man was dead from the moment it was transformed. Om Messiah gave him a new life with the power of gears and machinery."

"And I am a servant of the God of All Machines, just like it. It does its job and I do mine. There is no distinction between high and low. You must know that even for a battleship of the Queen of Glory, a small screw is very important."

Anazion fell silent again, and felt a strong sense of annoyance.

It has been more than a few years since he was awakened again on Sosa. Now it is 010.M40, and apart from getting a name, reading many books, and meeting many characters in the books, he seems to have no other gains.

He still acted stupid in front of Belisarius Cawl, just like he had been awakened hundreds of times before, like an innocent child who knew nothing about the world.

Cawl saw all this, but did not comment on it. He just put down his work, turned to face his first casting, and made a gesture with his real hands.

"It should be your sleep time now, Anazion, and you usually don't come to my workshop to find me at this time. Is there anything you need?"

"Yes." Anazion replied in a muffled voice, as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say. "I had a dream."

Cawl pondered for a while, and an appendage behind his back rotated to the front and tapped his artificial eye: "Okay, what did you dream about?"

Anazion took a deep breath again, and with pain, began to describe the dream that woke him up.

He mentioned a giant eagle flying above the clouds. There were only rolling clouds under its wings, and no land or sea. A warm sun radiated its heat at the end of the clouds, guiding the giant eagle and allowing it to fly freely.

The giant eagle flew peacefully for at least thousands of years. Although it was tired and painful, its wings became extremely strong. However, I don’t know when the clouds became thinner, and the sky became as red as the summer evening. The land and the sea reappeared in the eyes of the giant eagle.

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Thousands of years of asceticism finally had hope of ending, so, as it should, it began to look for a place to stay.

"And then?" Kaul asked seriously.

"Then I saw vines, countless vines." Anazion answered, with a tremor that he had already noticed but was unwilling to admit. "It broke the land and filled the ocean, endless."

As he said this, he seemed to have returned to the dream again. He didn't know where he was in the dream, but he saw it all.

He saw the vines rising up into the sky, weaving into a huge net, trying to tie up the giant eagle and make it fall. It was dark at that time, and the storm blew away the clouds. The sun disappeared, and the giant eagle flew with difficulty in the rain.

The wind blew away many of its feathers, and the rain made it extremely cold. It was surrounded by darkness, and the net was slowly wrapping it.

It was getting closer and closer, and Anazion finally saw its true appearance - stiff and swollen fingers, dim and diseased eyes, pale, rotten, and full of malice - all of the above were connected and wrapped by a strange green, one of which was as thick as a mountain, and now they were everywhere, covering the sky and the sun.

In the dream, Anazion screamed.

Countless eyes turned around and stared at him.

"I'm done," he told Call hoarsely, head drooping, fear still on his face.

His creator narrowed his remaining eye and without hesitation started a storm in his mind.

His memories are too many, too messy, and too complex, so every search becomes a task that consumes a lot of his computing power, and there is even a risk of getting lost in it. But he is willing to take the risk to do it. , there are many reasons, but if someone asks, Kaur will probably only be willing to answer one.

Because I am Belisarius Call. he thought arrogantly and sincerely. I can definitely do this.

He is right.

A fragment slowly emerged, and his mind cheered for it. Many pictures rushed into his eyes, bringing this long-forgotten memory back to his mind.

In it, Caul saw the young Anazion Sosa Caul. At that time, he had not received this name, and he did not even receive the code name of First Cast. He was only called Experimental Subject No. 1.

Experiment No. 1 was lying on a large iron bed, falling into a deep coma. His chest and abdominal cavity were completely opened, the naturally grown rib plates were placed aside, and the bleeding had already stopped.

Call saw one of his appendages streak across the right side of the screen, then gently touch Experiment One's second heart.

I'm checking on him. Call thought. Then I started to modify him, on a more micro level.

I put many designs that have not been tested or have only been tested once or twice into his body. But not only that, what else did I do to him?

The picture flew by and finally settled on the bloody body of Experiment No. 1 and a data pad in front of Caul. There was a design drawing on it, with words and formulas written next to it.

I awakened his psychic gifts.

"Creator?"

The Great Sage escaped from his memories and saw the former Test Subject No. 1, the later First Forge that carried his great ideals but suffered endless torture because of it, and the current Anazion Sotha Cawl.

"I've noted it down." Kaul suddenly spoke to him, assuring him extremely seriously. "As soon as we get to Chemos, we'll find a think tank to handle this, Anazion."

The latter was shocked by his words: "Think tank?"

"Yes, think tank."

"But I don't understand, it was just a dream-?"

"This is true for ordinary people, but you have a talent that is different from most people. I didn't tell you in the past, but it is actually a psychic talent, so your dreams can never be treated as ordinary nightmares. ”

"Psychic?!" Anazion was even more shocked.

"Yes, don't be too surprised by Psionics. Come and help me lift him up, and let old Kaur teach you some new transformation techniques - how about that? Are you willing? Little Kaul?"

Shouzhu was silent for half a minute at that title, and then walked stiffly to the workbench and helped the servitor up.

Call hummed a strange song happily.