Chapter 363 Three Grave Sweepers

Alexis Pollax walked through the corridor and headed for the memorial room on the bottom floor of the core ring of the Iron Wing.

This long road is similar in structure to the dark corridor in front of the Black Temple inside the Phalanx, but the color scheme is completely different. The corridor is dominated by the silver-gray base color of steel, and the cold white lights embedded in the ceiling and the ground illuminate the corridor.

The pure black corridor of the Black Temple leads to the place of hope where all the new recruits of the Imperial Fists take their oaths. In symbolic terms, it is like a bright street in the sky; the bright long road in the memorial room, on the contrary, leads to the place where the entire legion will be remembered after death. In form, it is equivalent to the eternal sleep of the Styx.

Pollax thought about these trivial matters to cover up his thoughts.

The Battle of Satradar Abyss was over, and the five legions were about to go to different parts of the galaxy. He had been putting off submitting his application until the last minute, hoping to take advantage of the last few days, when the number of other Imperial Fists who came to mourn their respective Iron Warrior friends was reduced, to visit the memorial alone again, hoping to have a few more private words with his old friend.

He first met Barabas Dantioch when they cooperated in the battle in Ultramar more than 20 years ago and lit up the Pharos Lighthouse in Sotha together. After that, when the Iron Warriors and the Imperial Fists needed to fight together, as long as it did not conflict with the battle plan of the Primarch, they were more willing to cooperate with each other and fight side by side.

Dantioch never minded that Pollax was much higher than him, and Pollax did not care about the difference in their military ranks. They rarely called each other friends, but everything was hidden in silence.

Pollax showed his application to the two iron ring robots guarding the front of the monument room, and the iron ring opened the door for him.

He rarely comes here - of course, no one will go to the funeral site of the Cousin Legion all the time to watch. The last time he came here was brought by Dantioch, and at that time he had not yet clearly realized that the visit to his deceased friend would come to him one day, or that day would come so soon.

At that time, he stood under the huge iron monument.

"What should I do if this iron monument is full?" he asked. Without turning around, he knew that Dantioch was also looking up at the monument. There were small and clear names engraved on the tall monument. It is said that the Primarch Perturabo personally created the machine dedicated to engraving this iron monument. The tombstone made of steel is just right for the tomb of the Iron Man.

"There are enough places to carve more than 300,000 names, Alexis." Dantioch replied disapprovingly, "Why do you think it can be filled?"

"That's true." Pollax said, "I take that back, sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Although this is a sad assumption, it is very rigorous..." Dantioch whispered, unwilling to think about the possibilities in the assumption. Then, the young warrior stepped forward, his fingers gently brushed across the cold iron surface, touching the indentations left by the names. "... Captain..." He whispered the name.

"So it can be touched?" Pollax was a little surprised.

"Of course, they died for guarding and fighting, and they would never mind the friends they guarded coming to get close to the part they left in the world."

Dantioch put down his hand, and his voice now seemed particularly distant when he recalled it, as if separated by a layer of glass or a continuous rain curtain.

"Lord Perturabo said that even if we sing songs here, these dead souls may be comforted, as long as we don't sing too mockingly. Otherwise, they will be expelled by the iron ring."

Of course, they didn't sing here that time. The rules that the Iron Warriors are willing to abide by are often one level more than the rules given to them by their Primarch.

The door opened silently, and the hall that could accommodate tens of thousands of Astartes was now empty and silent.

Except for another fully armored Iron Warrior who was as small as a single character under the towering iron monument on the steps at the end of the long hall, there was no one here.

Polax walked lightly, unwilling to break the tranquility of this place. He came without armor, wearing a ceremonial dark dress, and because of the rules of the Iron Warriors Legion, he did not bring any gifts.

Even so, the footsteps of short boots and the rubbing of clothes still echoed quietly in this huge hall, bringing the echo of steel.

For no reason, Pollax felt that the back of the Iron Warrior standing under the Iron Monument in front of him was inexplicably similar to Barabas Dantioch.

He tried to shake off his illusion, which was undoubtedly disrespectful to his friend and another warrior.

First, the warrior was slightly shorter than Dantioch; second, his armor did not meet the armor specifications of the battalion commander.

Pollax slowly stepped up the steps and came to the bottom of the Iron Monument. He looked up and looked for the name of Barabas Dantioch.

At the funeral that day, he remembered that Dantioch was engraved on the top of the stone monument, and it was impossible to touch it without additional tools.

On the Iron Monument, most of the warriors were engraved in places that were not within the reach of the fingertips.

Pollax took a deep breath and could not say a word. When he finally found Dantioch's name, he found that he was standing very close to another Iron Warrior, as if they were looking for the same person's name.

He hadn't expected that the strange Iron Warriors would take the initiative to talk to him - these Iron Warriors were often silent as steel and kept their secrets strictly.

What's more, the person standing next to him, if he didn't make a mistake in judgment... was probably a war blacksmith, the highest command level within the entire Fourth Legion except for the original body of the Legion and the currently vacant Trident position.

In short, he is a higher level than Dantioch when he died, and he should be a model figure who carries out the soul of the Legion.

"Hello, warriors of the Imperial Fist, I am the war blacksmith of the Fourth Legion." The unfamiliar war blacksmith looked up at him through a pair of visors.

His voice was rough and hoarse, as if his vocal cords had been severely damaged. It should have seemed strange to Polux, but that sense of familiarity that shouldn't exist came over him again.

"Hello, Warsmith." Polux chose the simplest title and looked away to block the lingering illusion.

Barabas is gone. he told himself viciously.

The war blacksmith nodded slowly. He seemed unable to move too fast, probably because he was injured. He took a step forward, and the outline of the visor appeared again in Polux's peripheral vision. The latter couldn't help but look at the iron-gray outline.

"Who are you looking for here?" the Warsmith asked calmly.

"My friend," Polux reluctantly pulled his gaze away from the top of the iron monument and looked down at the war blacksmith beside him, "he died in this battle."

The war blacksmith looked at him silently, and through the iron skull mask, the Imperial Fist could still feel the opponent's eyes focusing on him.

"You may know him," Polux continued, "Commander of the Eleventh Battalion, Barabas Dantioch."

"Yes." The war blacksmith confirmed his guess and fell into silence again, his power armor humming low.

Unless there are special circumstances, there are not many soldiers wearing full armor in the mothership during non-wartime.

"For whom have you come here, warrior?" asked Polux.

"Waiting for others, at the same time... I am also here to look for Dantioch's name." The war blacksmith replied, suppressing a cough. The sense of familiarity returns, hidden in the stress and coda of words. "And the victim Zoran."

After saying that, the war blacksmith raised his head and looked at the top of the iron monument. The sound of his heavy breathing was interspersed between the movement of the armor.

After a few seconds, the Warsmith continued: "What do you think of Dantioch, warrior?"

Polux was stunned for a moment, fragments of memories flashed before his eyes, and unspeakable sadness instantly penetrated his throat, blocking all words. He tilted his head, learning from his Primarch, trying to regulate his mood, but finding it increasingly futile.

"He is a... respectable friend and a good mentor... I am glad to know him..."

Before he finished speaking, he choked with sobs.

"Warrior?" War Blacksmith called him, probably a little uneasy by his reaction. "warrior?"

His tone once again matched that of Dantioch in Polux's memory.

Too similar. Are the Iron Warriors all so similar to each other? Or was he so dazed that he could easily mistake someone for the wrong person?

The Imperial Fist felt that his stomach was slightly spasming, and his eyes were becoming hot. The frozen mourning lurking in the depths of his emotions broke through the ice again, melting his mind.

"Sorry, brother..." He said incoherently, taking a deep breath, exhaling it tremblingly, and then letting his feet push him out. He could weep for Dantioch, but he couldn't weep in front of anyone else.

"Alek...ahem...Alexis!"

The war blacksmith shouted his name loudly, but was interrupted by a violent cough, and the second half of his name broke. The senior officer tried to catch up with him, but he couldn't match Polux's stride. When stepping down the steps, the soldier staggered half a step and struggled to stand firm.

Soon, Polux found himself bending down to support the warsmith. After the other man regained his footing, Polux let him go.

Then the Warsmith took off his helmet and looked at him in agony.

It was an old and tired face, covered with wrinkles caused by the erosion of time and scars caused by war. The pale hair and beard were like the snow in Inwit, setting off the face coldly. But the perseverance in his expression is so familiar. The sharp lines give this face vivid vitality and an iron will that seems to never be extinguished.

With just one glance, Polux recognized the other person's identity. His facial bones had not changed, and the fire of his soul had not changed at all, and even burned stronger and brighter.

"I am not dead, Alexis," said Dantioch, holding his helmet and smiling slightly at his famously scarred mouth, "I am alive. I am Barabas Dantioch. Don't worry. I cry, bro."

Polux burst into tears before asking why Dantioch was the way he was.

"No, don't hug me...hiss..."

——

"Zoran had anticipated his death, even though he hoped to return alive until the end. For a while, we have been trying to use some collected technology to make a homemade gene seed extractor... Anyway, in the end, It may be a miracle to be able to successfully recycle it.”

"That's roughly it. Later, I met a psyker and asked him to act as a navigator. Now... he is allowed to stay in the Iron Warriors' fleet. If nothing happens, he will stare at us endlessly. Then reciting his prayers with joy, praising the Emperor's angels..."

said Dantioch slowly, sitting on the steps with Polux, his own name on the monument above his head.

"No matter what, I came back and lived to this day again."

He patted the helmet on his hand, and the gauntlets collided with the metal surface, making a dull and hollow sound.

"In addition, my condition is recovering, although... it is probably not back to the level it was three thousand years ago. The Eighth Legion found several tubes of medicine called 'Essence of Life' from their secret storage room and refused to explain. Source..." Dantioch took a moment to adjust his breathing to relieve the fatigue of speaking for a long time, "and our pharmacist is also trying his best to help me."

Polux rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. His tears had flowed away, but now he was still immersed in the sudden surprise brought by the surprise. Sometimes he seemed to be in the clouds in the sky, and sometimes he seemed to be drifting with the waves in the river. . The huge psychological ups and downs in the past two days made it really difficult for him to recover.

Regardless, his expression has returned to firmness.

"That's good," the Imperial Fist said. "I'm glad you're back, Barabas."

Dantioch nodded. "Until the end of my treatment, I must wear this armor to stably maintain my vital signs."

"It'll be good if it gets better. I've been thinking for the past two days...why didn't you tell me directly just now? I thought I recognized the wrong person." Polux said with a cold expression.

Dantioch took his hands away from his helmet and placed them on the armor on his knees. His attitude was very even-tempered.

"I'm not sure how much I've changed, Alexis." Dantioch said slowly, his voice like still water, as if telling someone else's story, "When I confirm that I still have not forgotten my friendship for you. , I feel lucky.”

He closed his eyes, and the wrinkled skin around them unfolded.

"I can still suffer from your sorrow, time has not taken it away from me...I am sorry for not reminding you first."

"What else can I say?" Polux pretended to wave his huge fist, "I forgive you, Barabas."

Dantioch nodded at him, looking at his fist pump with longing eyes.

Polux pulled back in unwarranted embarrassment.

"How many thousand years can you live after this?" he asked.

Dantioch tapped his fingers on his knees: "I don't know. Maybe I will become the second Astartes in the world to die of old age..."

He suddenly fell silent, put on his helmet again, and stood up with great effort. Polux wanted to help him, but his old friend refused.

A warrior strode forward. Judging from his appearance and temperament, he was exactly the most standard type of steel warrior, stern, solemn, unsmiling, and majestic.

"Thank you for waiting, Lord War Blacksmith," the visitor said solemnly.

Dantioch, on the other hand, acted less serious. He nodded to the visitor: "Eric."

Then, he slowly turned around and touched the iron monument with his gauntlet.

"Here he is," said Dantioch.

The commander of the second battalion nodded, walked to Dantioch, and looked at the name: "Thank you for taking care of him, Dantioch."

Dantioch raised his voice and answered firmly: "Zoran has kept his oath, he has done his duty."

Eric smiled back. "I'm sure he will be delighted by your affirmation."

After that, Eric passed by Dantioch and walked towards the iron monument.

Dantioch turned his head and motioned for Polux to follow, and the two left together.

There seemed to be a weak and suppressed sigh coming from behind them, but it seemed like there was nothing.