Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man.
He knew that himself. If you grew up on Nostramo, such notions will be erased immediately.
A world of eternal darkness. Where neither light nor fire illuminate the world nor the hearts of men.
But Sevatar wasn't evil. He was ruthless, yes, but not evil.
He knew that being born in the dark wasn't a reason to be a minion of the dark.
Yes, he saw great evil. Every native of Nostramo knew evil at one point in their life. Whether they did it themselves or were an unwilling audience for it, no one can really determine.
For the man named "evil" always dares to make himself at home in the hearts of men.
But then he appeared, like a hunter at night. He who saved that wretched world of his.
"We dwell in the dark so that those under our charge may bask eternally in the radiance of the light."
Such words…No wonder his Lord Primarch managed to turn that decrepit and defunct world of theirs into something more human.
The Lord of the Night cloaked the world with light.
Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man. He's not good with people nor in interacting with others.
Arrogant.
Ruthless.
Apathetic.
Those words were true, indeed. He does not deny any of it. When his gifts awakened, those traits were further amplified. He almost stopped sympathizing with common men.
But even still…. His Lord understood him.
"I trust you to complete this task."
Those words from his Lord meant something. His Lord can see the future, just as he can, though into a lesser degree. Yet, he chose to trust him above all others to carry out the task.
Him, Jago Sevatarion of the First Claw of the Eight Legion, of all people. Ruthless Sevatar, who only knew cruelty in his youth.
Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man. But he is not an imbecile. He has a mission.
To serve in the dark, without complaint. To protect without acknowledgment. To be the one that revels as a lord in the night.
That's why, even as he fell to his knees, holding his sword as his only support, Sevatar smiled.
Sevatar smiled as his bloody body began to buckle with his power sword as his only support. Bodies of Transhuman warriors surrounding him.
Corpses. Traitors.
Even as Sevatar spit blood, he grinned.
Wounds in the body, uncountable. Punctures, burns, lacerations, deep wounds. Damages that will kill a human over a thousand times already.
"…Any last words, servant of the False Emperor?" A man in half-broken armor, the designated Gothic Numeral on his pauldron covered with dust and blood, stated. His disposition oozed corruption.
A genetic demigod. Corrupted by the dark.
Sevatar grinned.
"Only that you tell your traitorous Lord how you failed to defend this planet." Sevatar said with a grin. His Larraman's Organ can't heal all of his uncountable deep wounds fast enough.
Even still, at the precipice of death, Sevatar grinned.
He grinned just like he did during his youth at Nostramo.
But this time, his grin wasn't malicious. It was radiant.
Despite being a creature molded by the dark, he's not of the dark.
'Lord Primarch….Your trust was not wasted. Mission….Accomplished...' Sevatar thought as he closed his eyes, waiting for the ultimatum.
Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man. That's why, he accepts his fate. He protected the light. He kept the fire alive.
A noble aristocrat of the night.
Yet, the ultimatum that he expected never came.
'Hmm?' Sevatar closed his eyes, wondering what's the hold up. Did the wretched traitor think to mock him again?
But that was not the case as he stared at his former executioner.
"What!?" The wretched traitor asked in utter surprise as his bloodied and close-to-broken body stopped moving.
"…Shadow-sama's intel and intuition were right. There is indeed fierce fighting ongoing between the Traitors and a Chapter of the Eight in this recluse system…" A womanly voice echoed behind the gigantic transhuman warrior.
The wretched traitor spit blood; his other heart was punctured by something.
Slime. Malleable. Great psychic conductor.
Were the armor of the traitor was working properly or his body was at it's peak condition, such attack would just tickle him. But the Lords of the Night broke his body so much that even with this simple attack, his transhuman body would keel.
But an Astartes is still an Astartes.
Even after being surprise attacked and got the last of his heart, the other one crushed by the now kneeling Lord of the Night, he still reacted with lightning-fast speed and his adamantium coated mace was onto the face of the woman behind his back.
But Sevatar wasn't watching. He's not an amateur fighter. He has bathed in Galactic War for centuries. Even a toddler would learn how to fight prodigiously by that time.
And so, the aristocratic warrior of the night concentrated.
0.0001 second. Lightning-fast reaction. Superhuman reflexes. Material and arcane forged muscles moved.
Before the mace even descended on the face of the woman, Sevatar had already severed the head of the traitor.
The head rolled on the ground.
Sevatar lost his grip on his blade. He used his last ounce of strength on that maneuver.
He fell into the mud, staring at the one he saved and the one that saved him.
"….Thank you…..But it is not necessary.." The voice of a woman, cloaked in robe, stated.
"….Same to you….I never knew that I would thank a mortal." Sevatar said with a grin.
The woman in robe nodded in acknowledgment and gratitude.
"….Who are you anyway?" Sevatar asked the woman wearing a black robe.
"…" the woman stayed silent.
Then she removed the hood of the robe covering her face.
Jago Sevatarion was not a nice man. Even still, he knows a beautiful feature when he sees one.
White hair. Lush lips. Youthful yet mature features. Beautiful face. Knife-ears.
Sevatar's thoughts immediately came to a harsh halt.
Sevatar opened his eyes so wide and immediately thought, 'Knife-ears!? Aeldari!?'
He tried to reach for his sword, yet he can't do it. He's been fighting for weeks without rest nor sleeping. His transhuman demigod body is doing everything to keep him alive. Yet, all of it is spent now.
The white-haired being watched him and immediately deduced his thoughts.
"I'm not your enemy…." She stated with timid yet experienced eyes.
"…How do I know that?" Sevatar asked with a snarl.
"…" The white-haired being with pointed ears simply stared.
"Oi, No. 665 what is taking you so long?" An irritated woman's voice asked. Another one of the robed beings appeared.
"…I'm just accomplishing one of the objectives of the mission…" The white-haired being, No. 665, said.
"Well, it's over now isn't it? Let's hurry up now! We can't disappoint Shadow-sama." The other robed woman said to her alleged comrade.
Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man. But even still, he has to ask.
"Who are you?"
"…We are Shadow Garden. We lurk in the shadows. We hunt in the Shadows." No, 665 simply stated.
Then, Sevatar's eyes widened.
'Shadow Garden? Isn't that the XVII's and Sigilite's….' Sevatar cut off his thoughts. Though the information is incomplete, it is enough.
"…What is your mission?" Sevatar asked with absolute seriousness.
"Huh! We are in not obligated to tell yo—" The comrade of the 665 immediately bursted out. But 665 stopped her.
"We are here to check the situation on this specific star system. We have heard that one of the main fortresses of the traitors is located within this sub-sector. In fact, we heard that some dark arsenals are being made here by the traitors and the hereteks." No. 665 stated.
"Huh!? Why did you tell that!? Shadow-sama will punish you?" her comrade immediately screamed at her.
No. 665 ignored her.
Sevatar listened, closed his eyes, and opened them again.
Jago Sevatarion was not a kind man. That's why he dared to state,
"I will go with you."
And so, a shadow met another shadow. The Lords and Ladies of the night met. The nobles of the dark were entangled in the same quest. To protect the radiance of the light.