40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 215 40. Reserve versus reserve, long sword versus halberd

I'm going to lose.

Shen was able to perceive this matter very clearly. This was not a self-deprecation extended from the so-called low self-confidence, but an honest statement of the facts.

Before Sigismund even stepped into the ring, Shen used the instinct he had developed over the past two years to sense the danger approaching.

In his perception, Sigismund was not a person, but a walking sword.

He walked with his head held high, but only his toes really touched the ground. His right hand was lifted higher than his left hand and placed on his waist. Even the rotation of his shoulders was somewhat distorted.

Sigismund maintained his walking posture, but he still had the habit of being ready to fight at any time and at any time.

Yes, habit.

It's like a ferocious beast.

This is why Shen Hui rarely chooses to attack at the beginning of the battle.

In the past two years, his preferred strategy is to use speed to deal with the opponent first. After fully memorizing and understanding the opponent's moves and habits, he will actually start to attack.

But he cannot extend this habit to Sigismund, otherwise he will definitely lose.

It's not that Shen can't accept defeat, but he can't accept that he personally gave up the chance to win. Now, the battle has officially entered a fever pitch.

Sigismund was like an iron tree that stood firm in the storm. He ate all of Shen's attacks. No stabs or slashes could escape from his airtight sword force. He used his sword and hands to construct a towering giant net, tightly binding Shen inside.

Breathing deeply, the voices of the people in the audience and the sound of swords clashing were already far away from his hearing. They disappeared immediately like blood stains washed away by raindrops and could not stay.

His eyes were fixed on Sigismund's wrists and shoulders during the high-speed battle, and his instincts were beating wildly in his mind.

A ferocious anger was revealed on Shen's face - yes, I will lose, but I won't let you win so easily.

His opponent answered with his sword - Sigismund raised his hands in the air and made a slashing gesture, but then his wrists suddenly rotated, and he used a powerful, heavy and terrifying slash to force Shen to take a few steps back. The distance advantage he had finally earned disappeared.

"Come on," the Imperial Fist said seriously.

He stood there and returned to the posture of holding the sword with one hand. The arm trembled slightly, and the weighted ball at the end of the sword hilt pressed against the wrist, rubbing gently and gently. The calmness he had maintained disappeared. He stared into Shen's eyes, and there was nothing else in the world.

"Okay." Shen spit out a single syllable, and the storm came again.

Glide—again. The speed is not fast, but it is so weird that it feels like witnessing a ghost walking through the steel jungle.

Arcturro, who woke up slowly in the audience, took a deep breath and finally understood that he had not lost unfairly. This method is almost equivalent to a sure-kill move for anyone who has never seen it or cannot grasp its meaning.

So, which one is Sigismund?

The lights were dazzling, and the crowd's voices suddenly disappeared.

Shen's wrists were crossed and they were leaning together. In a flash of lightning, he passed Sigismund with his short knife like lightning, and the dull sound of steel and flesh colliding immediately sounded.

The short knife came out of his hand, spinning and falling onto the iron mesh of the training cage. Sigismund still held the sword with both hands, the blade of the sword was placed on Shen's neck, and he was breathing lightly.

But Shen's weapon had disappeared. He lowered his head and glanced at his hands with a serious expression. The fingers were trembling, and some of them were twisted.

The Imperial Fists erupted into another overwhelming sound, no less than what the Night Blades had made before.

"It's terrible," Sigismund said sincerely. "Even if I have been prepared, there is no way I can predict from which angle you are going to attack me. What kind of technique is this, Shen? I beg you to tell me its name."

He seemed to have withdrawn from the fighting state, and the extreme concentration and ruthlessness left his eyes. There was an obvious friendliness in his royal blue eyes. He even retracted the blade and stood there, waiting for Shen's answer.

"It has no name, I'm sorry, Sigismund." The Nostramo smiled wanly. "But it's our instructor's technique, and besides, you're really strong."

"Thank you. But I don't have enough," said Sigismund. "I'm nowhere near what we're trying to do."

"Stop chatting there. If you lose, come down." A person in the audience said gloomily.

He stretched out his hands, grabbed the spiked iron net rudely and roughly, and hissed from between his teeth: "Hey! You, your name is Sigismund, right? I'll do it. Fight with you!"

Shen sighed.

"That's what he is," he said to Sigismund, slightly apologetically. "Don't care"

"I will not."

Shen stepped past him, his apology disappeared, and a slightly cold smile appeared on his pale face: "No, Sigismund, I am not referring to his etiquette issues."

He picked up the dagger, walked to the iron cage door, turned around and said the last words, which made the kindness in Sigismund's eyes disappear instantly.

"I'm telling you not to worry about the failure that's coming soon."

——

Sigismund observed his opponent and felt a sudden heaviness.

Don't get me wrong, this is not because of the weapon used by his opponent. Although the chain halberd is not a common weapon, it does not mean that its user will be difficult to deal with.

Sigismund believed that the sword was the perfect weapon. The reason why he was like this was because of his opponent's dark and deep eyes.

There is also a beast-like habit in those eyes. And unlike him, he acquired this character later in life and took great strides towards it as one of his future goals.

His opponent seemed to be born with another, more terrifying, wild nature.

This kind of wild nature that wants to completely dismantle the opponent and knock every bone bit by bit, strip away all the flesh, blood and marrow, and eat them clean.

Just terrible.

I'm going to have a tough fight. Sigismund thought this way, not only did he not feel any pressure in his thoughts, he even felt a sense of happiness.

He welcomes a challenge, as every Imperial Fist welcomes a challenge. People must face high pressure and be tempered before they can bear the heavy weight.

"Is your name Sevita, cousin?" Sigismund asked, holding a sword in one hand.

"What, are you thinking of having a relationship with me?" His pale opponent didn't seem to appreciate his kindness, and his voice was full of sarcasm.

"You don't think that I will introduce myself to you properly before starting the fight, do you? Or are you actually very pedantic and even have to go through a full set of etiquette with your opponent before starting the fight?"

"I have no requirements for this kind of thing." Sigismund calmly raised his hand and raised his blunt sword in front of him. "I just want to know your last name."

"What the hell does that have to do with you?" Savita asked vulgarly.

His words caused a burst of opposition among the Imperial Fists in the audience, and some even began to shake the iron fence with their hands and roared with contempt at him.

Sevatar looked back with a sneer, and made the gang gestures from Nostramo to these men who were far older and more powerful than him.

Sigismund finally shook his head.

"Would it make you feel better to insult my officers, seniors and brothers?" he asked seriously. "Provoking this tactic won't work for me, Sevita of the Midnight Blade, come and fight."

"oh--"

Savita turned her head, grinned, and smiled, her voice soft.

"——I'm sorry, I'm really sorry that I hurt your fragile heart, cousin. But I think that I should have the final say on when the battle starts and when it ends."

The Midnight Blades laughed, and the Imperial Fists glared at them coldly without saying a word.

In the training cage, the battle begins quietly. Sigismund was the first to attack, his sword blade flashing through the air and meeting a chain halberd that had been prepared.

The saw teeth made of ordinary steel rotated and sparks were produced when they collided with Sigismund's sword. The longer the weapons were in contact, the longer they wrestled, the more Sigismund's arms trembled.

The serrations themselves were not just destabilizing his weapon, they were sapping his strength. Sigismund immediately drew back warily, but his opponent still stood there, his eyes sparkling and his smile flawless.

"You are so weak." He said deliberately. "You're so weak, but you still want to win against me?"

Sigismund closed his mouth tightly and completely ignored Sevatar's words. He curled his fingers, feeling the balance of the blade, and took a deep breath of air. His heartbeat gradually weakened and his pulse slowed down little by little.

The world became silent again, and even gradually became darker. Between the serious and cold gaze, a rain began to fall. This rain first fell on Terra's Innoth Plateau when he was a child.

In the hot summer, it is extremely hot. All the people in the slums are screaming for survival, having been persecuted for a long time by some long-dead tyrant. But it wasn't just the tyrant who persecuted them, there were also many gangs.

Sigismund thought of them, of the rain, of the shanties, of the storm.

Then he turned into a storm.

Sevatar narrowed his eyes suddenly.

"Cang——!" The violent collision of steel resounded between them. With the birth of this sound, Sigismund's breath that he had been holding was finally slowly released from his lungs through the operation of his muscles. .

Time and place no longer mattered. The light overhead was still bright, but it seemed to have become as hot as the rotating summer sun. Sigismund continued to swing his sword without stopping.

He swung his sword as if he wanted to kill Sevatar, each blow was swift and silent, and each blow was as heavy as a mountain collapsing. The sawtooth and blunt swords rubbed against each other, fighting each other with the will of their masters. The metal was hissing and bleeding.

Amid the fire, Sevatar stared into his opponent's emotionless eyes and suddenly realized something.

He sneered again.

He swung his halberd and sent Sigismund back with two traps that followed him. Sevatar was still smiling, and that smile was so unreal that it shouldn't appear on someone who was in a tough fight. But he just smiled and was very satisfied.

"So that's it, cousin," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Turns out you're a lunatic. What a shame, so am I."

His opponent didn't answer, just adjusted his posture, and then stepped forward again. The chainsaw halberd roared endlessly, and the attack was powerful and terrifying. The blunt sword is very simple and unchanged.

Its master ignored Sevatar's words, and it ignored the saw's cutting. Sparks filled the air between them again, making everything real and visible.

In Sigismund's vision, his opponent was cruel and ruthless, fierce and fast, and as deadly as a scorpion in the desert. He almost felt that Sevatar was the incarnation of lightning, or the bringer of the storm.

He realized that he could not make mistakes, absolutely not - just one mistake would definitely lose. His opponent would seize this mistake without hesitation and magnify it into a bleeding scar.

However, in Sevatar's vision, Sigismund was not a person at all.

How the hell was he a person? How could a person be so indifferent, so ruthless, and so cold?

He did not see any emotion in Sigismund's eyes. When he swung his sword, he was always powerful and dangerous like the most dangerous servitor, but he also had a trait that servitors could never have.

- Extreme sharpness.

Sevatar roared in a low voice.

"You are really crazy." He said with satisfaction and disgust, not noticing the smile on his face at the moment. This smile made him look like a beast that satisfied its bloodlust. "You should be glad that I am too, Sigismund."

Sigismund kept silent, he couldn't hear what Sevata said at all. His world was full of rain and lightning from the past.

The blunt sword kept colliding with the chain saw halberd, like a monotonous and annoying music, very extreme and very terrifying. In this music, Sigismund finally understood something for the first time in his life.

He realized his passion and desire for fighting a long time ago, but why did he do it?

Why did he keep exercising violence and exerting this will? The young Sigismund searched hard for the answer, and finally found it at this moment.

Offstage, Rogal Dorn smiled rarely. He turned his head and said to Khalil, "He can go to the war with me now."

"Oh?" Khalil raised his eyebrows with interest, and Konrad Curze also cast his eyes over.

"He finally understands why we are swinging swords." Dorn said with a little pride.

On the stage, Sigismund smiled for the first time. From the moment he saw Sevatar holding a weapon and standing opposite him, he knew that his opponent would never fall easily.

He didn't know Sevatar's full name, but he could understand this person. He understood that Sevatar was the same as him in some ways.

Half a minute ago, there was still a gap between them, because Sevatar knew what he was fighting for before he walked into the training cage. Now, this gap has been eliminated.

Sigismund raised the blade slowly, Sevatar narrowed his eyes, and an unobservable tremor broke out between their breaths.

This is not a feeling, but a destruction of reason, a contempt for anyone who is not proficient in fighting. After one third of a second, the blade slipped. Not slashing, but dropping.

It was like an electric shock, like a burst of flames. Sevata couldn't help exposing his canine teeth to the air, waving his hand to block, not like swinging the chain saw halberd, but like lifting something.

Another third of a second later, in this brief and eternal moment, their eyes collided with each other.

Thank you.

Are you sick?

"Bang--!"

A burst of black smoke came out of the motor of the chain saw halberd, a pungent smell of burning began to spread, and the serrated blade fell to the ground.

The blunt sword used for training broke from it, it completed the mission it was made for, and no sparks would fall from it anymore.

Sigismund took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. His fingers were trembling slightly, and blood was dripping from them.

Sevata stared at him indifferently, holding the chain saw halberd in his right hand, with a shallow wound on his chest, bleeding.

"Who won?" someone shouted from the audience.

Richter closed his eyes in satisfaction, exhaling as if he had eaten a delicious dish. Siani looked at him with a strange expression, and unconsciously took a step back.

"You'd better not step back anymore." Richter said with his eyes closed. "I don't want to say anything now, so please let me be quiet, Siani."

"Didn't you speak first?!"

At the other end of the crowd, Conrad Curze couldn't help laughing, and his smile was very bright, almost unlike his usual restrained smile - he turned his head to look at Dorne, who was actually laughing too.

"What a wonderful battle." The once serious stone said sincerely. "I never thought I would see this kind of battle of faith in two recruits. What will they think when the swords cross, brother?"

".Ah?"

"Rogge is asking you, Conrad." Khalil reminded his dumbfounded legion commander inconspicuously. "He wants to know your opinion on this battle."

"I-" The Lord of Midnight blinked. "——Actually, I'd rather know who won, and how to judge it?"

Dorn pondered for a moment.

"How about." He said thoughtfully. "Let's assume they are tied? For the time being, don't count this battle into the results of this exchange conference. When they grow up, they will fight again. On that day, the result will be counted. How about this?"

"I think it's okay." Conrad Coates agreed after thinking for a while. He was still smiling and didn't hide the emotion. Khalil raised his head so that the back of his head touched the wall, his expression indifferent and calm.

This is the feeling of building something with your own hands and letting it grow little by little.

How wonderful.

I have no past, no memories, but I can still forge new memories.

He lowered his head and looked at the Night Blades, at Shen, at Sevatar, at Konrad Curze - and then he smiled.

update completed.