Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

Free chapter·A collection of stories about the Dark Eldar (from reader Yuan Tuanzi)

——This is the work of reader + Yuantuanziyo+, telling the story of Nefertari and the "Twilight Ghost" who was given to Vulkan to deal with——

————Interlude: The Birth of a Bird by Yuantuanziyo————

The smell of alchemical potions is mixed with the ozone smell brought by the special force field that kills harmful microorganisms, the fishy smell of flesh and bones, the sweetness of pain and joy, and the stench of burning organic matter floats in the cold chamber.

The owner of the secret room, with his rickety body that is much taller than most of the residents of this dim city, slowly surrounds the material of today's work, as if the heart in his prime that gave birth to the basic structure of his genetic child. On the third planet illuminated by the yellow star, the huge cat predator that once roamed among the forest and snow fields walked calmly, silently, elegantly, and full of deadly power.

Today's material wasn't the kind he liked. If it is those who are full of sin, his claws will not hesitate for a moment, because pity is not the kind of emotion that is precious to him. If it is for ambition, his heart will not throb for a moment, because all pain must have its reward. This is the rule of this ancient city. Even he has no power or the will to break it. .

But today's material was unfamiliar to him. like. An individual who was only halfway through adolescence in the life cycle of the Eldar, who had been given the opportunity to undergo expensive natural disaster transformation because of love, hung on a makeshift surgical support composed of the tentacles of two silent Talos engines of pain, countless Mechanical and organic limbs derived from the ancient technology, or the technical memory in the mind of the master of the chamber, stretched out from the rock wall, quietly suspended around the beautiful naked body.

Although with the Bloody Marquis' superhuman senses and consciousness, he could instinctively explain from dozens of details one by one why the body in front of him was so different from the race that formed the basic structure of his genetic child. From the four-helix genetic substructure to the completely different but similar organs, bones, and muscles, but at the bottom of his consciousness, the subconscious of the race that belongs to his most direct biological ancestors, how instinctively Thinking that this is the same kind, how this perfect body will stimulate the most primitive desires of this primitive race, all of this is as clear as an open page in his superhuman consciousness, stimulating his brain to proceed one by one. Never stop thinking.

How...how primitive and ugly. No matter which race it is, what kind of desire will be inspired by the instinct to continue its genetic information through primitive means, and how much that desire will suppress reason, and how many evils it will bring, no matter what he has seen with his naked eyes. He was already familiar with the residents with pointed ears in this city, or the Eternal Night Star he saw in his dreams... My legion, he thought, my legion must not have such a weakness. . Just like countless times before, this moment of thinking exploded countless memories in his mind. It was as if someone had written all of this in his mind a long time ago.

Chemical castration, brainwashing education, memory weakening, mental castration, mental discipline, no, more than that. He saw the street illuminated by dim neon, through the strange, dark red vision, familiar and unfamiliar words and icons flowing in the field of vision, marking the outline of a person. It was as if he had become shorter. There are many people around "him", many who are about the same height as "him", his, brother? No, not that mechanical human brother, no, not that noble, not that great, just like "him", born from the warm body of his mother, with only a vague past, only love for the father of genes, only love for order, The unbridled pursuit of justice, everything is sacrificed, everything.

The attire of the law enforcers who maintain order is strange yet familiar, the bustling crowd, what is that elderly female individual shouting? Why did she ignore the order? Why was she pushing through the crowd? What he should know, what he should remember, is why is that individual calling out a name that does not belong to "him" but does belong to him? his name? The name of his heir? Why could she know that what was wrapped in the midnight blue armor and the skull-like mask was... the sound of gunshots and the fallen aging body. He should remember, he should stop, he should feel heartbroken, he should feel that as a living being, he has lost something that cannot be lost. But "he" couldn't feel it, he couldn't feel any of this. "He" only felt a strange and vague vibration. He should have cried, but "he" could only be calm. He should be angry and sad about his mother's death, but "he" only silently accepted that an individual who disrupted order was obliterated by order as a matter of course. It's all because of him! Because he took away "his" basic desire as a creature and took away "his" instinct. No, no, no, no!

The feeling of cold rocks and hot, sticky vomit slowly soaking into his hands from his palms and knees awakened the young Marquis. The feel of the warm liquid rolling down his cheek was so unfamiliar. Two faces overlapped before his eyes. One from Eldar and one from Human. A groveling face, full of flattery and fear, kept young by dark technology, or pale and old, ignoring everything around him, overflowing with pride and blind joy, taken away by years of malnutrition and labor The face of a woman who has taken away more vitality than time has, such a different face, but in the same dark eyes, only looking at the original will of the individual who continues her inheritance, how similar.

"...What are you going to say? Craftsman?" The dark eyes that were exactly the same as those two pairs of eyes seemed to shoot through the dimensional barrier and look directly at the black man standing side by side with his metal brother. Although the two men were by no means genetically related, to the young Marquis, they were the closest example he had of the concept of family. "What will you say, Perturabo? My brother? Or drive me into the walls again, for what I would do to my heirs?"

No one answered. Neither the Mandrake warriors nor the Nightmare were allowed to enter this room, and the young and newly promoted Haemonculi had no apprentices or servants of his own. The face under the Talos engine mask, no, these mindless hybrids of flesh and machinery will naturally not have any interest in their master's attacks from time to time. There are only some smaller flesh and blood structures that are cleaned according to instinctive procedures. At the filth he left on the ground. A pair of long arms mixed with flesh and machinery used a precise decomposition stance to clean up the attachments on his hands, leaving a slight tingling sensation without leaving any traces.

"Ubermensch"'s razor-thin lips spit out a word that in today's human empire would be classified as the ancient Germanian language. The Marquis chewed on the word and repeated it several times, as if it were so unfamiliar yet so familiar. "Prophet, guide, prophet, hero" In the darkness, he raised his hands high and stared at his sharp claws like scalpels. Then, he slowly put it down, almost gently tracing the ink lines that had already been drawn on the slender shoulder blades of the 'material'.

The snow-white skin bloomed, revealing fat and dark red muscles that were far thinner than human beings and almost indistinguishable to the naked eye. The body, which was sleeping under the constraints of the alchemical medicine, trembled slightly and stretched out from the rock wall. The countless slender servo arms gathered silently like scavenging fish in the sea, and were deeply buried in the incisions that were as precise as works of art.

"All species will create and give birth to existences that transcend themselves." The ancient Germanic language chants the words of a philosopher whose image has been distorted countless times in the long history. "The transcendent person can only accept his instinct and guide the energy of the original impulse to achieve higher achievements in culture or social sharing."

The dexterous and slender fingers danced like art without any unnecessary movement in the flesh. Just like the covenant reached with the future overlord, as a symbol of surrender to the bloody marquis, the snow-white skin of the body gradually turned into a healthy brown-black under the genetic editing, while the long hair that was originally as dark as the night sky gradually faded and shimmered. It's as white as moonlight.

"Existence beyond the self..." The wings were compiled from the genetic material taken out of the body, a pair of slender and graceful wings covered with feathers that looked like moist crows, shining with a beautiful blue-purple metallic halo. Under the influence of countless alchemical potions, the bones of the shoulders that are being implanted in the human body twist and deform at a speed visible to the naked eye, heal together, and the muscles and tendons connect themselves. This huge pain can take away the mortals even under anesthesia. Only a determined will can turn this pain into the essence of life.

If this was an ordinary Haemon's operating table, there must be dozens or hundreds of slaves around, wailing in the torture carefully calculated by the master of vicious skills, nourishing and maintaining the things on the operating table with their own life essence. exists, but for the Bloody Marquis, all this is unnecessary. The life essence condensed from the dead in the previous battles and the pain he experienced in countless precognitions was enough to maintain the life of the girl on the stage.

"I offer my clan, my wealth and my loyalty." The mediocre Gemo noble knelt in front of the newly promoted overlord and the marquis, swearing his loyalty with that flattering expression. "The only thing I ask for is that in your great plan, let my only daughter, the gem left to me by my lost love, keep that chaotic child whose nature is not suitable for this city away from all dangers."

That was an extremely ordinary man, and an extremely ordinary clan. Even by the current standards of two young careerists, his clan could not be called a very attractive existence. But something he sensed in the man made the young Marquis agree to his request.

Then the man did not hesitate to prove his allegiance with his own life.

Instead of using the red bat wings that were usually used to create natural disasters, black feathers were made that matched the emblem of the man's clan. Perhaps it was a touch of softness that the Marquis unconsciously displayed.

"...I can't decide your daughter's fate, this impatient father," the black-haired demigod murmured, gently stroking the healing flesh around the implanted alchemical pump. "...Maybe you will be a much better father than me?" Pale fingers stroked the dark skin and slightly trembling wings. "Maybe you are wiser than me. Maybe you are better than the people I know of yours..." He shook his head slightly, "It doesn't matter anymore. But maybe I will learn a little from you. Maybe I should let my offspring retain more of their nature,"

Another trance made him stagger. A mountain cat? An axe carved with a wolf's head? A dark-skinned youth dressed in red and gold? A hound with burning hands? A court swordsman wearing a silver mask? More adventures? No, this is not his destiny. It belongs to the child in front of him.

But what future is certain?

"Then... at the moment you are reborn, my child," the Son of God who controls sin and punishment whispered in the ear of the young raptor who was about to open his eyes, "let me give you a new name. You don't have to remember it, because when someone calls you by this name, your souls will be entangled forever."

The long silver eyelashes of the sleeping girl trembled. Fate swirls in the silk thread before the birth of the young raptor.

"Nefertari" a name deeply loved by an ancient king flows out of the lips of the demigod.

A graceful raptor descended on this world.

————Interlude: A certain prisoner by Yuan Tuanziyo————

+++Criminal Record+++

+++ 843M30NCT-WC-DE-001+++

"The defendant, Melatarin Tehashira of the Dark Eldar, belongs to the Broken Claw Cult, and is 140 standard Terran years old. In the Dark Eldar raids known as the Twilight Ghosts, he committed a total of 15 second-degree murders, 5 blasphemy of truth, and attempted first-degree assault. The victim was the Primarch Vulkan, 15 second-degree assaults, 7 second-degree ordinary kidnappings, 15 armed robberies, and 3 arson. According to the latest judicial interpretation by the Ministry of Justice, praising the wisdom and justice of the Emperor and the Primarch, the lawsuit was initiated by the legal representative of the Eighteenth Legion according to the wartime summary military court, and the representative sent by the Eighteenth Legion defended him. Based on the defendant's confession and the testimony of the victim's representative, the Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion, Lord Vulkan, he was sentenced to life enslavement, and executed in the form of semi-machine slaves. He cannot be commuted or paroled within 200 years. The defendant has given up the appeal, and this judgment is final."

+++ AVE JUSTITIUS IMPERIALLI +++

The tall stone hall, the barbarians sitting upright, and the strange nobleman and the wreckage wearing an iron mask sitting on the high platform. Ah, the wreckage is repeating the judgment in a beautiful noble accent. It's so annoying. I can understand the language of the barbarians, what is this? A drama? A victory performance? The justice of the barbarians? It has nothing to do with me. I failed. I am a loser, so my life is naturally in the hands of the winner, that huge black barbarian, I remember him. Yes, I remember. The speed and elegance that make the succubus I serve ashamed... What kind of torture will be waiting for me? The crude torture of the barbarians who worship the barbarian who releases lizards is painful, but it is completely without any refinement and elegance. It's really disappointing.

Why am I seeing this scene again? Don't I have the ability to dream without permission? Or is this what they want me to see.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" In my hazy consciousness, I seemed to hear an overly loud and beautiful voice. Just this voice made me feel the trembling and joy running from the bottom of my spine into my brain.

"This is my gift. Giving up personal revenge and handing it over to the law is naturally noble, but relief for the victim is also indispensable." This voice with a familiar accent seemed to scratch every nerve in my body, making me want to beg for mercy and scream, but I knew it was useless. No, maybe I was screaming at that time? I don't remember. It would be great if I still remembered the pain and fear at that time. I don't know how many nobles would go bankrupt to get that experience once. This is my only memory. Ah, it's too much, why did you take these treasures from me? Sharp claws took out eyeballs, cut muscles and bones, that is the ultimate in flesh and blood art, why don't I remember it? Ah...'The prisoner has no right to access related memories on his own'. Am I being warned? There is no way.

"Question." The rock-hard voice was a little far away this time. "Conrad, why is it that the negative emotions in the screams of the sample during such anesthesia-free machine slave transformation surgery are far less than the positive emotions? This is not in line with common sense... Perturabo? Why did you pull me away? What do you mean you don't need to know? This is a rare and precious experimental sample of alien physiology..."

It's really interesting. They didn't delete this piece of memory.

——

The awakening program is over, and the atonement unit MT-01A is activated 920 843———————

The memory was interrupted abruptly, and the vision began to brighten. Lines of barbarian text and icons quickly swept across the left field of vision, and even my vision far superior to that of the barbarians could not see clearly. This seems to be a strange persistence and tradition of the barbarian machinery. In the end, all the text disappeared, leaving only the indicator box and a line of warning in the field of vision

——

Deprivation of autonomous actions, five seconds ago, 4, 3, 2, 1————————————

I've become very used to not resisting. Although I can't see it, I know that the collar around my neck made of volcanic reptile leather from the planets I once plundered is actually a machine that heals with my original skin. The countless tentacles it stretched out were connected to my nerves, and on the back of my neck, the warning lights on the mechanical and biological devices under the golden bionic skin with several barbarian standard digital interfaces had turned red. The next moment, a kind of coldness flowed through my body. I would not be able to speak my own words, my brain could not convey commands to my limbs, and I could not even make expressions freely. Only my eyes still belong to me, but if I Deliberately keeping it closed for too long...well, I won't try it again. There was no joy in that pain.

This seemed to be my punishment. And I've learned to live with it.

The dormant cabin was buzzing, and the internal lighting allowed me to see my own reflection on the armored crystal cabin cover. The people who transformed me were geniuses, no, not just by the standards of barbarians, even by those in the legend of Gemo All are flawless according to the standards of the masters. My physical appearance had changed little, except that my hair had been styled in the simple yet elegant style of Imperial servants. The machine implanted in my body is completely invisible from the outside, and there are no traces on the lower abdomen that was pierced by the metal spear. Who can tell that they have peeled off all my skin, leaving only The blade of black heart was tattooed on my lower forehead, and now all my body is bionic skin made from my genetics? I can even sweat! The giant with long white hair said, "This will make the visitors I serve feel more natural. Well, I don't hate this." Speaking of which, what on earth did the man who called himself the Bloody Marquis want to do by taking my skin? Oops, I'm starting to look forward to it.

My green eyes, um, are still the same. The left eye has been replaced by a machine, but if you don't look at it closely, you can't tell at all. The arms below the shoulders, the legs and feet below the hips, um, these have all been cut off. It looks like a handicraft made of white porcelain and gold-colored ball joints that are very close to the color of my skin. The joints are inlaid with crystals ground from green dragon scales. It is really funny. It seems that this is another thing that the barbarians call the Mechanicus. Rules for ignorant people? The appearance of the social machine slave and the pleasure machine slave must have a certain mechanical component. Well, the pleasure machine slave, I like the trembling look of the red-robed priest when he said this, and the expressions of those giants, especially It's the black giant I serve now.

I still hate the few seconds when the organic matter and moisture recycling device is connected and automatically cuts off the touch of my lower body for a few seconds, but it seems that the words of the red-robed priest made the giant with half his body made of mechanical bones make an immediate decision. What a boring guy, even by barbarian standards, huh.

——

Dressing completed, atonement unit MT-01A operation begins————————

"Primarch Lord Vulkan, Atonement Unit MT-01A, unit call sign Mera, at your service."

The sounds that belong to my vocal cords and mouth, although ups and downs and not as mechanical as the sounds of other flesh-and-mechanical hybrid creations I have seen on this ship, are not due to my habits or will, they are just a machine started and Autoplay when everyone is contacted for the first time in a Terran day.

But if you go by what the Blood Marquis said when I started it for the first time, I am not willing to atone for my sins and if I intend to resist, I will not be able to work normally. Well, it seems that I am quite obedient.

After all, I am the loser, and the loser has no right to resist the winner. This is the justice of Gemo. It is said that there are more changes now, but it probably has nothing to do with me, well.

Better than being transformed into a freak or an engine of pain.

It seems that due to the suggestion of the Blood Marquis, all of my people were bound to the black-skinned giant in front of me. Of course, I know him. He almost punched me to death. If it weren't for the angry aura he erupted when I killed the barbarian blacksmith, which directly scared me, I wouldn't have been able to dodge that fatal punch. , the anger emanating from him at that time was truly terrifying and sweet. It was also in that court that he used an extremely calm attitude to describe one by one what he understood to be what I had done, which was considered a crime by barbarian standards. Well, suppressing the terrible anger and murderous intention at the same time, this is not enough. From the first time I walked out of the maintenance compartment and stood in front of him and said the same words as the first words I uttered today, the hatred, anger, contempt, pity in his eyes...ahhh. If it weren't for the nerve control that made my face unable to express any expression, just from his glare, I wouldn't dare to imagine that my expression would melt into something ugly.

My mechanical hands were made by the purple-clothed giant with long white hair. They seemed to be cold, soft and warm hands, and they also had a more sensitive touch than my original hands. Now he is carrying a heavy metal tray with a kettle as big as my upper body, and two huge tea cups that are enough for an average barbarian to wash his face. This weight caused severe pain in the natural muscles of my shoulders and upper arms, but the reinforced bones and implanted artificial muscles completely offset those tremors. This pain, well, in the eyes of the barbarians, is probably part of the punishment, I I cannot say that it is not a punishment for me, but it is also a kind of sweet torture, a kind of continuous flow of life force...ah ha...

Sitting across from everyone in my field of vision, the giant with brass eyes stared at me, ah, that fearless fighter. The electronic eye recognized him in the field of vision the moment it caught him, and then made a quiet and obedient smile on my face, but I could feel something touching my mind, and then he stared slightly for a moment. With wide eyes, he moved towards the depth of the sofa where he was sitting, half the distance of an ordinary barbarian.

"What's wrong with you? My brother?" My voice is still so gentle and deep. The fire dragon leather sleeveless top is close to his huge body. I can't help but, well, maybe not so helplessly looking at him. It’s as if the gods took on a mortal body. If such a mortal god personally ravaged me, would I resist? I don’t know, but my life and death once depended on him, and it depends on him now, so it doesn’t seem like a sin for me to fantasize about it, right?

"...Nothing." Ah, the liberator of the red sand moved half of his body again. The disgusted look in his eyes that he deliberately turned away from me made me tremble all over. "Is this machine slave punishment? Sorry, Vulkan, but I think it might be more merciful to execute the alien."

"I told Conrad that everyone has to pay off their debts one day." Ah, how sweet, the anger and a trace of pity that are still rolling... This way, the man I killed was his family. Although I don’t know why, I suddenly understood. That's right. He hates us so much, hates me... "Conrad also told me... In fact, I have known it myself. If he did not reconcile with the Eldar, I would kill all the humans in that room, and this one Woman. I later saw the wounds on this woman's body, which the descendants of my kind had tortured her with, and I understood that this was an act of nature, but if Conrad had not gone in with me. , I might give this woman a good time first, and then..."

Why do you blame yourself?

Why are you in more pain than me who is being tortured?

I am the loser, and it is only natural that losers should be ravaged. Why do you punish your fellow man for this?

Do you think they have fallen?

no.

You feel that they would rather break the bottom line to protect their benefactors. The behavior of those fugitives herding lizards is in line with your justice, but it will make your hometown bear the wrath of the empire...

you……

sorry……

Ah, why doesn't neural control touch my eyes?

Not out of pain or ecstasy, but just because it was so weird to shed tears because of this weird feeling.

sorry……

"So I plan to give her a chance. Just like Conrad gives her compatriots, I will actually give her a period of control over her body before she needs to replenish her nutrition and complete her day's duties before entering the hibernation process, allowing her to The living quarters of the lower-level servants fulfill her needs... "Don't stop suddenly, all my people, torture me with your feelings, the opportunity is rare, isn't it?" Although I don’t know why, I can feel what you are thinking. What is this feeling of tearing the body and soul apart? I've never experienced that.

Why do I say sorry? for what? Is this the introspection that the Blood Marquis refers to? I don't know, but I feel like I wish I hadn't made you feel that way.

Ah, the plate was taken. There was some minor confusion with the instructions. Don't rub your fingers in my face, you...

Is this your new ravage on me?

"...In this case, I have no reason to object."

Listen, big black guy, your brothers have said so.

"Atonement unit MT-01A, your mission here has been lifted. Follow the standard work procedures and go to the training area to participate in recruit training as an imaginary enemy. The standard 1400 to 1500 in the ship allows you to replenish nutrition freely. The allowed activity range is D-25-C- Zone 1, go for it”

"As you command, my lord"

I don’t want to obey your orders. Are you just going to let me run away like this? Are you just going to let me go?

I do not want.

This is what tortures me.

So if your recruits are going to be unlucky for a while, I will invest several times more than yesterday.

Don't regret it!

Don't regret it! My Lord!

There are still many days ahead! ! ! ! ! !

Although no one noticed, the footsteps of the individual known as the Atonement Unit MT-01A were much more flexible and natural as they passed through the corridor than before.

“What a strange story”

In a bar in a certain hive city spaceport where the Great Crusade was a thing of the past, the young void sailors were still not satisfied, muttering that the story lacked content that would make these young boys more exciting.

"It is indeed a strange story, but if you listen to it all, you will become an old man."

The storyteller stood up with a chuckle, wearing an all-weather cloak and stuffing the drink straw into the drinking port of his helmet.

"There are many, many more interesting stories. If you are destined, I will tell them to you."

What left a few silver coins on the bar was a slender and soft mechanical hand with a white porcelain color. The beautiful nails polished from unknown organic crystals shone with green fluorescent light under the dim light of the lighting ball.

————Interlude: Fighting by Yuan Tuanzi————

There was once a wise man who didn’t know which race he belonged to, or there would be such a wise man in any intelligent race in this galaxy. He once said that life is a constant confrontation, so anyone who has developed individual consciousness will For an intelligent race, whether it is learning this kind of confrontation, or declaring the advantages in this kind of confrontation, or even realizing the ability to participate in primitive confrontation that it cannot have, any such species will give birth to a restricted violent confrontation. As entertainment.

The venues that are born with this kind of entertainment are either round or spherical due to the universal physical principles in this galaxy. On this human settlement planet, named after the mountain where the ancient gods lived, there is no exception.

Two pairs of naked feet move in circles on the fine white sand. A pair of petite and slender feet with perfect shapes. The slender legs seem to be made of a soft but jade-white ceramic material. The knees and ankles The bright golden color of the joints of the toes makes it look like the limbs of a doll. The inorganic feel of the perfectly shaped toenails, which are ground from bright green organic crystals, is integrated with its soft and natural movements, which is beautiful and weird. .

The other pair of feet, although not as slender and slightly huge for a human, are equally symmetrical, slender and beautiful. However, one of them has a healthy wheat color, with light-colored scars and nerve interfaces that slightly protrude from the body surface, while the other has feet that are no less than those of the opponent, but are made of a harder red color. The mechanical creation made of metal makes an almost inaudible sound of driving with the flexible movements. Under the smooth black iron-colored joints and the armor plates that slide slightly with the movements, the occasional flashing blue light seems to be brewing something unique. strength.

It's just that neither of the two opponents had any intention of using any additional help.

From the carefully designed lampposts, the lighting balls arranged so as not to interfere with the sight of the two competitors in the white-sand circular venue and to reduce shadows as much as possible, shine as bright as daylight, like two beautiful The gladiators, who circle each other like feline predators, are all female.

The girl with white porcelain-like artificial feet also has the same manufactured hands. The body connected by the inorganic limbs is slender and even, just like the most ideal female body that humans can dream of, with white skin and that The difference in color of the inorganic limbs is so small that it makes people feel a bit inhuman. On the slightly childish face, the emerald green almond-shaped eyes that once projected an arrogant gaze are now as calm as water, and the half-length black hair is simply tied up. A pair of dagger-like pointed ears proclaimed that she was not human, and on her slender neck, a collar made of fire dragon leather inlaid with a photon thinking engine and the golden bionic skin on the back of her neck were her body. Symbol of sinners punished into slavery. The functional synthetic material short vest and shorts that tightly wrapped her young body exposed her perfectly shaped lower abdomen. In her right hand, she held a wide double-edged short spear like a tuning fork, while in her left hand she wrapped a simulated blade. The net remains in perfect condition for spreading.

If this alien girl had a posture that was like the embodiment of agility and grace, then the woman who faced her could be said to have materialized strength and beauty. Although she has a height and build that exceeds that of an average man, this does not damage her beauty as a woman. The graceful and well-proportioned muscles are like the incarnation of the goddess of war carved by the Ultramarians using ideal athletes as models. Her frame, which is slightly thicker than that of ordinary humans, does not make her look clumsy. Under her head of red hair, she has countless braids. , is a face that is still young. She has eyes of the same color as her opponent, but they seem to be burning with blazing flames, revealing a ferocious smile like a beast. She has the same small scars and neural interfaces on her legs that mark countless battles. If there are people here who are familiar with the Empire's technology, they will be surprised that someone actually performed this on a young woman. Although the success rate is extremely high, At the same time, it is extremely expensive and unable to produce gene seeds for continuation. Therefore, it is considered to be extremely cost-effective to transform the quasi-Astartes. However, when seeing the planet-devouring planets on her shoulders that were exposed due to wearing the same clothes as the other party, she was torn apart. The chain-shattering man with the giant mouth tattoo will immediately feel relieved. The liberated slave is holding tightly in his hand a huge gun that is slightly longer than his own height and is as big as a dagger even for a legionnaire. Bladed spear.

The weapons of both gladiators flashed with sparks simulating the activation of the weapons. Although the body hit by it will not be injured, it will lose some or even all of its functions due to the special electric current.

This is not a formal gladiatorial battle, so there are only a few people in the audience. What is special is that most of them are legionnaires wearing power armor, while the few mortals are mostly focused on various weapons that will be used in the event. The equipment is adjusted, turning a blind eye to the confrontation in the field.

"Who do you think will win? Huh?" Along with the sound of rude chewing, a young but slightly hoarse voice sounded in the audience. "Master of swordsmanship? Who is better?"

"I never predict or evaluate the outcome of a fair fight, my dear Fire Fist brother." A soft, sweet voice sounded. "But speaking of personal preferences, I have no intention of belittling the martial arts of your genetic father's sisters, but I prefer the skills of the Fire Dragon Lord's... Pleasure Machine Slave?" The speaker let out a deliberate laugh. . "By the way, Terra, ha, the pleasure machine slave of the Lord of Fire Dragons, believe me, brother, if those boring chroniclers are allowed to see that venue use application, they will definitely be able to write delusional works that will sell well for a century."

"That's just a matter of legal definition." A third voice sounded, accompanied by the faint servo drive sound of the power armor sitting down and the friction sound of metal gloves rummaging for nuts in the paper bag. "For God's sake, Leo, we didn't do the intensive surgery to make you chew kaaba nuts in their shells."

"Anyway, it can be eaten and eaten. Go on, great scholar." The first voice made a more deliberate chewing sound, while the third voice let out a long sigh.

"That's just a legal issue, defined in the document." A third voice brought the topic back. "Any machine slave that retains functional external genitalia is legally considered a pleasure machine slave. The noble personality of the master of the 18th Legion should not be slandered by such frivolous suggestions. Not to mention the alien girl" The hand wrapped only in a gold-red iron glove gestured towards the smaller one among the gladiators: "It's just a prisoner who is subjected to semi-machine slavery. Surgery to remove the reproductive system is performed on a prisoner who has the possibility of being released after serving his sentence." It’s unnecessary, unreasonable and too cruel.”

"Oh my God, Scholar," the second voice uttered a pretentious lament, "I never knew you were so good at chatting to death. As far as I know, your legion does not chemically or mentally castrate its recruits. Tradition? Can’t you sympathize with mortals’ enthusiasm for entertainment in that regard?”

"If you want to play noisily." The first voice growled slightly. "Please speak plainly, please. Especially you, a great scholar. As soon as this guy opened his mouth along the way, you rushed to pick up his thread. I really don't know how you won that ax from Ruth's wolf cub." Yes. Shut up now, it looks like the boss is about to start."

The three young warriors immediately shut their mouths and turned their sights into the circle.

The distance between the gladiators on the white sand is gradually shrinking at a subtle speed.

"Although I have fought with your kind several times," the red-haired gladiator's spear tip trembled slightly, moving back and forth in front of her opponent's chest, while her opponent's tuning-fork-like short spear pointed diagonally at the ground. Drawing small circles from time to time, while mostly hidden behind the body, the counterweight hanging under the blade net of the left hand swayed with exquisite tiny movements, reflecting the light and making an exquisite and crisp collision sound. "But this is the first time for me to compete one-on-one with a warrior like you."

"Really?" The young Eldar girl's steps gradually became more agile from cautious sliding steps, as if she started to dance. "How did you fight?" She was temporarily given complete control over her body and language, and smiled like a predator.

"With a gun" seemed to correspond to her dance steps, and the daughter of the Red Sand Star also changed her rhythm. The toned feet took one step on the white sand, and then the other. The strong yet soft body gradually lowered itself and started running, while the broad gun head was still pointed steadily at the opponent's chest and abdomen. "The more guns, the better. You are very fast and flexible, but if you have enough guns, you will be beaten badly, and we will be beaten easily."

"That kind of battle is not happy at all." She shook her head slightly. The girl, who was nearly a head and a half shorter than her opponent, jumped up into the air almost without any warning. Her slender body passed over the opponent's head. The red-haired warrior instinctively raised his head. head, but only saw the silhouette of the girl carrying the lighting ball like a dancer. Her battle-experienced instinct made her jump back suddenly, and at the same time, she crossed her hands and waved the wide gun head and gun shaft into a fan that covered her from waist to head. , under the crisp sound of gold and iron clashing, the girl in the air slightly twisted her waist to lose the amazing momentum, landed outside the threat range of the spear, flipped backwards, and once again covered most of her weapon with her body. . "It's no fun fighting for anything other than fighting, human."

"Is fighting fun?" A wry smile appeared on the face of the woman who once had one of her legs amputated to satisfy the nobles' desire for battle. "This is really enviable. Do you like fighting?"

Two people, two gladiators, once again began a cautious confrontation.

"Well, I like it, don't you like it? Then why do you ask for this battle?" The Witch Spirit girl shook off the blade net in her left hand and began to spin, jump, and dance, her fair cheeks flushed, and her emerald green eyes Sparkling under the light, her rose-colored lips were slightly parted, revealing a sweet smile that seemed to be seeking pleasure in front of her lover. "I like fighting very much. Look, look, haven't you seen the beauty in the dance of that beautiful person? Haven't you seen the brilliance of the silver blade under his seven-layered robe?"

She is dancing. That was the dance that the purple men of Phoenicia once danced in front of thousands of people the other day. The blade net flashed in the light, surrounding her body like a gorgeous tulle. The golden joints on the white porcelain-like prosthetic limbs and the emerald green crystals like deep pools were like magnificent jewelry. She smiled, her eyes staring at her opponent, and then seemed to be looking in a more distant direction. Both the woman in front of her and the legionnaires watching the battle held their breath for a brief moment.

Compared to the purple phoenix, the dance steps must be immature. But the fresh life dancing in the dance steps and the joy from the bottom of my heart are like fire and clear spring.

"I like fighting very much. I like defeating my opponent." She stabbed out a spear, and when the momentum was not exhausted, it turned into a slash as her body rotated. "I also like to be defeated." With a well-timed leap back, the spear head she chopped off collided with the red-haired gladiator's big spear. The crisp echo was like the right accompaniment in a dance, and her slender body floated lightly with the help of it. The ground swings open. "My fights, every fight makes me stronger, allows me to enjoy more pain and joy, and brings me closer to the perfect martial arts of Kara Mansha Kahn. My fights can also make me richer , it fills my audience with vitality, makes me noticed, and brings me closer to the achievements of the muses, so I like fighting.”

"Is that so?" The Nucerian smiled bitterly and sighed. "...That's it"

"That's right." The legionnaire known as the scholar in the stands suddenly sighed. "According to the research of my genetic father, the nets used by gladiators in the era known as Rome were not like this. The fishing net gladiators at that time threw the fishing nets around their opponents and then attacked with tridents, like The nets of these Eldar gladiators are fixed on the arm armor, and are closer to the cloaks worn when fighting with rapiers more than a thousand years after the Roman era than fishing nets..."

"Shut your mouth and watch the fight, great scholar!"

"Please don't kill the scenery while enjoying a duel between beautiful ladies, okay my friend?"

The other two mercilessly interrupted the young man's subconscious lecture on the history of ancient Terran martial arts.

The small commotion in the stands did not have any impact on the two people on the field. The snow-white antelope and the red lioness were still facing each other, gliding, sprinting, briefly running, leaping, and retreating without revealing any flaws. , there are not many real confrontations, but there are only a few in this arena who can clearly see the sprints, weapon swings and blocks that are far beyond the eyesight of unmodified humans.

"I don't like fighting. At least I don't like gladiatorial combat." The red-haired Valkyrie spoke in a low voice at the moment when the two of them crossed paths, after avoiding the blade net trying to wrap up the spear.

"You have so many reasons to step into the arena for yourself. If I had heard decades ago that there was such a thing in this galaxy, I might have died of jealousy."

The two men's gun handles were intertwined again. It was an overly primitive and one-sided struggle that rarely happened between these skilled warriors. Before the smaller one could release the pressure that could almost crush the rock, The two pairs of emerald green eyes stared at each other for several seconds.

"I'm actually very curious about why a gladiator would participate in a robbery. So I applied for this competition with you." After regaining distance, the woman who walked out of the red sand shook her head, lowered her weapon, and signaled a pause. . "Judging from the recently updated information in the legion's database, your kind's plundering of other intelligent races is actually closer to a behavior between hunting and entertainment, right?" While saying this, The woman who had been fighting under the banner of the Twelfth Legion for half a century gave herself a wry smile in her heart. What? Every time I talk about this slightly more complicated topic, the words that come out of my mouth are like teaching materials for an educational brainwashing device. They are different from the rough and simple Nucerian slave dialect that I am usually used to. There are too many. But there was nothing we could do about it. In that era, it was impossible for slaves and civilians to have access to decent education. They didn’t even know that the earth under their feet was a ball revolving around the sun in the sky, and that the moons waxed and waned from time to time. It is a ball that surrounds the earth beneath your feet. She even remembered the pale and shocked face of old Oymenos, who had undergone a full set of transformation surgeries and remained unshakable, when he saw Nuceria, who had lived for most of his life, from the universe for the first time, although she herself was not fine either. Just go wherever you go.

"Why?" The doubt of the young alien girl was so real. "It is not uncommon for the Witch Spirit Order to be hired by nobles to participate in robberies, or to organize robberies themselves, although I now know this..."

"When my hometown has not been liberated, although the nobles will also hunt, even hunt humans." The red-haired former gladiator looked up at the night sky. Under the artificial light, even his modified eyes were very bright. It's hard to see the stars in the sky. "They will also bring their favorite gladiators, but it is definitely not hiring or cooperating. To them, the gladiators are just a group of beasts raised for fighting, and they are no different from the various war beasts they bring."

"..." It's really interesting. Kleist, one of the Primarch's Guards of the Twelfth Legion, the Form Breaker, and one of the brothers and sisters of the Primarch, was amused by the disgusted expression of the alien girl in front of him from the bottom of his heart. . Damn it, those high-ranking knights, even these aliens who are known for their sadism, despise you. Deserve it.

"So, I hate gladiatorial games the most."

It's a nuisance that you, a little alien guy who likes gladiatorial games a lot, can't understand. Fighting is one thing, gladiatorial combat is another. Fighting to survive, then fighting for freedom, and then fighting so that more people don’t suffer like their past selves. Kill the oppressors, kill the invaders, kill the tyrants, kill the slavers, kill the marauders, whether it's with lances, bolters, missiles and tanks, there is always a purpose to fighting, so while still When I was a gladiator, I learned the unique martial arts of using anti-gravity spears, but compared to that, whether it was body transformation, or giving up a high-mobility fighting method, choosing to wear heavy Terminator armor, as long as it was done efficiently Fight, if you can survive better, just fight better. Although I really don’t miss the galloping fighting style, fighting doesn’t need to be fancy.

As for gladiatorial combat, she hated the way she had to fight to please those guys who broke bones and sucked marrow from the bottom of her heart. She would never fight for anyone's entertainment again. So she had unspeakable thoughts about this arena. Although it is for the sake of friendship between legions, and although within the legion, both people like her who can only accept the transformation of quasi-Astartes, and pure legionnaires are willing to compete in the gladiatorial cage without any barriers, but this The arena will become part of the sports games held on this planet, and many people will come to watch it. So, won't compatriots have to fight for people's entertainment again? Even if no one dies, even if no one really gets hurt, but.

Is this why you agreed to my request to fight with your blood brother to get his little enemy? Angron? Really, you are always too considerate of others, it will be very tiring.

However, just knowing that there is such a hopeless guy in this world that he is willing to participate in a gladiatorial battle seems to smooth the uncomfortable feeling in his heart a little.

"...But you don't hate martial arts, right? Don't you still have an anti-gravity engine in your prosthesis?"

"Probably." Indeed, if he didn't still have a nostalgia for that set of martial arts, why bother to install that thing in the prosthetic limb? He also knew it. I just kept telling myself that I would give myself an explanation when it might be useful on the battlefield.

"I want to fight you with all your strength." The black-haired Eldar girl, who now has the number of the Atonement Unit MT-01A, and is called the Atoner by the name Mera that is easier to pronounce with human tongues, revealed her face. A dazzling smile. "Thanks to you, I have a rare opportunity to be free, and when I usually help with training, there are not enough recruits to fight. So I want to have a real fight with you!"

Damn it, the red-haired girl found herself grinning. What a hopeless guy. Is this kind of fighting, this kind of gladiatorial battle so happy to you? Damn it, it seems there is more than one hopeless guy. The self in my heart that laughed and killed high-ranking knights while riding an anti-gravity spear was also there ready to move.

"Okay!" Saying these words seemed to break the shackles on his legs. There will be no more high-ranking knights here. No more people will be forced to fight, no more people will be cheered to die.

The sand here is snow white, not the red sand of Nuceria.

Naturally, just like she had done decades ago, she connected the cable she pulled from the prosthetic limb to the anti-gravity field guide of the spear, and then naturally sat on the handle of the gun.

Naturally, the alien girl bowed gracefully, and then once again unfolded the blade net that shone like a bead curtain, like a robe, or a gauze,

As a result, the video data recording the gladiatorial battle that night was circulated in the private data exchanges of each legion participating in that sports meeting for a long time. About a young swordsmanship champion of the third legion because He spoke carelessly and had to wear a silver mask for a Terran week and was not allowed to speak. There was also a female warrior from Nuceria who carved a red section on her waist with a smile after decades. The victory rope is another story.