Warhammer 40k: Shattered Steel Soul

His face was dry and strained by the pressure of the wind, even though the helmet shouldn't have allowed him to experience such useless senses.

At this moment when all the energy is concentrated on the current battle, Akul Duna still does not need to think too much about the battle. This is a natural physical activity for him. He allowed the curved arc at the top of the long sword to open up an illusion of light, and let them be skimmed away simultaneously when the blade reflected the light away.

The Templar's attack was fast and violent. After parrying his attack, the opponent did not hesitate and immediately injected speed like lightning into his counterattack, heading towards the black connecting part on the inside of his arm joint. Pure, true, concise. Even if he is currently fighting with a one-handed sword, getting an arm injured is still a price that can be paid, but is inconvenient.

Akulduna staggered his steps and immediately dodged to the other side of the warrior, making a curved blow with the sword in his hand.

The opponent sensed his intention, and what he got was not a beautiful dodge, but an accurate block, a dangerous collision between swords. Sigismund struck back head-on, and the sword grid quickly brushed against his blade.

Yes, Sigismund. Under that bright yellow helmet was a warrior who had no time to express his identity in words. Just as Akulduna never said his name, he clearly understood that his identity was obvious.

Akulduna's sword tore out silver brilliance, and the dance of the golden guard and black horsehair tassels echoed each other in every blow. With each attack, he seemed to be painting a flawless picture, a scroll that rivaled the most beautiful scenes in anyone's memory. He looked for a flaw in Sigismund's defense, and the sunlight in the forest fell like broken gold, swaying and dancing with his attack.

Sigismund's response was precise, his sword trying to tear the scroll apart with every contact, reducing it to nothingness. His sword is just a sword. Made of metal. Shape into shape. Used in fighting, covered in blood, oil mist and mud. It was a weapon, and that was closer to the truth about weapons.

The other party still didn't say a word, and the only sound he made was the sound of the wind cutting off with his sword, as if the sharp blade was his only vocal organ at this moment. He was more silent than his Primarch, but the sword told Akulduna that Sigismund was the same kind of warrior, the same kind of stone, as his Primarch.

Akulduna smiled. He is willing to immerse himself in every battle, listen to the breathing during battle, and look for the rhythm brewing in the intersection of gold and iron. During the battle he could occasionally recall some extremely distant stories, some fleeting glimpses of life at the Turkish court in his childhood.

His biological father fought against the Emperor in the Unification War, and Akulduna never remembered the collapse of the dynasty itself.

He just put the beauty that the memories brought him into the depths of his battle, the shadows of the swaying trees, the golden yarn flying in the dust, the pepper and the dishes with splashing soup, and the half-open volume of "War" in the study. "The Art of War", it is said that in more ancient times, it was also called Sun Tzu's Art of War.

Excellence in combat is the same thing as the beauty of it all. If he doesn't learn to love fighting, it will quickly degenerate into a boring affair that bores him.

Ever since Akul Duna was taught by Thunder Warrior Tariel Collins, he has never been defeated or even injured. Therefore, Akulduna had to learn to maintain his subjective love for fighting.

He admired the polished ceramite side of Sigismund's armor and admired the black edge of his white robe that ran down the inside of his pauldrons.

Then he pierces it, like a bow grazing a string, and the sword cuts off half the side of the burqa, letting the fibers sever at the edge of the blade. The sound is subtle and imperceptible, one of the best soundtracks in battle. One, second only to the loud noise of the armor falling to the ground, and far greater than any cheers from the people around him.

Sigismund did not move away; he remained silent. This silence made Akulduna feel a sense of otherness. Once upon a time, when warriors still fought side by side on Terra, they were not so clearly distinguished by blood.

The sun is moving, and the light fills the forest clearing. Time and space are focused here, stagnant in the intertwining of sword edges. Sometimes it was accompanied by some physical confrontations. He struck Sigismund's plastron with his knee and hit his opponent's ankle with his heel. It all happened so naturally, coming at just the right moment like water falling into a ditch, or as precise as sunset and sunrise.

The Emperor's Son's sword is an extension of his body, but his body itself is built for combat.

One blow, and another. Another hard chop. Or an elbow strike. Akulduna pushed Sigismund's fist away, feeling the tremor that spread to his bones. A tacit understanding began to arise within him, which was a good thing for the birth of a friendship, but not for the victory or defeat of a battle. Because this means that the opponent's fighting habits are being mastered by him.

Templar played well, but not enough. He has experienced a rhythm that is sufficiently grasped from the continuous battles, and has grasped the pulse of the ebb and flow brought by Sigismund. He adjusted his breathing so that his three lungs could do their best work.

"You beat me..."

He didn't finish, because the rhythm of Sigismund's battle changed. He suddenly raised his sword and rushed forward, and the broken robe on his chest was torn by the wind. The sword was no longer a sharp weapon, it turned into an iron rod, and he poured all his strength into it and swung it down heavily. Akulduna was surprised by this, because it was almost equivalent to giving up the hope of continuing the fight.

But Sigismund broke up the confrontation. In an absolutely offensive way.

The heart beats. He tried his best to move his body to the side, knowing that he could not take the edge of the blow head-on. The iron rod was raised high and hit him on the head. The impact point was not the sword body, but the hard sword grid, close to the side of his fist.

At this moment, Akulduna shifted his position, and then he realized that he had slightly lost his balance.

Fortunately, Sigismund's imbalance was more serious, and Akulduna saw his perfect victory.

He gave up correcting his posture and swung his sword straight out, cutting into one of the shoulder armor of the lower Sigismund, preventing him from getting up.

But he didn't.

Sigismund's arms grabbed his legs, and he simply fell to the ground, causing Akulduna to fall heavily with him, and the sword fell away. The First Templar of the Imperial Fists was transformed in an instant into a different kind of warrior, one who abandoned his reliance on the rules of weaponry in favor of a more primitive, direct approach to combat. His movements were rough and savage, and for a moment he was tangled up with the Emperor's Children.

A long-lost emotion was born in the battle, and Akulduna embraced this transformed battle. He fought back with his bare hands, locking any limbs that could be locked with his arms while dodging Sigismund's fierce attacks. .

A beast. Akulduna thought.

The beast chased after him, pounding Akulduna's defense with both fists and elbows. The fierce attacks continued. The swordsman felt his bones creaking. Fortunately, the reconstruction surgery ensured this. The pain would only leave a bruise. Akulduna seized the opportunity to retrieve the sword, turned over and suppressed it, kneeled down on Sigismund, and pressed the side of the sword against the Templar's throat.

Sigismund's armor trembled under his grip. He struggled out a free hand, clenched it into a fist, and smashed Akulduna's jaw hard. The Emperor's Son beat him to it, smashing the opponent's eyepiece with the back of his sword, the fragments piercing the flesh of his face.

【

】

The next moment, the fist persisted and smashed his head to the other side. The pain penetrated deep into his facial nerves, causing a violent shock. Colorful spots flashed before his eyes, his ears buzzed, and something warm and moist slid down against his lips.

Akulduna continued to press down on the sword. Sigismund's helmet shattered. The numbers on the Emperor's Children's shoulder plates flashed. Time also stands still at this moment.

In the surrounding woods, more figures appeared one after another. That was the consciousness of the warriors who had been defeated in the previous battle. They did not leave the Court of Narni, but all gathered around to watch this final battle. This surprised Akulduna.

He let go of Sigismund, allowing him to return to the green torrent of data and melt into the earth. Then he found himself still on his knees.

The Emperor's Children were in no hurry to stand. He took off his helmet, licked the sweet blood, and thought deeply.

he got hurt.

The Templars regrouped into a new consciousness in the woods and walked towards Akulduna in the woods. He took off his helmet, and his repaired facial expression was difficult to discern, but there was undoubtedly tranquility in his blue eyes.

"You win," said Sigismund.

"Yes," Akulduna raised the corners of his lips and smiled. For some reason, a strong feeling of joy was lingering deep in his heart. "I heard that you are also from Terra?"

"Ionus Plateau Refugee Camp." Sigismund answered.

"So, you're actually a gangster. I thought you were a Europa officer's son. I love this fight, Sigismund. Red Teeth and Blood Claws."

The Emperor's Son laughed and spat out a pool of blood from his mouth, when he suddenly saw a group of exceptionally tall shadows appear behind the Templars.

He raised his head and shook his head, unable to stand up, so he just lowered his head and saluted.

"Father," Akulduna said respectfully, still smiling.

"Winning beautifully." Fulgrim personally took his heir by the hand, "A perfect battle, Akulduna."

"No, it's not perfect," Akulduna replied, "I'm bleeding, father."

"Oh, that's Dorn's beloved Sigismund," Fulgrim didn't care. "Dorn, I, and Perturabo were guessing who would win. Perturabo lost the bet."

Akulduna shook his head slightly. He was surprised by his sudden persistence: "My battle was not perfect, father. But I won."

Fulgrim's elegant and reserved smile faded. "I see," he said softly, "You think there's room for improvement, right?"

"Perhaps, Lord Primarch." Akulduna said, "If a person has some kind of outstanding talent, then the achievements in this field are very meaningless to him. And I just discovered that, Fighting means more than I thought."

Fulgrim smiled again and patted the sword master affectionately on the shoulder. "A very good discovery, Second Company Commander. What do you think, brothers?"

"Do you want me to praise you for your perfect offspring?" asked Perturabo. "On his first appearance at the Court of Narni, his score exceeded the displayed limit. Since the extra carry was omitted, he now has zero score."

"Aquila, you can't do this, Perturabo." Phoenix pushed Perturabo's shoulder.

"Fortunately, I have temporarily fixed this fault." Perturabo continued, and the numbers on Akulduna's shoulder armor were rearranged to add the missing carry.

Phoenix shrugged: "Thank you for your recognition of my sword master."

"After Sigismund relaxed the admission criteria for Codex warriors, the first warrior who met his original regulations appeared." Rogal Dorn said, "If you have thought about the meaning of battle, you can do it later. Discuss this with Sigismund."

"Thank you, Lord Rogal Dorn." Akul Duna responded readily, his smile as charming as the charm of his original body.

"I'm not perfect," Sigismund said suddenly, seeming to draw his own understanding from the conversation.

"I know," Akulduna said cheerfully, extending her hand to him. "Me too."

Sigismund paused for a few seconds and took his hand.

There was a thought brewing in Fulgrim's deepening smile.

"Can I invite Akulduna to strengthen training for the Templars?" Sigismund turned to the Primarchs, "In this battle, our overall score was not ideal."

"Don't be like this, Imperial Fists," Fulgrim sighed absentmindedly, the boundless purple in his eyes seemed to be shaking slightly, "I also plan to let him go to the Iron Hands."

Just as Dorn was about to speak, a snap of his fingers suddenly sounded in the air.

"I didn't mean to disturb you..." Morse's joking voice floated over the woods, "but we have a new guest here...or rather, back."

"Uh, hello." Another voice sounded in the virtual space, "Are you in the Courtyard of Narni? It seems that it has become a successful experiment, enough to be invested in more subsequent research and practical use. "But, Perturabo, can you order the Cheorwon to issue me an access pass? Your macro cannon is aimed at our ship."

The virtual world was suddenly lifted. After entering the simulation space, the Astartes, whose bodies were lying on the ground, stood up one by one despite the phantom pain left after the battle. Akulduna immediately saw Sigismund lying in a pile of warriors opposite him, and he nodded to him.

"You came faster than I thought, Magnus." Perturabo said, closing his eyes, "Access is granted, and we will dock on deck seven."

"Because I have to bring these World Eaters over as quickly as possible," Magnus's voice continued to float, "Angron will arrive at Olympia at the same time as the Emperor, but he hopes that his heirs will not miss it. Too much to do next, so I, a temporary shell of my adult form, did the warp navigation myself."

"Some people are going to be disappointed." Morse smiled, holding a roll of parchment and appearing in the room that held Narni's Court. "I don't think your heirs would like you to rush to Olympia at this time, Magnus."

"Huh?" Magnus' surprise was mixed with a sense of loss, "Why?"

"Because it means they have something to do." Morse said, "For example, entering the Court of Narni with the World Eaters Legion who arrived on time for the wrestling match, and being beaten at close range in an environment where they cannot use psychic powers. ”

"Ah?" Magnus changed his tone, "Then...shall I take them to the subspace to get lost for a while?"

"Come in," said Perturabo, and even from his voice you could tell that he was smiling. "Don't keep the fortress gate waiting too long, my brother. I will assign the next battle tomorrow to The World Eater and the Sun of Thousand Dusts, and your place in the audience will be reserved.”