Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Attention! Attention! Dear audience friends."

"Please focus your attention on the center of the venue: this is a rare event!"

"Two sword fighters, Sigismund and Dantioch, they represent their respective legions, and now they have to decide the winner: and behind these two fighters are three Primarchs including their respective gene fathers, and fighting brothers from more than a dozen legions, who will watch the whole process."

"...Seriously, everyone."

"I'm a little worried that they will cause a death later."

"What do you think, Lord Lana?"

Bayar, who was talking in a heavy but relaxed tone, turned his head and his vision first swept across the audience seats crowded with thousands of Astartes warriors. He saw that the wide iron cage had been divided by large pieces of color. Thousands of whispers or loud discussions made the whole arena naturally fall into noise, and maintained at a level that was not harsh.

It was very noisy all around, but it did not affect the communication between the fighting brothers.

Bayar could see that the iron-gray color symbolizing the Iron Warriors and the yellow-black color representing the Imperial Fists occupied the vast majority of the area, forming two distinct blocks, competing with each other, while the silver-white color used by the Dawnbreakers was centered around several of Morgan's favorite generals, and a small independent kingdom was carved out in the collision of the two legions, with some colors of other legions attached to it.

For example, Captain Orfeo of the Ultramarines and several of his warriors, the indigo on their armor injected some vitality into this dull building, as well as Ahriman and his specially designed bright red armor. And the other warrior brothers whose names Bayar couldn't remember, most of them were studying psychic courses on the [Aurora Goddess], and came from the think tanks of various legions, and came here specifically to join in the fun.

Although not every legion's international students were interested in this competition, a rough estimate showed that all the Astartes present were from twelve or thirteen different legions, plus the three Primarchs, making this originally ordinary sword fight unprecedentedly grand.

"I can't guarantee anything else."

The chief of the guards took over the second palm in mid-air, and Rana also had a faint smile on his face. His eyes swept across the battle brothers who were waiting for the start of the battle in the distance. They might be from the Emperor's Children, White Scars and Luna Wolves.

"But there is one thing I can be sure of: based on my experience, Dantioch has a high probability of winning this battle or a tie. I am not optimistic about Sigismund's performance, although he did win many battles before."

"It seems that we have the same idea."

Bayar smiled and nodded, but his conversation with Rana soon attracted several battle brothers behind him, especially those led by Hector and Ahriman, who obviously had completely opposite ideas from Rana and the others.

"That's not right, Senior Bayar. If Lord Dantioch can really compete with Sigismund, why should we go to the trouble of arming him? I've been watching here. You and I both know Sigismund's strength. Even if we look at the entire galaxy, few can beat him." Hector's voice quickly attracted a crowd of responses, including Ahriman. Bayar did not refute anything. He just glanced at these responders with interest: most of them were newcomers who had served for less than a hundred years and were recruited after the Legion left Terra. Yes, those old guys who were indifferent to the wind rarely had an interest in watching this kind of game. "According to you, Hector: Do you want to bet with me?" Bayar asked with a smile, and soon got a positive answer: After the two sons of Morgan each took out their lunch share for the next week as a bet, the others present followed suit, and most of them stood on Hector's side. Only Lana raised his hand and supported Bayar for the time being. The noise here soon attracted the attention of people from further away, so more bets and lunch shares came in: a few minutes later, when Rana slightly counted the [funds] in the gambling pool, he almost laughed out loud.

If Sigismund won the sword fight, then he and Bayar's lunch for the next week would be divided up by more than 60 fighting brothers: but if Dantioch won, or the two people on the field ended up in a tie, then Rana alone would have to deal with more than 30 lunches.

Where can he find such a big eater to help him deal with these spoils?

Is it necessary to rely on the legendary Dawnbreaker Inner Ring, which has no function except consuming a lot of food? Rana has no confidence in this: after all, it is a mysterious organization that even the champion swordsman Bayar knows nothing about. Although the chief guard has vaguely discovered the existence of the inner ring, he has never obtained strong evidence.

But he still believed that there was an organization similar to the Inner Circle in the Second Legion, and that this organization would often be summoned by the Gene Mother for collective meetings: If not, why would a large amount of food disappear from the throne room of the Primarch on a regular basis? Could it be that their Gene Mother could eat a high-calorie meal for fifty people alone?

The Chief Guards thought wildly for a while, but he was quickly brought back to reality by the noise and impatient urging in his ears, which made him realize that something was not quite right: Dantioch had already entered the scene several times. It's been minutes, why hasn't the sword fight started yet?

"Because of the Primarchs."

Bayar pointed to the only VIP stand in the arena. It was several meters higher than the ordinary auditorium and had a better view. The three Primarchs were entrenched there: Originally, Dorn and Perturabo were They were mixed among their respective heirs, but after the Lord of Avalon talked with her two blood relatives one after another, the three emperor's heirs rushed to the VIP table one after another.

The good vision allowed Lana to see the situation there clearly. He saw that his genetic mother was talking passionately, while her two blood brothers had a lackluster reaction, but some things had obviously been discussed. OK: Because Morgan quickly stood up, and when she waved to the manager, the alarm sounded that signaled the beginning of the sword fight.

The originally bustling noise suddenly disappeared. Everyone, including the sons of Morgan who had experienced many battles, held their breath and focused their gazes on the two people in the center of the arena: If it were an ordinary Asta For a special soldier, just this kind of depression and attention is enough to make him sweat.

But neither Sigismund nor Dantioch were obviously ordinary people. They had ignored the interference from the outside world and devoted themselves wholeheartedly to the sword fight in front of them. The sound of the alarm did not cause the sword fight to start immediately. The two champion warriors lowered their centers of gravity, moved slowly, and faced each other, as if looking for possible loopholes and shortcomings in their opponents.

This invisible confrontation lasted for almost five or six seconds, until Dantioch shook the Terminator armor on his body, raised the dark green blade with broken hair, and then took the first step forward. step.

The battle has begun.

——————

But it was Sigismund who swung the first sword first.

When Dantioch drove the heavy Terminator Armor forward, the Imperial Fist moved, and the chain sword in his palm swung out, like thunder on a midsummer night, leaving only an afterimage: This The strike was so fast that most people present could not even see it clearly. They only heard the clanging sound of the sword hitting the abdomen of the Terminator Armor, which was extremely harsh.

【pretty. 】

When she caught a glimpse of this blow, the Lord of Avalon on the high platform sighed with emotion from the bottom of his heart, even ignoring the strange and strange atmosphere of Bo Yun around her: But when she looked around belatedly, But nothing worrisome was found.

Whether it was Perturabo standing on the left side of Morgan or Dorn on the right, they were just staring at the duel on the sand with serious faces: It was just that the Lord of Steel's expression was as usual, as if the one who had just lost was not his. The War Blacksmith, on the other hand, looked a little strange on the Invite's face, as if he was worried about Sigismund's fate.

This scene made Morgan's lips curl up, and she knew what was going on: the Imperial Fist's blow was indeed beautiful, but it was just [beautiful] and had no real use.

Rather, it is quite the opposite...

"This is a mistake."

Dantioch's voice was hoarse and he taunted his opponent: The War Blacksmith failed to dodge the blow. He staggered back two steps before regaining his balance, but his confidence was accompanied by [ Defeated] and increased, just like Sigismund's face also showed a little unwillingness and seriousness.

No one knows what just happened better than the Warsmith: was the Imperial Fists' attack a test? No! This arrogant guy planned to kill his opponent in one fell swoop. The serious injury to his abdomen was enough to put an end to most sword fighting competitions. At least three war blacksmiths had lost in this way just now.

Dantioch could even conceive of Sigismund's plan in his mind. He planned to use a heavy blow to the abdomen to disrupt the war blacksmith's center of gravity, and then take advantage of Dantioch's instinctive instinct to bend over in pain. The chainsword was stuck where his helmet met his armor: what a brilliant idea, this guy would disgrace the entire IVth Legion in five seconds.

But it's a pity...

The war blacksmith glanced at Sigismund's slightly trembling arm and the chainsword with a broken chain tooth: the latter underestimated the Terminator's defense and even had to forcibly cut off his chain sword. The sword was pulled out. Although the movement was still too fast for outsiders to see clearly, it only left a white mark on the Terminator armor.

Then, it's his turn.

Dantioch moved. He rushed forward like a giant in mythology. He seemed to have adapted to the thickness of the Terminator Armor. The green giant blade in his palm was swung like a tiger, and he launched a storm-like offensive: Facts This proves that decades of training on the Far Eastern frontier are by no means meaningless. War Blacksmith is convinced that his current body is more than three to five times stronger than a few decades ago. Even wearing heavy Terminator armor, Danti Ork is also confident that he can maintain high-intensity combat for a long time to come.

Facing the overwhelming opponent, Imperial Fist hesitated, but in the end he did not choose to escape. He took a step back and dodged the initial attack, and then also waved his finely crafted chainsword to deflect the opponent's giant blade. Looking for opportunities to launch an offensive: The son of Dorne has never been a character willing to defend. He moved around under the pressure of Dantioch, constantly looking for gaps to launch a counterattack.

Second after second, round after round, time passed slowly in the fierce battle. Only the iron boots of both sides drew layers of ferocious growth rings on the sand: Dantioch was advancing steadily, although he Sometimes he would be pushed back two steps by Sigismund, but he would immediately take three steps forward, forcing the Imperial Fist to the edge of the arena little by little. Although the son of Dorne was helpless in front of his powerful opponent, he never could. Be willing to back down.

The giant sword swept across again, making a harsh sound in the air, but Sigismund only dodged slightly, narrowly missing his helmet with the giant sword, and then, without stopping, he focused towards He stepped forward, closing the distance, and slashed the Terminator Armor's chest with the chain sword in the blink of an eye: This was the seventeenth time he hit the War Blacksmith's chest in two minutes, but all that was left was seventeen scratches. mark.

Imperial Fist gritted his teeth. For the first time in a sword fight, he felt helpless, but his opponent did not give him more time: Dantioch did not even withdraw the blade, but turned his wrist and twisted his waist. , turned on the spot, and slammed back from the previous direction. Anyway, no matter whether it was chopping or smashing, Sigismund could not withstand it.

The son of Dorne did not rely on his strength. He stepped back to avoid the blow, but he fell right into the hands of the warsmith. Dantioch was seen powerfully controlling the giant blade in his palm, and raised it high in the second half of the slash. He stood up, then seized the gap to relax his center of gravity, simply threw his body forward, bit the retreating Sigismund, and rushed down with the raised blade, holding the hand in the center of the hilt. Then it also slid down to the end of the hilt, greatly increasing the attack distance, giving full play to the advantages of the long-handled weapon, and fell towards Sigismund who had no time to escape.

This was an execution-like action, and it was also like a heavy hammer hand slamming down his own hammer. Under the exquisite calculation of the Iron Warriors, it hit Sigismund directly in the face: the Templar almost rolled on the ground. After a circle, he narrowly avoided this fatal blow.

But he still couldn't dodge perfectly. The dark green sword blade scratched Sigismund's left shoulder armor, immediately cutting off a large piece and cutting off the beautiful Imperial Fist symbol. For two, only half a broken fist was left.

Sigismund had no time to marvel that his armor was as fragile as the Word Bearer's knees in front of this dark green giant blade, because the noise from the audience had replaced his words. He quickly adjusted his posture and continued to dodge. Behind him, there was the sound of Dantioch's weapon hitting the ground and the sound of earth and rock cracking.

The Son of Dorne seized this opportunity and quickly launched a counterattack. His sword blade stabbed one of the only vital points of the Terminator Armor, making Dantioch, who slowly turned around, feel the pain: In the war blacksmith, Before he could react, Sigismund ran back without hesitation and returned to the center of the arena, turning a deaf ear to the boos of the Iron Warriors.

Unknowingly, Sigismund had put down his initial arrogance and no longer dreamed of winning with one strike: whether it was the shoulder armor with a corner cut off or the broken chain sword in his hand, They all reminded the Son of Dorne of his current predicament.

His opponent turned around and overcame the pain easily. The nameless giant blade in his palm was still as bright as new. Only the interface between the steel plate and the cable on the Terminator armor revealed a small loophole: it was a tricky one. The extreme position is enough to illustrate the superb swordsmanship of Sigismund as the attacker.

Dantioch was not affected at all. He took another step and pressed towards the Imperial Fist silently: steady, slow, heavy, yet solid as a rock, attacking like a raging wave, unstoppable, and breathtaking. Angry.

Like a wave that engulfs the world.

"Like a true Iron Warrior."

his genetic father whispered.

On the high platform, Perturabo finally spoke, with a smile on his lips. He was obviously very satisfied with the performance of his son, and looked meaningfully at the brother on the other side: Although Morgan was blocking the way between the two of them. In the middle, the Lord of Avalon's extremely powerful height obviously could not stop Dorn and Perturabo from looking at each other.

But what made the Lord of Olympia feel a little regretful was that Dorn's face did not waver at all. He just calmly witnessed the plight of his children, observed the details of the battle with interest, and even noticed Perturabo After looking away, he nodded towards his brother. In that hard tone, there was still the kind of sincerity that made the Lord of Steel a little annoying.

"Your warrior performed very well, Perturabo. He made full use of his advantages in this battle, using his strengths and avoiding his weaknesses: this is a skill that every good warrior should know, and he did it to the extreme. "

Dorn's straightforward praise made Perturabo's face become subtle. Different from the time when this expedition just started, the Lord of Steel can now confirm that when Dorn speaks like this, he is indeed speaking. Expressing his opinion from the bottom of his heart: he admired Perturabo's descendant and praised his abilities, which made the Olympian's expression somewhat softened.

"As you said, Dorne, this is just the basic skill of a warrior."

Perturabo snorted, his chest filled with pride, but the expression on his face still retained a trace of seriousness: For the Lord of Steel who always likes to be critical, although Dantioch has the advantage, it is indeed gratifying. , but after all, the War Blacksmith relied on the powerful equipment on his body instead of relying on actual close combat skills to suppress Sigismund.

No one cares: Perturabo does.

Therefore, when Dorn frowned because of Perturabo's words and bluntly pointed out the problems contained in them, the Lord of Steel's good mood naturally dissipated for the most part: this imperfection brought about The worry also erupted with a bang.

"That's not the case, brother."

The Lord of Invite shook his head.

“In fact, knowing how to play to your strengths and avoid your weaknesses is a very important skill for anyone: most people still want to be able to outperform their opponents in every aspect, but almost No one has ever been able to do this."

"This is the case with the heirs you played before. Their martial arts, attitude and determination to fight bravely are impeccable, but they are too eager to defeat their opponents in areas they are not good at: if they choose to fight If the Iron Warrior had used the same method now, dozens of minutes ago, I think we would have seen this scene."

"...What do you mean, Dorn?"

The Lord of Steel was silent for a moment, and his voice became a little unpleasant.

"literal meaning."

Dawn nodded.

"Sigismund's advantage lies in his swordsmanship and experience. He has been in the arena for a long time and knows how to win in this limited space. This is an advantage that your descendants do not have: and Before that, your other players were so eager to beat Sigismund at his strengths that they didn't understand that the secret to victory was to get around your opponent's blockers and hit their soft spots."

"And the heir you are playing now clearly understands this."

"..."

The Lord of Steel raised his eyebrows.

"Are you trying to say that my Dantioch is avoiding the truth at this time?"

"There's nothing wrong with avoiding the truth and being imaginary."

"For a battle, or a war: a small price is always better than a big price, a direct attack on the vital point is always better than a frontal attack, and it is better to cut off the enemy's neck with one knife than to work in vain on the frontal battlefield: Sigismund De has been making this mistake since just now, and now he understands how to fight this battle. "

Donne turned around. He took a moment to formulate his words, seeming to make his words as gentle as possible, sounding like suggestions rather than accusations: But to the Olympians, this The words were still too harsh.

He wasn't angry about it, but he still felt resentful.

"So, Dorn, do you think that my Dantioch cannot defeat your Sigismund in a one-on-one sword duel, so you choose to rely on the advantages of equipment: using cold steel to cover it up?" Lack of flesh and blood?”

"There's nothing wrong with that."

Dorn also diverted his last bit of attention from the sand. The distant confrontation between the two original bodies had already caused whispers in the audience below: while Morgan comforted these warriors with her eyes. The noise behind him seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"First of all, Perturabo, Sigismund is indeed impeccable in swordsmanship. He is better than most swordsmen in the galaxy. His shortcomings are arrogance and recklessness, not his own swordsmanship: That's the truth."

"And after your warrior named Dantioch realized this, he was able to quickly pick out tactics that Sigismund was not good at to restrain him. This is also true: this is a manifestation of wisdom. There is nothing shameful about not relying on bravery and strength but relying on strengths and avoiding weaknesses. On the contrary, we deserve praise because this is what smart people do. "

"..."

Perturabo raised his head. He could feel that Dorn actually meant no harm, but seeing the Invites so calmly placing Sigismund's swordsmanship above the entire Fourth Legion, he finally gave in. The Lord of Steel, who was the Primarch, felt uncomfortable: he scratched his neck, and although he knew that this sentence made no sense, he still forcefully retorted.

"Dorne, how can you make such arrogant remarks here, confirming that there is no warrior better than Sigismund in my legion: maybe, they just happened not to be here, and your swordsman did win. I won the battle, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

"Indeed, there is a lack of argument."

Dawn nodded calmly.

"So, I am just making a speculation here, Perturabo: Based on the different combat styles of the Imperial Fists and Iron Warriors, as well as the different legion cultures derived from them, I speculated on the input of my legion in sword fighting. It has more energy than your legion, so the output will naturally be more generous than your legion.”

"Simple conservation law: You can understand this as the different strengths of each Legion of Astartes. Maybe in other aspects, your warriors are better than my warriors because they put more energy into it. ”

"..."

Perturabo's frown deepened.

"you……"

[Okay, you two. 】

Morgan raised her head and easily interrupted Perturabo's half-hearted anger: she was sure that her Olympian brother was not in real anger at this time, but just had the slightest hint of anger, so she could interrupt it at will.

Frankly speaking, compared to the time when this expedition just started, the conversation between Dorn and Perturabo now is just a gentle scene: at least they are discussing certain issues normally, rather than talking to each other. Light the powder keg under your opponent's butt.

Although sparks are still flying everywhere.

This is why the Lord of Avalon will indulge them in a little debate. After all, this kind of discussion will not cause real friction, but will enhance the friendship between brothers: but Morgan still needs to remain vigilant at all times and hold the detonating wire. , to prevent the friction between these two flammable inorganic materials from causing uncontrollable sparks again.

Just like that.

Morgan laughed, her eyes swept across the audience casually, and she caught the way to make these two guys share the same hatred: so she turned around, slowly took out the wine glass and bottle, and put it in her mouth He muttered words of persuasion, one sentence to Dorne, and the other to Perturabo.

[As Perturabo said, this is just a game and cannot prove anything. 】

She looked at Dorne, and the Invite nodded, indicating that they had no objection.

[And as Dorn said, each of our legions does have its own advantages, just like each of our brothers is different: rather than saying it is a specialty, I think it is better to say it is our characteristics, or rather feature. 】

Morgan looked at the Lord of Steel with a smile, and uttered a neutral word that he did not understand, which made Perturabo's expression soften: Such words without comparison are acceptable to Olympians, and they temporarily dragged him Out of the whirlpool formed by fragile self-esteem.

[So, my brothers. 】

Cutting off the detonating wire, Morgan slowly walked to the railing, holding three wine glasses in her palms. She directed the eyes of the two brothers to the auditorium and to the colorful place: it was crowded with people from all over the world. Among the elites of each legion, there are many people who are familiar to both Primarchs.

[Look there, brothers. In addition to your respective heirs, there are also elites from various legions. Who can deny that they are powerful in their own fields? But if they really go on the field, how many of them can defeat your soldiers? 】

Morgan's palm holding the wine glass drew circles in mid-air, pointing to the country.

[Look, that is Yesugei, a representative sent by the White Scars Legion. One of the most psychically gifted children I have ever seen. His character and abilities are impeccable. The person I am talking to is Sometimes, his words can even represent Khan's attitude...]

[There is also that wild warrior who looks like he is raw and drinks blood. His name is Kvar. He is the chief rune priest from the Space Wolves Legion. Unlike his rough appearance, his attainments in spiritual energy are almost unrivaled. , it was he who helped me improve and finalize the twenty-six rune alphabet system. 】

[And there, Zarost, the most psychically gifted child under Konrad's command; next to him is Vorias, the unofficial chief think tank of the World Eaters Legion; the warrior in red is called Kull, who The black-skinned man next to me is naturally Yu Mozhen. They are from the Word Bearers Legion and the Salamander Legion respectively. Of course they are both chief think tanks and disciples who can get my true inheritance. A little further back, standing in the corner The others are Israfel and Ikares, both of whom are Dark Angels. Since Jonson is unable to determine which one of them has stronger psychic talent, he leaves it to me to judge and decide the winner. Who will be the real chief think tank in the Legion? 】

The Lord of Avalon pointed out her students to her two blood brothers with great pride. These psychic geniuses were either the chief think tank of the Legion before coming to Dawnbreaker, or they were under Morgan's command. They learned enough knowledge to confirm their status as chief think tank.

But in any case, their training journey will end in a few years. As they return to their respective legions, the psychic system created by Morgan will bear fruit throughout the Great Crusade and be implemented in each Astartes legion. Branded with traces of the Spider Queen.

Behind her, Dorn and Perturabo looked at each other. They didn't understand the purpose of Morgan explaining these things to them, but they were still listening carefully: until Morgan finished the preparation, he naturally He pointed his finger at the touch of indigo, the color that symbolized Macragge.

[Oh, there are also Ptolemy and Promus from Macragge, the two chiefs of the huge delegation sent by our brother Guilliman. However, it is not the two of them who are actually negotiating with me. S: See the silent warrior next to them? That was one of the strongest Astartes I've ever seen. 】

【he is……】

Morgan narrowed her eyes. She had forgotten that person's name just in time, thus attracting the attention of the two blood relatives. Dorn and Perturabo immediately frowned. They had never seen this so-called most beautiful person. The face of one of the mighty Astartes.

"Who is that?"

Perturabo asked, and Morgan figured it out [just in time].

[Ah, I remember. 】

[His name is Orfeo, and he is the champion swordsman of our brother Guilliman. 】

"Is it?"

Perturabo snorted.

"How come I've never heard of him?"

On the side, Dorn responded to the Lord of Steel's words with a silent nod.

[This is normal, brothers. 】

Morgan smiled and turned to look at her two blood relatives. After many days, she finally picked up the shield named Guilliman to help her block the possible trigger: Her dear Robert is so good. Use it!

[After all, both Captain Orfeo and the two think tanks next to him are usually very low-key: look at their breastplates and shoulder armors, they only have the honor symbols symbolizing the Five Hundred Worlds. Because they basically will not accept honors from the empire. 】

"..."

The air was quiet for a moment.

"snort!"

Then came Perturabo's earth-shattering voice of disdain.

"What's the difference between this and betrayal?"

The Lord of Steel gritted his teeth, and it was unclear whether his voice was anger or jealousy.

"Perturabo has gone too far."

Donne's voice was also serious.

"But one thing is true, Guilliman should not do this: he can refuse certain honors awarded by the Empire out of humility or even his own values, but he should not spread such thoughts to the Legion."

"There's no way he didn't know this, but he chose to do it anyway."

Perturabo laughed contemptuously.

"He did it on purpose."

Dorn nodded.

"Maybe, but in any case, this is a dereliction of duty as the leader of the legion."

"He has been derelict in his duties for a long time..."

With your words and my words, while you were mercilessly whipping and blaming an unsuspecting Ultramarian, the smell of gunpowder that had gradually spread between Dorne and Perturabo had long since disappeared. They disappeared without a trace, leaving only the aura of the same hatred.

The smiling Lord of Avalon saw all this. She apologized to Guilliman without sincerity in her heart, and then raised the wine glass in her hand: When Dorn and Perturabo looked at each other, At one glance, when they each took a glass, the atmosphere between them reached a level of harmony that had never been seen before.

At the very least, no one wants to argue.

[Who do you think will win? 】

Morgan glanced at the arena below. Her words made the expressions of the two Primarchs stiffen, but before this question stirred up new sparks, the Lord of Avalon had already raised her wine glass high. A soft tone sets a tough tone.

[It actually doesn’t matter who wins. 】

[After all, my blood relatives, this is not actually a competition between legions, this is just a unique celebration: to celebrate that we won this expedition, isn't it? What we can get here is the brotherhood that comes from fighting side by side. 】

Morgan glanced at her brothers. From their still somewhat stiff expressions, Morgan knew that they did not completely agree with her words in their hearts: but it didn't matter anymore. At the very least, they would not show up again in the open. There was a quarrel on the surface, but as for the internal competition and friction?

Which two primarchs wouldn't have such filth between them?

If you want to blame, just blame the golden old man.

The Spider Queen snorted softly. She knew that what she got was only temporary peace, but wasn't the twenty-year truce also a truce? Who could expect her to do more?

So she raised her glass.

[Victory, both of you. 】

The Lord of Avalon makes a double entendre.

"..."

The two original bodies looked at each other, and raised their respective wine glasses almost at the same time. The three precious glasswares collided in mid-air, making a harsh friction sound, mixed with the sound that might be sincere, or might just be... To cater to the laughter of the scene.

""To the victory, to the empire. ""