Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"How long have the two of them been fighting?"

"Almost three hours...three hours and twelve minutes."

"Three hours, it's really crazy: the fight has been going on for three full hours, but there is not even a drop of blood on the whole sand. Those who don't know better would think that thousands of us are here to watch an afternoon tea party. Woolen cloth."

"Huh, I'm more curious than this about when Sigismund will be able to get off Dantioch. The two of them are almost stuck together now: then again, this Imperial Fist is still Such a brave man, who would have thought he would dare to fight like this?"

Morgan's head guard narrowed his eyes, leaned forward, and leaned against the railing. He divided his attention into two uneven halves. The larger half was used to observe the movements of the three Primarchs on the high platform at all times. As soon as he moved, the remaining few fell onto the sand, admiring this seemingly evenly matched sword fight.

But even so, whether it is the experienced Rana, or Bayar standing next to Rana, or even further away, the relatively less experienced Hecht and others are also among the two on the field. From the sword fighter's tossing and turning, as well as the spiral-like traces left by footsteps layer after layer on the sand, he gradually noticed something was wrong.

"Sigismund is regaining the disadvantage and he is getting smarter as he plays."

Bayar praised in a low voice, and no one refuted his point of view. In fact, it was not only the Dawnbreakers, but also the think tanks who were the elites of various legions further away, as well as the battle-hardened Templars in the Imperial Fists. , also fell into whispers because of the strange situation on the sand: more and more people have seen the way to win with the Imperial Fist.

This was a long process, so long that when they recalled it a little, they could clearly distinguish the context: the three-hour hard battle was divided into three stages, from Dantioch's crushing to Sigis Mond's advantages are all so natural.

"The Imperial Fist was beaten one-sidedly in the first hour, running from one end of the sand to the other, and then being driven back to this end, as if he would be knocked out of the field at any time. Same."

Lana and Bayar looked at each other and smiled. Everyone present could clearly remember how embarrassed the Imperial Fists were in the first hour: his chainsword could not break the Terminator armor that the Warsmith used to wrap himself. , but after a fierce exchange of fire, the chain teeth on the sword were completely shattered.

"If he hadn't prepared a power sword in his backpack, he would have gone straight to accept defeat. But now that he thinks about it, he can actually hold on for an hour in such a disadvantageous situation. He is indeed a character. ”

Bayar nodded. His attainments in swordsmanship were higher than those of everyone present, so he praised Sigismund more strongly than his brothers: Then, the second company commander's eyes moved to On the other side of the sand, his brows also frowned.

"As for Dantioch, his performance was not that good: he obviously didn't know how to use the Terminator Armor to fight. He fought wildly at the beginning and excessively consumed his energy. By the time Siji After Smond took out his power sword and was able to leave a wound on his Terminator Armor, Dantioch actually became very passive."

"Although he still has an advantage: the cavalry terminator is used in short-hand combat, but it is still too good. Even a new recruit can achieve amazing results."

"I'm more curious about another point."

Rana's eyes closely followed the Imperial Fist on the field: Sigismund's figure was still so vigorous and fast, and he could not see the fatigue from the fierce battle for several hours. Instead, he became more and more fanatical and excited. The flashing light in his pupils could even be caught by everyone in the audience, it was too dazzling.

"Sigismund clearly has a better power sword, so why does he have to use the chainsword in the early stage, even until the chainsword is completely broken?"

"That's the kind of person he is."

Bayar snorted lightly.

"Have you forgotten our previous conclusion: Sigismund is plain on the outside, but he is extremely arrogant in his heart. There are few people in the galaxy more arrogant than him, and the external manifestation is that he is always I like to challenge the impossible and challenge the worst and most dangerous situations.”

"Like: taking a chainsword and opening the Terminator's armor."

"That's not a good thing."

"Yes, but this kid can really fight: just like he did."

Lana licked his lips, his pupils radiating a dangerous light.

"Obviously I was still being beaten in the first hour, but by the second hour I had found an idea. I relied on the power sword and Dantioch, who was gradually losing his physical strength, to fight back and forth, and he was still fighting step by step. Pressing hard, it’s almost pressed against Dantioch’s body.”

"In this case, Dantioch's great sword will be useless."

"Do you think Dantioch didn't notice?"

"He discovered it. Dantioch discovered Sigismund's plan early on, and he tried his best to stop it. Each wave of his attacks was more violent than the previous one, but he still couldn't stop Sigismund. Mond's footsteps: There is still a gap between the two men's swordsmanship."

"So, the situation has become what we are seeing."

The head guard shook his head and let out a slightly helpless laugh. His dark blue eyes were shining, and his eyes followed the two legion champions on the field in circles: they were so close to each other, Entering Lana it was almost impossible to separate them.

In the third hour of the battle, the two champions still maintained their fierce fighting spirit. Their speed became faster and faster, their expressions became more and more ferocious, they were sweating and arguing, trying their best to squeeze out the last bit of energy in their bodies. energy. It was as if the winner would be decided in the next round.

At this time, Sigismund had shortened the distance between himself and Dantioch to less than half a meter. No matter how fiercely the War Blacksmith counterattacked, the Imperial Fist never left this range, with the dark green war blade. It was almost useless at such a short distance, and the War Blacksmith's other methods: punching, hitting, or retreating in order to advance, were all resolved by the Sons of Dorne one after another.

Sigismund's sword blades were as dense as raindrops on a spring night, and the war blacksmith didn't even have time to pull out the sword on his back.

But even so, Dantioch is still as unshakable as a mountain. None of the dense scratches and wounds on the Terminator armor are fatal: on the contrary, every powerful punch of Dantioch requires a Sigismund fled out of breath.

But the son of Dorne was also exhausting all his offensive methods. He even used the power gloves that he had previously disdained: the power gloves drew afterimages in the air, and the bricks were shattered with one blow, and the force was released within five seconds. Injury, leaving a terrible dent in the Terminator armor.

The Son of Dorne was even able to launch five counterattacks between the Warsmith's attacks, knocking Perturabo's champion to a tee, but never being able to knock him down: instead, it was an effective attack from Dantioch that knocked him down. The sound of Sigismund's bones cracking was so clear that it could be heard in the audience.

As a result, all defensive methods lost their effectiveness. The Imperial Fist's power sword and power gloves could threaten the Terminator Armor on the War Blacksmith, and the War Blacksmith was gradually adapting to the speed of the Imperial Fist, greatly compressing Sigismund's dodge space: After several hours of training with each other, the two sides finally understood each other's style completely, and the cruel exchange of blood finally began.

The battle went on like this: the third hour passed by in a blink of an eye, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth hours followed one after another, without any pause, until everyone stopped counting time.

Until the laughter on everyone's faces disappeared, until the entire arena was finally shrouded in silence, until even the three Primarchs stood up with serious expressions and saluted the two warriors on the sand.

No longer defense, no skill, no more dodge, Sigismund gritted his teeth. The hand holding the power fist was accurately hit by the war blacksmith, and he was holding it weakly. , and the armor on his arms was as tattered as a pile of old newspapers.

The Warsmith who succeeded in one blow also felt uncomfortable, because the son of Dorne used this hand in exchange for a fatal opportunity: his blade exchanged injuries for injuries, and finally penetrated the armor of the Terminator's throat, and relied on The continuous weakening in the previous few hours made this blow almost penetrate Dantioch's throat.

Although the war blacksmith still narrowly escaped this fatal blow, an uneasy feeling enveloped him: for the first time since the sword fight began, he felt that his flesh was exposed to the cold air. The throat and chest were fatal, and for the first time he discovered that his blood was flowing. It was dripping onto the sand drop by drop.

If he was hit again, the Terminator Armor wouldn't be able to protect him.

The war blacksmith realized this, his breathing became heavier, and he subconsciously looked at Sigismund: he saw that most of the combat power of the Imperial Fist had been cut away, and the remaining half of the body was shaking. It was shaking, but the hand holding the sword hilt was as hard as iron, and there was no sign of loosening.

The war blacksmith even had the illusion that if he punched him hard again, maybe Sigismund would be knocked to the ground by him, but Dantioch soon began to laugh at his fantasy. , because that was what he thought at least three hours ago.

And he was very sure that Sigismund thought the same way, but his thoughts were completely opposite to Dantioch: they both firmly believed that they would be the winners, but they also doubted whether they would be the losers. .

No one knew what the outcome would be, not even Bayar and Rana could guess it: the two Terran veterans and all the warriors in the audience had stopped talking and laughing, and they leaned forward slightly nervously, watching. The two champions charged each other again and again: Logically speaking, with the level of Sigismund and Dantioch, they would not be weak to death after just a few hours of fighting. The only explanation is that they were Their own oppression and madness for victory have exceeded their body's threshold.

The two men looked as if they would both fall in the next second, and as if they could continue fighting in this state for several hours, or even longer: the Astartes watching the battle whispered, they relied on their own intuition. and experience to calculate the winner, but this is undoubtedly a very difficult choice.

Everyone could see that the blood was flowing out from the leak in Dantioch's breastplate, and it couldn't be stopped. It was constantly draining the War Blacksmith's already haggard body under the weight of the Terminator Armor. Anyone with a discerning eye can also see that at least half of Sigismund's body is almost paralyzed. He furiously beat so many holes in the Terminator Armor, but he also had to withstand the same reaction force.

So, who will win?

In other words: Who will fall in the last step?

The most elite warriors looked at each other, but no one could make up their minds: by this time, the cause of this battle was no longer important. Whether it was the honor of the legion or the dignity of the original body, between these two warriors fighting to the death. Everything in front of you has been defended.

No one will discuss the gains and losses of their own legion in front of the blood-stained sand.

On the contrary, even the most stubborn Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists have realized one thing: the direction of sword fighting is getting worse. This competition, which should have been based on friendship and a battle of spirits, is now extremely ugly. Possible to devour two of the best warriors.

And this situation...

——————

【It absolutely shouldn’t happen. 】

Morgan's tone became serious. She turned around, no longer interested in the death struggle on the sand, but looked at her two brothers: The Lord of Avalon knew very well that only these two original bodies were The existence that can end this competition is not Dantioch and Sigismund who are fighting to the death.

To put it bluntly, if the Lord of the Imperial Fist and the Lord of Steel remain silent, then the only fate of the Templar and the Warsmith is to consume each other until one of them falls, or both of them die of exhaustion. : Nothing could be more insignificant than the Astartes to the Primarch.

[But we certainly cannot let this happen, at least not in front of so many legion representatives and thousands of legion soldiers: let the two best warriors live like this on the sand of the arena Tired? Please! This is not the sacrifice site for the Word Bearers Legion! 】

The Spider Queen knocked on the table, her tone was extremely tough, and her confidence was the serious expressions of the two Primarchs: Needless to say Dorn, even Perturabo may not want to be blamed for the so-called Fourth Legion. honor, and Dantioch, whom he trusted and loved the most, died meaninglessly.

After all, even if the Warsmith dies on the smallest battlefield, he is still contributing to the Great Crusade and is something to be proud of. But as for dying in a competition with another Astartes like this?

"That's pointless."

"You're right, Morgan."

It was Dorn who spoke first, and of course it was Dorn. He nodded to Morgan, and then looked at his steel brother. The proud Invite lowered his head slightly, and his voice sounded humble and full of courtesy.

"So, brother, I am here to make a suggestion to you: Do we use our authority as Primarchs within our respective Legions to force an end to this competition?"

"At present, it seems that the development of the situation has deviated from our original motives: our heirs should have fought for the rationality of our respective demands. This should be a competition that ends at the end and pursues fairness rather than loyalty. It should not Blood was shed for it, and no good warrior should have died for it.”

"No, a death like this isn't even a sacrifice."

The Lord of Invite looked serious after he finished speaking. He and Morgan turned their attention to the Olympians.

"..."

Perturabo was silent, his slightly narrowed eyes staring at the center of the field, staring at the pair of unrelenting opponents: No one knows what the Lord of Steel is thinking now, his light gray pupils are watching When he saw the blood on the sand, he showed an expression similar to intoxication for a moment, but he quickly broke away from it. Then, there were complex emotions such as hating things, thinking, being touched, and taking it for granted. Keep showing up.

His lips were also moaning incessantly along with the complex expression in his pupils. This inexplicable struggle lasted for maybe ten seconds, lingering and accumulating, and after flinching countless times when he was about to touch his lips, he finally Finally, it brewed into a long sigh.

"..."

"You're right, Dorn."

Perturabo only said this sentence and then became silent again. He turned around and hid all his thoughts, as if he was deliberately avoiding his blood relatives.

Behind him, the Lord of Avalon nodded without surprise and made a gesture to Lana, who had been watching her. The head guard immediately called the second company commander next to him.

The next moment, with a burst of exclamation, the champion swordsman of the Second Legion turned over and jumped off the audience stand.

And just when Bayar looked serious, drew out the double blades from his waist, and rushed towards the two people who were planning to fight to the death again, the Lord of Steel, who originally had his back turned to his brothers, suddenly spoke without warning. , throwing a fatal question to his two blood relatives.

"You said..."

"Who wins?"