Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

Decades later, when he stopped and stood in the few rest time given to him by that stingy war, he recalled with some nostalgia the time he had spent on Ullanor. On that first night, the Prince of Crows regretted only one thing.

That is: he drank too much.

As a warrior, an eager knife-licker, and a damned Night Lord, Sevatar really couldn't control his mouth that night: the wine danced and floated on his gradually numb lips and tongue. Desperate, the Astartes' honor and restraint were casually kicked to the ground while crying, and fell into the human world.

It was just a brief absence of subjective initiative that allowed the wine far beyond his expectations to flow down his esophagus: it is true that everyone around him was tasting wine for the sake of face or authority. , taste the rare generosity of the Spider Queen, and specially transport a hundred barrels of fine wine from her treasure house.

God knows where she got so much time to do nothing.

However, when everyone present knew the future Warmaster, the most proud Phoenix Lord, and even the genetic father of the Eighth Legion, they all raised their glasses, walked among them Astartes, and undressed What can he, the second in command of the Eighth Legion, say when pushing food and changing cups?

Originally, Sevatar just wanted to imitate the cunning people next to him, casually taking a few sips to deal with it, or simply pretending to have missed it and scattering it on the ground: after all, the wine brewed by the original body himself was very important to A. It's still too [profound] for Stat.

The champion swordsmen representing their respective legions may have some disputes about their martial arts skills and honors, but regarding the Spider Queen's elixir, everyone reached an agreement in the shortest possible time.

Very spicy, like the sun in the sky.

It's bitter, like the bile of an orc warlord.

But if you taste it carefully, you will find that this bitterness is the opposite effect of increasing the sweetness in the drink to the extreme. It is so sweet that it is bitter: even the Astartes warriors cannot bear it. After communicating with each other privately, they felt that Ms. Morgan's senses might be a little dull.

Well, if you say bad things behind your back, Ms. Morgan should not be able to hear you.

Although this was somewhat in conflict with her outwardly sharp thinking, considering that even some of the Dawnbreakers had inadvertently revealed to him during the conversation: when they had dinner with the original body, they would find that they The mother of genes' positioning of "light taste" is completely different from the outside world's conventional understanding. This phenomenon has become more and more obvious in recent years, and even Virgos have complained privately.

Sevatar did not understand the suspense in this change. He only regarded it as another Primarch's eccentricity: as the Great Crusade continued to advance, and the Astartes became more and more familiar with their Primarch. , many of the emperor's heirs have shown some aspects in their daily lives that outsiders cannot understand.

For example, Fulgrim's pickiness about art and success has become more and more obvious, even to the point of being picky; Perturabo prefers to hide himself behind steel more and more, trusting machinery more than his heirs; Jaghatai can Khan's coldness, ruthlessness, and even cruelty in some matters are shocking, but the White Scars turn a blind eye to this; as for Luo Jia's bloody pilgrimage, it has been talked about thousands of times, and he must say it. [Purification] will send chills down the spine of the most ferocious Night Lord.

Nowadays, no one will secretly laugh at the courage of the Word Bearers Legion: but they all choose to go around the 17th Legion. Even Horus, the Wolf Shepherd God, is now unwilling to approach Luojia frequently. Because the topics between them would make the Wolf Shepherd God frightened.

Compared with these people, for example, Horus was suddenly keen to learn and visit the war arts and military styles of various legions; the frequency of Angron showing ferocious faces from time to time when interacting with others increased significantly; the people surrounding Magnus The weird aura around him became even stronger, with psykers that could even stun mortals; and Sanguinius's sudden obsession with all kinds of ancient medical texts and minor changes such as reconstructive surgery seemed particularly insignificant.

The Prince of Crows lowered his eyes, slowly swallowed the last mouthful of bitter wine, and tried hard to control his pace. The voice of the original body still echoed in his ears: Conrad can be said to be the culprit of all this. When he patted the wine barrel enthusiastically, told about the hard work of secretly leaving good things for his heirs, and filled their cups himself, who, whether it was Sevita or Shen, could not be in front of his father's smile? , how many more drinks should you drink?

The mistake was made, and Savita was even considered the more calm one: just by turning his perspective slightly, he could see Shen growing mushrooms in the shadows. The squire's drinking capacity was less than half that of a company commander. , Shen left himself with the last dignity, even if Zai barely found a reasonable sleeping position after being drunk, his snoring was drowned in the noise of the crowd around him, so it wouldn't be too embarrassing.

Very good: when he returns, he won't have to drag this guy into the duel pit.

Sevatar smiled to himself and tried to suppress the burping of wine. He glanced at Conrad, who was holding the wine barrel and leaving without saying anything, looking for the next person to persuade him to drink. He couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh of relief. , and then his eyes turned back to the bonfire.

The most spectacular real sword duel in the entire galaxy started right in front of him.

Sevatar didn't know which genius came up with the idea of ​​practicing right next to a bonfire several dozen meters high. He suspected it was a green-skinned agent hidden in the human empire: But it must be said that this idea is very good, at least in terms of creating an atmosphere.

The gray sky mixed with a hint of iron gray is the greatest arena dome. Even the famous duel pit on the Liberator can't compare to it. The fighting brothers from 19 legions and hundreds of mortal auxiliary armies use their bodies, eyes and cheers to form a circle of walls. There is no need to worry about accidental injuries or falling out of the venue. Those who can set foot on this land are all outstanding elites.

The giant bonfire created by promethium may not be used for barbecue, after all, any food will be burnt the moment it touches it, but it does add some fun to the duel: the blazing flames burn the faces of each warrior, they stare at each other, loudly announce their names and the titles of their legions, being able to stand here is a symbol of honor, and they are not worried that failure will bring shame to their king and father.

The rules are simple, only weapons are allowed to be used to strike until one side retreats, and there is no definition of the boundaries of cheating. They are only constrained by their own hearts and the eyes of the onlookers: the primarchs are standing not far away, and no one will have any dirty thoughts in such an environment.

Similarly, no one will drag the battle for too long in this situation: perhaps because the cheers around are too loud, perhaps because the burning of the promethium torch is unbearable after all, or simply because the participants are all skilled masters, any flaws will be quickly seized by the other side, and then collapsed into a good opportunity to win.

In short...

"Bang--"

Win quickly, lose quickly.

The sharp sound of the blade breaking made the Prince of Crows raise his head. Seeing a bright silver flying across the sky in front of him, Sevatar followed the track and saw that another duel by the campfire had been decided. Amid the cheers of the Dawnbreakers, it was Ahriman who stayed in place.

This was the ninth victory won by the Thousand Sons Swordmaster tonight. Ahriman's opponents were all well-known people, including Nasir Amit, the fifth captain of the Blood Angels Legion, and Marius Gage, the first captain of the Ultramarines Legion. He won cleanly and made his opponents retreat willingly.

The target of the ninth victory, although not a famous figure in the galaxy, was also a respected Terran captain in the Devourer Legion and an advisor to the Primarch Angron: Ahriman only took eighteen rounds to pick up the sharp blade of the World Eater.

Originally, the descendants of Angron would have tied his palm to the hilt with a chain to show their determination to fight to the death, but Ahriman's sword broke the solid chain in a feint to the east and attacked in the west, without hurting the World Eater's palm at all: from that moment on, even the World Eater himself knew that he was doomed to fail.

The opponent was convinced and returned to his fighting brothers. The gene father of the 12th Legion, Lord of the Red Sand, Angron, stood on a high platform not far away and witnessed the duel. He nodded to the winner and the loser one after another. The Primarch's approval quickly made the atmosphere around the campfire return to a warm state.

The cheering applause and the glory of the victors challenged Sevatar's confidence. He had heard of the Crimson Swordmaster's martial reputation, but he had never had the time to challenge him. In the vast camp of the Dawnbreaker Legion, hundreds of giant bonfires and countless small bonfires were burning, and thousands of similar competitions were taking place. They all welcomed the Prince of Crows to join, but Ahriman was one of the people he wanted to challenge the most.

As for Sigismund and Abaddon?

They had too many appointments: the Prince of Crows had to wait until the second half of the night.

Sevatar took out his power halberd and wiped it carefully, while making sure Ahriman was still in his best condition. He didn't want to be labeled as an unjust winner: when the skull with long teeth lit up the goggles under the gaze of the crimson feather crest, the message from other bonfires, passed by word of mouth by thousands of people, echoed in Sevatar's ears.

He listened very carefully.

Every swordsman walking on this land is famous. Their battles and victories attract Sevatar's attention: some battles have lasted for several hours, and some winners surprise everyone, even the Prince of Crows.

He listened with relish to how Bayar of the Dawnbreaker defeated Alajos of the Dark Angels. It is said that the two enemies had fought several times on Terra. Alajos's defeat was just another repetition of history: Sevatar had seen the paladin and he knew very well that Alajos was not an easy guy to deal with.

He needed at least one helper to be sure of killing Alajos.

In comparison, after almost two hours of fighting, Kahn of the World Eaters and Orfeo of the Ultramarines finally lost by one move, which was surprising: after all, Kahn had defeated Angertai and Kesoron quite easily before that.

Another focus battle was between Sigismund and Abaddon. The duel was not far from Sevatar. Prince Crow could even hear the sound of Dorn's Stormfang colliding with the Terminator Armor of the Moon Wolves. The duel only started in two or three minutes. Sevatar was wondering whether he should rush over.

At this moment, the crimson light attracted Sevatar's attention.

"Ahriman?"

He looked up, a little confused.

Why did Ahriman leave the ring? He is obviously in good condition.

The Night Lord stepped forward quickly, waiting for Ahriman to finish greeting the others, and just before he walked quickly into the night with the Thousand Sons, Conrad's heir stopped him at the right time: the two of them had met on Morgan's flagship. In many ways, Ahriman was no stranger to him.

"Sevita?"

Qianzi smiled.

"What? You want to come too?"

"Otherwise I wouldn't be standing here."

Sevatar grinned.

"When you were in Avalon, you either had an appointment, or you were teaching and educating people at the Psychic Academy: I also want to see the psionic swordsmanship that they are so praised for. It is said that you can predict every attack of your opponent. Always hold the rhythm in the palm of your hand.”

"It's just spreading rumors."

Ahriman spread his hands.

"However, I am really not very keen on competing in the arena these years. The scene should be given more to young people: and, I gradually realized a problem, that is, it is best not to compete in this kind of incompetence. It’s a matter of life and death, exposing your true power and trump card.”

"Grandmaster style?"

Sevatar smiled.

"It doesn't count, it doesn't count."

Ahriman shook his head.

"It's just that when I think that everyone now knows the characteristics of my psychic swordsmanship, and what I get is just a false reputation, I always feel that it is not worthwhile: but if you want to compare with each other, it is not impossible, I have always I want to compete with the famous Crow Prince."

"It's better to hurry up than to hurry up."

Sevatar nodded with satisfaction.

"Where to fight?"

Ahriman thought for a moment: a smile slowly crept onto his cheeks.

"Sevita."

Qianzi pointed into the distance, toward the dark corner where no one would disturb him and where the light of the bonfire would not shine.

"As a Night Lord: You wouldn't mind a duel in the dark, would you?"

"Just what I wanted."

The Crow Prince showed his fangs.

"Don't say I bullied you."

"I'm the one who said that: after all, I remembered you were a psyker too?"

"...I just understand it a little bit."

"Then I'll try not to use it."

Ahriman laughed.

"Well, sooner rather than later, the two of us will..."

Before they finished speaking, an earth-shaking sound came from a place not far behind the two people: cheers, doubts, roars, disbelief and madness were mixed among them, even attracting the attention of all the original bodies. look.

"What happened?"

Sevatar raised his head and looked in the direction of the sound with confusion: Did he remember that it was the bonfire of Sigismund and Abaddon?

Didn't they only play for two minutes?

"What could happen?"

The Prince of Crows murmured to himself, but Ahriman, who was standing next to him, just narrowed his eyes and glanced casually. Then, Yun Danfengqing's expression suddenly changed: an uncontrollable curse word came out of his mouth. It fell out so fast that Ahriman didn't even notice.

"Grass……"

Thousand Sons was stunned and looked at Savita with a hint of confusion.

"Abaddon lost!"