Chapter 195: The Duel Begins |
The Dark Angels soon arrived at the bridge.
"Greetings, Lord Romulus."
The knights offered a dogmatic salute to Romulus at the seat of honor, their execution so flawless that no one could find a single fault in it.
Ezekiel, meanwhile, swept his gaze across the bridge.
The bridge of the Dawnlight was astonishingly vast compared to other vessels. The tiered platforms housed a much wider variety of departments. Aside from the military command currently wrapping up the ground battle, the Adeptus Administratum was also present, coordinating seamlessly with the local astropathic choirs.
Ezekiel could even spot quite a few Adeptus Astartes of Guilliman's lineage among them.
They were hard at work, and from their passing words, Ezekiel could pick out specific details regarding various planetary governance projects.
The Chief Librarian could not help but nod in approval.
Conquest was always merely the first step. Truly integrating a planet into the Imperium required decades of governance, and turning it into a productive asset took centuries of careful management. This latter phase was by far the most crucial work.
They simply could not afford to invest too much of their own energy into such endeavors.
The purpose of their current mission was also far more important than overseeing the restructuring of any single world.
"Greetings, Ezekiel. The sons of Russ have been waiting for you for quite some time."
Facing this legendary Dark Angels Librarian, Romulus had no desire to engage in excessive small talk. He sat squarely on the command throne, and after nodding in return, immediately went back to processing the documents on his desk, maintaining both a commanding presence and an appropriate distance.
The more one spoke, the more likely one was to make a mistake, and he had no wish to accidentally provoke these sensitive knights with a careless word.
"..."
Ezekiel gracefully returned the salute, then turned his attention to the sons of Russ.
Ever since these cousins refused to accept the Codex Astartes, their standing within the Imperium had always been somewhat awkward. These maverick warriors stood out glaringly no matter where they went.
"Arum Iron-Oath."
The Wolf Guard retainer flared his nostrils, a beastly little habit that caused his wolf-tooth necklace to sway gently.
Under the undisguised disappointment in Redmane's eyes, Arum pounded his right fist heavily against his breastplate, producing a dull, heavy thud.
"I will be your opponent."
Ezekiel's gaze swept over the restless Blood Claws behind Arum, their young eyes burning with unmasked battle lust.
He could smell the fiery tension permeating the air—
These newly transformed wolf-pups were practically like feral wolves during the Fenrisian spring, desperate to prove themselves at every waking moment.
He then appraised the Wolf Guard. Seeing the warrior gripping a standard power axe and staring at him with fierce eagerness, Ezekiel could not help but feel a flicker of acknowledgment in his heart.
"May I ask where our arena is?"
Arum turned and raised his weapon in a gesturing motion, leading the Dark Angels across the bridge.
They eventually stopped at a retrofitted platform. It had originally been an observation deck overlooking the production lines below, but it was now reinforced with polished steel plates.
The surrounding guardrails had been replaced by sturdy pillars engraved with the insignias of both Space Marine Chapters, while the overhead lighting arrays illuminated the area like a grand stage.
"Come."
The Wolf Guard stepped onto the raised platform and issued the challenge to his opponent.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Redmane anxiously grinding his teeth, while the young Blood Claws paced back and forth in the spectator area like chained wolf-pups.
Even though Redmane was always howling about seizing glory for their Grand Company, Arum did not want any unexpected incidents during such a solemn occasion.
Over the course of ten thousand years, the Space Wolves had accidentally killed Dark Angels champions on more than one occasion.
Although they consistently used savagery to mask their true inner nature, every Space Wolf was genuinely bursting with feral instincts when they first joined the Chapter. Recklessness and frenzy were practically their defining traits.
Every Space Wolf went through this metamorphosis: the pure, blizzard-like fury of their time as a Blood Claw, learning to forge that rage into a sharpened blade as a Grey Hunter, until finally becoming a Long Fang capable of perfectly balancing savagery with reason.
This process was always drenched in blood—some of it their own, but mostly that of others.
And the ones responsible for those past dueling scandals were almost always members of the Blood Claws.
Arum had no idea what the old wolves of the past had been thinking, but he refused to let such a scandal occur within his own ranks. Nor did he wish to see another centuries-long blood feud sparked by a momentary loss of control.
"Apologies, cousin."
Ezekiel stood firmly in place and shook his head.
"I am not your opponent."
A member of the Consecrators stepped out from the formation. He stripped off his chaplain's robes, revealing a suit of armor so ancient in its design that it almost gave Arum the illusion of looking at Gareth and his lot—the ancient veterans from ten millennia ago.
Arum frowned slightly. The opponent's armor was etched with dense, intricate patterns. These were similar to the tattoos worn by the wolves—the more numerous and complex the markings, the more battles the warrior had endured, and thus, the stronger they were.
"I am Nakir, Supreme Grand Master of the Consecrators."
The Dark Angel raised his sword in his right hand, bringing the power blade vertically before his chest in an impeccable salute to the Wolf Guard.
As he moved, the cloth strips at his waist shifted, revealing a peculiarly shaped crozius hung beneath them. On its ebony shaft, six black pearls were arranged in a flawless hexagram pattern.
Creak—
There it was again.
Ezekiel gripped his sword, continuously taking in his surroundings as he tried to discern exactly what was happening. His palm tightened unconsciously around the hilt.
That creeping sense of lethal peril—the feeling that he could drop dead at any moment—had returned. It was as if a freezing blade were being pressed directly against his skull.
But the persistent interference blocking his psychic senses left him effectively blindfolded, rendering him completely unable to track the unseen threat.
"What a ruthless guy."
Beside Arthur, Rameses, who had also infiltrated the group, muttered in awe to his companion. A psychic disguise rippled across the surface of his power armor, perfectly mimicking the dark green livery of the Dark Angels like flowing water.
The psychic camouflage and persona-simulation tech of the Alpha Legion was truly breathtaking. When combined with the soul projections of the replaced knights to act as a cover, even a Chief Librarian like Ezekiel could not spot a single flaw.
Moreover, the Dark Angels they had planted as spies would never expose their identities through behavioral habits or internal ciphers.
"Even Asmodai only has two. This guy has six. As expected of the Consecrators, they breed absolute madmen."
Arthur ignored him, silently fixing his gaze on those black pearls.
For ten thousand years, the Dark Angels—centered around The Rock—had been hunting the Fallen Angels. These black pearls served as proof that an Inner Circle member had successfully forced a 'Fallen Angel' to repent.
It was an obscure piece of trivia, but Asmodai, the notoriously fanatical and bloodless Master Interrogator-Chaplain of the Dark Angels, had only earned two black pearls in his entire lifetime.
One could only imagine the terrifying depths of fanaticism the Consecrators Chapter had reached in their hunt for the Fallen Angels.
It was not that he could not understand the feelings of Zabriel and the others.
Simply from having one-on-one conversations with them and truly learning about their personal experiences, one could immediately grasp just how violently unhinged these Dark Angels of the 41st Millennium truly were.
Ten thousand years ago, when Caliban shattered, there had been at least fifty thousand Dark Angels upon it.
The one thousand-odd survivors they had recently gathered might seem like a large number, but what about the rest?
Over the millennia, how many souls, completely ignorant of the current reality, had been relentlessly persecuted?
Arthur did not know the exact figures. The Dark Angels' Inner Circle likely held interrogation logs, which he intended to investigate, though he did not need to see them to know how unspeakably bloody those records would be.
But what was he supposed to do?
Indiscriminately slaughter these Dark Angels of the modern era, and let the Dark Angels of ten millennia past take their place?
How would that make him any different from these zealots?
'Judgment or vengeance?'
Arthur shook his head, gesturing for the disguised Dark Angels not to act rashly.
The answers perhaps lay within those classified archives yet to be decrypted. His task was to ensure that the Dark Angels did not transform into another Asmodai while on their path to uncovering the truth.
Clack—
Within the Administratum sector, Gareth, who had been organizing documents, suddenly paused his slender fingers. He calmly pressed his hand down over Kai's, stopping him.
"Kai, do not do anything unnecessary. We are prepared, but we will not be the ones to raise the butcher's blade first."
Gareth's voice was as tranquil as a deep pool, but the force transmitting through his fingers caused Kai's armplate to let out a faint shriek of warping metal.
Kai turned to him, a dangerous red light flashing within his ocular lenses.
"He murdered at least six of our brother knights. Those pearls are the proof."
Kai's words were transmitted via cipher. Even without a single audible sound, Gareth could feel the scorching killing intent behind them.
Arthur possessed an extraordinary understanding of the modern Dark Angels. From the many secrets of the Inner Circle and the identities of the various Grand Masters, to the precise meaning behind those black pearls—they knew everything with crystal clarity.
Beneath his faceplate, shifting light and shadow played across Gareth's face, highlighting the tense line of his jaw.
"Yes, which is exactly why he will face judgment in the future."
Gareth replied.
"We will conduct an investigation, and we will gather evidence. But until then, we cannot take matters into our own hands."
Beneath Kai's gauntlet, the servo-motors emitted a faint clicking noise. Yet Gareth's hand remained absolutely immovable, clamped down like an iron shackle welded directly to the armor, suppressing even the most miniscule of tremors.
The Administratum officials continued to bustle about nearby, completely oblivious to the explosive tension brewing in this quiet corner.
"If we behave exactly as they do, making arbitrary decisions without an investigation, then what right do we have to call them the Fallen Angels?"
The barely restrained force in his hand abruptly slackened, and Gareth's voice dropped a few octaves.
It was not as if there were no truly corrupt individuals among the Fallen Angels. After learning what Chaos truly represented during their internal indoctrinations, they universally agreed that the scum who had chosen to turn to Chaos entirely deserved to die.
"His Highness would not want to see us like this."
Gareth continued to persuade him.
"He went to great lengths to provide us with an opportunity for mutual honesty. Unfounded suspicion and unverified slaughter—that is true corruption."
"..."
Kai's armor systems finally settled into silence, though his breathing beneath the visor remained as sharp as a blade.
His voice filtered through the vox-channel, thick with suppressed fury:
"I will wait for them to bare their fangs."
——
Clang!
The sharp ring of colliding metal abruptly shattered the stagnant atmosphere.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, Romulus rose to his full height from the throne. With a sweep of his arm, a master-crafted power halberd tore through the air, spinning rapidly before impaling itself in the very center of the dueling arena.
Crash!
The halberd embedded itself deeply into the steel-plated floor. The haft vibrated endlessly, its resonant hum echoing through the bridge like the beating of a war drum.
In almost the exact same instant—
The figures of Arum and Nakir suddenly blurred, their power armor's servo-systems erupting into a deafening whine as they were pushed to their absolute limits.
The Wolf Guard's battle axe and the Dark Angel's power sword intersected in mid-air. Sparks cascaded outward as the azure glow of their disruption fields violently detonated upon impact.
The duel had begun!