Chapter 196: The Lingering Chaos |
A sudden eruption of cheers echoing through the steel corridors startled a passing Tech-Priest.
Warriors from the two Chapters had, at some point, completely encircled the dueling ring.
First-blood duels were always a highly entertaining spectacle due to their very nature.
Since a single successful strike secured victory, attackers were often driven to attempt desperate, all-or-nothing maneuvers. This inherent thrill was precisely what made the matches so captivating.
"That makes seven!"
Arlm swallowed a mouthful of bloody froth, spinning his power axe in his palm to trace a dangerous arc of energy.
He had to admit, the Chapter Master was truly skilled; in a fight to the death, Arlm knew he would not be a match for him.
However, he could also sense the anger simmering beneath his opponent's stoic facade—a weakness the old Space Wolf could exploit.
After a brief moment of calculation, he shifted his grip lower down the haft of his power axe, closer to the blade. While this sacrificed his reach, it granted him far greater agility and control over his strikes.
Arlm roared as he launched yet another ferocious assault.
His taunts were like a dull blade, deliberately and precisely scraping away at his opponent's patience.
The spectating Space Wolves erupted into timely, boisterous laughter. A few Blood Claws even began beating their chest plates in exaggerated mockery. Meanwhile, the Dark Angels maintained an infuriating silence, with only their white-knuckled grips on their weapons betraying their true emotions.
The Dark Angels Champion, Nakir, silently adjusted his stance. The disruption field of his master-crafted power sword hummed steadily, but the wooden staff slung at his waist gave a faint, unnoticed tremor.
That minute anomaly was perfectly captured by Arlm.
Just as the Wolf Lord had taught him, even the most flawless defense could not hide a flaw in one's heart.
Arlm abruptly dropped his stance, completely abandoning the defense of his face. In response, Nakir discarded his counter-defensive posture, bringing his sword up to intercept the sweeping broad blade of Arlm's axe.
The surrounding warriors suddenly stepped back in unison—the universal sign that the duel was about to be decided.
Clang!
Before the sparks from the collision of axe and sword could even fade, Nakir's sudden thrust opened a shallow cut across Arlm's cheek.
But a fraction of a second prior, the axe blade had already grazed across the fingers holding Nakir's sword. A bead of crimson blood was instantly vaporized into a wisp of ash amid the crackling of the disruption field.
"First blood!"
The cheers of the Space Wolves exploded like a thunderclap, with several Blood Claws tossing their helmets into the air in sheer excitement.
Taking a half-step back, Arlm laughed boisterously. He wiped the beading blood from his cheek and tossed his skin of honey mead to the loser.
This was it. This was exactly what he needed—an evenly matched, exhilarating fight.
Damn it, after spending the past few weeks sparring daily with those monsters from the "Silent Vow", he had almost started to doubt his own skills.
The Space Wolves swarmed their champion, heartily clapping him on the shoulder, while the Dark Angels silently moved to inspect their Grand Master's injury.
"Their baseline is much higher than ours."
Zabriel leaned against a shadowed pillar, his arms crossed over his chest as his gaze swept over the celebrating Space Wolves.
"Indeed."
Lohr stood by his side, giving a slight nod.
His eyes lingered on the silent knights.
During the Great Crusade era, recruitment was conducted on a massive scale across a vast range of worlds, meaning the quality of new recruits was naturally uneven.
But in the current era of Space Marine Chapters, numbers were strictly limited. Every single warrior had to survive the most grueling selection process, the absolute best of the best. From a purely individual standpoint, the average combat prowess of Adeptus Astartes recruits in this era was undeniably superior.
At the same time, however, the sheer intensity and scale of the wars fought during the Great Crusade era were far beyond anything seen today.
The veterans who managed to survive those apocalyptic battlefields possessed a combination of luck and tactical mastery that the vast majority of modern warriors could never hope to match.
Not to mention, they had also undergone the Primaris Space Marine ascension protocols, making them physically and biologically superior to these Firstborn Space Marines.
"Has His Highness already gone inside?"
Zabriel asked.
"Yes," Lohr replied. "We have been gradually tagging the members of the Inner Circle. If necessary, we can purge them. The Outer Circle has already been secured. Once we fully map out the inner structure of the Fallen, we can attempt to take control of their successor chapters. After all—"
Lohr slightly tilted his dataslate. Displayed on the screen were all the essential armaments required to outfit a fully mechanized legion in this new era.
They were all of the same bloodline to begin with, so absorbing them would not be difficult. The transition could be completed within a century.
Furthermore, as long as His Highness remained with them, they would enjoy an endless stream of manufacturing support. As long as their supply chains bypassed The Rock, the chances of anyone discovering their operations were incredibly slim.
From the shadows of the bridge, a servo-skull silently glided past. Its crimson optical beam swept over the spot where the two men had just been standing, but it captured nothing save for an unadorned pillar.
"Some believe His Highness is being too lenient,"
Lohr suddenly spoke, his tone flat but heavy with implication.
There was no shortage of violently temperamental individuals among their ranks. For these tormented lions, nothing would soothe the agonizing pain of the past ten thousand years better than a brutal, unrestrained vengeance.
"Hmph!"
Hearing this, a cold sneer escaped Zabriel's nose. His gaze drifted toward the distance, where Nakir was currently conversing with Ezekiel.
"If they truly are the Fallen, then they had better pray His Highness maintains this calm and restraint forever."
"I think so too."
Lohr nodded again.
His Highness had brought so much to the Legion.
A place to belong, a formidable backing, and a grand ideal to strive toward.
But most crucially of all, His Highness had led by example, actively rebuilding the shattered trust and moral boundaries that had long since broken down within their ranks.
A nostalgic gleam filled Lohr's eyes.
He remembered the suspicious glares traded between former brothers-in-arms, the suffocating tension during their secret gatherings, and the harrowing truths that could never be spoken aloud.
But now, they could finally entrust their backs to their comrades without hesitation once more. They could be certain that the weapons they wielded would never be turned against their own brothers.
It had been a very long time since they had possessed such unity.
—
"I lost."
Catching the skin of honey mead, Nakir sighed, looking somewhat frustrated.
He had let Arlm's previous taunts get under his skin. In his eagerness to slice the Space Wolf's cheek to humiliate him, he had inadvertently given the old veteran the exact opening he needed.
"It matters not."
Ezekiel, who had tried and failed to pinpoint the source of a lingering premonition of death, felt a twinge of private disappointment but didn't dwell on it.
Such duels were always a matter of winning and losing. He had witnessed and participated in plenty; one simply had to take them in stride.
The Consecrators Chapter was famous for its dogmatic zeal, and its upper echelons were primarily composed of Interrogator-Chaplains. This meant that when facing an "enemy", they rarely stopped to ask "why".
The Inner Circle also needed exactly that kind of unwavering consistency from them.
Aside from the Ravenwing, the Angels of Redemption Chapter served as the primary force tracking down the Fallen for the Dark Angels.
"Congratulations, Arlm Ironoath."
Displaying the courtly grace expected of a true Calibanite knight, Ezekiel was the first to raise a flask of wolf ale in salute.
As the stopper was pulled free, the pungent aroma of honey mead instantly filled the air above the dueling ring. Arlm accepted the "Caliban Dry Red" handed to him and tipped his head back to drink deeply. The liquor spilled over his lips, mingling with the still-wet blood trailing down his cheek.
This shared gesture of camaraderie immediately washed away the previously tense atmosphere.
Romulus watched as Arlm pulled out his prize for winning—a master-crafted power halberd—and gave a distant wave, silently offering his own congratulations.
For a brief moment, he genuinely felt that these Dark Angels were rather graceful and not nearly as unhinged as the rumors suggested.
This culture of honor duels would continue to endure, passing down until a fateful day in the future.
On that day, the rapidly rising Young Wolf Lord Ragnar, upon losing first blood in a duel, would choose to launch a treacherous sneak attack, decapitating the Dark Angels Champion.
This act would fracture the relationship between the two factions irreparably. In the ensuing years, a series of scandals erupting from the Space Wolves—such as the emergence of the Wulfen—would tear that rift ever wider, ultimately leading the Dark Angels to conclude that their cousins had completely fallen to corruption.
On the eve of the Thirteenth Black Crusade, orchestrated by the machinations of the Changeling of Tzeentch, Magnus, the Dark Angels, and the Grey Knights would drag the entirety of Fenris back into the flames of war.
'Chaos.'
Romulus withdrew his gaze and frowned deeply at the astropathic scroll in his hand. It displayed an urgent distress signal from the Space Sharks Chapter.
'Truly a lingering curse.'
[Operation: Phase Briefing for Behind-Enemy-Lines Activities
Timestamp: 746.M41 (Unable to determine exact time)
Intelligence Clearance: Classified (III)
Space Sharks Chapter
Mission Objective: Coordinate with the Mantis Warriors to conduct guerrilla harassment operations against the Hive Fleet.
Completion Status: Severely Impeded
Details: The industrial world of Eros has suffered a severe outbreak of Chaos corruption. A temporal displacement barrier has manifested across the planetary surface, rendering it immune to orbital bombardment. Internal time flow has been calculated to be moving at six times the rate of realspace. Multiple Chaos warbands have entered the planet via Warp portals.
Current Status: Void war concluded in victory. Surface population casualty rate has exceeded 95 percent. A combined force of eight hundred Space Sharks and Mantis Warriors are currently fortified in the planetary high-altitude bastion, protecting twenty-seven million surviving civilians from ritual sacrifice. Known enemy combatants include the Thousand Eyes Warband, The Flawless Host, the Black Legion, and others—
Subsequent Plan: Our forces will maintain the defense of the fortress and await reinforcement from the capital fleet.]