Warhammer: Saving Humanity Begins with the Resurrection of Horus

Page 82

His expression turned serious, and the six gold studs on his forehead gleamed under the light, which, combined with his aged face, gave him an air of great authority.

"Are you serious, Lord Lin Qi? I think you should know that if this opportunity comes, the only warrior that our battle group will send out will be me, the battle group leader."

Lazarek took a deep breath and spoke slowly.

"Although it may not be very respectable to you, I must—I will personally wash away that disgrace."

"I know."

Lynch nodded, indicating that he understood what Lazarek meant.

“I will also send a warrior, after all, I am still just a mortal.”

"Who? Your company commander?"

"A member of my honor guard."

Lin Qi raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

The closed door opened, and a soldier walked in from behind it.

"Asford".

Lin Qi spoke up.

"My warrior will be the one to duel you this time."

Chapter 106 New recruits fight veterans, and the more they fight, the younger they seem.

Having confirmed the duel details, Lin Qi summoned a servo skull and issued the duel notice to everyone in the training ground.

Silence followed, and then erupted into an unimaginable uproar.

Lynch saw the reaction of the Star Claws below the stage, especially the company commanders. They were originally among the candidates for this duel in his plan, but in the end, he chose Asford.

"Afu."

Turning his head, Lin Qi looked at the soldier beside him who appeared calm but was actually on edge.

"do not let me down."

Asford took a deep breath, said nothing, but nodded solemnly, and then strode down from the platform, heading towards the dueling cage in the training arena.

Watching his player's figure disappear from sight, Lin Qi turned his head, letting his dark eyes look at Lazarek, who was silent not far away.

The Firehawks' commander noticed the gaze and let out a long sigh, as if he had released a knot in his heart.

“Your Excellency, the Chosen One,” Lazarek said. “Regardless of the outcome, you are a person worthy of my respect.”

After saying that, Lazarek fell silent. He turned around, walked down the platform in the direction of Asford, and came to the center of his battle group's warriors.

He raised his hands, and the already prepared mechs and servo skulls came to his side, removing his meticulously crafted power armor. The surrounding Firehawk warriors remained silent, watching their chapter commander become naked, finally wrapping a white cloth around his lower body, and grasping the weapon he was about to use.

A battle for glory.

One by one, the fire eagles extended one of their hands, clenched their fists, and made a fist.

A solid fist, each one seemingly ordinary, but enough to smash an enemy's head and body.

The warriors of Firehawk raised their fists and then slammed them heavily into their chests, right in front of their hearts.

"The raging fire will incinerate all enemies."

I don't know who first uttered the battleband's slogan, but then a second, a third...

The sounds rang out one after another, and the final, synchronized sound became a huge echo that reverberated throughout the training ground.

"Raging flames! Burn the enemy to ashes!"

Lazarek looked around, glanced at the warriors beside him, and then took a step and slowly walked into the dueling cage.

He held in his hand the weapon he had chosen—a longsword. Perhaps because chainswords and power swords were widely used in various chapters, sword-wielding was common among Astartes, and the skills for using this type of weapon had matured over thousands of years.

Steff Lazarek, as the Chapter Master of Firehawk, even disregarding the combat memories inherited from his own genetic seed, his six hundred years of life as a warrior alone are enough to allow him to hone his skills to a level that is difficult for an ordinary warrior to even dream of.

The chapter leader of Firehawk stepped into the dueling cage, gazing at a dark passage in the distance, and began to quietly await his opponent.

Below the stage, the Star Claws watching fell silent. Leo and Guts exchanged a glance. As the first and second company commanders, they were probably the two most capable fighters in the entire battle group at the moment.

However, none of them received Lynch's order to take the stage, which means that someone else was chosen to take the stage.

"You're a veteran of the company..."

"They're all there...where are yours?"

"What do you say?"

"Is he from the Honor Guard? I remember Draconis is in there. His swordsmanship is good enough to fight this Zalarek."

When the second company commander, Gus, spoke, he didn't notice that the first company commander, Leo's, expression suddenly stiffened, as if he had thought of something.

"...I think I know who it is."

"Who?"

"That 'attendant,' Asford, was spoken to privately by Lord Lynch a few days ago."

"...His service period hasn't even reached a hundred years, has it?"

"Indeed not, but Lord Lynch has chosen him, so all we can do is trust that choice."

Leo slowly exhaled and spoke to the second company commander.

"he came."

As soon as the words were spoken, footsteps echoed from the dark passageway.

A warrior slowly emerged from the darkness of the passage. He was not tall, at least not by Astartes' standards. His face was calm and serene, showing no sign of the tension that preceded the duel.

Leo and Gus stepped forward and blocked his way.

"You're just going to go up like this?"

Leo frowned and looked Asford up and down.

Asford's choice of weapon was unremarkable; it was also a longsword, its blade sharp and gleaming with a cold light. One side of the hilt was engraved with the symbol of the Star Claw, while the other side bore a ferocious wolf's head.

Asford nodded to Leo and slowly began to speak.

"He trusts me, and I will not betray his trust."

Asford's words silenced Leo and Gus. They exchanged a glance and then sighed in unison.

Go, carrying our expectations and blessings.

The two men stepped aside to let Asford go to the Duel Cage.

"Claw of the Stars".

They placed their hands on Asford's shoulders, and then, together with the warriors below, they shouted a battle cry that was no less powerful than the one Firehawk had just uttered.

"We pledge our victory!"

Asford looked gratefully at the two company commanders, then at his comrades below the stage, and raised his sword.

"We pledge our victory."

He spoke softly, then stepped into the dueling cage.

"You are not a veteran."

Looking at his opponent who had come to face him, Lazarek spoke slowly.

“But I respect you, so I will state your name, warrior from the Claws of the Stars. My name is Stefan Lazarek, I am the Chapter Master of the Firehawk Chapter, your opponent.”

“Corleone Asford, I come from the Claws of the Stars, and I am a member of Lord Lynch’s Honor Guard.”

Asford raised his sword and was the first to make the starting gesture.

He gripped the sword with both hands, his dominant hand positioned above the other, about half a little finger's width away from the bottom of the guard. His dominant hand was relaxed, used to control the sword's direction in the next swing, while his other hand gripped tightly to ensure the sword wouldn't be knocked away by an attack.

With one leg in front of the other, the right leg acting as the power leg behind, the muscles in the calf visibly taut. It could provide enough momentum to propel him forward, unleashing a swift and dangerous strike whenever needed.

Lazarek narrowed his eyes. As a master swordsman, he might not be the strongest in combat among the chapter commanders present, but he was confident that he was among the best in terms of skill.

After all, he had already spent a full six hundred years of fighting—six hundred years is a long time for the Astartes, and among many chapters, only the Dreadnoughts could reach such an age.

How much skill can a warrior hone in six hundred years?

No one knows, after all, all of Lazarek's opponents so far have turned into dust in the universe.

But looking at his opponent, this young Star Claw warrior, Lazarek inexplicably felt a sense of pressure.

He frowned, unsure of the source of this pressure. He sensed something strange; the soldier before him was so young, his combat abilities should be far inferior to his own…

So, is it a duty?

Lazarek understood, so he took a deep breath, letting his chest rise and fall. Then he looked into those black eyes with his pale blue eyes, a hint of admiration flashing in them.

“Three lives,” he said. “It’s coming.”

Asford was on high alert, watching Lazarek closely, especially his lower body.

Footwork is a very important thing in such battles.

But in the next instant, Lazarek suddenly disappeared from his sight.

Asford's pupils contracted slightly, this situation was beyond his expectations, but his body reacted even faster than his mind - his dominant hand began to move, and with his longsword, he swiftly swung it to the left side of his body.

boom!

Longswords clashed! A young white wolf and an old falcon fiercely tore at each other within this cramped cage!

Sparks flew as the two exchanged dozens of blows in just a few seconds.

Asford gritted his teeth. Every block and counterattack he made was forced to follow Lazarek's movements. Only now did he understand what an Astartes warrior who had lived for six hundred years truly represented.

He felt immense pressure; at this moment, he felt that Lazarek was a falcon capable of summoning storms. Every swing of his sword seemed to be accompanied by thunder and lightning; the speed and power made his hands go numb, and he almost dropped the sword.

Three seconds later, as another sword was swung out, Asford felt a sharp pain in his wrist. Looking down, he saw a clear line of blood on it.

It doesn't affect the battle that follows, but for this duel, it means the first drop of blood has been shed.

"First blood." Lazarek twirled his sword. "Two more chances, Asford, watch out."

"I know."