Temptation

One sword.

Another sword.

A flurry of sword blossoms, trailing flickering and erratic afterimages, came hurtling toward Kasgar.

Treacherous, piercing—even the most venomous words would not be enough to describe the wielder of such a technique.

No one could withstand an assault this swift.

But Kasgar was the exception.

At least, that was what he believed.

Amid the countless afterimages, he steadied his mind, feeling for the sword's position.

There!

Pouring nearly all his strength into his wrist, he intercepted and parried the blade.

Clang!

Success!

The seemingly light strike landed solidly on his sword, far heavier than he had imagined.

He stumbled back a few steps, steadying himself as he retreated.

Just blocking that one move had drained all his strength.

Before he could feel any relief, his opponent's blade smoothly withdrew at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, then thrust forward toward his chest while he was still off-balance.

Not good!

Fortunately, Kasgar instinctively dodged to the left, barely avoiding the lightning-fast strike.

At the same time, he raised his longsword across his chest, ready to fend off any follow-up after the thrust.

Two moves!

He had successfully blocked two moves!

Finally, he could see the trajectory of his opponent's sword!

But in his sudden elation, Kasgar seemed to have forgotten one thing:

The most crucial thing was never what you saw.

But what you didn't see.

Just as a flicker of joy rose in his heart, a somewhat cool arm wrapped around his neck from the side.

He felt himself being lifted up like a chick.

"Your parrying is still too hasty. You didn't manage to deflect most of the force."

"On top of that, your footing is unstable and your reaction speed is too slow—those are also major problems."

"Understood. I'll—"

"No, Kasgar. You can't train anymore."

"You have to rest with me. That's the 'tuition fee.'"

"...Fine."

Forced to sit on Fulgrim's thigh, Kasgar lowered his head and silently admitted defeat.

Five years.

It had been five years since he had sneaked out of the Manor to meet Fulgrim in secret, and since the two of them, after being framed, had reclaimed the fortress and successfully married.

In those five years, Fulgrim, with her far superior technical skill and ability, had governed the entire Karax Fortress with impeccable order.

With the development and implementation of new machinery, the Karax Fortress had transformed from a steel coffin into an ecological oasis.

Not only had people's living conditions vastly improved, but their work had also grown easier with the refinement and operation of the machines.

With more free time, they could naturally devote more energy to artistic creation, which had been neglected for countless years.

New theaters, concert halls, cinemas, bookstalls, galleries, and other facilities had sprung up like mushrooms after rain, enriching the hearts and minds of every Karax resident.

As for where Kasgar was now—it was a specially built house constructed by the workers at the highest central point of the fortress, tailored to Fulgrim's demigod-like stature.

Outside, in the square, a gilded Sagittarius statue had even been erected to commemorate the pair's sincere and beautiful relationship.

As for why it had to be Sagittarius again—don't ask.

Over these five years, Kasgar had never stopped seeking Fulgrim's guidance.

Whether it was swordsmanship, mechanics, or governance, he did his utmost to absorb the teachings and instructions of the Primarch.

As a perfectionist Primarch, Fulgrim was naturally the best teacher Kasgar could have.

In his spare time, he trained.

And then trained some more.

Even though Fulgrim alone could handle everything, even though there was no enemy on Chemos that they couldn't defeat.

Kasgar had never once slacked off.

He persisted, practicing over and over again.

Only when his teacher, Fulgrim, forcibly stopped him like this did he finally relent.

Lowering his head, feeling the heavy pressure from behind his skull, he curled up before Fulgrim.

A deep sense of powerlessness flooded through Kasgar's limbs and bones.

His growth had been fast.

But he was still too weak.

In the sword duel just now, the Primarch hadn't used her true strength.

If Fulgrim had gone all out, Kasgar wouldn't have been able to see her blade before his head flew off.

To accommodate Kasgar, she had even lowered her speed and strength to an ordinary human's level, fighting purely with her exquisite technique.

Yet even so, Kasgar still couldn't match her.

Five years.

The gap remained like an insurmountable chasm.

He should clearly recognize that he was nothing more than a complete mortal.

Perhaps, thanks to the Primarch's favor, he could gain some status, but with such weak strength, how could he prevent her fall in the future? How could he save her from the clutches of the Dark Gods?

The worry between Kasgar's brows deepened.

This couldn't go on.

He had to find other ways to become stronger.

For that, he needed a new shortcut. He had to—

No.

The thought had barely flickered through his mind before Kasgar immediately rejected it.

That was close.

That thought just now. If he had accepted it, he might have fallen into a trap set by the Warp's Dark Gods.

Those beings wouldn't appear before you like a witch in a fairy tale, grinning maliciously and saying outright: "Hehehe, how about we make a deal?"

That kind of trick might only fool a fool like Magnus.

In reality, their temptations were far more insidious and dangerous.

Often, before the tempted even realized it, they had already been led astray, beyond redemption.

Kasgar had to stay vigilant at all times.

He had to, and could only, rely on himself.

With that thought, the fighting spirit reignited within him.

Old Man Huang had sold even his own ass to revive humanity!

He was only facing a small setback like this—how could he give up so easily?

"What's wrong, Kasgar?"

"Your mood seems... a bit off."

"Your progress has actually been tremendous. Even among the fierce Sulfa people, there's no swordsman who grows this fast."

"Don't blame yourself, and don't feel pressured."

Seeing his low spirits, Fulgrim gently stroked his forehead.

"If you still think you're not strong enough..."

"Then just leave everything to me."

She was so kind.

Kasgar, held in her embrace, sighed inwardly.

"Speaking of the Sulfa people."

Her tone grew more serious: "As more and other fortresses on Chemos join us, our conflict with the Sulfa people has become increasingly intense."

More and more attack records showed that they were becoming the Sulfa people's primary target.

"With Karax's infrastructure gradually being completed, the other fortresses allied with us are all sending their civilians to Karax."

Over these five years, Fulgrim had used force and diplomacy to bring nearly all the surviving fortress cities on Chemos under her control.

And with her excellent governance, she had absorbed the entire population of Chemos.

Fortress cities weren't the problem.

The most troublesome were still the scavengers roaming outside the cities.

"Kasgar, the new fortresses that have joined us all urgently need arrangements and construction. I might not be able to get away."

"I need you to protect the civilian convoys heading to our fortress, keeping them safe from Sulfa attacks."

"Alright."

Kasgar agreed quickly.

This was a rare chance to stand on his own, to test his own progress.

He couldn't hide forever under the Radiance's protection.

The Great Crusade ahead held more twists and trials—he had to learn to face danger alone.

"Alright, business is done."

"As for now."

She let out a soft laugh, her fingers gently tracing under Kasgar's chin.

"Fallen knight."

"Are you ready to accept your punishment for defeat?"

Feeling her hands wander, in that instant, Kasgar met Fulgrim's amused purple eyes.

Shit.

Some temptations he could still tame.

But others... there was no refusing them at all.

His charm check had critically failed.

Yet even if all resistance was futile, even if his limbs were bound by thorns, Kasgar would still cry out with unyielding will that famous line of the defiant—

"Guh, kill me!"

For no reason, Kasgar remembered the Mud Truck that had barreled toward him twenty-five years ago.