Evrene Lost Even in a One-on-One!

Commorragh high-level port.

"Get down!"

A Conspiracy was driving his herd forward Archon.

Judging from his current gains, they are quite substantial—not only have he acquired many strong and healthy human slaves who can be played with for a long time, but he has also captured several Space Marine in the battles of raiding.

In the words of the Mon-keigh, this should be his name.

Unfortunately, due to the prey's strong resistance, he lost many of the Conspiracy's henchmen during the capture.

The cost of reshaping his body according to the agreement was another large sum, and after all that, he only had a small amount of money left.

But they have no choice but to sign it: if they don't even have the Haemonculi Agreement, no slightly skilled thug will choose to join their Conspiracy and work for them.

Fortunately, the goods were of good quality, which was able to mitigate his losses to some extent.

"Come, sir, take a look at our newly arrived top-quality goods—this Mon-keigh killed several of our best men during the capture process. In the end, I even had to personally take action, working with everyone to use poison crystals to accumulate a sufficient dose of anesthesia before slowly dragging it into a coma to complete the capture."

"Our Conspiracy has recently heard that you are planning a grand event—"

"His strength is boundless; even I suffered a slight loss against him. Though he is indeed a bit clumsy, the pressure he exerts in actual combat is quite considerable—perhaps a powerful warrior could truly shine in your mistress's Gladiator Arena."

The Salamanders Space Marine heard that disgusting hissing voice from the Xenos once again.

That damned Xenos raider seems to be communicating with a gorgeously dressed female Xenos.

Although he couldn't understand the strange language of these Xenos, judging from his body language and expressions, this guy was probably trying to please them.

He was trying to use himself to earn some despicable reward.

Pooh.

The Salamanders thought dismissively.

If the other side hadn't threatened him with civilians, making him somewhat hesitant to fight, the final outcome would still be uncertain!

The two sides then engaged in a brief exchange, which concluded with the female Xenos handing over several tokens to the other party, while the restraints binding the Salamanders were handed over from the Kabal Archon.

The upcoming duel between Arena Queen Lyris and rising Fighting Cult Champion Yvraine is the hottest topic in Commorragh today.

To prepare for this magnificent event, all the Wych Cults will make thorough preparations and send their most powerful and proudest gladiators to the competition.

Even the strongest gladiators are merely minor NPCs in front of Lyris, but the honor of fighting against the incomparably powerful Arena Queen is enough to make all the Dark Eldar ecstatic.

And it is precisely because this battle requires more powerful gladiators to highlight it that the Wych Cults and the Conspiracy are searching the world for suitable individuals.

"You should feel fortunate to have been chosen by the hostess."

The Salamanders was startled.

Suddenly, the female Xenos who was leading them spoke to him in Gothic he was familiar with.

"You understand our language?"

"It's not just about knowing."

There was a hint of sourness in the Xenos's words. "Soon, we'll all be working together."

Working together?

What is this Xenos saying?

The elevator we were riding ascended rapidly, finally stopping at the top of the elevator, where there was no sign, in front of a magnificent and ornately decorated Xenos Grand Hall.

"The hostess has invited him; please bring him over."

The Dark Eldar at the gate, dressed in light clothing adorned with multiple spikes and black leather armor, spoke.

"Here it is--"

In this Xenos palace, the Salamanders spotted something unusual, completely out of place in the surrounding dark environment.

A figure in shades of purple and gold.

Commorragh Stadium.

Boom!

As Titus pried open the chitinous skull of the Hive Tyrant, a precise artillery barrage was unleashed in conjunction with the Iron Warriors.

The damned giant worm, already riddled with holes from the previous battles, finally collapsed, trembling, and ceased to move.

It's resolved.

Seeing the Hive Tyrant outer shell was riddled with cuts yet still thrashing about, finally collapse with a roar, the two Space Marine could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

The Hive Tyrant is a worthy opponent.

This first battle took a considerable toll on Titus's energy—while fighting the giant insectoid, they also had to be constantly on guard against other gladiators in the arena taking advantage of the chaos to launch a sneak attack.

Moreover, this guy was an enemy he had never faced before— the Tyranid swarm was an enemy that Titus had rarely heard of, and this was the first time he had faced such an endless array of Xenos beings.

"Is it alright?"

"It's alright, just be careful."

He accepted the hand extended by the Iron Warriors.

More battles awaited him, and he couldn't afford to fall in this Xenos arena.

Amidst cheers, shouts, and fights, a motorcycle stopped in front of them.

Immediately afterwards, the location of their next battle reappeared on the projection screen on the motorcycle, marked with red dots.

Vehicle Combat.

This grand feast prepared by the Dark Eldar would certainly not end with such a monotonous arena battle.

Clearly, this was not just a simple clash of weapons—if it were, it would be an extremely uninteresting and uncreative event.

The Dark Eldar cannot tolerate boredom.

Moreover, according to the translation displayed on the screen, these motorcycles were also equipped with bombs that were impossible for inferior intelligent beings to remove, based on Eldar technology. If anyone dared to drive this motorcycle off the battlefield, they would be met with a direct aerial fireworks display, their spray of flesh and blood adding further brilliance to the entire battle.

"It says here that it can only carry a maximum of two gladiators—prepare to break through the encirclement."

Titus pressed down on the Disintegration Field of the sword in his hand once again.

For him, the battle is far from over.

The roar of motorcycles, accompanied by the shouts of the Commorragh audience, echoed throughout the high-rise stage.

Of course, there were also more intense explosions and blood rain spraying from the sky, while the light from the contestants firing laser cannons and Splinter Weapon at each other filled the entire sky.

To the Eldar, whether it's humans or Orks racing cars, it's nothing more than Mon-keigh driving some extremely slow toy.

Only the speed of the great Eldar motorcycles can be described as such, and only the Eldar can rely on their innate reflexes and agility to drive high-speed motorcycles and engage in fierce battles with their opponents in the sky.

Occasionally, artillery fire and motorcycles would crash into the stands amidst the roar, clashing with the residents sitting there and struggling to escape from the cheering crowd.

Of course, only a few were able to escape.

Most of the contestants, who are left dazed and confused, will face the friendly and hospitable residents of Commorragh —who will give them a warm welcome when they fall here.

Until they are dismembered, their remains are used as a memorial to those who participated in the event.

It's bloody, exciting, and full of spectacle and challenge.

Even after some of the most popular contestants are eliminated, the organizers will provide other people in the venue with unusual drinks—like the tears of that supporter, or something else more bizarre and provocative.

The cries of successful bettors and the angry losers echoed each other, accompanied by the deafening explosions of motorcycles above, creating a beautiful scene that could make the Dark Eldar young again.

"Lyris did a good job designing the spectacle of gladiatorial combat."

Surrounded by beautiful and alluring maids, Baal Vect, the lord of Commorragh and leader of the Black Heart Consortium, sat on the magnificent throne atop the Commorragh Arena in the Dark City, coldly observing everything unfolding before him.

Sitting on this unique and noble throne, Vect was clearly very pleased with himself.

His millennia-long scheming and plotting finally had a moment to be enjoyed.

At the beginning of his birth of Slaanesh was just a lowly slave—but over the past ten thousand years, he has risen from the lowest-ranking criminal gang in the Commorragh, the "Black Heart Consortium," through his emotional intelligence, intellect, and ambition.

He gradually rose from a petty thug to the ruling class of Commorragh, and then, with methods that even he himself admired, he made those who tried to stop him, manipulate him, or look down on him die one by one.

To date, no one has been able to escape Vect's pursuit after offending him.

—At least not now.

When exactly will we see the final gladiatorial combat?

While the current motorcycle chase battles may seem somewhat entertaining, he's grown tired of watching them at his level.

He had personally experienced too many such thrilling battles, and they could no longer arouse his interest.

In his return to simplicity, it was only Lyris's outstanding skills that allowed him to feel the passion and beauty of battle.

"Your Excellency, if this is your wish, we will inform the Wych who are organizing the event to end this phase as soon as possible."

A beautiful maidservant, kneeling respectfully beside him, said, "After this, the remaining survivors will proceed to the final arena stage to complete the final battle."

"Oh?"

Vect frowned.

Something's not right.

"I remember your master has been searching for human Space Marine slaves in various Conspiracy these days. Is that true?"

". Yes, my lord."

This matter was so famous that no one knew why Lyris suddenly ordered her Wych Cults to frantically search for human slaves throughout Commorragh, especially large human slaves known as Space Marine.

So much so that almost every Conspiracy is discussing this.

"But what about those slaves?" Vect looked at the other man with a half-smile. "If I remember correctly, Lyris said she bought them to prepare for our grand event."

"Could it be that Lyris has taken a liking to the Mon-keigh and that buying some humans is actually a personal hobby of hers?"

Vect said with a smile.

Among the Dark Eldar, playing with slaves is considered one of the healthiest hobbies.

Those like Lyris, who are uninterested in any slaves and focus solely on honing their skills, are truly exceptional.

He was smiling, but Vect's face didn't relax even a little bit.

Although these humans might also serve as sparring partners for Lyris during her preparation phase, he still sensed that something was amiss.

Her greatest opponent in this battle, Evrene, is an Eldar. The Craftworld Aeldari turned into pirates and then into this Wych Fighting Cult —why is she looking for human slaves?

Moreover, his informants and spies had never heard of the final fate of the human slaves in Lyris's mansion.

What exactly happened to all these human slaves who suddenly disappeared?

Having climbed to the top in the Dark City of Commorragh for so long, Vect's sense of smell is much sharper than that of the average guy.

But without evidence, how could he possibly break the cheers of the crowd?

Even if they wanted to plot a rebellion, the rabble of a few hundred human Mon-keigh warriors could not possibly shake the supreme prestige of the Black Heart Kabal Archon.

Now, the only ones who can threaten his Black Heart Consortium and his own position in Commorragh are Lyris and Malus.

He was just thinking about it out of habit.

Forget it, I'll tell my men to keep a closer eye on that Lyris from now on.

". grown ups."

"Um?"

Vect, who had been lost in thought, immediately snapped back to reality.

"The final gladiatorial match is about to begin; the battle that everyone has been waiting for awaits us."

As the timer ticked down on the scoreboard at the highest point of the arena, motorcycles descended from afar at incredible speeds.

"One, two, three, nine!"

"Ten!"

As the last eligible candidate landed, amidst cheers, shouts, and curses from the audience, the final gladiator was chosen.

As for the remaining motorcycles, with a unified explosion, these pathetic losers exploded along with their vehicles, leaving not even a slightly intact corpse behind.

—For the Dark Eldar, this means death, absolute death.

Even with the Haemonculi's miraculous abilities, they could not revive the Eldar whose bodies had vanished without a trace.

Their souls can only report to Slaanesh.

"Lyris!"

"Lyris!"

"Evrene!"

Before this final battle, fifteen final gladiators emerged from ten landing motorcycles.

This is quite normal. Although motorcycles are allowed to carry two people, some confident and ruthless individuals choose to break through the encirclement alone to face the final battle.

Take, for example, the proud champion of the Wych Fighting Cult, Evrene. This time, she stepped off her motorcycle alone and looked around at her final opponent.

"Wait! There's one more person!"

"There is another person by Queen Lyris's side!"

Even more perplexing is the highly anticipated Arena Queen, Lyris —she's not fighting alone this time; following her is a mysterious figure draped in a heavy robe, whose true form remains obscured.

"No, I never thought you would be a coward, Lyris."

"This is your helper?"

Two people got off Lyris's motorcycle, and Evrene, wearing an expensive headdress, spoke to them in a clearly annoyed manner.

What happened?

Why would the proud Arena Queen bring an assistant to her for a final duel?

How could the gladiatorial contest she had been looking forward to be tainted?

No!

There is only one way, and always will be, to prove that she is the ultimate Arena Queen, and that is...

—One-on-one!

Evrene's current temperament is extremely volatile; she's the type who'll immediately engage in a life-or-death duel at the slightest provocation.

Her current desire for a one-on-one duel is comparable to that of a certain blue Primarch.

Otherwise, how could they say that people who aren't family don't enter the same door?

"No need, little sister."

Lyris smiled brightly at the other person, "Your only opponent is me. However, you will understand why he is here."

"That's not up to you to decide!!!"

The next moment, the impatient Evrene raised her scimitar.

But now that things have come to this, what rules are left?

The one who survives this final battle will be the champion!

"Lyris!"

Just as the audience was still surprised that Lyris had brought a helper with her, Evrene couldn't contain herself and charged at her.

"Ah!"

A deep, bone-revealing wound appeared on Evrene's waist.

"Little sister, you lost."

Clearly, Evrene's one-on-one duel also ended in failure.

In this battle, Lyris did not hold back—as the renowned Arena Queen of Commorragh, she naturally had her own pride.

The battle between Evrene and Lyris was breathtaking, even the clowns in the audience were amazed by their superb skills.

"Unfortunately, this is all you can do."

But in the end, Arena Queen Lyris seized the opportunity, and after Evelynn was rendered incapacitated, she delivered a swift and decisive thrust straight to Evrene's chest. Then she turned to find her next opponent, leaving Evrene to die.

Because she was so impatient, it seemed that the biggest suspense of the entire duel was about to come to the Veil at this moment.

No.

No

Blood was slowly flowing upwards from her chest. Evrene tried to stand up with difficulty, but her efforts were pathetic and laughable in the face of the fatal wound on her chest.

But she persisted.

Even as she began to experience auditory hallucinations due to her impending death, and her vision gradually blurred...

According to Lyris, she was nothing more than one of countless nobodies who wanted to challenge the Arena Queen, and her life or death was of no concern to the other party.

She was just an unknown nobody.

No!

An even brighter light flashed from his body.

She can't die. She can't just die here like this!

An obsession, a refusal to die and a desire to continue fighting, drove her to try to stand up again.

She could feel

"Stop, Evrene."

In her daze, she seemed to see the Grim Reaper who came to reap her. No, not the Grim Reaper, but the guy who had followed Lyris into the arena.

No, she didn't see the mysterious hooded figure at that moment.

Only golden-red flames filled her vision.

At that moment, Evrene saw a god.