Inside the Antarctic glacier.
Justicar climbed along the sheer face of the frozen cliff, wearing Power Armor and wielding an ice axe.
Even protected by the Rebel Army's latest model of Power Armor, Justicar still felt cold at the sight of everything around him. It was a wondrous trick of the human brain.
The Rebel Army Chaplain, Samoa, was climbing the cliff as well.
He wasn't wearing Power Armor.
He wasn't even wearing a padded coat.
His frost-whitened hands clung tightly to the rocks jutting out from the cliff as he climbed.
The whole thing was utterly pointless self-torture.
But Justicar didn't comment. He was simply puzzled.
Samoa seemed to be undertaking a harsh ascetic trial, yet he still had his usual unbelievable conviction: I won't be stopped. I'll overcome every hardship. No matter how many unimaginable trials I face along the way, I'll endure.
This climb was the embodiment of that conviction.
No one could be sure whether Samoa would find another jutting rock to grab as he climbed, but he kept going and had already reached a height of a hundred meters.
"Focus on climbing, warrior," Samoa said through his communicator. "I used to serve Karamazov. Every rock-climbing exercise during my training with the Assassinorum was harsher and more brutal than this one. Don't worry about me. Keep hold of your ice axe, and don't fall."
The communications system carried more than just Samoa's voice. Every so often, the command center checked in as well.
Lion had assigned the main Rebel Army forces from Nameless Hive to defend the Dragon Sector, a tertiary war zone in the Alert Star system.
But Justicar, leader of the Alert Star's main Rebel Army forces, had flown to Antarctica with Samoa to climb a mountain—and had even brought a transport squadron to