You Heard You Were Pretty Tough?

Abaddon chased after Alvin, and the Black Legion had no choice but to help, blocking the Ultramarines who tried to provide support.

The entire battlefield was divided into three areas.

One was the battlefield of the Primarch and the Daemon Prince. No one could join in. The violent storm of their clash was so terrifying that it made people mistake it for two enormous machines pounding against each other!

Another was the battlefield of the Black Legion against the Ultramarines and the Sons of the Forest. They were doing their utmost to hold back those who tried to support the Warmaster.

And the final one was naturally the battlefield of Alvin and Abaddon.

"Run?!"

Abaddon charged all the way after him and cornered Alvin in one of the ship's cabins. "Let's see where you can run now!"

Abaddon had completely gone berserk, displaying the power of the Chaos Marshal. Even with the support of his magic sword, Alvin found it difficult to withstand him.

After all, in terms of strength, speed, reflexes, experience—in every aspect—Alvin was far inferior to Abaddon, who had fought for ten thousand years. It was only natural that he was suppressed.

"Aren't you good at talking?!"

"Then talk!!!"

Abaddon struck out claw after claw, like a tireless machine. His savage strength pressed down on Alvin so hard that he could barely breathe,

and he could only retreat step by step.

Bang!

At last, Abaddon seized an opening and threw a charged punch. It sent Alvin, sword and all, flying more than ten meters before he slammed heavily into a metal wall and slowly slid down.

"Cough—"

Alvin coughed up a mouthful of blood, both arms numb. Fortunately, he had used his sword to block just now. Otherwise, that punch might well have killed him!

"You have