The 69th Black Crusade (III)

Cato Sicarius looked at the mortal standing opposite him, bewildered. ☮♕ 💘ඏ

Although he didn't really want to do it, he had developed an almost instinctive ability to observe during his long career as a reconnaissance soldier. This ability made him always have the desire to analyze and put into practice anything he saw.

Now, of course, it's no exception.

Sicarius quickly drew a conclusion from the man's relaxed posture and calloused hands: he was probably not a soldier at all, and the reason he was standing there was likely just the surrounding veterans playing a joke on him.

As for the calmness on his face, Sicarius preferred to interpret it as the blank expression of extreme bewilderment, a trait he had observed in many mortals who had met Astartes, and this man was likely no exception.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but sigh. However, at that moment, the door to the dueling cage was suddenly closed from the outside.

Sicarius turned around in surprise and saw his company commander Idaeus, withdrawing his right hand from the cage door.

"Be extremely careful, Cato Sicarius," he warned, reaching out to shake an iron bell beside him.

Even as a mere scout, Sicarius knew that this meant the battle had begun. The veterans gathered around the iron cage silently cast their gazes upon him, making Sicarius feel an unusual heat.

Now, even if he truly knew nothing about the current situation, he could glean something from the reactions of others.

Besides, even if it was just a bad joke, it shouldn't have gone this far. Furthermore, both the company commander and the veterans were very serious.

In other words, they genuinely believed that mortal could rival an Astartes in the confined space of a dueling cage.

Sicarius turned his head, frowned, and cautiously raised his sword. He still found it hard to believe; how could a mortal who had clearly not undergone any modifications possibly stand against the Emperor's Angel of Death?

A second later, he got the answer: two flashes of silver light that crossed each other.

They were so fast that Sicarius even thought they were faster than explosives. He could track the trajectory of explosives in the air and even predict their landing point, but he couldn't do that with these two swings.

To him, they were merely lights; even the sounds seemed nonexistent. If he hadn't raised his sword and instinctively parried, his throat would probably be pierced by now.

His two hearts began to pound rapidly, and adrenaline surged. In an instant, Sicarius entered a state of focused battle concentration.

His eyes were fixed on the mortal who had already retreated, his gaze focusing on his shoulder. Who he was, or rather, what he was, could be discussed later.

The most urgent task now is to win this victory.

He decided to take the initiative.

Sicarius strode forward and tentatively thrust his blunt training sword, perfectly balanced in weight and equilibrium, straight toward the mortal's body.

Sicarius held back, controlling his power. During that brief parry, he had already made a rough estimate of the man's strength. He didn't want to hurt him, but the reality surprised him greatly.

His thrust was effortlessly thwarted by a short knife.

It was a brilliant interception. His opponent anticipated the training sword's trajectory with his short sword, then swung it precisely, striking the longsword's blade and applying a deflecting force.

Sicarius clenched his fists tightly, managing to retrieve his sword. He stared at his opponent in shock, a hint of bewilderment on his face.

"Well then, let me formally introduce you, Sicarius," his company commander chuckled as he spoke from outside the dueling cage. "This is Karyl Lohars, an instructor from the Eighth Legion."

"Legion?!"

"Yes, Legion," Idaeus said. "Alright, now hurry up and defeat him, or you'll be punished on your first day in the company."

Sicarius uttered a short phrase in the local Talassar dialect, meaning disbelief. His muscles tensed, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief, and his taciturn opponent finally spoke at that moment.

He remained standing there, his hands hanging at his sides, holding two gleaming knives in his hands.

"Company Commander Idaeus is joking with you, Sicarius. There's no such thing as punishment in this battle; in fact, you didn't even have to participate in this battle in the first place."

He raised his left hand and pointed at the audience below with the blade of his sword, pointing out an old soldier wearing a training shirt with his arms crossed.

"The next person to fight me should have been this Evido brother, but it was Idaeus who let you in."

"You heard everything." Evido, who had been singled out, nodded indifferently to Sicarius. "So try to play well, recruit, or I really will punish you."

Sicarius looked at him, then at his opponent, took a deep breath, and finally posed his question.

Are there any rules to this fight?

"Very perceptive, Sergeant. You've grasped what you need to focus on most right now. However, the rules are actually quite simple: if you can hit me once within five minutes, you win."

His opponent replied with a smile, and gently raised his hands.

"Then—the battle officially begins. From this moment on, I will only use power equal to yours."

His words were true; when he launched another attack, charging towards Sicarius, his movements were no longer as swift. Sicarius, however, remained vigilant and did not even regard the terms of victory as an insult.

He temporarily set aside a series of questions and began to concentrate on the battle—he had this ability, and this focus was the reason why he was repeatedly commended in reconnaissance training.

In a time that could hardly be called time, Sicarius's mind began to analyze the situation.

He realized that, based on their two recent encounters, his opponent clearly possessed far more combat experience than he did. He, on the other hand, had an undeniable advantage—the length of his weapon.

His opponent was armed with two short swords, which meant that if he wanted to harm Sicarius, he would have to find a way to get close.

In fact, he is doing just that now.

He was nimbly leaping around Sicarius, his dagger held in front of his chest, occasionally probing with a thrust or a swing, as if trying to lure Sicarius into drawing his sword. The young officer repeatedly warned himself not to fall for it.

He moved slowly and cautiously within the dueling cage, always keeping the tip of his sword pointed at his opponent.

This caution elicited slight murmurs from the veterans below the stage, and also brought a smile to Idaeus's face.

However, the smile quickly vanished from his face. He stretched out his hands, gripped the iron bars of the cage, and began to shake and urge it on.

"Attack, Sicarius! I command you to attack!"

"No way, sir!" Sicarius shouted back without even looking at him. "My opponent is strong; I must adopt a defensive counter-attacking strategy!"

His opponent laughed.

"It's not a good thing to blurt out your strategies, sergeant brother," he said gently.

The next moment, he threw a short knife.

This throw came without any warning; it was utterly abrupt. Although the speed wasn't particularly fast, it still sent chills down Sicarius.

He instinctively reached for his sword to parry, but at the last moment he suppressed the impulse and dodged the dangerous throw with a simple movement.

The dagger struck the bars of the iron cage with a crisp metallic clang. At that moment, his opponent also arrived silently, charging straight at Sicarius with his dagger gripped in a near-ground-hugging running motion.

The distance between the two had already been reduced to just a few steps during the previous series of probing attacks, so there was no need for further words now. In an instant, a streak of silver light pierced through the longsword's defenses and reached Sicarius's throat, bringing a sharp pain.

The young sergeant took a step back in frustration, pursing his lips—he had already anticipated that the throw was a feint and was prepared to use his sword to meet the subsequent impact, but he was still one step behind.

At the last moment, his sword instinctively went into a defensive stance, instead of striking out at its original angle. If he had been able to execute that strike, the situation would now at least be one of mutual destruction.

He lowered his sword, the bell rang again, and the cage door opened. Sicarius walked out silently, his blood, which had almost boiled just moments before, now completely cooled.

He kept the reasons for this failure firmly in his mind, but he couldn't resist the urge of curiosity and asked a question to the company commander who was so close and had opened the cage door for him.

"Sir, you just mentioned the Legion?"

Idaeus gave an ambiguous smile, "Hmm? Is that so?"

I'm sure I didn't mishear.

"You heard me right," another voice said; it was his opponent's voice.

Sicarius turned around and saw him magically disappear his twin swords into his sleeves. At that moment, he no longer seemed to pose any threat.

Sicarius was certain that even if he were wearing a helmet and analyzing the man through tactical goggles, he would most likely only get a "harmless" assessment.

"But—" Sicarius frowned. "—you're just a mortal?"

The more he talked, the more ridiculous his conclusion seemed. What ordinary person could defeat an Astartes in the confined space of a cage with such overwhelming force?

Not to mention what was revealed in those few words earlier. Sicarius knew that many similar battles had probably already taken place long before he arrived.

In other words, this so-called mortal had already fought many rounds in the cage, and his opponents were not new recruits like himself who had just been selected to join the company. He was facing genuine veterans from the Fourth Company.

"I'm glad you say that," Karyl said with a smile, leaning on the edge of the cage. "But to be honest, Idaeus, you shouldn't have pushed a heavily wounded recruit in front of me."

"Yeah, that's right," veteran Edovie muttered from the side.

He received a glare from Idaeus.

"It's nothing serious to be recovering from a serious injury, Instructor Karyl. I knew beforehand that Cato Sicarius was prepared. And his performance in the dueling cage just now proved me right, didn't it?"

Karyl nodded, while the veterans of the Fourth Company listened attentively to their company commander's words.

"Although he did not win, he demonstrated several rare qualities. In my opinion, these are qualities that some brothers who have been fighting for more than a decade have not learned."

"For example, he never underestimated the enemy, and even when he received impactful information during battle, he remained rational and continued to analyze the situation. Most importantly, unlike others, he did not blindly follow the orders of his superiors."

"Cato Sicarius had his own perspective on the battle situation. Although the defensive counter-attacking strategy ultimately proved to be flawed, these errors could be corrected through training. In other words, I believe—"

Idaeus turned his head to look at the bewildered and stiff-bodied Sicarius, smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"--He is fully qualified to join the Fourth Company."

The recruit's face flushed red as he struggled to maintain his composure, trying his best to conceal his emotions. He was trying very hard, but he still couldn't help but let out an obvious smile.

Idaeus chuckled and pushed him into the group of veterans. They began introducing themselves to him and commenting on his performance and tactical errors. Acceptance was thus easily accomplished, but Idaeus didn't participate.

He stood there, glancing back at the person inside the dueling cage. The latter's expression was completely unfathomable, a calmness as boundless as the ocean. Yet, Idaeus still wanted to imagine some scenes.

A century ago, in an era when Chapter were still simply legions, how would this instructor, acknowledged by Roboute Guilliman himself, have taught the Night Lords of the Eighth Legion?

He used his imagination, and at that moment a Servo-skull floated out from the pipes in the ceiling—the very convenient passageway that was exclusively for them.

The silver skull, bearing the insignia of Aquila and a laurel wreath, swayed as it flew before Idaeus and issued a command, or rather, a summons, in a cold, synthesized voice.

"Please proceed immediately to the Primarch Administrative Office, Idaeus."

"I see."

It received a response, but instead of leaving, it floated back to the edge of the cage, and the synthesized voice sounded again.

"Please proceed immediately to the Primarch Administrative Office, Instructor Karyl."