2. Friendly Exchange (3k)

Roboute Guilliman could smell blood.

He walked cautiously through the darkness, without uttering a word, his iron boots grinding heavily on the ground. The sound of construction debris being crushed was so clear. He gripped his short sword, his posture almost incomprehensibly cautious.

The ruined fortress was littered with corpses, and blue insignia clung stubbornly to the Power Armour. The killer had deliberately preserved every insignia; all the bodies were killed with a single, fatal blow, with no further movement whatsoever.

He observed these details, taking them all in, and began to sigh silently.

If he had any ground personnel he could mobilize—even just an troop transport—he wouldn't personally walk into the fortress.

If he dies, then he has lost.

But he had no choice; he had to go in himself. Darkness spread across his retina, and nothing could stop it, just as nothing could stop Karyl Lohars.

His last squad of 170 men entered the bombed-out fortress, fully armed, and were all killed within four minutes.

The communication channel remained eerily silent; he could only hear brief, rapid screams, and nothing else.

A Ghost. Roboute Guilliman couldn't help but let his thoughts wander in that direction for a moment. But he didn't neglect to scout the battlefield environment. He walked around a corner, and the corpses on the ground stung his eyes.

Roboute Guilliman forced himself to ignore them and continued onward until he reached the deepest part of the darkness—a broken hall.

The doors and windows had collapsed, and only three of the eight pillars that supported the hall remained. The broken ceiling was bathed in moonlight, gentle yet eerie. A giant stood with his back to him amidst the ruins, his posture elegant, as if he were merely a resting Raptor.

Roboute Guilliman tensed his muscles, and his armor began to emit a strange hum.

"One-on-one?"

His adversary, the monster of the darkness—a giant who emerged unscathed from six hours of bombardment and killed three thousand Ultramarines, Karyl Lohars asked in his calm voice.

So Roboute Guilliman answered.

"One-on-one," he said in a low voice. "There's no other way to win."

"You still have air power," Karyl said pointedly. "Why not use those gunboats?"

"Because this is already an extremely unfair battle, one against three thousand, I can't let the scales tip in my favor any further."

Roboute Guilliman said with a wry smile, "But I still don't understand how you did it."

"Fear," Karyl said, turning around calmly, his clothes covered in blood.

This eerie contrast sent a chill down Guilliman's spine. He knew the other man's character, yet he still couldn't help feeling a pricking sensation, a feeling that deeply stung him and made him frown.

"Fear?"

"Yes, fear."

My legions will not fear.

"Are they human, Roboute?" Karyl countered. "If they are, then they will be; the only difference is how much they can endure."

"You mean, you defeated my three thousand warriors with fear?"

"Yes." Karyl nodded slightly, as calmly as if he were simply stating a fact.

Roboute Guilliman shook his head, concealing his annoyance well. He didn't want to say anything more; after all, he knew very well that his adversary wouldn't lie.

"Are you ready?" Karyl asked briefly.

"Of course," Roboute Guilliman said.

The next second, the Arbitrator he held in his left hand opened fire.

This heavily modified Boltgun is no longer what it used to be. The miniature atomic compressed bullet roared and tore through the air as it angrily charged toward the giant bathed in moonlight.

Roboute Guilliman was an excellent shot, that much is certain. He fired three shots: one to the head, one to the left side, and one to the right chest. If he had hit them, his opponent would have been completely incapacitated.

But the bullets didn't hit their targets; they merely destroyed some of the collapsed building materials that had once formed a fortress, and that was all. As for his adversaries...

Roboute Guilliman swung his right hand sharply, the short sword drawing a beautiful arc in the air.

His swordsmanship was superb; otherwise, he wouldn't have used this short sword as his melee weapon. But it wasn't enough compared to his enemies.

As the blades clashed, sparks flew like burning flames. A pale face flashed by, and the next second, Roboute Guilliman lost his balance and fell to the ground.

What happened?

He couldn't understand, but his opponent didn't press his advantage, so he got up again and slashed at the location of the enemy that his retina had captured before he fell—he didn't miss, but struck a solid palm.

Consternation.

Did I fail to activate the Displacer Field?

"Hmm, interesting." His opponent looked thoughtfully at his bleeding left hand and nodded. "Some details are still incomplete. If this were a real Power Sword, my hand would probably be gone by now."

"You"

Roboute Guilliman wanted to say something, but his adversary didn't give him the chance. Karyl Lohars calmly gripped the Sincere Short Sword and snatched it away from Guilliman, the weapon that had been with him for many years.

His hand was bleeding, but Guilliman acted more like the injured person.

"You can choose to surrender," Karyl said in a low voice.

"No way!"

Guilliman roared and fired. He didn't aim, nor did he expect the Arbitrator to hit Karyl; he just needed the bombs fired, nothing more. If he could distract Karyl even a little, he would have a chance to win.

A strange buzzing sound began to accompany his clenching of his left fist— the Hand of Dominion, his Power Fist.

Surrender? He still has the strength to fight; he will never surrender.

"Um."

His opponent, facing the impending onslaught of a fierce storm, merely nodded thoughtfully.

Then, with lightning speed, he vanished into the darkness. Roboute Guilliman stared wide-eyed, unable to comprehend how he had done it, but caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark shadow out of the corner of his eye.

He raised his left fist and swung it in that direction—then a sharp pain shot through his back.

"Meet me outside," his adversary said.

Roboute Guilliman fell to the ground, a chill washing over him, along with a familiar irritation. He sighed, answering Karyl's question in his final moments.

"See you outside," he said dejectedly.

--

A buzzing sound came from the back of his head, and Roboute Guilliman opened his eyes, almost stunned by the sudden light.

He sat up, suddenly feeling a wave of panic, like he was drowning—he always felt this way whenever he used the machine.

He could only get used to it, not change it. Only after some time, as the dream woven by the Cogitator gradually faded away, did he sigh, remove the magnetic headband that covered his head, and then see a giant standing in front of him.

He smiled at Guilliman and handed him a cup of hot water. The Primarch of the Ultramarines instinctively reached out and took it. The perfect temperature made the feeling of drowning subside even more quickly, but he didn't feel happy; he only felt annoyed.

"Why do you always wake up so quickly?" Roboute Guilliman asked, puzzled. "This machine that can conduct simulated battles always leaves me feeling stiff in my limbs after using it."

"I don't know either," Karyl Lohars replied softly, with a slight smile. "But I'm surprised you're still insisting on letting the Ultramarines attack first."

"I know what you're trying to say." Roboute Guilliman shook his head. "Our score is 10 to 1. I've only beaten you once. If I used that method, I could keep winning, but what's the point?"

"And"

He narrowed his eyes. "I really want to beat you in close combat just once."

You won once.

"It wasn't a one-man show; my legion created the opportunity for me. I couldn't have won if you hadn't been directly hit by a sniper in the distance."

Karyl smiled without saying a word. After a moment of silence, he made a suggestion.

"Your thinking is flawed," he said. "You want to fight me fairly, so you've reduced the size of your legion, limited your air power, and even reduced the number of bombing runs."

"It's just a simulation, that's true, but you don't need to seek glory or fairness in it. In this game, I'm your enemy, so you should do your best to win. Actually, if I were you, I would have turned the fortress into an inferno."

With a slight pursing of his lips, Roboute Guilliman nodded. He was unwilling to admit that Karyl was right, nor did he want to admit that he had wasted so much time these past few days chasing glory and fairness in simulated battles. But he had to.

Because he knew Karyl was right.

"Why are you always right?" Roboute Guilliman complained, his attitude revealing a natural familiarity—they had seen each other almost every day for a month and a half since the voyage began, so it was hard not to be familiar with each other.

"I wouldn't dare say that," Karyl chuckled. "Even machines can't be right forever. Take your Cogitator, for example. If I keep asking it what 1+1 equals, it'll break down sooner or later."

Roboute Guilliman looked at the thing and slowly shook his head.

"Perhaps." He stood up noncommittally. "Machines do have a lifespan, but my Cogitator isn't some antique."

He tilted his head back, drank the hot water in one gulp, and then beckoned the instructors from the Eighth Legion to leave the room.

"It's almost six o'clock," Roboute Guilliman said. "Instructor Karyl, we have our routine meeting."

Karyl sighed slowly.

"Tell me, Roboute, did this tradition of holding meetings and handling paperwork within your Ultramarines Legion only begin after I arrived?"

Roboute Guilliman didn't answer; he simply pushed open the door and walked away quickly.

There's another 2,000-word chapter, but I'm afraid I won't be able to finish it, so I'm cutting it off early and releasing it now.