Thank You... Brother
"Thank you... brother."
As soon as he finished speaking, Angron took a deep breath, a breath that was long and deep, causing the surrounding air to swirl slightly.
He gripped his battle axe tightly with both hands, assuming the classic starting stance of the Nuceria gladiator master.
His bloodshot eyes, though still blazing with rage, now held a clarity and resolve.
Guilliman's smile grew even brighter, and he raised his short sword again, the tip pointing towards the distance.
"So..."
"Bring it on!"
Guilliman's voice resonated throughout the venue, filled with boundless anticipation and joy.
"Brothers diagonally opposite!"
In the center of the arena, sunlight poured down like molten gold.
He took a deep breath, the long breath flowing through his chest and abdomen, his crimson eyes locking onto the blue figure ten steps away.
Power roared in his veins, yearning to be released, yearning to be proven.
The next second—he moved!
The sand beneath his feet exploded with a deafening roar. Angron, like a red comet shot from its barrel, tore through the air with his battle axe, emitting a piercing shriek, and cleaved straight at Guilliman's crown with the force of splitting mountains and shattering rocks!
This single axe strike was enough to cleave a crack in the main armor belt of Imperium capital ship!
Guilliman didn't even raise his sword to parry.
He simply turned slightly to the side.
The axe blade whistled down past his nose, cleaving into the sand and creating a huge crater three meters in diameter.
Too slow.
Guilliman's voice came from above.
Angron's pupils suddenly contracted!
When did he jump up?!
Then, a knee strike landed squarely on the center of his breastplate.
"Thump--!!!"
A dull, ancient war drum-like sound exploded.
Angron's breastplate dented in a spiderweb pattern around the point of impact, and he was sent flying backward as if he had been hit head-on by a planetary engine!
This time it flew even further, crashing directly through two antique-style stone walls used as landscaping, sending debris and dust billowing into the sky!
"Cough--!"
Angron struggled to his feet from the rubble, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, but he grinned. "That's more like it..."
Before he could finish speaking, Guilliman's figure appeared in the air above him like a ghost.
"Gladiator, do not attack from below."
Guilliman's voice was flat and even, like a teacher lecturing. "This is the basics."
The right fist landed.
A simple, unadorned punch.
Angron instinctively parried with his axe.
"Clang--!!!"
The roar of clashing metal transformed into a visible shockwave, sweeping away all the rubble and dust within a twenty-meter radius!
The ground beneath Angron's feet suddenly sank, forming a bowl-shaped crater five meters in diameter and knee-deep!
His hand was split open, and blood dripped down the axe handle.
His arms trembled violently from the incredible force he had endured.
"How much force did you use?"
Angron gritted his teeth and forced a sound out of his throat.
Guilliman withdrew his fist, took a step back, and said calmly, "Thirty percent."
Angron's pupils constricted.
30%?
Actually, it's 0.3.
"Impossible--"
He roared and sprang up, his battle axe sweeping across the battlefield!
This strike embodied his lifelong skills and instincts as the King of Nuceria Gladiators; it was delivered with a tricky angle, immense power, and concealed a three-fold counter-attack!
Guilliman finally moved.
He took a step forward—not to retreat or dodge, but to meet the attack head-on!
With his left hand, as precise as a scalpel, he pressed down on the side of the axe's back just as the blade was about to strike him!
With a single press, Angron's all-out sweeping attack was forcibly terminated.
Like a charging Rhino crashing into the Star Shield, the terrifying kinetic energy was completely neutralized by Guilliman with a single hand!
"Impossible!"
Angron was truly shocked.
You don't believe me?
Guilliman's tone remained calm. "Then I'll add another half percent."
He then thrust out his short sword with his right hand.
It was still a frontal thrust.
It remains the most basic Roman Infantry Thrusting Sword Style.
The sword's edge touched Angron's crossed arm armor—BOOM—!!!
This time, Angron wasn't sent flying backwards; he was slammed into the ground!
His entire lower body was buried in the sand, with a two-meter-deep, radially fractured meteorite crater behind him!
The arm guard is covered with cracks.
The battle axe flew out of his hand and landed on the sand thirty meters away, buzzing incessantly.
"Thirty-five percent."
Guilliman looked down at him. "See? Now you believe it, don't you?"
Angron lay supine at the bottom of the pit, his chest heaving violently.
He gazed at the unfamiliar sun of Baal and suddenly smiled.
It was a smile of relief.
"... I really can't beat you."
He said.
It's not admitting defeat, it's acknowledging the facts.
Guilliman was not smug.
He sheathed his sword, stepped back, pulled his battle axe from the ground, and casually tossed it back to Angron's side.
The clamor above the arena had subsided at some point.
Hundreds of thousands of eyes.
Ultramarines, the Adeptus Custodes, the Primaris World Eaters, and representatives from other Chapter who came upon hearing the news.
They were all intently focused on the two figures facing off in the center of the arena.
The dust has settled.
The sun was blazing.
Guilliman slowly sheathed his short sword, the blade untouched by any blood.
He stared at Angron, who was kneeling on one knee before him.
The crimson figure had been suppressed to the point of having almost no power to fight back in the lightning-fast exchange just now.
His breastplate was dented, his ribs were broken, yet he still gripped the battle axe tightly, breathing heavily like a dying lion.
it's over.
This is not the end of the gladiatorial combat.
Angron can still stand up.
It is something deeper, something that has transcended millennia.
Finally, on the sandy ground of this replica ancient arena, it delivered its deserved, direct, and violent punctuation.
Guilliman remained silent for a moment, his consciousness sinking into the system interface.
[System Prompt]
The host has been detected to have completed a critical milestone event.
● Recapture of Baal: The Blood Angels Chapter is confirmed to exist, and Chapter Master Dante has been resurrected.
● Resurrect the Ninth Primarch, Sanguinius: Successfully summoned the eternal lost soul and reshaped his divine body.
● Integration of Sub-Clan Faith: The Holy Blood Angels sub-clusters, such as the Lamenters, have come to the heart of the Blood Angels, forming a brand-new synergistic fighting force.
[Summary: The host has successfully gained the approval of the "Guardian Angel," the authority of the "Divine Symbol," and the complete allegiance of the "Primal Chapter."]
[This represents a significant leap forward in the connection between the Imperium lineage and the Primarch's bloodline, greatly strengthening the anchor points of the human faith network.]
[Achievements: 'Eternal Brotherhood', 'Wings Return to the Sky', 'The Blood of Angels Never Grows Cold', ' The Second Imperium Returns (Symbol)']
[Based on system rules and achievement rewards...]
The numbers on the screen jumped rapidly, eventually settling on a heavy, yet expected, number.
[Reward: Governance Points +1,000,000]
One million.
Guilliman closed the interface expressionlessly.
One million is enough to do a lot of things.
Enough to exchange for another "Eternal Essence," enough to buy a "one-way ticket home" for this brother who's been beaten half to death, enough...
[Confirmed Redemption: Law of Eternity (A Strand)]
[Cost of Governance Points: 500,000]
A deep blue, flame-like energy, solidified with time and the very essence of existence, nestled quietly in Guilliman's outstretched palm, like the gentlest starlight.
This was his third encounter with this creation from the eternal source.
For the first time, he summoned Malcador;
The second time, he resurrected Sanguinius.
The third time.