How Dare You Call Yourself a King!?

"Are you kidding me?"

Its voice held an air of disbelief, "Using self-harm to deal with me?"

It saw it again.

That hymn of courage that we see repeatedly in these humans, in the civilizations it devoured, and in those warriors who chose to die standing even in dire straits.

It drew its sword forcefully.

The blade sliced through Titus's bones, producing a harsh, teeth-grinding scraping sound.

Titus's left arm was split in two by that cut, from the biceps to the elbow joint, and from the elbow joint to the forearm, flesh rolled up and bones shattered.

But Titus's body leaned forward during the cut, not falling, but using his shoulder to press down on the blade of the sword.

His right arm passed underneath, and the Psionic Energy sword blessed by Guilliman pierced the Swarm Prince's abdomen.

The blade sank into the dark green carapace.

It didn't pierce, it penetrated.

The sword tip pierced through the gap in the carapace, cut into the soft tissue beneath the chitin, and became lodged in a hard structure within the Swarm Prince's body.

The Swarm Prince froze.

It lowered its head and looked at the sword that was piercing its abdomen.

The blue-gold light on the blade burned within its body, scorching the soft, sensitive internal tissues that had never been touched by an enemy.

It wasn't excruciating pain, but a strange, unfamiliar sensation that made its entire body spasm uncontrollably.

pain.

It was injured.

For the first time, the Swarm Prince felt pain.

The calm light in its blue-white eyes vanished, replaced by panic.

It's not fear, but the helplessness you feel when you've never experienced something before and are suddenly faced with it.

"You--!"

With a sudden burst of strength, it pulled the Seven-Colored Sword from Titus's left arm.

The blade was covered in bits of flesh and blood, as well as some white, broken bone fragments.

It swung its sword again, this time severing Titus's right shoulder along with the sword that had pierced its abdomen.

Titus's right arm was cleanly severed at the shoulder, and the Psionic Energy sword was still stuck in the Swarm Prince's abdomen, its hilt swaying slightly in the air.

Titus's body fell backward, but his feet remained firmly planted on the ground, preventing him from falling.

His left arm was useless, his right arm was broken, and he had a bleeding wound on his chest.

But his eyes, those blue-gold eyes, remained fixed on the Swarm Prince.

The Swarm Prince's hand rested on the hilt of the sword on his abdomen, as if trying to pull it out.

But with each exertion, the blue-gold light on the blade would scorch its wound, causing its fingers to spasm and loosen.

"Let go of me! Let go!"

The Swarm Prince's voice carried an unprecedented urgency.

Titus smiled.

A mouthful of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth; the blood was golden, mixed with dark red blood plasma.

"My hand is broken."

His voice was soft, "How can I let go? Has your brain also been eaten by the Hive Mind?"

The Swarm Prince stopped.

It looked down at Titus's right shoulder, where there was nothing left to "let go" of.

The sword was stuck in its abdomen, and the hand that held the sword lay a few steps away on the sand, its fingers still twitching slightly.

Its body began to tremble.

"You're crazy."

Its voice was hoarse.

"I'm not crazy."

Titus's smile widened. "I just don't want you to swing your sword."

"I looked at a king, but he had no kingly demeanor whatsoever; instead, he was as cowardly as a child."

"You dare call yourself a king?!"

The Swarm Prince took a deep breath.

It closed its eyes.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

When it opened its blue-white eyes again, the panic within had vanished, replaced by a sense of calm.

That kind of tranquility after a storm, when the sky clears up again, carrying a hint of the fresh scent of damp earth after the rain.

"You're right."

Its voice returned to its deep tone, regaining the composure befitting a "king," "I lost my composure."

I have never been injured since birth.

So my reaction was a bit excessive.

My behavior just now certainly didn't resemble that of a king.

I apologize to you.

In such a glorious duel, I was the first to reveal my ugly side.

It stretched out a hand, its five fingers covered in dark green carapace, and grasped the sword blade embedded in its abdomen.

The blue-gold light scorched its palm, its carapace cracked, and its flesh burned, but it did not let go.

"That won't happen again."

Even if you cut me in half, I won't do it again.

It slowly pulled the sword from its abdomen.

The blade was stained with its blood, a dark green color, which dripped onto the sand with a hissing, corrosive sound.

It drew its sword and threw it on the ground.

Titus looked at its calm appearance, at its eyes that had regained their composure.

His smile widened even further.

It wasn't praise, it wasn't recognition, it was mockery.

Who cares about this or that?

"It's just an Xenos."

His voice was weak, but every word was like a nail driven into a coffin. "In my eyes, only my Gene-Father and the great Master of Mankind are qualified to be kings."

Someone like you—doesn't deserve it.

He roared, using the last of his strength to charge towards the Swarm Prince.

His left arm was useless, his right arm was broken, and blood was still flowing from his chest.

But he charged.

There was no sword, no weapon, only a broken body burning with blue-gold light.

The Swarm Prince looked at him, at the armless man charging towards him, a complex light flashing in his blue-white eyes.

It extended its extra hand.

That hand always hung at his side and was never used.

It grabbed Titus's broken right shoulder and pressed his body to the spot.

Titus struggled, but his strength was too weak; the Swarm Prince could hold him down with just one hand.

"It's pointless now."

The Swarm Prince's voice was calm, "Such an injury is a minor one for me as well."

You should consider your own situation first.

Titus's chest was pierced, and blood was still oozing from the wound in his severed right arm. The muscles of his left arm had been split open, exposing the shattered bones inside.

His body was trembling, his breathing was rapid, and his strength was gradually waning.

So small that it couldn't even wrestle with the Swarm Prince's fingers.

His head drooped.

His eyes were still open, but the light in those blue-gold eyes had dimmed.

It wasn't extinguished, but rather the moon was obscured by dark clouds; its outline was still visible, but it was no longer bright.

The Swarm Prince released his grip.

Titus collapsed to the ground, his head hitting the sand and kicking up a small cloud of dust.

His eyes were fixed on the sky, on the dark green curtain of insect swarms that blotted out the sun, on the slowly writhing, heart-like Hive Ship.

Its sword was raised.

The sword tip was pointed at Titus's chest.

"You are a worthy opponent."

The Swarm Prince's voice was soft, "I will remember your courage."

"I will have the Hive Mind Will thoroughly analyze your genes."

Titus did not answer.

His lips were moving, but the sound was so faint that even the Swarm Prince couldn't hear it.

What is it saying?

Is it a prayer?

Was it a will?

Or is it calling a name?

The Swarm Prince paid no attention.

Its sword slashed down.