I Have Gained My Freedom

Both the super knight armor he wore and the invincible holy sword in his hand gave him the qualifications to fight against beings at the level of the Old Primarch.

Moreover, he was not alone.

This place has a total of 250,000 Dark Angels, but it also has three Dark Angels Grand Master!

"They are truly frightening."

Like a soaring dragon, yet so majestic, truly embodying the code of chivalry!

The besieged Primarch swarm floated in the void. He was extremely agile, without any sense of bulk. In his hand, he held a scimitar, which was extremely thin and black, and gleamed with a cold light.

"Then let me see if you can keep up with my speed!"

I learned from the memories of the Hive that the Dark Angels ' swordsmanship is primarily based on speed and ferocity!

Let me see just how fast you can go!

The Primarch of the Swarm drew his sword, and surprisingly faced the three Dark Angels before him with the swordsman's style.

"If you want to witness speed, we will show you speed, and let you know what the whirlwind of a sword is, what the thunder of a sword is!"

The Gene-Father nurtured us; our sword is Caliban's Wild Forest!

We will hunt you down just as the Gene-Father hunted the mighty Caliban ten thousand years ago!

The three Dark Angels Grand Master simultaneously drew their weapons.

One of them held a standard knight's longsword, beautiful and slender.

The other two held a black spear and an incredibly heavy greatsword.

One person is responsible for fast attacks, one for ranged attacks, and one for defense and containment!

The combined effect of three top-tier Dark Angels at the Grand Master level is far more than 1+1+1=3; it's a 3×3 effect!

The swordsman charged forward first, his sword flashing like a storm, each strike aimed precisely at the vital points of the swarm's Primarch.

The gun-wielder hovered in the distance, the black spear spinning in his hand, its tip gleaming with dark green Psionic Energy. Each shot he fired left a long, thin arc, like a venomous snake.

The one wielding the heavy sword stood at the forefront, the thick sword held horizontally in front of him, blocking all attacks that tried to get close.

The Primarch's Primarch drew fine arcs in the void. He was indeed very fast, so fast that it took the combined attack of the three Grand Master several seconds to keep up with his pace.

But that was three against one. The three Grand Master had practiced their teamwork countless times. Their breathing was synchronized, their heartbeats were in sync, and each person's movements were creating opportunities for the other two.

For the first time, a hint of seriousness flashed in the eyes of the swarm Primarch.

"Your swords are very similar to those of your Gene-Father, Lion Al Johnson."

But it's not fast enough.

The swordsman's Grand Master grazed the swarm's Primarch armor, just a hair's breadth away from slicing into the gap in the shell.

He was not discouraged; instead, a smile appeared on his lips.

Not fast enough?

That's only because we're waiting for you to use your full strength.

The tip of the Grand Master's spear had pierced the side of the swarm's Primarch, and dark green blood seeped from the wound, condensing into tiny crystals in the void.

The swarm Primarch didn't scream, but its movements slowed down.

The greatsword wielded by the Grand Master had already pressed down, forcing the curved blade to slowly bend under the downward pressure.

"Very good."

The Primarch's voice held a hint of weary appreciation. "Very good."

Is this the strength of the First Legion of the Imperium of Man?

I admit, it is indeed something I need to take seriously.

His body shuddered violently in the void, and a dark green light exploded from within him.

The light blasted the three Grand Master back simultaneously. They tumbled several times in the void before regaining their footing and regrouping.

The scimitar was retrieved in front of them and gripped tightly again.

"Now, let's start again."

The swarm Primarch.

The battle broke out again.

The three Dark Angels and the Swarm Primarch engaged in an even fiercer battle in the void, a scene resembling four bolts of lightning of different colors colliding wildly in the void.

Further away, the blue-gold, red-gold, and dark green waves continued to advance, rushing towards the swarm of insects that was shrinking, reorganizing, and preparing for the next attack.

The southern side of the entire Milky Way is being ignited by war.

Beneath every burning star, warriors roar, and swarms of insects scream.

Those who were alive and fighting used everything they had to crash into that dark green wall.

Before it completely collapses, before it becomes an abyss that swallows everyone.

Those soldiers had to nail themselves into the gaps the moment the wall collapsed.

Use your body to plug the cracks, and use your Power Sword to cut through the tentacles that are trying to repair the wall.

Use your battle cry to drown out the shrieks of the swarms of insects seeping out from the cracks!

The swarm's Primarch drew its final arc in the void.

The arc was so slow that the three Dark Angels Grand Master could clearly see the trajectory of the blade; so slow that they even had enough time to consider who the blade was meant to strike.

But it still paddled out, with an unstoppable composure, like the last gust of wind on the prairie.

The sword-wielding Grand Master turned to the side, the blade grazing his breastplate and leaving a shallow scratch on the golden armor.

Dark green blood seeped from the scratch, but he did not back down.

His sword thrust out from below, piercing the swarm's Primarch's right shoulder and wedging into the joint.

The spearhead of the Grand Master pierced through the left rib of the swarm's Primarch from the side, pinning him to the void.

The Grand Master swung down from above, pressing the curved sword and the arm holding it together downwards, pinning it to the ground.

The three actions were completed almost simultaneously.

The swarm's Primarch shuddered violently in the void, then fell still.

The scimitar slipped from its hand, spun a few times in the air, and was caught by the heavy-sword Grand Master.

The blade felt cool to the touch, carrying a scent like the wind on a winter grassland.

The swarm's Primarch lowered its head slightly; its eyes held no pain, no fear, only one thing...

Like the calm when an eagle on the grassland finally folds its wings after its final swoop.