On the weed-choked altar in the distance, six Slaanesh Warriors had already killed nearly a thousand Ant-Cows.
Lucius had cut down four hundred of them, while another swordsman had killed three hundred and ninety.
The densely packed Ant-Cow corpses had almost piled into mountains before the two men. Clearly, they were quietly competing to see who could kill more.
Lucius moved so quickly that an ordinary person could barely follow his sword as he hacked the Ant-Cows towering over four meters tall before him into chunks of flesh.
The swordsman was hardly any slower. His long, slender Blade of Stings whistled through the air, and Ant-Cows fell dead one after another.
The swordsman's kill count stayed close behind Lucius's, consistently within a dozen kills of catching up. It put Lucius under immense pressure.
Lucius narrowed his eyes, growing increasingly displeased with his companion.
As Slaanesh's champion, he was exceptional, and he had to remain exceptional-far, far better than everyone else!
Yet here this fellow swordsman was, quietly competing against him, just a dozen kills away from matching his tally. Lucius was deeply displeased.
Discipline no longer existed among these Chaos Astartes. Their forces held together solely through their leaders' personal strength.
Sometimes, when Chaos Astartes believed they had become strong enough, they would challenge their warband's lord to a duel.
If the warband's lord lost, he risked losing not only control of his warband, but also his god's favor.
And so Lucius now wanted to kill this swordsman who dared compete against him!
But the others were watching, and he could hardly kill the man without a reason. All he could do was swing his sword faster, slaughtering the Ant-Cows before him to maintain his lead.
The two Terminators stood at the rear of the group, using their sonic weapons