A Peaceful Day, Getting Beaten Up

Endurance.

Now.

Inside a private training room adjacent to the 7th Company's training hall, Hades, clad in the simplest combat fatigues and wielding a generic warscythe, stood beside the training cage.

The veteran—Hades later learned his name was Blanca, commander of the 2nd Battalion of the 7th Company—stood next to Hades, arms crossed and clad in Mark II power armor.

A low, muffled voice emanated from Blanca's helmet.

"Come find me when you've beaten that combat servitor for the first time."

Wasn't he supposed to teach him how to use a Bolter, a Meltagun, or at least some tactical phrases first?

Hades watched as the gray hemispherical grating rose, enclosing the arena, and the combat servitor, half a meter taller than Hades, descended from the cage's ceiling, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

Blanca, too lazy to bother with Hades, simply waved him into the training cage.

"Combat Drill α-3, medium lethality."

The cylindrical combat servitor activated, a sinister red light illuminating its top indicator, and the machine's flanks opened, revealing six chainsword blades with a chilling gleam.

With a soft click, all six chainswords roared to life!

Hades raised his warscythe, assuming a ready stance.

This was called hazing, right?

Although Hades knew this part was inevitable, he was still a little annoyed that he wasn't even pretending.

The machine lunged at him, six chainsword blades flashing in a dizzying array!

Hades instantly exerted force from his feet, leaping up and spinning in mid-air, head down, hands rotating, the scythe dancing with him, hooking back down!

"Hiss—"

A grating metallic screech filled the air as sparks flew between the warscythe and the servitor, scattering dazzling white light.

Hades slammed heavily to the ground, turning without hesitation, scythe leading, the wind whistling as he tore straight toward the servitor—

"Stop!"

The scythe halted just as it touched the servitor, a bright metal dent standing out starkly on the once smooth shell.

Having received enough damage from Hades' initial aerial strike, the servitor had already entered a ceasefire state, the red light on its head turning green.

Hades turned his head, looking at Blanca with an indifferent expression.

Hazing, was it?

Unlike most of the Death Guard of Barbarus, who fought in groups, Hades had genuinely fought his way out of hordes of aliens on his own.

However, Blanca remained with his arms crossed, his face hidden by his helmet as he pondered something.

"Type 3 combat servitor, Combat Drill α-3, maximum lethality."

The veteran's calm voice sounded again, as if dismissing Hades' little provocation.

Metal strips descended from the ceiling, and the servitor Hades had just fought automatically moved onto them, returning to its initial position.

Next, a servitor noticeably larger than the previous one slammed down with a bang.

Hades looked up at the behemoth, a full two meters taller than him.

The red light illuminated.

"Defeat this, then come find me."

Blanca's muffled voice echoed again from his helmet, the mechanically translated Barbarus tongue sounding extremely strange.

This time, the veteran seemed very confident. After saying those words, he left the private training room, leaving Hades to face the giant combat servitor alone.

As if certain that Hades could never defeat this thing.

Hades raised his scythe again. Who did he think he was dealing with?!

It was just a bigger version, watch him—

That afternoon, Hades, bruised and battered, appeared for the first time in the 7th Company, 2nd Battalion's Apothecary's medical bay.

The Apothecary seemed well-prepared, filling the wounds torn open by the chainsword with medical gel.

The wounds didn't look like they were torn open by a standard combat servitor's chainsword, Apothecary Leo thought as he filled Hades' wounds.

Blanca might have a bad temper, but he wouldn't put a new recruit up against a Type 3 right away, would he?

Leo mused silently.

But it seemed he would have to prepare more of the most basic medical gel.

Since the arrival of the first new recruit, the wound-filling materials in the medical bay were always used up quickly.

Generally, veterans wouldn't sustain such injuries during routine training; they would keep the damage within a reasonable range.

"All done."

Leo lifted the medical tray, a few specks of blood splattering onto it, slowly dripping down the wall.

Hades sat on the stool, dejected. He truly hadn't expected that, even with the same model, the second machine would be more than three times faster.

It was even faster than Nac'Lare's strike against Hades back then!

Damn, he really underestimated me!

But what Hades didn't know was that Blanca's confident departure stemmed from the fact that within the entire Seventh Company, there were only a few veterans who could easily defeat the Type 3 combat servitor at its highest setting.

The remaining veterans could defeat the Type 3 under that setting, but only barely.

In Blanca's initial plan, Hades was supposed to be worn down by the first servitor for a week.

But now, because of that indifferent expression on Hades's face, Blanca decided to make him suffer a little more.

In less than a week, this recruit would probably be unable to bear it and come looking for him.

Even if Hades did manage to defeat the Type 3 servitor, then he, Blanca, would have forged a true warrior!

But this kid really does seem like a tough one!

In Blanca's rational analysis, Hades would most likely be unable to bear it and come back to him, admitting defeat.

But Blanca was also quite eager to see this recruit's potential. Who wouldn't want the Emperor's angels to be even more formidable?

Blanca hated these recruits, all loud and boastful, thinking too highly of themselves, looking down on them just because they had connections to the Primarch.

It was a pity that his own Primarch hadn't encountered their Primarch early on like the Luna Wolves had.

That being said, if he really did encounter a capable recruit, Blanca hoped that the other party could take over their responsibilities and fight for the glory of the Imperium for the Emperor!

If this kid could really defeat the Type 3, then he would definitely be a good xenos-slayer.

Blanca thought to himself.

Feeling that his wound wouldn't be torn open again by getting up, Hades shakily prepared to get up and leave.

But the door to the medical bay suddenly opened.

A pale-faced, thin, and clearly Barbarus-descended person walked in.

The wound torn open by the Chainsword had already scabbed over and was rapidly healing.

Hades's eyes widened—

Oh, isn't this Vokes? Finally met a fellow countryman!

Happy reading (ω)