Robert Guilliman could smell blood.
He walked cautiously through the darkness without saying a word, his iron boots grinding heavily on the ground. The sound of the fine building debris being crushed was so obvious. He held his short sword with such careful posture that it was almost incomprehensible.
The ruins of the fortress were littered with corpses, and the blue emblem stayed stubbornly on the power armor. The murderer deliberately preserved every emblem, and all the corpses were killed with one blow, and there was no extra movement other than that.
He observed these details, took them all in, and began to sigh silently.
If he had any ground personnel at his disposal - even just a troop carrier - he would not have walked into the fortress himself.
If he dies, he loses.
But he had no choice, he had to walk in here himself. Darkness spread across his retinas, and nothing could stop them, just as nothing could stop Khalil Lohars.
His final squad, a hundred and seventy men, entered the bombed-out fortress, heavily armed, and died in just four minutes.
The communication channel was always eerily quiet. He could only hear short and rapid screams, but nothing else existed.
A ghost. Guilliman could not help letting his thoughts wander in this direction for a moment. But he did not neglect to investigate the battlefield environment. As he walked around a corner, the corpses on the ground stung his eyes.
Guilliman forced himself to ignore them, and continued on, until he entered the deepest part of the darkness - a shattered hall.
The doors and windows collapsed, and only three of the eight long columns used to support the hall remained. The broken ceiling welcomed the baptism of moonlight, which was gentle but strange. A giant stood in the ruins with his back to him, with an elegant posture, as if he was just a resting bird of prey.
Guilliman tensed his muscles, and his armor began to make an eerie hum.
"One on one?"
Asked the calm voice of Khalil Lohars as his adversary, the monster in the dark - the giant who had survived six hours of bombardment unscathed and killed three thousand Ultramarines.
So Guilliman answered.
"One on one," he said lowly. "There is no other way to win."
"You still have air power," Khalil said pointedly. "Why don't we use those gunboats?"
"Because this is already an extremely unfair battle, against three thousand, I can't let the balance tip to my side anymore..."
Guilliman said with a wry smile: "But I still don't understand how you did it."
"Fear." Khalil said. He turned around with a calm expression and his clothes were covered in blood.
This strange contrast sent a chill down Guilliman's spine. He knew the other person's character, but he still couldn't help but feel a pricking sensation on his back, which stung him deeply. , also made him frown.
"fear?"
"Yes, fear."
"My legions will know no fear."
"Are they human, Robert?" Khalil asked. "If they are, then they will, it's just a matter of how much they can take."
"You mean you defeated three thousand of my warriors with fear?"
"Yes." Khalil nodded gently, as calmly as if he was really just recounting a fact.
Guilliman shook his head, hiding his annoyance well. He didn't want to say any more, after all, he knew very well that his opponent wouldn't lie.
"Are you ready?" Khalil asked curtly.
"Of course," Guilliman said.
The next second, the Arbiter he held in his left hand fired.
This highly modified bolter no longer looked like its original appearance. The miniature atomic compression warhead roared and tore up the air, charging angrily towards the giant bathed in the moonlight.
Kiri
Mann played very accurately, there is no doubt about that. He shot three times, once in the head, once in the left rib, and once in the right chest. If he can hit it, his opponent will lose all combat effectiveness.
But the bullets didn't hit their target, they shattered some of the crumbling building materials of what had once been a fort, and that was that. As for his opponents...
Guilliman suddenly waved his right hand, and the dagger drew a beautiful arc in the air.
He has excellent swordsmanship, otherwise he would not use this dagger as his melee weapon, but it is not enough compared to his enemies.
Sparks burst out between the sword blades, like burning flames. A pale face flashed away. The next second, Robert Guilliman lost his balance and fell to the ground.
what happened?
He couldn't understand it, but his opponent didn't take advantage of the victory, so he got up again and slashed with the sword towards the location where the enemy was caught by Retina before he fell - he didn't hit the air, but hit a solid palm.
consternation.
Did I not activate the decomposition stance?
"Hmm...interesting." His opponent looked thoughtfully at his bleeding left hand and nodded. "Some details are still incomplete. If this was a real power sword, my hand would no longer exist."
"you......"
Guilliman wanted to say something, but his opponent gave him no chance. Khalil Roharus calmly grasped the dagger of sincerity and snatched away the weapon that had been with Guilliman for many years.
His hands were bleeding, but Guilliman acted more like the wounded man.
"You can choose to surrender," Khalil whispered.
"no way!"
Guilliman roared and fired, not aiming, not expecting the Arbiter to hit Khalil, he just needed the bolters to be fired, that's all. As long as he can distract Khalil even a little bit, he will have a chance of victory.
A strange buzzing began to accompany the movement of his clenched left fist—the hand of dominion, his power glove.
surrender? He still has the strength to fight, and he will never surrender.
"Um."
Facing the coming stormy attack, his opponent just nodded thoughtfully.
Then, he disappeared into the darkness at a speed that was hard to catch. Guilliman's eyes widened, unable to understand how he did this, but he spotted a fleeting black shadow in the corner of his eye.
He raised his left fist and swung it in that direction - and then, a sharp pain came from his back.
"See you outside," said his rival.
Guilliman fell to the ground, feeling cold and familiar with his anger. He sighed and answered Khalil's words at the last moment of his death.
"See you outside," he said dejectedly.
------------------
There was a buzzing sound from the back of his head. Guilliman opened his eyes, almost stunned by the sudden light.
He sat up, suddenly feeling a drowning panic - he felt this way every time he used this machine.
He can only get used to it, not change. It wasn't until some time later that the dream weaved by the meditator gradually faded away. He sighed, took off the magnetic headband covering his head, and then saw a giant standing in front of him.
He smiled at Guilliman and handed him a glass of hot water. The original body of the Ultramarines subconsciously reached out and took it. The right temperature made the feeling of drowning subside more quickly, but he was not happy, only annoyed.
"Why do you wake up so quickly every time?" Guilliman asked in confusion. "This machine that can carry out simulated combat makes my limbs feel stiff every time after using it."
"I don't know either." Khalil Lohars replied softly, smiling slightly. "But I'm surprised you still insist on letting the Ultramarines attack first."
"I know what you want to say."
Liman shook his head. "Our score is ten to one. I only beat you once. If I use that method, I will keep winning, but what's the point?"
"and......"
He narrowed his eyes. "I also really want to defeat you in a close combat."
"You won once."
"I am not fighting alone. My legion creates opportunities for me. If you are not directly hit by a sniper from a distance, there is no way I can win."
Khalil smiled and said nothing. After a moment of silence, he made a suggestion.
"Your thinking has fallen into some kind of misunderstanding," he said. "You want to fight me fairly, so you reduce the number of your legions, limit your air power, and even reduce the number of bombings every time..."
"It's true that this is just a simulated battle, but you don't need to pursue any glory or fairness in it. Inside, I am your enemy, and you should try your best to win. In fact, if I were You and I will directly turn the fortress into a sea of fire."
Pursing his lips, Guilliman nodded. He didn't want to admit that Khalil was right, and he didn't want to admit that he had wasted a lot of time these days pursuing glory and fairness in simulated battles...but he had to.
Because he knew Khalil was right.
"Why are you always right?" Guilliman complained, his attitude naturally showing a kind of familiarity - they had met almost every day for a month and a half since the voyage, so it was hard to imagine that they were not familiar with each other.
"I wouldn't dare say that." Khalil chuckled. "Even a machine cannot always be correct. Just like your Thinker, if I keep asking it what 1+1 equals, it will collapse sooner or later."
Guilliman looked at the thing and shook his head slowly.
"Maybe." He stood up noncommittally. "The machine itself does have a useful life...but my Meditator is no antique."
He raised his head, drank the hot water in one gulp, and then called the instructor of the Eighth Legion to leave the room.
"It's almost six o'clock," Robert Guilliman said. "Instructor Khalil, we are going to have a regular meeting."
Khalil sighed slowly.
"Tell me, Robert... did this tradition of meeting to deal with paperwork within your Ultramarines Legion come about after I came here?"
Guilliman didn't answer, he just opened the door and walked away at a very fast speed.
