"..."
Tiberlos could barely control his expression. His gray eyes lowered, unsure if Romulus's words were meant as mockery.
Looking at the three warriors who had just been knocked flat in seconds, he suppressed the urge to jump in himself and said:
"This is a one-of-a-kind Sword Guard."
"Of course."
Romulus confirmed with certainty.
He wasn't joking. The reason he let Arthur fight was to secure victory no matter what. Without giving these proud Sharks a heavy lesson, there was no way to earn their respect.
As for Arthur possibly losing—
That wasn't even on the table.
See those luxurious Terminator Iron Knights standing in a ring around the plaza?
Even Romulus himself couldn't beat Arthur in a drawn-out duel without heavy weapons. Arthur had already bested him and tossed him aside in front of everyone.
Except for Karna, who when consumed by Black Rage could completely throw Arthur's rhythm off and snatch a victory, Arthur could casually crush the other two.
But Karna was too unstable. Black Rage and Bloodlust were battlefield instincts, not suited for duels. If he slipped and killed someone, it'd end badly.
Romulus considered all this while keeping up small talk with Tiberlos.
Normally Romulus spoke, while the Shark Chapter Master either kept silent or just answered with a grunt, giving off the vibe of a socially awkward teen.
Below, the fight drew to a close.
Amid the cheers of the Astra Militarum "hype squad," Arthur had already toppled every member of the Third Company.
The Guardsmen, who had been on edge ever since the Sharks' sudden appearance, found their views shifting during this oddly comical duel.
These rough and ragged warriors didn't seem to care much about winning or losing. At most, failure left them annoyed at not winning a suit of power armor for their Chapter. But afterward, they happily carried their brand-new chain axes back to their lines.
The sight gave the Guardsmen déjà vu.
It reminded them of the time, during a victory parade on an ocean world, when their colonel told them to bring the most broken gear they had to pressure their superiors into issuing new equipment.
Back then, they didn't care about being despised—so long as they got fresh gear.
In fact, aside from Cadia, almost every one of their parades ended up that way.
"Akia."
The Apothecary's shout roused the Third Company Captain from his food.
He raised his head, glancing around, only to see that everyone—including the Apothecary—had already received new weapons.
"Heh."
The bloodthirsty eyes inherited from another Primarch, different from the rest of the Sharks, widened as Akia gave a dry laugh.
"Shar!"
He called to a warrior who somewhat resembled him.
"How many strikes did you last?"
"One."
The young warrior hugged his axe and answered sullenly.
One sword strike had knocked his weapon flying and left a scar across his cheek.
A hundred-man wheel fight, and they still couldn't beat him.
By rights, this was deeply shameful. But the Sharks didn't look too upset.
"Now it's your turn."
That's what they said, clearly eager to see their own captain get humbled.
"Fine. Then I'll give it a try."
Akia wiped the crumbs from his lips, suppressed the anger rising from his World Eater gene-seed, hefted his "Reaper" chain axe, and leapt into the arena.
He pointed his weapon at the Sword Guard.
"Hey, if this weapon breaks, will you pay for it?"
So blunt it almost broke the tension.
Arthur was certain that if he answered "no," the guy would hop out, grab an older axe, and come back.
"I can get you an identical replacement."
A chill ran down Akia's spine. His instincts screamed danger, forcing him to raise his heavy axe blade.
Clang!
The killing intent thickened the very air.
Akia's veteran instincts saved him, the axe intercepting the sword.
"But first you'll answer a question."
Arthur pulled back his blade, thrusting again.
This strike was much slower, as if exhaustion from the previous fights had drained him.
But Akia alone could tell—Arthur was giving him a chance to answer.
"Blood-tithe. Why are you so obsessed with strength?"
"You care about that?" Akia forced out between clenched teeth.
"Yes. I care a lot."
The Sword Guard easily pressed down on his axe haft.
"Just like a man must burn calories to grow stronger through training, you bleed your kin to strengthen your Chapter. But why?"
To chase power at the cost of harming fellow humans—there had to be a reason.
His own comrades had chosen to risk everything to explore dangerous paths for strength, while Arthur, as the final safeguard, was the ace in the hole should everything collapse.
So he had to be strong.
And his body was monstrously gifted.
Tracking every twitch of Akia's muscles, Arthur used the techniques forged in relentless duels with Romulus, plus knowledge of Astartes physiology from Ramses's research, to suppress a seasoned veteran using equal force.
He could not allow himself to be weak.
But what of the Sharks?
They could easily imitate the Ashen Claws, find some planet beyond the Imperium, and crown themselves kings. Or they could return to the Imperium and settle somewhere decent. Even Corax had abandoned the Imperium; the secret orders no longer mattered.
"Hmph!"
Akia snorted, not answering immediately.
But his gaze shifted toward the Guardsmen standing beside the Astartes, shouting for the duel.
"For humanity."
For the first time, Arthur heard those words spoken in this universe by men.
"This is the mission our Void-Father gave us."
So still, in the end, for the Emperor.
"To protect humanity from encircling enemies, you willingly become beasts?"
Arthur sighed.
An entire generation stolen from a world, just to safeguard more humans elsewhere?
Tragic. The trolley problem was a simple multiple-choice test in this galaxy.
"Never thought of changing?"
The Sword Guard stepped boldly forward, brushing aside the chain axe, forcing Akia to retreat.
"Change? You mean like these mortals?"
He'd already realized who had given them this gear, and why the ship was in such a condition.
"The kindness and humanity you chase—I don't think it can last long."
Akia spoke plainly.
"We're trying."
Arthur's muscles swelled as his blade locked onto the weak point of the chain axe. The steel groaned, the weapon warping under the pressure.
Clang!
With a crisp ring, the contest of strength ended.
"But how much can you change? You don't even outnumber us."
Akia was knocked to the ground, a scar marring his cheek.
Propping himself up, he spoke without mockery.
Like ants shaking a tree, chasing humanity's light meant paying terrible costs. In this universe, it was a fixed equation.
Hadn't every Chapter that cared too much for mortals ended up miserable?
"What if you include yourselves?"
The cheers had gone silent at some point.
Akia turned toward the platform. The onlookers were already rising, packing up their gear.
He glanced at Tiberlos. The Chapter Master said nothing, only donned his helmet.
"... We only fight. That's all we can do."
"We'll keep trying. That's enough."
The Sword Guard shrugged, smiling.
A servo-skull carried a power axe over, and Arthur reached out a hand to Akia.
"It's yours now, warhound."
The Stormbird's engines roared, as if in reply.
"And we—"
"It's time to depart."
__________________________________________________________
To read 15 more advanced chapters and support me, go to:
patreon.com/ArchSovereign