The giant in the brass armor let out a deafening roar, and swung the blood-red and brass-embellished battle ax vigorously.
The red eyepiece on the ferocious brass helmet is shining, and wherever the heavy footsteps pass, the thick steel plates are groaning.
Facing this terror is another equally tall giant in silver armor.
The distance of tens of meters was reached in an instant, and the soldier's breathing rate did not even fluctuate. His slow but graceful defensive movements showed that he chose to face this terrifying impact head-on.
The right hand holding the shield slowly released and threw down the heavy shield. The moment the long and narrow sword hilt was held by both hands, a silver reverse cassock rose from the giant's feet!
Boom!
The battle ax clashed with the sharp blade, and the wildly rotating gear bit the equally strong blade.
The two subconsciously pressed their weight forward, and felt the proximity of each other's strength in the groan of the floor under their feet.
The two figures who instantly switched their attacks turned into afterimages in the eyes of mortals. The high-speed friction between the blade of the weapon and the armor caused sparks to appear.
The rhythm of the battle switched back and forth between the two men in a fast and slow way. The battle ax and the heavy sword were swung out, leaving heavy afterimages, and they overlapped into static pictures during the occasional wrestling.
Three breaths, this is the true combat rhythm of cold weapon hand-to-hand combat.
The physical quality, experience and physical talent brought by training are fully amplified at this moment, and any small flaws among the three will cause the weak to have their heads taken away in an instant.
Three breaths is what can be called a long time in most real battles. In real fights, there is never any fairness after human intervention.
However, this battle is an exception. The gladiatorial fight in the iron cage is not a fight on the battlefield. The carefully selected targets are not only for targeted training of the target's skills, but also for certain research purposes.
Both sides fighting with all their strength were panting hard, and Superman's lungs were expanding violently to extract oxygen from the air.
Both of them confirmed the rare closeness of each other's strength in a few seconds of fighting. Since they could not complete a crushing kill, the battle was about to turn into a long confrontation.
This is not what they want, neither the chooser nor the chosen.
The two people pulled back in unison, gasping for breath to regain their strength while creating enough space for the next thunderous strike.
Die!
The golden-red figure erupted again, its arms as thick as a human waist wielding a tomahawk weighing a hundred pounds as light as a weight, and suddenly launched an offensive at the end of the breathing adjustment.
The silver-armored giant frowned as he looked at the oncoming attack. The momentum was stronger than at the beginning, which was obviously the result of intentional concealment.
From a tactical point of view, he did successfully interrupt his breathing rhythm, but to say that the Gray Knight only has this skill is to underestimate his accumulation.
The epee was once again held by both hands at the critical moment, with the giant's whole body's strength concentrated in his hands in a chest-upright posture.
At the last moment, he did not retreat but moved forward. At the same time, he strode forward and charged up the epee in an instant. He reached forward with both hands and folded his wrists to exert force, sending a precise and powerful thunderous strike forward.
Drink!
The battle ax passed over the low-down helmet of the silver-armored giant, and finally fell down weakly after rubbing against the upper end of the shoulder armor;
The opponent's epee thrust forward and hit the power armor's neck leaf, chopping it in a small area to separate the head and neck it was guarding.
The battle was over. The tall silver-armored giant looked at the headless corpse that slowly knelt down in front of him, and slowly recovered his posture.
Severe breathing was the only source of sound in the cage, and even the spectators outside the cage remained eerily quiet.
Of course, this is just an appearance. Real cheers and appreciation do not rely on the air to spread. The obscure psychic fluctuations among the giants gathered in the hall are their home field.
"A clean sword! But there is an element of adventure."
This is what the team's arbiter said about Calvin.
"The explosive power of dual-wielding weapons is commendable, but I still think your shield and sword skills are more reliable."
This is affirmation from battle brother Boris.
More comments appeared in an orderly manner in the psychic channel, and the protagonist of the battle took off his sweaty helmet after a fierce battle.
"Okay, I understand your opinion."
This young figure raised his hands and opened them to his comrades to indicate that the topic of battle was over.
While confirming the results of this training with the servitor beside him, he complained countless times in the psychic channel:
"In the name of the Emperor and Titan, I accept your advice, but please note, please call me Sir Sutherland, and don't call me Calvin again!"
"Okay, little Calvin!"
It is obviously not the first time that the comrades have encountered this scene, and the speed of their responses shows that they are dedicated and proficient in this topic.
The rare joy in the training ground other than iron and blood comes at the cost of a young man who is worried about his name...
This is the Titan home planet located near Holy Terra, thousands of meters deep underground, a training ground dedicated to actual combat simulations for the Gray Knights.
Most of the prisoners of the Inquisition and the Gray Knights who were out fighting were here. In addition to waiting for their destined death as atonement, they laid the foundation for the growth of the new Gray Knights, which is where the little value left by these traitors lies.<
/p>
Due to the superior bloodline of some beings, the originally expected 50-year cultivation cycle on Titan's home planet has been greatly advanced.
The unplanned growth of gene seeds and attached superhuman organs has caused the pharmacists to bear unexpected work pressure, while also feeling happy about the increase in the number of members of the battle group.
It was against this background that the first batch of Calvin's sons, bred on Titan, came into the world five years ahead of schedule.
Among the first batch of 100 people, except for the two unfortunates who were unable to inherit Calvin's bloodline and were burned to ashes, the remaining 98 seeds successfully survived the Holy Blood Trial.
Chief Grand Master Walden stood on the high veranda of the training ground, with Mars, the leader of the Purifiers, by his side.
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"How much of the materials are left in this batch?"
Walden did not wear a helmet, and the huge Holy Shield Terminator power armor was covered with complex and exquisite inscriptions and engravings.
Holy prayers were written with fine gold as pen and the saint's ashes as ink on the parchment paper under the pure seals, and were finally melted and fixed on the curved surface of the silver and black shoulder armor engraved with runes.
Under this cold and sacred armor, his old face looks quite abrupt, like a divine messenger pierced by divinity and steel, retaining a little human soul in the holiness.
"Fifty-six, including the one that was just "used", there are still fifty-five."
High-level Purifier Mars responded to his brother's inquiry in a low voice. In his pure and ardent faith, these traitors who surrendered to Chaos are no longer qualified to be called human beings and can only be counted with the word "only" to describe demons and beasts.
.
The two senior leaders of the war group did not care about their life or death.
In the eyes of Mars, the Lord of Purification, the Chief Grand Master's concern for the recruits is unnecessary and obviously has other purposes.
Apart from the slightly immature combat skills of these new recruits, the only thing that can attract the attention of the senior leaders of the battle group is the origin of these "training materials".
In fact, just as he expected, the topic in the mouth of Grand Master Walden also extended along these trophies from Orpheus.
"The war there should be over."
"Yes, according to the existing information, this should be the case."
"This is a great victory for the Empire over Chaos and the aliens."
Walden confirmed again, but Mars did not see a look of joy on his eyebrows.
"Depend on the Emperor's protection, yes." He responded in a low voice, waiting for Walden to express his concerns.
"A great victory must be accompanied by a feast of dividing the spoils."
Walden turned his gaze to the direction of the Storm Star Territory and expressed his most worrying question.
"As a leader with a heavy mission, he must learn to separate himself from being a pure soldier."
"…………Yes"
Mars was silent for a long time, but finally admitted this reality that he didn't like.
Faith is so pure in his eyes, but the contradictions in reality cannot be solved simply by faith.
His voice became hard. When such a matter that was beyond his ability was placed in front of him, he could only have absolute trust in the emperor's vision.
"This is his mission, and it is also an area that we cannot touch."
"Yeah...that's all we can do to help him..."
Walden sighed in a low voice, and in the cloister of the ancient Titan Monastery, his voice echoed heavily among the sacred sculptures.
People will only pay attention to what they care about. This is not nonsense, but a sad statement.
Mortals are struggling with whether their belief in the God-Emperor is pure or not, because this is the only straw they can grasp when facing the endless darkness;
Space warriors are obsessed with dedicating their own bravery to gain the meaning of their lives;
They can put their troubles and confusions in faith and focus on completing their own missions without worrying about the fate of the entire human race.
But the Primarch is different, they don't have such luck.
These demigods, second only to the emperor himself in the imperial power hierarchy, have been very clear tools of power in the eyes of the emperor since their birth.
They also have different personalities and souls, but they had no choice but to participate in the grand cause of the Great Expedition under mandatory orders as soon as they were recovered.
Their noble bloodline and powerful abilities brought with them an inherent heavy mission, so how many of them really fell for the emperor's cause;
How many people are truly willing to participate in the emperor's grand vision from the bottom of their hearts has become a mystery in the history of the empire that may never be known.
But Calvin didn't have this trouble, or at this time he could understand the situation of those brothers to a certain extent:
The complicated administrative documents are as endless as the ocean. Even after processing the current batch, there are still more waiting for his review.
After the war, Orps was in a state of desperate need, and two huge star sectors were also beginning to rebuild;
Soldiers who have made meritorious service in the war need rewards commensurate with their bravery;
The allies who donated generously when Calvin's resources were scarce also need corresponding rewards.
He was so busy that he had no chance to think about the meaning of busyness;
He was too tired. After dozens of days of high-intensity work, there was almost no rest time. Even if he was as strong as a demigod, he would eventually get tired.
"Change the candles here. I will continue working here after the lunch break."
Calvin explained his needs to the servo skull floating behind him, then stretched his body and walked towards the door of the office.
The two gray knights who were guarding him held their halberds in their hands as the door opened and saluted him.
The bureaucrats and department representatives waiting to be received in the corridor also knelt down in two rows as soon as they saw him.
Calvin nodded and continued walking outside.
The adjutant Allen following behind him was still confirming his next itinerary:
"You only have one hour to rest. Representatives of the sector fleet are waiting for your interview. The fleet from Reza Forge World is also about to return, and you need to say a final farewell."
"Okay, okay, I get it."
Calvin raised his hand to stop the adjutant's report, and instead focused his limited energy on the direction he cared about:
"How is the Titan 2 project progressing?
Where are the experimental samples I want?
Have the training materials sent to Titan been delivered?
When will the latest recruits arrive in the Tempest Sector?"
Questions rained down on Allen, but fortunately, they could not stump this outstanding and dedicated officer.
Allen briefly recalled the list of information he had noted, and then gave the relevant information progress:
"The laboratory on Titan 2 is almost completed and is just waiting for the choir to perform the closing prayer ceremony;
The "Slaver" experimental sample has departed from Calixis and should have arrived near Sepra Mundi;
The training progress of new recruits is normal. Judging from the feedback from Titan, the training feedback of the first batch of 98 members is good, and it is expected that they can arrive at Titan II within the year to enrich the guard force there."
Calvin stopped and looked back at this diligent child.
"Hmm...who is responsible for the protection of experimental samples?
I heard that the Eye of Terror has been uneasy lately.
The number of these samples is so small that once lost, there are almost no alternatives."
"The Reviled Chapter has taken over this job. The nearest team has already met up with the Tribunal personnel. There should be no surprises."
Allen replied that these were all problems he had thought of in advance and had made corresponding plans when dealing with them.
"Very good, you did a good job."
Calvin no longer concealed his approval of Allen's work, turned his head and reached out to pat him on the shoulder.
The power armor on the latter's body is extremely simple. Apart from the Holy Sword logo on the breastplate that stores the holy scriptures on the chest, only the coat of arms on the left shoulder has the decoration of the Battle of Orps as an embellishment.
This gap in qualifications is what the sons of Calvin have in common, and it is also proof of their lack of honor as the new generation of Gray Knights.
But this is not important in Calvin's eyes. Qualification is only one of the ways to prove ability and loyalty, but it is by no means the only one.
What's more, under his leadership, he has absolute confidence to fill these gaps one by one in the days to come.