"Take it, fearless brave Dantyok, this is the ...... of the village I mean the best sword on board, it's going to help you defeat the most terrifying dragon and strip it of its ugly yellow-black scales! ”

“……”

"Put it on, tenacious shield-bearer Dantyok, this sacred Terminator armor has endured so many weathers, and I have recovered it from my dear friend Abaddon for a high price...... I mean it was bought, so you only have to pay a negligible rent......"

“……”

"Put it on, O Keen Wise Dantioc, this flawless psionic pendant comes from our Mother of Genes, and I have managed to pick out the most worthless from my collection...... I mean, the one that suits you best, may it add to your victory! ”

“……”

"I said ......"

"Apparently I was going to fight Sigismund for a sword fight: why are you so excited?"

The grim-faced War Blacksmith staggered in place, the special Terminator armor putting a lot of pressure on his shoulders, not to mention the weapons that had almost been forced in.

"That's right, Brother Dantiok, don't be so nervous, just play hard, the reason why we are here to stop you is so that you can win this battle, after all, you can be regarded as a ...... Three-quarters of the Avalons are gone. ”

"That's a monster."

Then, the war blacksmith, who had only planned to go into battle lightly with 30% determination, realized what it meant to be fully armed: I saw that the sons of Morgan took out their most proud objects, like four great men who specially sent supreme weapons.

"Is he really strong?"

The war blacksmith struggled in vain.

"This is a sacred ritual, Dantiok the Brave, you are about to challenge your destined formidable opponent, and all we have to do is to arm you fully and fulfill the ancient prophecy: Come, take it, this great sword of mine is guaranteed to cleave the indestructible armor of your opponent!"

In this way, wearing the specially made thickened Iron Rider Terminator armor that Abaddon once held, wielding a nameless greatsword and carrying a Chanabar saber at his waist, he exuded a strange aura of psionic energy: the war blacksmith had never felt so powerful as he was now.

"Besides, you don't have to bear any psychological burden, I can assure you that Sigismund does have to travel lightly to bring out his strongest strength, and the bulkiness of the Terminator Armor will limit him: on the other hand, you can bring out all your strength as a war blacksmith with all your strength, and you are indeed fighting with the strongest posture of equality."

"I've heard that this is the tradition of the Imperial Fists Legion: that little guy named Sigismund is a Templar, and their way to determine the strongest Templar is to have the challenger fight two hundred wheel battles in one go, and then defeat a Dreadnought, so that Sigismund follows this rule when he goes out to challenge."

“…… So ......"

Morgan's strongest combat force: Bayar added with a smile on his face.

"But I think it's a sword."

"I know."

"Shhh

Before the question could be answered, an incomparably tall figure obscured the war blacksmith: the proud son of Morgan, the company commander Hecht, who looked a little taller than a tactical fearless, had a smile on his face that was indistinguishable from that of the fighting brothers around him.

"So, theoretically, if that Sigismund wanted to, he could have gone on stage wearing Terminator armor or even carrying a blaster, but he chose to travel lightly: according to the Fist of the Empire, he is the only one who is most powerful in this state."

“……”

In the end, even the commander of the Thousand Sons intervened: the Terminator armor brought by Ahriman encased the war blacksmith and completely shaped it into a terrifying killing machine, with even the emblem of the Shadowmoon Wolf Legion that had not had time to be wiped clean.

Merely......

Hector nodded, then pointed to his sword-shaped polearm.

Before Dantioc could refute anything, Hector happily forced his great sword of unknown material and an ominous green glow into the hands of the war blacksmith as his main weapon.

"I'll tell you, Dantiok, we're coming back from the sword arena, and that Sigismund chose unlimited sword fighting, which means that you can use any means, including psionic energy and Terminator A: even if you find a dreadnought to go up and fight him twice, theoretically speaking, it's not a foul."

The War Blacksmith's inquiry silenced several of the Daybreakers around him, and finally Ranner, the head of the Praetorian Guard, sighed, shook his head, and patted Dantiok on the shoulder: his expression was enough for it.

"That's what he asked for in the arena of the World Eater Legion."

"Nope! I mean......"

"A monster who can stand on a par with me, Astraan, and Acudona: after seeing him firsthand, I can tell you that Dantioc, he has no shortcomings other than his own arrogance, and his path in swordsmanship may be even more glorious than that of me and Acudona."

"That Sigismund, if he is a Daybreaker, then he only needs to toss around on the battlefield for a few more years, hone his attitude of no one in his eyes, so that his swordsmanship will not be so sparse: when he makes up for these insignificant shortcomings, he will have a place in the personal guard of our Mother of Genes, and he will even be among the best in it."

"I'm in a sword fight."

"I'll just say so, brother."

Bayard raised his voice.

Bayar, the commander of the second company, presented his Chanabar saber, a gift from his emperor's swordmaster, Acudona, while Hector, the eldest of the big guys, took out his dark green greatsword with sharpened iron and clay, and Rana, the head of the Praetorian Guard, placed all the knick-knacks that exuded psionic energy in the places where decorations could be placed on Dantiok's body.

"Yes, yes......"

"It's okay."

Dantioc reluctantly glanced at the circle of dawnbreakers who were around him, all with joyful faces: one of them, Ahriman, who had come out of nowhere, had also happily blended in with the ranks of the sons of Morgan, and was almost painting his armor silver.

They just plugged him.

"I swear by my honor."

Ahriman added that the lord of the Legion of a Thousand Sons was now well aware of the state of the arenas of the various legions, and the slightest difference between the rules of each arena: he was even more authoritative than all the Daybreakers in this regard.

As the son of Perturabo, Dantioc instinctively remembered what had just happened: he had just taken it for granted that he had taken on the task of recovering the field for the Iron Warriors, and then on the way to the arena, he was stopped by the bulls and snakes of the Second Legion.

"Not to mention these weapons, as well as psionic pendants, what's going on with this Terminator armor? It's a foul to wear it to a sword fight, isn't it, guys? ”

Bayar's words calmed the war blacksmith for a moment, and then he felt Hector's broad palm tapped twice on his shoulder: it was almost the size of Dantiok's head.

The Dawnbreaker's champion swordsman smiled kindly at Dantiok.

A piece of echo harmony.

"That Sigismund is indeed a little too arrogant, and his swordsmanship is obviously not suitable for dealing with heavy armor units: you have to have confidence in your strength, Brother Dantiok, we will all go and cheer you on."

"That's right, there are quite a few brothers in my company who are in the sword arena, if you really don't feel at ease, I can have them line up to greet you at the entrance."

"Mobilize those Iron Warriors again......"

"I have a lot of old fellows in the mortal army nearby......"

"To tell you the truth, the mortal who presided over the sword arena is also my old partner: as long as I go and talk about it, he can also prepare a special introduction for you temporarily, he has been doing this for a long time."

"Yes, like this:"

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

"Let's welcome the champion who represented the Iron Warriors: Dan Theok !!"

"Oh oh oh!"

#欢呼声#

“…… Ahem! ”

"Everyone, everyone...... Calm down......"

Seeing that this group of Dawnbreaker bosses, who were solemn and majestic in their usual days and did not dare to get close, were now like a group of space wolves, making trouble in the corridor, Dantiok could only wipe away the cold sweat that did not exist, and tried to leave while organizing words.

But in the end, the war blacksmith couldn't get rid of the minions of the bulls and snakes, and was surrounded by them all the way to the sword arena: the last thing Dantiok could do was to look around the bastards around him again, and silently sigh in his heart.

The Emperor is above.

Look around him, an Astarte Giant on a war vehicle, a legion of Sword Masters who overlook the Empire, a serious and powerful Primordial Chief Guard, and a Thousand Sons Grandmaster with dual spiritual and martial cultivation: he has no doubt that if this group of guys formed a team, they would be able to knock all the war blacksmiths of the Iron Warriors to the ground.

As a result: There is such a group of [village chiefs] who are so full of martial virtues that they are going to challenge the [evil dragon] of Sigismund in the end, but it is actually him, the [brave]?

That's really ...... Is......

——————

"We're waiting, Your Excellency."

"We're expecting you in the fifth minute of this sword fight."

When Dantiok finally made his way to the entrance of the arena, he was greeted by Gilbert: the most outstanding of the Salamasian recruits he had brought with him, and the one who would take the lead in remaining in the Fourth Legion.

He grinned and ran to his commander's side, muttering about how unbearable the Iron Warriors had been, and that he was better than those guys, while the War Blacksmith looked at his admiring juniors with relief while carefully observing Gilbert's gaze at him.

Fortunately, when the Salamasian recruit saw the Terminator Armor on Danteok's face, there was not the slightest surprise or contempt on his face, as if it was normal for a war blacksmith to dress up like this: it was only at this time that Dantiok finally let go of his heart.

The Dawnbreakers didn't lie to him.

After confirming this, the War Blacksmith looked at his juniors and couldn't help but think of the topic they had discussed many times before: although it was not a good time to ask, Dantyok felt that he still needed to untie the knot in his heart before competing.

"Gilbert."

So, he called softly.

"Have you really decided to stay in the Fourth Legion: I mean, I've already spoken to Frix, but if you change your mind, I'll always be able to bring you back."

The war blacksmith licked his lips: he hesitated a little about what to say next.

"After all. As you have all seen before, the Iron Blood is still very different from the Far Eastern Frontier, and your previous social experience and worldview are not suitable for the internal rules of the Iron Warrior Legion. ”

"Stay here...... Not a good thing......"

Dantioc's voice grew lower and lower, and he became more and more unconfident: he knew very well that his current words were no different from slandering the Legion or even slandering the Primordial, and if they were placed in those more disciplined Legions, these few words would be enough for the War Blacksmith to be sent to the confinement cell.

“…… Alas...... Seniors......"

Gilbert only laughed a little, and he turned and walked ahead, showing his commander in the great camp: as he went, his answer echoed in Dantiok's ears, a vigor and determination that the war blacksmith could not describe in words.

"I also want to ask you one thing, Senior Dantiok: what kind of mood and thoughts do you have now, fighting for this not-so-beautiful Fourth Legion? You must also know that there is a power gap between you and that Sigismund. ”

“…… Of course I do. ”

Dantioc grinned.

"But I'm an Iron Warrior after all, and there's no need to hesitate for this kind of thing."

"So are we, seniors."

Gilbert stood still, smiling and saluting his esteemed officer.

"You are an Iron Warrior, but we are also Iron Warriors, and we were hand-selected by you from among mortals, and then cultivated little by little to this point: so, in essence, our values are watered out of your values as a mold."

"Then, since you will not hesitate to fight for the Iron Warriors, then we will naturally fight for the Iron Warriors Legion, using our own methods and thoughts: to be honest, staying in the Fourth Legion is the common idea of all of us, and it is precisely because we have clearly seen the bad deeds in the Legion, and it is precisely because we have lived in a better and more in line with the Great Expedition that we have the responsibility, and we also have the obligation, so that the legion we came from can become better and stronger."

"Although, it means an incredibly long and difficult journey."

Gilbert smiled.

"But we're Iron Warriors."

"We were born to overcome all the problems in the galaxy."

"Even this conundrum is the father of our legion and our genes."

The Salamas lowered his eyebrows: he had clearly anticipated the difficulty of what he was talking about.

"We may not be able to immediately improve the Legion's current harsh tactical style and combat policy that will only increase attrition, but we can start from the basics: we will use real combat results to convince other combat brothers and company commanders, and then the war blacksmith, and even our genetic father, because rational thinking is always the most powerful weapon we have as iron warriors, and I believe that the Legion will not degenerate to the point of self-deception."

"Especially our father, he didn't do well in many places, but he was our genetic father after all, and he had extraordinary thinking and strong logic: he would know what was right, as long as we showed him the right things."

"Maybe it will take ten, twenty or even longer, maybe it will cost a considerable number of us, if not all of us, the lives and wills, but we always have a way to pass it on: we can infect more brothers in the legion, we can also get help from you, we can wear the consciousness of the drops of water to wipe away the decay and dust on the legion little by little."

"One day, I believe our dream will come true: from now on."

Again, Gilbert smiled at his chief, and Dantioc didn't say anything in the end, just nodded slowly and solemnly at his junior, nodding at the fire that the idealist had kindled in the utter darkness.

The War Blacksmith may never agree to such a plan with a low probability of success, but that doesn't stop him from respecting the determined warriors from the bottom of his heart: they may indeed be the forerunners of the Fourth Legion, and they may indeed change the entire Iron Warrior Legion.

In the face of the ideal fire, who dares to say everything in the world is too sure?

Dantiok, proud of them.

The War Blacksmith curled his lips as he smiled heartily and walked into the arena with his head held high, his students celebrating good luck behind him, and his opponent leaping into Dantiok's pupils in the next second.

This was not the first time the war blacksmith had seen Sigismund, the last time they met was just a passing nod of greetings, and Dantioch even doubted that Sigismund would remember his ordinary face: and soon, Sigismund showed by his actions that he did remember Dantioch's appearance.

The Fist of the Empire, who had provoked the whole dispute, had been well rested before Dantioc's arrival, and when the footsteps of the war blacksmith woke him, the son of Dorne seemed to be thinking anxiously about something, but when he saw Dantiok's heavily armed body, the meditation under the blonde hair vanished in the blink of an eye.

The clamor gradually sounded as the two swordsmen began to move their muscles: neither Sigismund, nor the Imperial Fist and Iron Warriors present had any objections to Dantiok's armor, in fact, Sigismund seemed a little happy.

When he saw Dantiok's sturdy Terminator armor, instead of showing any anger at being treated unfairly, there was a sense of eagerness in his pupils: the war blacksmith could clearly recognize that it was Sigismund's inexplicable excitement to meet a new opponent he had never seen before.

What an arrogant guy.

The war blacksmith heard his own trembling bones crackling, and heard a few wisps of anger rise in his mind: Danteok recounted the tactics he had discussed with the Daybreakers along the way, and then, out of habit, glanced curbly at the auditorium above the sword arena.

The auditorium was spacious enough to accommodate a thousand warriors, but at this point it was already packed, most of them occupied by iron gray and yellow-gray, almost half in number: the Iron Warriors were more or less demoralized by Dantiok's appearance, and the Imperial Fist maintained their usual cold and hard style.

But in the heart of the Seventh Legion's crowd, the War Blacksmith saw an uninvited guest: Rogdorn, the genetic prototype of the Fist of the Empire, had come out of his private confinement at some point, and stood there gloomily, looking at the arena without knowing what to think.

The Lord of Invit had noticeably noticed Dantioc's gaze, he looked at the heavily armed war blacksmith and nodded, as if he had said hello, which made Dantioc even feel flattered.

And just as he tried to take a closer look at the expression on Dorne's face, he noticed that the Master of the Imperial Fist suddenly raised his head and looked at the audience behind the War Blacksmith with some consternation: almost at the same time, a series of noises exploded in the Iron Warrior's seat.

Dantioc knew what was going on without even looking back, for the heavy, oppressive footsteps were a part of the galaxy: the war blacksmith could be recognized at the first time, even if he was turned to ashes, and it was the symbol of his genetic father.

Perturabo arrived: I don't know when he woke up, but when Dantiok saw the Lord of Avalon smiling at everyone present, who was following Perturabo, he could probably guess the whole thing.

“……”

But now, it's no longer time to think about these little things.

The war blacksmith turned his head, and he saw Sigismund across from him, as serious as he was: the arrival of the original had apparently fundamentally changed the nature of this somewhat ridiculous sword fight.

So......

It's time to get real.

The War Blacksmith grinned as he looked at the Imperial Fist, which was also posing.

"Sigismund."

"Huh?"

The Sons of Dorne snorted in response.

"How are you going to fight?"

Dantiok struggled to make his voice sound confident.

"It's ...... point"

"Or ...... Bloodless? ”

“…… Scold! ”

Sigismund was happy.

"What do you want me to say......"

"Let's leave it to our fate."

(End of chapter)