Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 477 The Combat Power of the Primarch
The cold light from the armored tunnel fell evenly, casting a chilling effect on the thick metal walls.

Outside the window, the sulfurous and rust-red cloud bands of the gas giant Rostov IV eternally surge and churn, creating a dangerous yet magnificent cosmic landscape.

Chen Xi and Hathor walked side by side, their steps steady, their footsteps echoing in the empty passage.

“Speaking of which,” Chen Xi said, his gaze fixed on the deep passage ahead, his tone tinged with inquiry, “I’ve always been curious about what kind of insurmountable chasm lies between a Primarch and an ordinary Astartes, in terms of combat skills alone.”

Hathor maintained the same pace as him, his amber-gold eyes reflecting the changing light and shadow of the gaseous clouds outside the window, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

"This is a question worth exploring! Looking back at the years of the Great Expedition, there were indeed a few warriors who honed their martial arts to the pinnacle. On the training ground, under the rules of limited sparring and stopping short of a point, they could even fight me or my brothers to a standstill, and the scene seemed evenly matched." She paused slightly to emphasize the words "martial arts" and "fight to a standstill."

“However,” she nodded slightly, her tone becoming incredibly certain, “that is ultimately limited to the framework of ‘stopping at the right point.’ Once you step into the life-or-death battlefield where you hold nothing back and fight to the death, the situation is completely different.”

The scattered instances recorded in history of Space Marines injuring Primarchs were all products of specific circumstances—meticulously planned ambushes, overwhelmingly superior attacks, or Primarchs being distracted or hampered by other matters. In a fair, square, and purely confrontational battle…

Hathor raised a hand, palm down, making a steady and powerful gesture, as if pressing down an invisible weight: "...Even if we were to gather the entire elite Honor Guard under one of my brothers to besiege us, the best we could do would only be to delay for a moment."

The duration of the battle, however, depends entirely on the urgency of the situation and the intensity of the Primarch's resolve.

A knowing smile appeared on Chen Xi's face as she naturally replied, "Just like Guilliman's honor guard, they always have to do everything in their power to bring their father back safely when he rushes headlong into the most dangerous vortex."

“Robert?” Hathor’s smile deepened, revealing a deep understanding of his brother. “In terms of pure and exquisite combat skills and comprehensive and thorough tactical knowledge, he is indeed among the best of us brothers.”

However, the opponents he encountered were often too powerful, or the situations were too complex to be resolved by force alone.

His fearless charge was also a matter of duty—among the Ultramarines, who else but him could face a threat of such terrifying magnitude that could topple a battle line?

Chen Xi nodded in deep agreement.

He turned his gaze to Hathor, his curiosity about the nature of power growing deeper: "So, based on your own experience, what level can a Primarch reach if they unleash their full power without reservation?"

Hathor paused for a moment, a thoughtful glint in his molten gold eyes, as if he were weighing the power.

“You could say that,” she said, organizing her thoughts, her voice steady yet undeniably powerful, “that for us, on the scale of conventional warfare, simply piling up numbers has lost its meaning.”

For example, if we were to engage in a direct confrontation, I am confident that I could completely crush an entire Astartes Legion.

"And this is far from the limit I can reach." "As for the power of destruction," she said, casting her gaze toward the churning, violently energetic gaseous inferno outside the window, "one might recall the desperate outburst of Saint Gilles during the Siege of Terra, under the ominous signs of the end, or the fury of Angron as he destroyed the divine machines."

Imperial Titans are not an indestructible, eternal barrier; an entire Legion cannot stop a Primarch who is giving it his all.

If there is no equal force to counterbalance them on the battlefield, an unreserved Primarch is itself a moving, walking catastrophe.

She paused, her tone carrying an inevitable heaviness: "Therefore, it is an unavoidable fate that Guilliman often has to personally confront those powerful enemies who are capable of threatening the entire front."

"Understood," Chen Xi nodded knowingly, his tone tinged with a hint of admiration, while also revealing his concern for his soldiers. "It seems that my lads will inevitably have to experience something truly unforgettable during the 'assessment' later on."

"Ms. Hathor, I urge you to show mercy and not let their confidence be too severely damaged."

He specifically used the word "assessment" to highlight the nature of the upcoming test.

Hathor's lips curled into a slight smile, displaying the composure and control characteristic of an instructor: "Your Excellency, rest assured, I know what I'm doing. Today we'll see what kind of sharpness has been cultivated through all this hard work."

They had now reached the end of the passage. Behind the massive airtight gate ahead, the clanging of training weapons, the heavy thud of footsteps, and deep shouts could be heard clearly, like the beating of war drums.

The heavy gate slid open silently, revealing the training hall.

The dome soared into the clouds, its massive alloy ribbed arches etched with the Imperial eagle emblem and ancient warband mottoes, casting deep shadows under the cold lights at the top.

The air was filled with the faint scent of lingering incense, the pungent smell of promethium lubricant, the sweat from young bodies after strenuous exercise, and the burnt metallic smell left from repeated impacts of training weapons.

The thick, dark alloy wall panels are inlaid with stained glass windows depicting the emperor's holy deeds and the epic battles of the legions. At this moment, they are illuminated by the changing light of the sulfurous yellow and rust red of the gas giant planet outside, making them look bizarre and colorful, as if they are in a burning cosmic painting.

Hundreds of Ash Knights stood solemnly, wearing only dark gray training suits that outlined their genetically enhanced physiques, their muscles bulging and exuding an explosive sense of power.

Their gazes, filled with awe of power and a hint of anticipation at being tested, were all focused on Hathor Lupeka in the center of the arena—the instructor who had been guiding their combat skills for some time on the orders of the governor.

She wore a neatly tailored dark gray administrative uniform, her posture upright like a pine tree. She casually held an unsharpened standard training power sword in her hand, her posture relaxed and composed, as if what was about to take place was not a fierce battle, but a calm demonstration of the results.

"The rules remain the same," Hathor's voice rang out steadily, clearly penetrating the training ground and reaching everyone's ears, carrying the composure and unquestionable authority characteristic of an examiner. "Stop when you've reached your limit, give it your all. Let me see what kind of sharpness has been forged from the sweat you've shed during this time. Who is willing to be the first to be tested?"

(End of this chapter)