Warhammer 40K in a box

Chapter 480 Gavial Loken

But this brief exchange was not over!
Chen Xi forced himself to maintain his balance as he retreated, his eyes burning with intense spiritual energy!
He precisely caught the fleeting, minute stiffness that Hathor experienced while parrying—a fatal opening!

Without the slightest hesitation, he ignored the intense numbness in his arm.

The power training sword in his hand transformed into a metallic storm, and dozens of illusory and real thrusts, like a flood breaking through a dam, precisely covered Hathor's defensive points!
Each strike was imbued with a trajectory predicted by psychic energy, its angles tricky and its calculations meticulous, aiming to seal off all conventional dodge and parry opportunities.

Hathor finally stopped holding his ground!
Her figure suddenly transformed into a silver phantom, moving and dodging at high speed amidst Chen Xi's ferocious attacks.

The sword in his hand was no longer a simple block, but transformed into a precise defensive matrix. Every swing accurately hit the key points of Chen Xi's offensive, deflecting or cleverly reversing the most threatening attacks in advance.

The explosions from the clashing blades were as dense as rain, and sparks flew wildly in all directions!

Energy shockwaves exploded between the two, shaking the entire training ground!
All the Ash Knights watching held their breath, shocked by the Governor's extraordinary speed and prediction, and even more shocked by Hathor's absolute defensive stance that seemed to know and control everything!
This psionic-driven, extreme offensive lasted for less than ten seconds.

Although Chen Xi's psychic foresight was strong, maintaining such high-intensity combat simulations and physical enhancements had pushed his mental and physical limits.

Just as his sword strikes inevitably faltered due to the depletion of his power—Hathor's counterattack arrived!
Her sword seemed to break free from the constraints of the laws of physics, thrusting out from a logically impossible angle at a speed that surpassed visual perception!
Chen Xi's pupils contracted sharply, and his psychic visions issued a frantic warning—images of countless future attack paths flooded his mind in an instant!

But this massive amount of predictive information itself has become an overwhelming burden!

The brain's processing speed is instantly overwhelmed, and the body's reaction nerves are completely overloaded!
The cold tip of the sword struck the nerve cluster point on his wrist with perfect precision!
A subtle yet powerful vibration came from within.

Chen Xi grunted, and the training sword flew out of his hand!
Hathor did not pursue; he withdrew his sword instantly after the tip touched Hathor.

She stood still, her breathing as steady as ever, as if the battle that had just taken on a dazzling Astartes was nothing more than a trivial matter to her.

Looking at Chen Xi, who was slightly out of breath and whose wrists were tingling with intense numbness, she saw, for the first time, undisguised and pure admiration in her golden eyes.

“Impressive, Your Excellency.” Hathor’s voice carried a genuine warmth, an acknowledgment of true potential.

“Your application of ‘future vision’ and your extreme enhancement of your mortal body… your proficiency far exceeds the basic level.” She paused, then added, “In terms of pure ‘combat skills’ and ‘battlefield instincts,’ you still need to hone your skills a thousand times over, but to be able to apply your foresight to this extent in actual combat is already an extremely rare talent.”

Even among think tanks... those capable of integrating psychic foresight so efficiently into close combat are rare.

Chen Xi calmed his breathing, feeling the ebb and flow of spiritual energy within his body and the soreness in his muscles, but a carefree smile appeared on his face.

To receive such praise from a Primarch is itself an unparalleled affirmation.

Just then, the heavy airtight gate of the training ground emitted a low hum and slowly slid open to both sides.

A chilling aura, a mixture of rust, gunpowder smoke, and promethium fuel, instantly surged in, dispersing the residual energy waves within the arena.

A company commander of Ash Knights, clad in the iconic black and white power armor, strode in, still bearing the lingering smoke and chilling aura of battle. Cold stardust clung to the seams of his armor, and fresh, dark red splatter-like stains remained on the edges of his shoulder armor—proof of the solidified blood of aliens or traitors in a vacuum.

The heavy adamantite boots pounded on the alloy floor with a dull thud, each step carrying the oppressive feeling of someone who had just returned from a crucible of flesh and blood.

He had apparently received an urgent notification and was forced to withdraw directly from a frontline outpost or a fierce patrol engagement.

The cold gaze behind the helmet and visor was like a scanning beam, sweeping over the new and veteran soldiers who froze and held their breath in shock at his intrusion, and passing over the dust that had not yet settled in the air.

Finally, with a hint of barely perceptible, routine scrutiny, the gaze settled on the unfamiliar woman in the center of the arena, holding a training sword and standing tall.

Gavial Locken abruptly stopped in his tracks.

This is not a tactical pause, but a deeper, momentary short circuit stemming from the core of cognition.

That figure... that posture, that indescribable rhythm in every gesture... like a faint electric current, unexpectedly piercing through the ice layer of memories sealed for millennia.

A sense of déjà vu, both utterly absurd and incredibly intense, gripped him.

How could this be? This is insane! But why... why did just that one silhouette send a sharp, piercing pain through a long-numbed corner of his soul?

Beneath his helmet, his resolute brows were furrowed, and for the first time, his cold gaze was filled with pure, profound confusion and bewilderment.

He stood frozen in place, like a steel statue suddenly brought to a stop, his helmet tilted slightly, trying to dispel the untimely illusion and see more clearly.

In that instant, the woman in the center of the arena seemed to sense something, and slightly turned her body, adjusting her grip on the sword.

That fleeting profile, that angle of the raised chin, and especially those raised eyes that seemed to inadvertently flash with a molten gold luster under the training field lights!
Buzz—! Loken felt as if an invisible hammer had struck the inside of his skull!

It's not a hallucination! It's not an illusion!
That unique majesty belonging to the Primarch, etched deep within the soul and marrow of every Shadowmoon Wolf, and... betrayal! It was him! That name! That figure! The one who turned all glory to ashes, trampled loyalty into mud, and stained brotherhood with the deepest darkness—the traitor!
"Ugh...ho..." A suppressed hiss, like a wild beast squeezing out from the depths of its throat before death, leaked from the helmet's breathing compartment.

The next moment, under the horrified gaze of all the Ash Knights, Gavial Loken made a move that froze the air—he suddenly raised his hands, the movement so violent it was almost tearing, and grabbed his own helmet, which was covered in gunpowder and was cold and heavy!

"Click!" The crisp sound of the lock popping open echoed like thunder in the deathly silent training ground.

He ripped the helmet off violently!
A weathered face, etched with the resilient lines of time and war, was exposed to the glaring light.

However, at this moment, the face that belonged to the legendary tenth company commander and member of the Four Kings Council could no longer be found to contain any trace of composure and wisdom.

His facial features were twisted and deformed by extreme shock and uncontrollable rage!
His eyes were no longer those of a calm observer, but had completely transformed into two furnaces ignited by hellfire, bursting forth with terrifying blood-red light!
His pupils contracted to the size of needles, burning with a blood feud spanning millennia, the excruciating pain of being betrayed by his closest relatives, and the purest, most destructive desire to consume everything before him!

(End of this chapter)