Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 173 King of Warriors
The contest between the Primarchs ended as swiftly as lightning.

The audience dared not cheer, because praising either of the two Primarchs might offend the other and his Legion.

They dared only suppress their excitement and silently witness the contest between the Primarchs.

Ferrus didn't care about winning or losing, and when the match ended, he jumped off the stands and went to the center of the arena.

He opened his arms, gesturing for Doom to hand Forgrim over to him for support.

Because Doom was much taller, he looked very awkward when helping Forgrim and had to bend over.

“I will never fight my brother again,” he said with a look of regret, carefully handing Forgrim to Feralus.

After the match, Fugrim was not only physically injured, but also deeply traumatized.

“It’s not your fault.” Feralus draped Fugrim over his back and, seeing Doom’s regretful expression, comforted him in a deep voice: “Cultural differences are a profound lesson that should be remembered.”

"But it wasn't something you did intentionally, so don't feel too guilty."

“My mighty brother…” Forgrim quickly recovered, the Primarch possessing powerful regenerative abilities.

"This is not your fault." His voice returned to its elegant tone, still captivating people.

"Snap!" With a burst of strength, Fugrim's muscles repositioned his right collarbone.

The numb nerves in his legs would soon regain sensation. He gently pushed away Felus's support and stubbornly stood up, raising his right hand to hold his left collarbone.

“I’ve reflected on this a lot,” Forgrim said, calming down, his handsome face regaining its radiance. “Since returning to Terra, the identity of the Emperor’s son has made me somewhat vain.”

"The attention and glory I received far exceeded what I got during my time with Chemos, which made me so intoxicated that I forgot myself."

"King of Warriors..." He looked at Doom, his eyes revealing his approval: "Before experiencing your power, I even want to defeat the owner of this honor and add another luster to my halo."

“It’s a pity…” Fugrim looked at Doom and said seriously, “Its master deserves it.”

"No!" he said, immediately shaking his head. "I've got it backwards. It should be that it is worthy of its master."

"It's just a title." Doom didn't really care about these things. The title was passed down orally among the Night Guardians and eventually became the accepted one.

“I am very grateful to you,” Fugrim brushed aside his hanging white hair and looked earnestly at Doom: “You showed me true power and helped me to curb my vanity.”

"King of Warriors is not just a title, but also the recognition of others."

“I also acknowledge this honor.” He walked over to Doom, took his brother’s arm, and his sharp eyes swept across the arena:
Let us cheer!

Forgrim's voice was so captivating that the arena audience involuntarily straightened their backs to listen to the Primarch's admonition.

"King of Warriors! Doom Norwick!" He raised Doom's arm high and shouted his brother's name.

"King of Warriors!" The audience was moved by his voice, igniting their previously subdued excitement, and they shouted and cheered with abandon.

"Doom Norwick!" Feralas grabbed Doom's forearm, lifting his arm high, his deep voice roaring, "King of Warriors!"

The two brothers, one on each side, lifted Doom's arms, allowing him to face the audience and receive the honor.

"King of Warriors!"

"King of Warriors!"

Ordinary people screamed with all their might, witnessing a legendary scene.

He shouted until he was almost suffocating, fearing that his voice would be drowned out by the Imperial Guard and the Space Marines.

The Imperial Guard and Space Marines shouted praises to the Primarch.

With such a powerful genetic prototype, the imperial offspring naturally deserve the title of "King of Warriors".

The atmosphere was electric; the arena was cheering for one man's name—what an honor!

Doom forced a smile, letting his two brothers grab him as he slowly spun around to face the crowd.

Receive people's sincere praise.

“Brotherly love and respect, what a heartwarming scene,” Makado murmured, moved by the sight before him.

The emperor remained silent, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Doom's power pleased him; such warriors were necessary to deal with the evil gods, to beat them and their servants mercilessly.

He slowly rose, a satisfied gleam in his eyes, and turned to leave the arena.

"He didn't seem to be using his full strength." The Emperor's figure faded into the distance, but his voice echoed in their minds, startling both Macado and Waldo.

They exchanged a glance, then looked at the person in the center of the arena with his hands raised.

Both being genetic prototypes, how could someone take down their own brother in seconds without using their full strength?

Makado nodded slowly, a look of satisfaction appearing in his cloudy eyes.

At that moment, the immortal finally understood what his old friend meant by "hope." Or perhaps this child truly could defeat the evil god.

"Let's go, Waldo." Macardo smiled, in a good mood, and gestured for the commander of the Imperial Guard to leave: "There's still work to be done."

Waldo stood holding the Spear of Apollo, his expression solemn as he carefully examined Doom before turning and leaving to pursue the Emperor's figure.

No one knew what he was thinking.

A warriors' celebration ended as the Primarch departed, and the three brothers bid each other farewell.

Forgrim traveled to the Imperial Sons' residence to instruct the progenitors in swordsmanship and intensify the training of Space Marines.

He was eager to participate; the supreme glory of the Great Expedition awaited him, and he had to join in as soon as possible.

Felus was a calm and collected man, but he longed to achieve great deeds and gain recognition. With this eagerness in his heart, he went to the moon.

The Legion is undergoing cultural integration, and its Glorious Queen battleship is being built on the moon.

Ferus personally oversaw the construction and design of the Glory Queen's warship, which embodies the aesthetic style of the planet Medusa.

Doom embarks on his journey, leading the First Fleet away from Terra and heading to Shana, the world of forging.

A massive army is gathering there, awaiting his wisdom to attack the Randan aliens.

Little did Doom know that something unexpected was happening in the world of Shana, which had been forged by the world itself.

------

The First Legion is assembling to forge the world of Shana.

The ancient and powerful First Legion, upon receiving Terra's orders, immediately withdrew from the Great Crusade and arrived in Shana one after another.

Three Glory Queen warships, docked at the Forgeworld Spaceport, showcase the power of the First Legion.

Over a hundred main warships, along with various other vessels, totaling a thousand warships, arrived at the assembly point.

Urian Bendreig, the Grand Instructor of the First Legion, paced back and forth in the warship's cabin, his heart filled with trepidation.

He had only recently assumed the position of Grand Mentor, a result of internal compromise within the Legion.

Urian Bendreig, born in Terra, participated in the War of Unification and is an ancient member of the Legion.

Urian's primary task is to unite the Legion and prevent its division.

The First Legion is the eldest son, powerful and ancient, and for this reason, even more arrogant, regarding itself as a model for other legions.

During the Great Crusade, in order to seize more glory, the Legion spared no expense in conquering humans and aliens.

Despite the losses, the legion's leadership disregarded everything else, solely focused on maintaining the supreme honor of being "number one."

The First Legion paid a heavy price in its past conquests, with its former Grand Master, Hector Thrann, killed in action.

After the Grand Master's death, the brothers within the legion slandered each other in their struggle for power.

After much compromise and negotiation, Urian, who had no background and did not take sides, was instead recommended by all parties to succeed as the Legion's Grand Mentor.

What lay before him was a complete mess—a divided legion.

Urian is looking for an opportunity to reunite the Legion.

The opportunity has arrived, and it is right in front of the First Legion.

The threat posed by Randan is immense; the First Legion must unite to defeat the terrifying aliens.

However, the First Legion was not the main force in this operation.

The Primarch of the Doom, Lord of the Twenty-First Legion, and son of the Emperor, personally commanded this campaign.

Urian was inwardly resistant; he didn't want the Primarch to get involved, but he couldn't disobey Terra's orders.

"Grand Master." The door to the room was pushed open, and a warrior dressed in jet-black armor entered.

He did not remove his helmet, making him seem very mysterious, as if shrouded in mist.

"Who are you?" Urian asked warily, his hand discreetly resting on his waist, ready to draw his plasma pistol at any moment. "I haven't summoned anyone."

"I am a keeper of secrets." The visitor did not reveal his name, but simply handed over a box. "These are the relics entrusted to me by the former Grand Master."

"He said if there's anything about the Twenty-First Legion, I should hand it over to the next Grand Master. I think now is the right time."

He walked past the Grand Master, placed the box on the table, and turned to leave without lingering.

Urian walked toward the long table, looking puzzled at the small iron box lying on it.

The box was engraved with Hector Thrann's personal mark, and his eyes lit up; it was a relic of the previous Grand Master.

(End of this chapter)