Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 42 War Lord
"What's wrong with you?" In the War Academy's training grounds, three-meter-tall Doom and Harlan were exchanging blows.

Doom paused for a moment, then the stone sword in his hand was struck by Harlan and cleanly broken in two.

"You were distracted by your father's return?" Harlan sheathed his longsword and ended the duel with a warrior's salute.

Two months after he began learning swordsmanship from Doom, he had never defeated his master. His victories, achieved only through sheer luck, left him with no joy on his face.

"I sensed something, something very far away, but I could clearly feel its presence."

Doom never hid anything from Harlan, clearly describing the sudden sensation that arose in his soul.

"Your brother?"

Harlan's words made Doom think for a moment, then he shook his head hesitantly: "It shouldn't be my brother."

Although the sensation was faint, Doom could clearly feel that the star shining in his soul was not as powerful as he was.

They cannot be considered "brothers"; to be precise, it is a superior-subordinate relationship.

“But you—” Doom stared at Harlan, whose sweat was rolling down his back: “Your progress these past few months is unusual.”

Harlan is over a hundred years old. In the Guardian Domain, where the average age is over three hundred, he is in his prime, but he has passed his peak. His physical functions will inevitably decline due to war scars and other reasons.

The process may be lengthy due to personal reasons, but the fact that things are declining is undeniable.

Doom noticed that Harlan seemed to be experiencing a resurgence in his career, often surprising him during their matches.

"I want to know the answer to that question too." Harlan gave a bitter, helpless smile. For a warrior, strength is something to be proud of.

What if the power comes out of nowhere?
According to the "Warrior's Law," any abnormality that defies common sense will be investigated.

The Nur people are descendants of the Jurchens, a fact that makes them powerful but also subject them to great suffering.

Due to a lack of maintenance of their genetic material over a long period, the genes of the descendants of the Golden Man have been degenerating, and even uncontrollable genetic mutations have occurred.

The Night Guardians and the people who guard the main domain have relatively stable genes and rarely mutate due to genetic collapse.

However, there are specialized review agencies that closely monitor every citizen and conduct regular genetic testing.

To avoid genetic breakdown and the resulting chain reaction.

Harlan has been investigated many times. His declining physical functions rebounded to their peak a few months ago, and he even grew a few centimeters taller.

The anxious champion swordsman, in accordance with the Warrior's Code, frequently examines his own mind to guard against psychological problems that may arise alongside abnormalities.

"I'm sick!"

An ordinary match ended with Harlan's frustration and impatience.

Frustrated, the champion swordsman complained, "Why don't those inspectors, who see everyone as a mutant, come and inspect you?"

“You’ve grown three meters tall in just one year, and you’re still growing.”

"I had only grown a few centimeters taller when they pounced on me like wolves and tigers, treating me like an unstable bomb."

“That’s their job.” Doom said with admiration and seriousness, “The job of a genetic examiner is not easy.”

“I know, I know,” Harlan said, even more agitated.

He couldn't understand how that lively child had become so old-fashioned.

Thinking of the past, Harlan looked at Doom carefully again, but he couldn't connect him with the boy with red lips and white teeth from before.

Now, he has short, clean black hair, a well-defined facial structure, a majestic and dignified appearance, thick, dark eyebrows, bright black eyes, a high nose bridge, and a long, straight jawline. He is as heroic as a god, making people want to worship him.

His strong upper body was bare, every muscle line was clearly visible, and his skin had a healthy, hazy glow.

The shark muscles on the sides of the abdomen are arranged in layers, and the blood-red mark on the chest remains mysterious in the middle of the bulging pectoral muscles.

With clearly defined abdominal muscles, this perfect human physique is so powerful that even the best sculptors would find it difficult to replicate.

After carefully reviewing it, Harlan smiled smugly. Sometimes he couldn't help but admire himself for still being able to live like a human being in the face of such a powerful being, and for treating him as a friend and brother.

The teachers at the school, upon seeing Doom, were so respectful they practically buried their heads in the ground. And the young girls, feigning modesty while stealing glances, were almost comical; their blushing faces and trembling legs betrayed them all.

“Your father will be back soon, and you and I should be able to go to the battlefield with him.”

At this point, Harlan's eyes lit up with anticipation. King Norwick's return should bring Doom and him with him this time.

During the defense of the main domain, apart from the initial few days of rest, the champion swordsman kept a close eye on news from the front lines.

He dreamed of one day returning to the battlefield with Doom, fighting alongside him.

Doom's abilities are indeed terrifying, with powerful learning and comprehension skills. He completed the warrior assessment two months ago and became a Night Watcher.

From enrollment to graduation, no one expected that in just seven months, a child under one year old would complete a curriculum that would take decades to complete for the Golden Descendants.

"I don't have much expectation for the battlefield; I'm more concerned about my father's health."

Doom shook his head. Going to the battlefield was only a matter of time, but his father's condition worried him.

Since sending my father on his journey, the news brought back by the royal messengers has been far from optimistic. My father's physical condition is very bad, and his mental state is deteriorating. The accompanying physician cannot find any disease or genetic degeneration.

Harlan, standing to the side, remained silent. As a private bodyguard, the more he knew Doom, the more he understood him.

The battlefield posed no danger to Doom; honor was an easy reward, requiring no effort whatsoever.

His family is the softest spot in his heart, the one he cherishes most.

"Brother is here!" With his extraordinary senses, Doom immediately sensed a familiar presence rapidly approaching.

Flano Novick looked anxious, sweat beading on his forehead, and quickly walked towards them.

problem occurs!
The two men's faces darkened, and they could read an unusual tension and anxiety in Flano's expression.

Harlan quickly summoned several apprentices to help him put on his power armor and get into peak condition.

Doom burst forth with astonishing speed and rushed toward his brother.

"Dum!" Flano exclaimed anxiously, pulling his brother's arm. "Quick! Father's back, he's waiting for you in the council chamber!"

His pupils contracted sharply; Doom realized the gravity of the situation. The king's triumphant return should proceed along the triumphal arch, a symbol of victory.

Choosing to return secretly means something big must have happened!
"You go first, don't worry about me!" Flano knew Doom's speed and that he was just a burden, so he urged him to leave.

"Harlan, you stay with your brother!" Doom nodded heavily, gave the order to the armored guards, and then burst into speed, running away at subsonic speed.

When Doom rushed to the council chamber, the civil and military officials who had remained were still waiting, and the atmosphere was silent and heavy.

King Norwick leaned back on his throne with his eyes closed, a needle inserted into a vein in his left hand, life-sustaining fluid being injected, and his complexion was very unpleasant.

The tall and imposing king was in very poor condition. His face was unusually thin, his eye sockets were sunken, his high nose bridge resembled a barren mountain peak, and his hair was mottled white, hanging down from his head like withered grass.

The moment he saw his father, Doom's eyes trembled. He couldn't understand how his tall and strong father had fallen into such a state in just a few months.

Kneeling on one knee before his seat, Doom grasped his father's right hand, feeling its thinness, weakness, and extreme coldness.

"Hmm~ It's Doom." After a long while, the king seemed to wake up. He looked at his son kneeling in front of him, awakened by the heat from his palm.

His eyes held pride, a fixed gaze, and an unwavering resolve: "You will be crowned 'War Lord' and continue hunting down the remaining orcs."

Doom looked surprised, but did not question it. No one among the civil or military officials present objected; clearly, this was a decision they had reached together.

Warlord is a wartime title, representing the supreme commander during combat.

A servant presented a tray with a sword and seal, granting Doom the authority to command the Night Guard.

“You only have half an army!” Norwick’s weary voice came, slowly uttering his arrangements for his son.

“I understand. I will end the orc war as quickly as possible.” Doom accepted the sword and seal with a determined look in his eyes, accepting the power given to him by his father and taking on the responsibility of a son.

　If we saw Old Huang in two, with his lower half used to clog the toilet and his upper half to rule the empire, would that be a good idea?

　　
　
(End of this chapter)