"O… Original, you really have no intention of intervening?"
The voice of a S.EN.A member echoed in Sanguinius's ear.
But he didn't respond with words.
He simply shook his head.
Even though he held great affection for Thrax, two curiosities now gnawed at him.
How far could a true demigod go, bearing the DNA of a Primarch as dangerous as Konrad Curze?
And what if that demigod had also undergone an Astartes procedure, while maintaining complete control over their own life force?
The current situation was far too perfect to look away.
"Stop bothering him… You… no, you know us, don't you? Once we've got an idea in our heads, it's hard to sway us," another S.E.N.A member declared, shrugging slightly.
All the ordinary clones and masked silhouettes remained silent in the face of this remark.
A tacit silence… one that confirmed the boldness of those words.
"*sigh* You talk as if I'd let the kid perish…"
The people in the room merely observed him, saying nothing.
Sometimes, I forget they're only a fragment of me.
Yes, Sanguinius had never truly intended to let Thrax die.
But… he had to admit, an accident was still possible.
The shadow of death was not out of the question.
How could a being as powerful as him ever seem ineffective?
The answer was simple.
"O… Original!"
On the image projected in the room, Thrax appeared…
…
After Thrax interrupted Michael's words with a precise shot from his bolter, the two men faced each other.
The tense silence broke with the first move: it was Michael who attacked.
Everything happened too fast.
One moment, Thrax could still see his opponent standing before him… and the next, Michael's hand was already covering his helmet.
*Crash!*
Michael slammed Thrax to the ground with unimaginable force, his speed seeming incompatible with his imposing appearance.
The Astartes' body broke the sound barrier before crashing violently into the rocky ground of the island.
It wasn't that Thrax was slow.
No.
Michael was simply far too fast.
In the eyes of the S.E.N.A, what unfolded was nothing less than the clash of an Ultimate-class being against a creature of a lower tier.
An overwhelming domination on the very plane of existence.
'H… he's different…'
At that moment, Thrax felt something he had long forgotten: weakness.
Years had passed, but he had never been able to erase the helplessness once inflicted upon him by the old Greek god Chiron.
"T… YOU'LL… P-PAY FOR THIS!!!"
Unleashing his Touki without restraint, he pushed the roar of his chainsword to its limit and charged straight at Michael.
Yet the Seraph remained unmoved.
His gaze showed neither fear nor anger… barely a hint of sadness, but above all, a cold indifference.
Like an adult observing a stubborn child, unable to understand they were in the wrong.
Michael dodged every chainsword strike, every bolter shot.
And that simple fact confirmed one thing to Thrax: his attacks *could* indeed reach and harm this being of apparent absoluteness.
'Then why…'
'W… why can't I hit him?'
He already knew the answer.
The S.E.N.A knew it.
Moebius knew it.
Cortana knew it.
Thrax had not yet entered the Ultimate class.
With support, he could hold his own against a being of this level… and perhaps even have a chance at victory.
But alone… he was nothing.
That's when he understood why Cortana had to create "the Chapters."
If he had only had the support of a company of Astartes, this fight would have been entirely different.
A truth that Roboute Guilliman had understood and etched into the Codex Astartes:
- To conquer a city, a squad of Astartes (10 Space Marines) or at the very least a tactical detachment (30 to 50) is needed.
- To pacify a world, a company of 100 Astartes with sufficient logistical support will suffice.
Thus, an Ultimate-class Angel could not be defeated by Thrax alone.
The strangest part of it all… was that Michael still took his attacks seriously, dodging them.
Proof of the lethality of those attacks… but their wielder still lacked mastery, and above all, raw power.
"Have you finally realized?"
Michael's calm voice reached Thrax's interface as the latter emerged from a gaping hole carved into the mountain.
He had just been thrown clear over Cortana's base.
Without the AI's intervention, which had deactivated the shields in time, Thrax would have been gravely injured… or even killed.
[Thrax… don't move anymore, I…]
Cortana tried to intervene, but the young Astartes' response cut through like a sharpened blade:
"DON'T GET INVOLVED!"
Thrax had already understood the situation.
And yet… he refused to give up here.
Michael, perhaps intrigued by this determination, paused his advance.
He only has the appearance of a human, after all…
Casting aside the rest of his armor, Thrax kept only his chainsword as his sole equipment.
He no longer wanted to rely on the protection or security provided by the armor.
The demigod truly wanted to give everything.
His body no longer radiated Touki like a boiling furnace: all his energy had been concentrated into a single point.
The chainsword vibrated, roared, almost screamed, at the edge of its limit.
Planting his legs firmly into the ground, Thrax raised his weapon above his head.
At that moment, Michael, like all the observers, could feel the mortal danger emanating from that vibrating, blinding blade.
All the Touki Thrax could draw from his body without dying… was concentrated there.
If Michael attacked him in this state and struck him… the Astartes would perish.
"Tell me, young lamb… what is your name?"
Thrax growled at this strange behavior, but Michael's eyes were no longer the same as before.
They no longer reflected cold indifference.
They now shone with deep respect.
"…Thrax."
Michael nodded gently, before offering a smile so radiant it could have melted a woman's heart.
"I will remember that name."
Those were their final words.
Michael summoned a lance forged of Holy Power and launched himself at Thrax.
The sacred weapon and the chainsword collided in a deafening clash.
'I… I regret nothing… except maybe… h-her…'
That was Thrax's final thought, just before his blade gave way under the raw power of the Angel's Holy Power.
His only consolation was seeing the glint of his chainsword tear into the pristine cheek of the Angel.
"Don't you feel ashamed, bullying a child, Michael?"
"W… what?"
Michael's surprised expression, as his Holy Power was firmly seized, was a particularly amusing sight to behold.
Sanguinius gave a faint smile before sending the Seraph flying with a single kick, charged with Holy Power.
"It's a shame you passed out… but know that everything is fine now, Why ? because…"
As he spoke, Sanguinius cracked his knuckles, his gaze fixed on Michael, who was struggling to rise from the ground.
"…the cavalry has arrived."