The instant the helmet fell, Blazkowicz's world shifted. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, as if everything around him were submerged in a pool of molasses. He saw the Commando Kid's mouth agape in a roar, the clenching of its fist, the micro-movements of its countless muscles, and the surging blood pulsing through its veins.
Every single detail of the Ork's form and intent was laid bare to his perception. He didn't just see the charge; he predicted the twist of its back, the shift of its weight, and the exact angle of its next move. He knew how the Ork would attack him before it even took its first step.
The term "in an instant" barely does it justice. In the nanosecond it took light to travel just a foot, Blazkowicz's mind had already processed a thousand scenarios. Of all the possible ways to end the fight, he still chose the "one punch, one kick" method—a promise he had made to his father.
The Ork's roar was stretched and elongated in his ears. It raised its fist, preparing to strike. Blazkowicz even saw the caged Orcs, their eyes moving from joyful anticipation to bloodthirsty fanaticism, eager for the messy spectacle to begin.
Blazkowicz, with a serious expression, calculated his moment. The Ork was twice his height, and its reach was a dangerous advantage. No matter how fast his mind was, his body was still a work in progress. His movements were faster than the Ork's, but only by a slim margin.
As the creature closed the distance, Blazkowicz cracked a smirk at the ecstatic beast. In the same breath, he dropped into a low squat.
A sweeping kick!
Using his right leg as a pivot, he spun, sweeping his left leg in a powerful arc. Blazkowicz knew that the Ork's massive upper body was its strength, while its legs were comparatively short and fragile. He had found its weakness, and he attacked it viciously.
"Die, young-un!" the Commando roared as it brought its fist down, a bone-shattering, sinew-tearing blow.
"CRACK!"
The only response was the sound of a bone snapping as Blazkowicz's shin connected squarely with the Ork's.
The Sentinels all stood in unison, having clearly witnessed the boy's astonishing counterattack. In that moment, he had won. His left leg had broken the Ork's shinbone, sending the beast reeling.
As the Ork fell, Blazkowicz's nimble body spun with his kick, his left fist clenching, gathering all the rotational energy into a single, deadly blow.
"DIE!" a clear voice roared, filled with a young tiger's fury.
The Commando Kid's leg pain had yet to reach its brain. It didn't even know it had a broken leg. As it lost its balance, a small, tightly-clenched, yet deadly iron fist struck it square in the face.
Then, its vision went black.
The punch was so powerful that it not only collapsed the Ork's cheek but drove straight through, exploding out of the back of its skull. Brain matter and blood gushed forth. Blazkowicz had ended the savage beast with a single punch.
One kick, one punch. One punch, one kick.
Blazkowicz stood firm. The Ork that had been so confident moments before was now a mangled body with a caved-in head, its twitching limbs draped lifelessly over the boy's arm.
"WAAAGH!"
The Orks screamed in wild, thrashing celebration, grabbing their heads and letting out wild cheers. They didn't care who won, only that it was a good fight. Blazkowicz had given them a spectacular show.
"Excellent!" the Sentinels shouted, clapping wildly. A deathmatch with a massive size disparity had ended in less than a second, and the underdog had come out on top.
But Blazkowicz heard none of it. The moment the Ork's life ebbed away and its hot blood flowed, everything went still. The arena, the crowd, the world—all of it faded, becoming as illusory as an image in a mirror.
Looking down at his arm, the dead Ork was gone, with no trace of its existence. His vision went black, and he lost all external sensation. He was a blind and deaf man in a spaceless void.
A strong, familiar stench of blood filled the air, and suddenly, Blazkowicz "opened his eyes" to a bizarre sight.
He was on a boundless wasteland under a sky of eternal fire. The ground was made of jagged, blood-red stone, and the distant streams flowed with boiling lava. A hill of skulls sat at his feet—human, Ork, and others he didn't recognize—piled high.
Behind the curtain of reality, the Four Gods of Chaos were converging. Khorne held a fragile, blood-red world in his claws, while Nurgle blew a murky breath onto it to keep it from shattering.
"The purity of the first kill is beautiful," Khorne growled. "When blood flows and violence echoes, I paid a great price to bring his soul here."
"Even after his soul became human, he still maintained his self-preservation," a second voice added. "Our pronouncements are difficult to reach his ears. We have only one chance, for his essence resists the power of the Empyrean."
Blazkowicz looked around, and a burning sensation came from the mark on his chest. It was glowing faintly, reacting to an unseen presence.
"Blazkowicz~" a layered, ethereal voice echoed from behind him. He turned, surprised to find the desolate wasteland had been replaced by four gigantic, gaudy chairs that scraped the sky.
The first was an azure chair of twisting, ever-shifting vortices. The second was an ancient, brass chair made of skulls and overflowing with blood. The third was a sickly green chair of bubbling pustules and rotting flesh. The fourth was a luscious purple chair of soft, smooth flesh with red lips and enticing curves.
An ordinary person would go insane at the sight of these symbols of sin, but Blazkowicz was completely unimpressed. They just looked overly flamboyant, like animals flaunting their feathers.
"You only need to recite the incantation," the unified voice of the four chairs said, deafening him. "Serve us, and we shall grant you the power to conquer eternity!"
Blazkowicz's brows furrowed. This was far too much for him to take in. "What incantation?" he asked. "And can I just leave?"
Serve who? What power? He had zero interest; he just wanted to get out of this bizarre place.
The Four Gods were overjoyed. They never expected it to be so easy. Was the most mysterious Primarch about to be theirs?
"You can leave," they cooed in a unified voice. "Just repeat after us: I Serve… the Gods…"
"Serve…" Blazkowicz said, dragging out the syllables. He was about to utter the last two words, when…
"Blood for the God!"
"Change!"
"Daddy Nurgle!"
"Let me give you a good time baby~"
The voices suddenly broke apart into a chaotic mess. The chairs vanished, and Blazkowicz stood there, staring at the empty space where they had been. He shook his head.
"Blood for what God?" he asked, utterly confused.
In the deep Warp, the boundaries of the Four Gods violently collided, raising waves brighter than the light of any previous divine war.
At the last moment, the Chaos Gods tore off their facade of harmony, tempting Blazkowicz to utter the incantation to serve them.
Not only that, but they also interfered with their divine brothers, preventing any complete blasphemous syllable from reaching Blazkowicz's ears.
"Damn it! I almost succeeded!"
Khorne roared unwillingly; he was just a hair's breadth away from taking Blazkowicz for himself.
At the critical moment, the last syllable was interrupted by the accursed Tzeentch, causing him to fail at the last hurdle.
"Damn it! You almost succeeded!"
The blood-red world shattered, Tzeentch thwarted the Blood God's sudden change of heart, casually dispersed the magic at his fingertips, and floated away with a Strange Laughter.
While delighted by the changes in the process, Tzeentch mocked Khorne: "The Blood God, who prides himself as a warrior and loves direct confrontation, used a scheme. I'll save you a good spot in the Crystal Labyrinth."
"And you!" The furious will of the Blood God materialized into a blood-shadow, swinging a long sword and striking at the departing Nurgle.
Nurgle's chubby body rolled once, dodging the Blood God's sword-light, and returned to his divine domain. His voice came from the horizon: "You were the one who wanted to hog it all!"
"And you, you bitch!" Another sword strike fell, Khorne roared: "Especially you, I'd kill Blazkowicz before letting you touch him!"
Slaanesh's slippery body perfectly dodged the Blood God's attack and returned to her palace: "We agreed he was ours collectively. You broke the rules first."
"Get out! All of you, get out!" The Blood God's violent roar echoed through the boundaries of the Four Gods, his fury tearing through the Warp storm.
Blazkowicz didn't know that he had been spared by the Four Gods' mutual schemes, avoiding the fate of becoming a pawn for the Four Gods.
The situation just now was extremely dangerous; once the incantation was uttered, it would mean actively surrendering his soul, completely binding himself to the Warp Chaos God.
Fortunately, the Warp Chaos Gods' mutual schemes, their greed and selfishness, would not allow other gods to lay claim to the soul they favored, preferring to destroy it rather than share.
"Is anyone there? Is anyone still here?"
After the four chairs disappeared, there was no other movement in the red space. Blazkowicz kept calling out, waiting for the opportunity to leave.
The mark on his chest was slightly warm, transmitting a mysterious message. He would be able to leave soon.
In the Warp, the Blood God's rage still raged, his fury never diminishing.
Khorne sensed for a moment, confirming that his brothers had truly left and that their gazes were no longer focused here.
He carefully took out the blood-colored world from the lava, and grinned triumphantly.
Khorne is the God of War, and also skilled in strategy.
The moment Blazkowicz killed the Greenskin, the young man's sharpness and decisiveness made Khorne take notice, and the echoes of fury contained within delighted him.
Almost without hesitation, Khorne used his 'murder' authority to replicate an echo, using it to support his own plan.
Together with his three brothers, he tempted Blazkowicz to fall into Chaos. The Blood God's deliberate disruption was perfectly timed, then he broke away, and then used his rage to drive away the other gods, allowing him to enjoy the fruits of his labor alone, out of his brothers' sight.
He even fooled Tzeentch's eyes, using a 'substitute' trick to replace the real world.
The Blood God rolled up a storm, bringing the small world back to his domain. To conceal his purpose, he continuously released destructive surges of rage to destroy countless demons.
"Heheheh~"
Khorne suppressed his laughter to hide his triumph. Now, he could finally taste the fruits of victory, fruits that belonged solely to him.
"Is anyone there? Sacrifice to which god?"
Khorne re-injected his will, returning to the small world, and heard Blazkowicz questioning the void.
"It's 'Blood for the Blood God,' boy."
The sudden voice startled Blazkowicz. He turned around and saw the brass throne standing there again.
The voice from the chair was deep and wild, suppressed yet highly aggressive: "Blazkowicz, I have been watching you for a long time! We don't have much time left."
"You must know, I am a true God! You only need to utter 'Blood for the Blood God,' and I will grant you endless power! Conquer a million kingdoms, become an undefeated warrior, and forge an eternal legend!"
Blazkowicz listened, looking at the Skull Throne in silence for a long time.
He wasn't thinking about whether to accept, but rather wondering why beings who called themselves 'Gods' all liked this approach.
"I refuse!"
With almost no hesitation, Blazkowicz rejected the throne's offer.
"WHY?" The voice from the throne held a hint of unexpected surprise and urgency: "Just now, you were almost about to utter the incantation and serve the Gods!"
"Why do you refuse now? Do you think I cannot give you what I promised?"
"No." Blazkowicz shook his head, a frank smile appearing on his heroic face, with no intention of hiding anything: "Actually, I wasn't planning to say it just now either."
"I was just stalling for time, observing the environment."
The throne was silent for a long time, and Khorne behind it was also silent on the Skull Throne.
He realized that he and his divine brothers had seemingly been played by a three-month-old Primarch.
But he wasn't angry; on the contrary, he was even more delighted.
Courage and strategy are what Khorne desires. A mere brute with only physical strength is just a simpleton.
"I possess the authority of a warrior. Just believe in me, and your warrior path will go further than anyone else, surpassing all predecessors and leaving no successors. I can make you the greatest warrior!"
Khorne still didn't want to give up, probing Blazkowicz little by little, trying to make him believe him.
"No," Blazkowicz shook his head, refuting the brass chair's statement: "My education and current understanding tell me that you are wrong."
"To become a warrior, one needs a strong heart, the courage to challenge the strong, unwavering confidence, and unyielding defiance."
"All the glory of a warrior must be earned by oneself, and should not rely on others' bestowal."
The young man slowly articulated his understanding of a warrior. The blood-red wasteland storm gradually subsided, only his voice echoing: "Glory obtained with one's own hands is more dazzling than that bestowed by others.
You say you are the God of Warriors, so I ask, God of Warriors? Do you require me, who is about to embark on the path of a warrior, to submit to you?"
The clear voice, like pearls dropping, silenced the Skull Throne.
In Khorne's domain in the Warp, the Chaos God's wild laughter shook the heavens and the earth, making all demons prostrate. They exchanged glances for confirmation, not knowing why the Blood God was happy, unable to comprehend that joy.
The courage to challenge the strong! Unwavering confidence! Unyielding defiance!
Look at what that boy said! He loved him too much!
He was not humble before a god, not proud or hypocritical, perfectly fulfilling his own words, wary of unfamiliar bestowals, and had a unique insight into his own path.
Before undergoing true warrior training, he already understood the most important essence of a warrior.
Khorne's mood at this moment was bittersweet and conflicted.
Because the Chaos Gods are contradictory beings. They love pure essence, those shining souls.
The Blood God dreams of taking all souls who dare to resist, yet also expects them to say "no" to him!
Resisting a god is itself a form of resistance, and those who say "no" to a god possess unparalleled courage and defiance.
"Actually, I don't want to be a warrior; that's the path my father planned for me."
In the uninhabited independent space, facing a brass Skull Throne, Blazkowicz spoke the truth hidden deep in his heart.
His ideal was not to become a warrior; compared to a warrior or a king, he preferred traveling and farming.
"How can you not become a warrior!" The Skull Throne grew anxious, trembling incessantly, trying to set the young man before it straight, to prevent him from going astray: "How dare you disappoint your father's expectations and not become a warrior?"
"Never disappoint your father; you must become a glorious warrior!"
Blazkowicz spread his hands, and said with a solemn expression: "I am walking on the path of a warrior."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" The Skull Throne vibrated continuously, and the owner of that magnificent voice clearly let out a sigh of relief: "Never stray from your path."
Wait!
Above the Warp Skull Throne, Khorne suddenly woke up. If Nowick had told Blazkowicz to believe in the Blood God, the success rate would likely increase significantly.
Blazkowicz deeply respected his father and would never disappoint the path Nowick had set for him.
Leaving the Warp, Blazkowicz's soul still retained a self-protection mechanism, blocking the information transmitted to him by the Gods.
What made the Gods even more despairing was that as he continued to grow, Warp infection became increasingly difficult to reach his soul.
Understanding this, Khorne's mood brightened considerably.
"I'm leaving."
Blazkowicz felt the mark on his chest getting hotter and hotter. This spatiotemporal location was about to collapse, and he bid farewell to the Skull Throne like a friend.
Khorne also noticed that the small world was about to shatter under the pressure of the Warp and reality.
"I need to leave too."
After he finished speaking, the world shattered. Blazkowicz's soul returned from the Blood God's domain to the real universe, and Khorne's will returned to the Warp.
The Blood God cast his gaze towards the real universe, looking at King Nowick's soul, a resilient king, a powerful warrior.
Khorne liked him very much!
"I'll talk to your father, Blazkowicz! You are destined to be mine!"
He then shifted his gaze to a person kneeling and praying, begging the Gods for mercy.
The Blood God recognized him; that person was Tzeentch's plaything.
"It's time to talk to my 'brothers' and see what 'gift' Tzeentch has prepared for Blazkowicz."
Blazkowicz's vision went black again. When he next sensed his surroundings, the Orc's corpse was still twitching, and the Sentinels's praises rose and fell.
Time seemed to have not moved forward a single step.