The vast, ring-shaped arena was divided into separate sections, each saturated with the unmistakable presence of its Legion.
On the viewing platform with the clearest view of the field, two Primarchs stood side by side, gazing down at the miniature battlefield below as though it were a carefully constructed diorama.
"Vulkan," said the Primarch of the Salamanders, his voice low and warm, like molten metal rolling through a forge, "it seems the opening movement of fate's symphony will be played by our sons."
Roboute Guilliman turned slightly and nodded to one of the few among his kind known equally for compassion and endurance.
Of all the Primarchs, Vulkan was among the rare few who allowed Guilliman to relax his constant vigilance and set aside, however briefly, the calculations of politics and strategy. Vulkan's honesty was like the lava of Nocturne, scorching, pure, and impossible to disguise.
"Indeed," Guilliman replied, his tone as measured and precise as one of his tactical charts. "A promising beginning.
"Your sons are known for refusing to yield. They should provide an excellent test of my recruits' adaptability and tactical discipline."
"Ha!" Vulkan laughed, pride and anticipation flashing in his red eyes.
"My sons may not command the battlefield through intricate calculations as yours do, but they understand how to forge strength and determination into a single weapon.
"Let us see whether Ultramar's shield of wisdom can endure, or whether Nocturne's molten hammer will break through."
The conversation between the two Primarchs was relaxed, yet every word carried absolute conviction. They were like two players standing at opposite ends of a chessboard, each preparing to make his opening move.
High above them, on the Custodes' viewing platform beside the Throne, I Am Not God watched with the aid of the Custodes' superhuman vision. He could make out every subtle shift in the Primarchs' expressions and posture, and could even catch fragments of their words by reading their lips.
The experience went far beyond anything a mortal could perceive. It made him feel as though he occupied some higher vantage point, watching not merely a contest, but a fragment of legend unfolding before him.
He could sense the quiet concern beneath Guilliman's cold analysis. He could also see the fierce, protective affection hidden behind Vulkan's booming laughter.
It was a perspective he could never have gained while crawling through the mud of the trenches.
Below, the gates slowly rose to the grinding roar of machinery.
A steady figure in blue emerged from the eastern gate.
Ze, a recruit of the Ultramarines, entered the arena with precise, economical steps. His power armor moved smoothly, without a single wasted motion.
A standard bolt pistol rested in one hand, while a power sword hung at his hip. His posture was a perfect example of combat readiness. Behind his blue lenses, his gaze swept calmly across the arena and settled on his opponent, his mind clearly racing through tactical possibilities.
From the western gate came a broader figure clad in dark green.
This was Kitten Loves Fish, a recruit of the Salamanders.
His heavier steps struck the sand with deep, muffled thuds. His massive frame resembled a small fortress advancing under its own power.
He also carried a bolt pistol, but his other hand held an enormous power hammer. Faint energy fields flickered around its heavy head.
Behind his black faceplate, red lenses glowed like burning coals, fixed silently on the blue-armored warrior across from him. He made no unnecessary movements. He simply stood there, solid and imposing, with the weight and stillness of a mountain.
Two warriors stood at the center of the arena, each embodying a different philosophy of war.
The drums sounded again.
The duel began.
Ze moved first, though he did not rush forward blindly. He glided sideways to widen the distance, raised his bolt pistol, and fired three carefully placed shots in a triangular pattern toward Kitten Loves Fish's vital areas.
His movements were swift and efficient, taking full advantage of the Ultramarines' superior agility and precision.
Kitten Loves Fish reacted with surprising speed.
Rather than make a clumsy attempt to evade, he swung his power hammer across his body. The broad head intercepted two of the bolts like a shield. The third scraped across his shoulder plate, leaving behind a faint scorch mark.
The response was simple and direct, but highly effective. It revealed the Salamander's intimate understanding of both his equipment and his defensive capabilities.
The moment the shots were blocked, he began advancing.
His pace remained steady and unhurried, but every step was firm and deliberate. Little by little, he reduced Ze's room to maneuver.
In the stands, Guilliman gave a slight nod.
"A sound opening. Maintain distance, use the ranged advantage to wear him down, and target the joints of the power armor. Meeting one of Vulkan's sons in a direct contest of strength would be a serious mistake."
Vulkan rubbed his chin.
"A strong defense. He understands where his advantage lies, and he has no intention of rushing recklessly. He is like an anvil fresh from the forge, forcing his opponent back one step at a time."
Another voice suddenly cut in, thick with excitement.
"Yes! That's it! Kill! Kill! Kill! Now this is a duel worthy of a warrior!"
Neither Primarch needed to turn.
It was Angron, Lord of the Red Sands and Primarch of the World Eaters Legion. The Butcher's Nails had been hammered into his brain, leaving him with room for little beyond slaughter.
Kill. Kill. Kill.
Guilliman remained silent, though his frustration was obvious. Angron always fell into the same state once the Nails took hold.
The two had once shared a measure of mutual respect, but there was no reasoning with Angron now. He barely possessed enough clarity to listen when anyone else spoke.
Vulkan could only sigh, equally helpless.
On the field, Ze recognized the determination behind his opponent's advance. Simple hit-and-run tactics would not produce a quick victory.
He changed his approach.
Feigning a retreat, he suddenly reversed direction. The servos in his armor surged to full power, launching him forward with startling speed.
He cut in from the side, his power sword flashing as he aimed for the back of Kitten Loves Fish's knee joint. It was a classic attack against a heavily armored opponent, targeting one of the suit's vulnerable connection points.
Kitten Loves Fish appeared to have expected it.
Instead of turning to meet the strike, he lowered his shoulder and drove himself directly into Ze's path.
His timing was flawless.
The thick shoulder plate absorbed most of the power sword's impact, and his enormous body slammed into Ze's side like a siege ram.
A dull boom echoed through the arena.
Ze staggered and briefly lost his balance.
Kitten Loves Fish seized the opening. His power hammer swept around with a roar like thunder.
In that fraction of a second, Ze displayed the reflexes and discipline of an Ultramarine. He twisted his body and raised both his arm and bolt pistol to block the strike.
Metal crashed against metal with a violent clang.
The tremendous force sent Ze skidding several yards across the sand. The servos in his arm shrieked under the strain, and his bolt pistol was crushed nearly beyond recognition.
Even so, the desperate block had prevented the hammer from striking his torso directly.
"Careless," Guilliman said, his brow tightening as a harder edge entered his voice.
"He underestimated his opponent's instincts and physical strength. His timing was imperfect, and he failed to prepare an adequate response in case the feint failed."
Vulkan's red eyes brightened.
"Excellent! Accept a minor injury to gain the advantage. Create the greatest opportunity at the lowest possible cost. That is how a warrior of the forge fights."
Ze did not panic after losing his ranged weapon.
He immediately discarded the ruined bolt pistol and gripped his power sword in both hands, his gaze becoming even more focused.
He understood what he was facing.
His opponent was immensely strong, heavily protected, and possessed brutal combat instincts. To win, Ze would have to push his speed, accuracy, and tactical deception to their absolute limits.
Recognizing his advantage, Kitten Loves Fish attacked without hesitation.
His power hammer came down again and again in a relentless barrage of crushing blows.
Every swing carried tremendous force, leaving Ze with no choice but to dodge or block.
Clouds of dust erupted from the sand beneath the hammer's path.
Ze moved like a small vessel caught in a violent storm. He appeared to be on the verge of destruction at every moment, yet his footwork remained remarkably controlled.
Each time the hammer descended, he slipped beyond its reach by the narrowest possible margin.
His power sword moved like a striking serpent, constantly probing for weaknesses in the armor's joints, seams, and power-pack connections.
Sparks flew without pause.
Ze's blade carved several deep cuts across Kitten Loves Fish's chest plate and arm guards. One thrust came dangerously close to piercing the thinner armor protecting his neck.
Most of Kitten Loves Fish's attacks, meanwhile, were avoided or redirected through Ze's careful footwork. Even when a blow landed, Ze braced himself so that his armor absorbed much of the force.
Still, the repeated impacts were taking their toll. Each one sent another shock through his body, leaving his insides churning.
The duel had become a brutal battle of endurance.
"That is better," Guilliman said, his expression easing slightly.
"He is maintaining tactical clarity despite being at a disadvantage and finding precise counters between his opponent's attacks. The difference in strength remains considerable, but the effectiveness of his strikes continues to improve."
"Impressive endurance," Vulkan replied, his smile fading as his assessment grew more serious.
"To withstand that pressure and still find opportunities to counterattack is no small achievement. You trained him well, Guilliman. But my son is like the ground beneath Nocturne. The harder it is struck, the more violently it answers."
Despite his inability to finish the duel, Kitten Loves Fish showed no sign of exhaustion. His breathing remained steady, and the strength beneath his dark skin seemed almost limitless.
He brought the hammer down in another crushing strike.
Ze rolled aside, and the weapon gouged a shallow crater into the sand.
Ze believed he had gained enough time to rise and launch a counterattack.
Then Kitten Loves Fish did something no one expected.
Instead of continuing the pursuit with his weapon, he drove the head of his power hammer deep into the sand. Using it as leverage, he launched himself forward with an agility that seemed impossible for someone of his size.
He crossed the distance in an instant and tackled Ze just as the Ultramarine began to rise from his crouch.
It was not a weapon strike.
It was a direct collision followed by a grapple.
Ze had never expected his opponent to abandon his most dangerous weapon.
He barely managed to raise his sword before the massive Salamander crashed into him and pulled him close.
The impact darkened Ze's vision.
A moment later, two power-armored arms closed around his body and sword arm with terrifying force.
A grapple.
A savage, unrefined contest of pure strength.
Ze fought with everything he had. The servos in his armor screamed beneath the strain.
It was not enough.
Kitten Loves Fish was simply too strong.
His burning red lenses hovered only inches from Ze's faceplate as his grip tightened, threatening to crush armor and bone together.
A faint groan of bending metal came from Ze's chest plate.
At the edge of defeat, determination flashed in Ze's eyes.
He stopped trying to break free.
Instead, he poured all his remaining strength into the one arm that had not been completely pinned.
His fingers twisted at an unnatural angle and activated a concealed mechanism on his belt.
The safety pin of a melta bomb released with a click. Its quiet activation hum was nearly lost beneath the sounds of their struggle.
Was he planning to take them both down?
Kitten Loves Fish seemed to sense the sudden surge of lethal energy.
In the final moment, he made his decision.
With a low growl, he summoned one last burst of strength and hurled Ze away while throwing himself backward.
Ze shot through the air like a blue projectile.
He traveled more than ten yards before slamming into the sand and tumbling several times. When he finally stopped, his chest plate was visibly caved in.
He struggled to rise, but his body refused to respond.
The armed melta bomb tore loose from his belt and fell onto the sand between them.
Its ominous hum grew louder.
Kitten Loves Fish steadied himself.
He looked once at the bomb, then at Ze, who lay helpless in the distance.
He did not hesitate.
Without even stopping to retrieve his power hammer, he sprinted toward the cover lining the edge of the arena.
A thunderous explosion shook the battlefield.
Blinding white light and searing heat consumed the area around the bomb. Several yards of sand melted instantly into glass.
The shock wave rolled across the arena and slowly faded.
Ze lay motionless in the distance, knocked completely unconscious by the blast.
Kitten Loves Fish emerged from behind cover.
Fresh burn marks and shrapnel scars covered his chest plate and arm guards. Several patches of his dark skin had been scorched red.
Yet he remained standing.
His red lenses turned toward the judges' platform.
After a brief silence, the judge raised the banner.
Winner: Salamanders Legion, Kitten Loves Fish!
In the stands, Vulkan slowly released his breath. Deep satisfaction and pride spread across his face.
He turned and clapped Guilliman on the shoulder.
"A magnificent battle, Guilliman. Your son showed remarkable courage and cunning. That final decision took real nerve."
Guilliman's expression had returned to its usual calm, though something more complicated flickered deep within his blue eyes.
There was regret, but also respect.
He watched as a medical servo-skull carried Ze from the field.
"He carried out his duty, fought until he had nothing left, and nearly found a way to reverse the outcome," Guilliman said quietly. "For a recruit, that is enough."
His gaze shifted to the dark-armored warrior below, who was now receiving the cheers of his fellow Salamanders.
"Victory belongs to the warrior who can endure the longest and make the best use of every resource available. Congratulations, Vulkan. Your son has earned his name."
Roboute Guilliman never hesitated to acknowledge an honorable defeat.
That, too, was part of the Ultramarines' Codex.
Beside the Throne, I Am Not God reflected on the contest he had just witnessed, a battle filled with skill, determination, and sudden reversals.
He had seen Ze's precision and quick thinking.
He had also seen the resilience carried deep within Kitten Loves Fish, along with the animal instinct that emerged at the decisive moment.
This had not felt like two players merely controlling their characters.
It felt like a miniature portrait of two Legion philosophies, two different sides of humanity standing before the abyss.
Above them, the warm white light surrounding the Throne continued to shine, calm and undisturbed.
It was as though the violent struggle below had been nothing more than a small but inevitable ripple within some vast and unfolding design.