Chapter 44 Sigismund
"Sigismund, when will you become the finest blade in the Imperium?"
"Today."
Sigismund of the Seventh Legion had once been only another Terran recruit, raised from the wars of Unification and reforged into an Astartes of the VII — sons of Terra, disciplined heirs of the Imperial Fists' relentless doctrine.
His past was largely unknown.
His reputation was not.
Across the Expeditionary Fleets, one truth followed him:
Sigismund had never been defeated in the sword.
He sought combat not from pride, but from devotion to mastery. After exhausting sparring partners within his own Legion, he sought warriors from others. Wherever the Seventh Legion deployed, Sigismund hunted worthy opponents.
By now, most of the Legions knew:
The Seventh Legion houses a swordsman who comes looking for you.
And if he came…
he expected you to fight.
The Opportunity
At last, fate delivered him to a long-awaited destination.
The Zero Legion.
Rumor named them:
strongest in overall quality
unmatched per-soldier combat efficiency
the Vice-Emperor's sharpest blade
warriors trained beyond doctrinal rigidity
The Seventh Legion had secured a rare joint deployment.
Sigismund was elated.
At last.
Why Everyone Wanted the Zero Legion
Nearly every Legion competed for operational pairing with the Zero Legion.
The reason was simple.
Military credit allocation.
When fighting alongside other Legions:
credit was typically split 50/50
if a Primarch led the operation → 70% often attributed to them
But the Zero Legion…
did not claim merit.
When asked why, one Rising Angel had replied:
"Our mother is already Vice-Emperor. What do we need merit for?"
It was true.
Their authority needed no proof.
Their strength needed no validation.
And beyond battlefield advantage, their reputation for integrity and camaraderie made them exceptional allies.
Sigismund, however, cared nothing for politics.
He wanted to test the blade.
Something Is Wrong
He boarded the Imperial Wings expecting to find warriors drilling, sparring, or meditating.
Instead…
no Astartes.
He stopped a passing mortal crewman.
"Brother, where are the Astartes stationed?"
The man shrugged.
"Straight ahead, left turn. End of corridor. Mahjong room."
Sigismund frowned.
Mahjong?
A new tactical exercise?
The Mahjong Room
He knocked.
No answer.
He opened the door.
"…Self-drawn pure suit."
"Dias, you cheating bastard!"
"Can't accept defeat?"
Sigismund froze in the doorway.
The "most disciplined elite force" sat in a noisy circle, slamming tiles onto a table like dockside gamblers.
Sigismund: Where am I?
"Yo, guest!"
"Come on, brother!"
"Try it, you'll like it!"
"Get lost," Kadis waved them off and approached. "What do you need, brother?"
Sigismund hesitated.
Challenging a duelist was simple.
Challenging gamblers mid-game felt… improper.
"I am Sigismund of the Seventh Legion. I came to spar."
Kadis nodded.
"I've heard of you. Company Commander Kadis. We've been expecting the swordsman of the Seventh."
"I would like to spar with you."
"Sure. After this round."
Sigismund nodded.
He could wait.
Two Hours Later
"Shuffle! Shuffle! Again!"
Kadis blinked.
"Brother… you want another round?"
"Just until I win once."
Someone had convinced Sigismund to try a game.
This was the result.
He should thank Yuki for banning gambling stakes — otherwise he would have lost his armor, sword, and possibly his dignity.
Kadis rubbed his temples.
"We play daily and we're not addicted. How did this happen to you?"
Sigismund grinned like a new initiate.
"This is… excellent."
Kadis seized him by the pauldron.
"No. If word spreads we corrupt other Legions, Eusonis will skin me alive."
"Wait! I have a winning hand!"
"Brother, return to reality."
"Waaah!" (╥_╥)
The Sparring Ground
At last, the match began.
Both warriors wore full armor and carried practice longswords.
This was not a duel to the death.
It was a meeting of masters.
Eusonis, Captain of the Primarch Guard, served as referee.
He had sparred Kadis before.
He did not expect Kadis to lose.
The First Exchange
The transformation was immediate.
Sigismund became a drawn blade — cold, precise, inevitable.
Kadis vanished into stillness — presence hidden like a dagger in shadow.
"Begin."
Steel met steel.
Kadis struck first.
Sigismund parried and riposted with perfect economy.
Kadis twisted aside — a hair's breadth from contact.
The duel became a silent conversation of motion, balance, and lethal intent.
Every strike measured.
Every defense exact.
Every movement efficient beyond waste.
For an hour, neither armor bore a mark.
Respect Earned
Sigismund's pulse quickened.
For the first time, he faced an equal.
No weakness.
No hesitation.
No wasted motion.
He had chosen correctly.
A powerful strike forced Kadis back.
"Brother," Kadis asked calmly, "have you ever lost?"
"Not since my training duels with Thunder Warrior instructors."
"Can you accept defeat?"
"If I lose, I gain room to improve."
Kadis nodded.
"Good."
He raised his free hand.
Eusonis tossed him a second blade.
Kadis caught it.
"I normally fight with two."
Sigismund's eyes lit with exhilaration.
"Then show me."
The Turning Point
The instant the duel resumed, Sigismund understood.
This was no longer one opponent.
It was two.
Twin blades attacked in layered rhythms, alternating angles and tempo, overwhelming even Sigismund's perfect defensive geometry.
Three hours later, steel rested against his throat.
Silence.
Kadis had won.
Brotherhood of the Blade
Sigismund removed his helmet and laughed — a rare, unguarded sound.
"Tell me, brother… are you the strongest in your Legion?"
Kadis jerked his chin toward the stands.
"See the white-haired one? Eusonis. Last time we fought six hours. He beat me senseless."
Sigismund smiled.
"Then I must face him someday."
"You're welcome anytime."
Sigismund nodded thoughtfully.
"…but first, another round of mahjong. I feel victory approaching."
"You son of a—"
Eusonis dropped from the stands.
"Kadis! Have you corrupted another Legion?!"
"No, brother, I can explain— OOF! Stop hitting me!"