Second by second, time slipped away.
Humiliated, Angron grew more and more savage, to the point that reason nearly abandoned him altogether. Even the heavy wound to the tendons in his hand no longer mattered. He was like a rabid hound that had finally been driven completely mad.
As long as he was still breathing, he could keep fighting.
That, in turn, proved just how terrifying the Butcher's Nails really were as a combat implant. They could turn even a primarch into a machine that knew only slaughter.
And if Angron was becoming increasingly irritable as the clock ticked down, Bruce was under no less pressure himself. Because of Angron's berserk assault, the duration of each potion's effect kept getting compressed further and further.
His already pitiful stock of transformation potions was becoming dangerously close to running dry.
Bruce could only hate the fact that he had not brought more. Otherwise, no matter what, he would have fought until he was satisfied.
Much as he tried to deny it, tried to keep himself under control…
This sensation of wielding overwhelming power and battling a mighty opponent really did fill his body, mind, and even soul with incomparable exhilaration.
More than once, he seemed to hear a voice laughing behind him—some presence deep within the Warp, delighted beyond measure.
And it was precisely that presence that let Bruce withstand several exchanges against Angron even during the moments when the potion's effect was at its weakest.
Had reason not forced him to stay calm, there were several times when he would have charged Angron head-on without using another potion at all.
"My stamina is endless, while your little toys are limited, Bruce!"
Angron's axe locked against Bruce's lightning claws as he bellowed, "Weakling! You should understand this much—borrowed power will never truly be yours!"
"You're going to lose!"
At that moment, there were only two minutes and twenty seconds left of the promised thirty-one minutes.
And Bruce had only one transformation potion left.
One bottle was nowhere near enough to carry him through the final stretch. Even guerrilla tactics would not work anymore. He had already tested that—Angron would always find a way to stay glued to him.
Even his last trump card, the Pain Reflection Mirror, had been shattered by Angron a few minutes ago. The maddened hound had simply ignored the pain and smashed the thing apart.
What kind of cheap garbage product was that?!
Several times, Bruce had almost wanted to call Doraemon and ask why all his tools kept breaking after being used a few times—but that complaint would have to wait until after the battle.
Right now, survival came first.
"Wait, wait, wait!"
After using the last of his strength to shove Angron back, Bruce suddenly raised a hand and called for a halt.
"…?"
Angron was caught off guard.
He stared at Bruce, who seemed as though he might be about to surrender, and frowned in confusion. Had the man really gotten scared of death?
No. He's trying to stall.
"This is my last transformation potion. Let me drink it, and then we settle it with a final life-and-death round. What do you say?"
Bruce backed away as he spoke, already uncorking and swallowing the potion.
Angron said nothing, but the fact that he stood there and did not attack was itself enough to reveal his answer.
Fine. Struggle all you want.
What difference does one last minute make? As if you could actually beat me.
Then, as the potion took effect, the maddened rage in Angron abruptly faltered.
Disgust rose first, sudden and violent. Then disgust became hatred.
Slave-master… that damned slave-master!
As he looked at Bruce, now radiating golden light, with the Emperor's silhouette faintly emerging within the psychic glow, Angron finally lost all control.
In that instant, all of his resentment and fury became strength.
With the aid of some unknown force, he even pushed through the psychic suppression and threw himself at Bruce like a mad beast, while Bruce raised his claws to meet him.
It had to be said—the Emperor's combat power truly did surpass that of a primarch.
If transforming into Curze had allowed Bruce to fight Angron to a rough fifty-fifty, perhaps even a slight sixty-forty advantage, then the Emperor was pure domination.
Bruce caught the incoming axe with ease, then fired a psychic blast straight from his eyes, sending Angron flying. Before Angron could even fall, Bruce intercepted him in midair and began smashing him around mercilessly.
So this was what using psychic power felt like?
It was Bruce's first time fighting in the Emperor's form, and he discovered, to his shock, that psychic might let him seize complete control of the battle. Just a few simple techniques were enough to pin down Angron, who moments ago had seemed unstoppable.
Of course, the drain was just as monstrous.
It did not take long before Bruce felt his advantage begin to slip. Even badly wounded, Angron began to resist more effectively.
Soon, the fight devolved into a direct exchange of blows, and Bruce could feel his strength running out. The golden light around him was already dimming.
"Why? Why?!"
Angron roared as he attacked, "Why can you turn into that damned slave-master?"
"Who the hell are you?!"
Only now did Angron realize that Bruce was not some ordinary Astartes at all. He was far too strange for that.
At this point, Angron would have believed it if someone told him Bruce was some new experimental gene-creation of the Emperor's.
"I am acting commander of the Eighth Legion—son of Curze!"
Bruce answered in a booming voice, his eyes blazing with psychic light.
"No! You're the slave-master's shackles, sent here to bind me! You have to be!"
"You're imagining things! I'm myself! I'm Bruce Wayne!"
"I'm here only to stop you from making one mistake after another, Angron!"
"Tear you apart! I'll tear you apart!"
Driven by hatred and rage, Angron became even more berserk. He ignored every wound Bruce inflicted on him and fought only to wound Bruce in return. His utterly suicidal style of combat turned out to be horribly effective.
Bruce was steadily forced backward. Every technique and tactic he used became a joke in the face of Angron's rabid assault.
Gradually, the potion reached its limit.
The moment the effect vanished, Bruce took a full axe-blow and was launched away just as he himself had hurled Angron earlier.
But this time there was no substitute doll to absorb the damage for him. No Barrier Ball, no Reflection Mirror, no gadget to protect him.
Boom.
Bruce flew like a shell, smashing straight through the spiked railings before slamming into the wall. A rust-red spike jutted out through his abdomen, and all four limbs went limp.
And then Angron descended from above, battle-axe in hand, glaring murderously as he brought the blade down toward the now-helpless Bruce.
And yet what Angron had not expected was this:
Bruce actually endured the agony, yanked the spike out of his stomach, hurled it aside, and then charged him—driving forward with one lightning-claw aimed straight at Angron's heart.
Bruce meant to force a final one-for-one exchange.
He's really not afraid to die?!
If Angron killed Bruce here, his own heart would almost certainly be ripped apart by the lightning claw.
Of course, Angron was a primarch. Even with his heart destroyed, he might not truly die.
But Bruce would unquestionably become a corpse beneath his axe.
That was what Angron could not understand. He could tell Bruce was not truly insane enough to trade lives with him, and yet he was still doing exactly that.
"Time's up!"
At the crucial instant, Alfred's voice thundered down from the spectator stands.
At the same time, he launched a psychic attack into the pit.
Where the hell did this mutt come from?!
"?!!!"
Angron furiously hurled his axe toward Alfred.
But Alfred and Megumin reacted together, both using psychic power to intercept it. At the critical moment, the three Black Guards charged in as well, embracing certain death, and only with all of them working together did they manage to stop the weapon.
As for Bruce's strike aimed at Angron's heart, it halted only a few centimeters away.
Although he could have killed Angron, he chose not to.
"…If you'd killed my men just now, I would have killed you."
Still breathing hard, Bruce explained why he had not followed through.
"You couldn't kill me, Bruce."
Angron tightened his grip on the axe-handle, then let out a furious roar and began hacking wildly at the air and the surrounding railings. Only by venting his frustration that way could he suppress the fire raging inside him.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
He had actually lost.
Lost to an Astartes.
"Better that both sides lose a little than one side win everything."
Bruce let out a long breath, then gave Megumin, who had been ready to unleash Explosion at any moment, a thumbs-up.
If Angron had truly decided to break his word, then Bruce had been ready too. Explosion magic would have detonated, and the entire Conqueror would have gone up with them.
At worst, Bruce would return to the Throne in spirit—but Angron, already marked by Khorne, would have had a far uglier fate.
"So…"
At last Angron tossed his axe aside, forcibly suppressing the urge to attack, and asked, "What do you want?"
"To humiliate me? To make me halt before Nuceria? To disarm? To report to the command headquarters? Or… my life?"
To Angron, this duel could hardly even be called a duel at all.
But Bruce had won.
He had endured for thirty-one minutes.
Angron was brutal, selfish, and cared for no one but himself—but when it came to this promise, tied as it was to that number, to this place, and to the honor of an arena fighter, he would keep it.
Because this alone… this alone was all he had left that could still be called treasure.
Without it, he was nothing.
"Thirty-one hours…"
Weak-voiced, Bruce brought up that meaningful time once again.
"What?"
Angron looked at the barely-standing Bruce in confusion.
"I said—give me thirty-one hours. For those thirty-one hours, you follow me. I tell you what to do, and you do it."
"And if, after those thirty-one hours, you still decide to invade Nuceria…"
"Then we'll be enemies."
"…."
Angron took a deep breath and strode toward Bruce.
Then he roared straight into his face:
"Are you an idiot?!"
After all that—
Was this really all just to humiliate him?
And not once, but three times?
Bruce Wayne—I am absolutely going to tear you to pieces.
Thirty-one hours from now.
Join here to read ahead.
In Star Rail, Ultra-Beast Armored — Have I Caught "Equilibrium"? l (Chapter 80)
Uma Musume, But I Only Have Five Years Left to Live (Chapter 178)
Zenless Zone Zero: I'm a Doctor, Not a Bangboo (Chapter 155)
Ben Tennyson Wants to Join the Justice League ( 126 )
TYPE-MOON: Redemption Beginning with the Holy Grail War (Chapter110)
Yu-Gi-Oh! — Transmigrated into the White Dragon Girl (Chapter200)
"Is this chat group even serious?" (Chapter110)
I, Lord Ravager, Utterly Loyal! (Chapter230)
Can Playing Games Save the World? 65
Crossover Anime Multiverse: The Demon Hunter of an Unnatural World 77
From Junkman to Wasteland 66
Weekly Refresh of Overpowered 31
I'm Grinding Proficiency Like 46
From Kiana, Lord Ravager, Onwa 200
Honkai: Is This Still the Prev 42
Elf: My Starter Pokémon Is Inc 65
Warhammer: My Primarch Is Remi 180
From Demon Slayer to Grand Ass Volume2/5
The Way the Umamusume Look at 68
Uma Musume, but My Cheat Power 230
Naruto: Weaving the Future, Be 65
Zenless Zone Zero, but Kamen R 76
Multiverse Crossover: The Perf 66
My Cyberpsycho Girlfriend 65
Uma Musume: The Dark Trainer 220
Uma Musume: A Calamity Born fr 154
I, a Reincarnation-Loop Player Volume4/30
The Violent Girl Group Is Beat 120
Uma Musume: The Horse Girl Who 67
Uma Musume: From Beginner 135
Becoming a Horse Girl, I Will 85
Uma Musume: I Want All 110
I Can Copy Unique Skills 100
Summoning an Evil God, but the 70
Supernatural Multiverse 100
My Harem Is Indescribable 90
Jujutsu Kaisen: Heroic Spirit 95
"I'm just a Valkyrie passing through." 68
Uma Musume: Today Is Another Romantic Battlefield 105
Still playing traditional Honk 69
The Most Filial Son Under Heav 80
What Should I Do After Switchi - Volume2/3
Reincarnated as a Demon, Skill 70
Hell-Difficulty Dungeon? 55
Transmigrated as Sukuna 75
Checking In in Demon Slayer 80
The Reincarnating Trainer of Tracen Academy 85
I Refuse to Become a Heroic 70
My Best Friend Into a Slime? 65
A Saiyan Stands Above Marvel 70
What Do You Mean by Using a Lab Mod to Be the Hero? 70
Tanya Starts from Re:Zero 65
Why did they assign me to Uma 65
MYGO Beauties 65
DanMachi: Emiya the Giant Hero 55
The Gacha Merchant Who Started 65
Honkai's Otherworld? Wait—Who Are You People?! 45
Emiya Shirou, Determined to Slay Every Curse and Evil Spirit 45
The Uma Musume Who Became 40
I'm Definitely Not the King of 45
After Maxing Out Every Class 45
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