Standing behind Darius Stanton, Vance slowly clenched his fists.
He stared at that purple silhouette, a wave of complicated emotions washing over him.
This was Fulgrim.
This was the Primarch who was destined to fall tomorrow.
Perfectionism was already eating away at his judgment, and the sheer thirst for that sword had already begun to warp his principles.
And that guy named[Paul Dawn]...
Vance looked over at Paul. Seeing the stiff, ice-cold Iron Hand expression plastered on his face, he silently prayed in his heart:
Bro, please don't just crash and burn right here.
Paul stood his ground.
His silver-grey Gorgon Terminator armor gave off a cold, hard gleam in the twilight.
He met Fulgrim's gaze. On his face, rigid as steel, a faint smile slowly surfaced.
"Since the Lord Primarch wants an examination, then let's get on with it."
His voice was hard and cold, carrying the signature metallic rasp of the Iron Hands.
Then his tone sharply shifted, turning aggressive.
"However..."
"The sacred warriors of the Iron Hands do not accept such baseless speculation and accusations."
His gaze swept past Lucius and Fabius Bile before finally landing on Fulgrim.
"We came under the orders of our Primarch Father to provide fire support for our closest allied Legion."
"We never expected to be treated like this."
He paused, his voice taking on the uncompromising frigidity that befitted living steel.
"I will report everything that has transpired here truthfully to our Primarch Father."
As soon as those words left his mouth, a wave of whispers swept through the area.
The Astartes of the Emperor's Children looked at one another in unease.
They could completely understand Commander Gabriel's frustration... Put anyone in that position—traveling across the galaxy to lend support only to be suspected, surrounded, and demanded to undergo an inspection—they'd be pissed too.
Especially the two Loyalist Emperor's Children officers, Saul Tarvitz and Vespasian.
Tarvitz's face went ashen. He took a step forward, looking like he was about to speak up...
But a hand pressed down on his shoulder.
Vespasian.
The saintly and incorruptible Lord Commander shook his head, a trace of helplessness in his grey-blue eyes.
–
In the [Wings of Freedom Regional Chat], the Chaos players' mockery was dialed up to the max:
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "Tsk tsk tsk, [Paul Dawn] ain't half bad at acting either. He gives [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe] a run for his money!"
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "What's the point of good acting?"
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "In a minute, once they get on that old freak Fabius's examination table, all five hundred Astartes will be exposed on the spot!"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh heh heh... it's gonna get real interesting then!"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Even with the Crimson Dawn faction's deep pockets, losing five hundred Astartes plus their strongest player will probably cripple them for good!"
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "I'm already strapped in. The look on the faces of those Crimson Dawn guys is going to be absolutely priceless."
--
Listening to Paul's words, a faint smile appeared on Fulgrim's flawless face.
The smile was gentle, carrying the grace expected of a Primarch.
"That is naturally not a problem."
He paused, a trace of genuine apology entering his voice.
"After the examination, if everything is confirmed to be in order, I, Fulgrim, will naturally apologize and make amends to my dear brother Ferrus."
The words were spoken with absolute sincerity.
But Paul remained standing exactly where he was, unmoving.
His gaze met Fulgrim's, his eyes showing no sign of backing down.
"Lord Primarch."
His voice echoed again, as steady as ever.
"I have one more request."
The moment he said this, another wave of commotion rippled through the surrounding Emperor's Children.
This Iron Hands Company Commander actually dared to make demands?
Lucius's face instantly darkened.
Fabius narrowed his eyes slightly, a sharp gleam flashing through his gloomy gaze.
Fulgrim's smile faltered for a second.
But he maintained his composure.
"Speak."
Paul slowly raised his right hand. A finger encased in silver-grey power armor pointed first at Lucius.
Then at [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe].
And finally at Fabius.
"After the inspection, if it is confirmed that there is no issue with us..."
His voice rang out like an ironclad judgment.
"I demand a sacred duel with the ones who framed the warriors of the Iron Hands."
"The Iron Hands will not tolerate such an insult."
At those words, a deathly silence immediately descended over the camp gates.
Everyone's eyes went wide, staring at the silver-grey figure in utter disbelief.
This Iron Hands Commander...
Was he insane?
In front of the Phoenician, right to the faces of countless Emperor's Children, he was demanding a life-and-death duel with a Company Commander and the Chief Apothecary of the Legion??
--
In the [Wings of Freedom Regional Chat], the Chaos players' mockery instantly turned into shock:
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "Holy shit??? This guy actually pulled an UNO reverse??"
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "What kind of stats does he have?"
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "He's really daring to challenge Lucius and Fabius??"
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh... wait, I'm completely lost right now."
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "No matter how you slice it, this is a pro gamer move."
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "He just threw all the pressure right back at them."
–
In the [Light of the Emperor Regional Chat], the Loyalist players were just as bewildered:
[Worthy of Sanguinius's Blood]: "[Paul Dawn]... isn't he getting way too cocky??"
[I Eat Tomatoes]: "Demanding a duel right in front of Fulgrim?"
[For the Regent Yellow Guilliman]: "But honestly, that move was so satisfying."
[For the Regent Yellow Guilliman]: "Those three seriously need a beating."
[Sanguinius Is My Husband]: "But the real question is, can he win?"
[Sanguinius Is My Husband]: "That's Lucius, the self-proclaimed strongest swordsman of the Emperor's Children."
--
The surrounding Astartes of the Emperor's Children exchanged glances and began to whisper among themselves.
Saul Tarvitz's eyes lit up.
Vespasian gave a slight nod, a hint of approval tugging at the corner of his mouth.
As for Lucius...
His flawless face instantly flushed an ugly shade of purple.
Fabius narrowed his eyes, a dangerous glint flashing deep within his gloomy pupils.
And as for [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe]...
His expression completely froze.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.
What the hell did this guy mean?
A sacred duel?
With me?
I'm just an Auxilia Apothecary who recently awakened D-class psychic powers, and I'm supposed to duel a guy who can successfully masquerade as the First Company Commander of the Iron Hands?
Isn't that just a fucking death wish?
He frantically typed in the regional chat:
[Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe]: "Bros, save me! This guy wants a sacred duel with me!!"
[Konnichiwa Slaanesh-chan]: "...Badass."
[I Just Like Sleeping In]: "...You're on your own, man. Good luck."
[Number One Handsome of the Soul Hall]: "Heh heh heh... just keep up that acting from earlier! I'm rooting for you!"
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "Relax, once he gets tested and his identity is blown, the duel won't even happen."
[Blue Pigeon Knows Nothing]: "Just pray that the test exposes him quickly."
[Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe]: "Fuck!!!"
--
Fulgrim's expression shifted.
The gentle smile slowly faded from his perfect face.
His violet eyes stared down at Paul, scrutinizing him with a gaze that held a trace of... offended coldness.
He considered himself to have already given his dearest brother Ferrus plenty of respect.
That was why he had offered to apologize and make amends to Ferrus if the examination verified their identity.
If this had been any other Space Marine Legion, an inspection would just be an inspection.
The proud Third Primarch, the gene-sire of the Emperor's Children, didn't need to explain himself or apologize to anyone.
Yet this Gabriel Santar standing right in front of him...
He actually had the audacity to make such demands?
He actually dared to show him, Fulgrim, such profound disrespect?
The Phoenician stowed his smile.
His voice grew frigid.
"Very well."
"I agree to your request."
"A sacred duel. Life or death rests on your own shoulders."
Wearing the stern face of Gabriel Santar, the corners of Paul's mouth slowly curled into a stiff grin.
It was a smile laced with the metallic coldness unique to the Iron Hands.
"Naturally."
He turned around, his gaze sweeping over the five hundred silver-grey figures standing behind him.
"Simon Hart!"
"Step forward!"
From among the five hundred Iron Hands players, a single figure stepped out of the ranks on command.
His silver-grey power armor gave off a cold, hard gleam in the twilight, concealing the face beneath his helmet's visor.
But the crimson ID floating above his head was glaringly obvious to all the players...
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates]
He walked up to Paul's side and slammed his right fist against his chest plate, unleashing a muffled metallic boom.
The motion was textbook perfect.
His posture was as cold and rigid as an iron statue freshly forged on Medusa.
Paul looked toward Fulgrim, his voice flat.
"Lord Primarch, we may begin."
At the camp gates, the tidal waves of purple and silver-grey steel stood in tense opposition.
Everyone knew...
Whatever happened next would determine the fate of tomorrow's decisive battle.
--
And amidst this delicate silence, only the players in the regional chat were still blowing up the feed:
[Selling Cola at the Terra Palace Gates]: "Holy shit, Flatbread Bro!! Paul just called on you!!"
[Dragon Bro Never Yields]: "Hold the line, Flatbread Bro! Don't blow your cover!"
[Shinnosuke Eating Lemons]: "Flatbread Bro, if you pass this, I'm buying flatbread from you every single day!"
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] stood at the very front of the formation.
He quietly replied in the chat:
"Paul... don't worry... I promise I won't blow it!"
Paul didn't respond.
He simply stood his ground, his dark golden eyes locked onto the purple-clad Primarch.
--
Paul looked at Fulgrim.
"Lord Primarch, this is Simon Hart. He will act as the representative for my Iron Hands First Company and submit to an examination by your Legion's Apothecary."
"If you please."
Fulgrim looked at the Iron Hands warrior who had stepped forward and gave a slight nod.
He then turned to Fabius, who nodded in return.
Fabius stepped forward, a gleam dancing in his gloomy eyes.
Behind him, four assistant apothecaries carrying portable diagnostic gear slowly made their way toward the Iron Hand named "Simon Hart."
Lucius stood off to the side, that mean-spirited smirk crawling back onto his face.
An examination?
Good.
Let's see how you die once the scan is done, you pack of frauds.
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] stood perfectly still, watching the four assistant apothecaries carry the scanning gear toward him.
Beneath his helmet, a grin was plastered across his face.
An Imperial scan?
Scan away.
This suit of power armor cost me hundreds of thousands of Imperial Coins from the System Shop; it's top-tier gear.
Even the geneseed identification code was programmed using real-world lore serial numbers I dug up online.
My physical augmentations are those of a pureblooded Iron Hands Astartes. My upgrade path is basically a one-to-one replica of everything I found in the wiki.
My body is literally full of steel and cybernetics, bring it on!
Scan me.
If you find anything fake, I'll admit defeat.
Fabius walked right up to [Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] and raised his right hand, booting up the diagnostic device.
The machine powered up instantly, projecting several beams of light.
Each beam was designed to scan and analyze every physical metric of an Astartes warrior.
"Remove your helmet," his voice was flat.
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] reached up and pulled his helmet off.
He revealed a completely average, Western-looking face of a man in his early thirties.
Fabius frowned slightly.
But he kept his mouth shut.
"Remove your armor!"
Having an old man barking at him to strip off his armor felt weird to [Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates].
But he could only comply, shedding the massive plates of heavy power armor to reveal his heavily muscled physique.
"Lie down," Fabius commanded coldly.
[Selling Flatbreads at the Terra Palace Gates] slowly laid back onto the platform Fabius indicated.
Following that, Fabius activated the scanners and diagnostic arrays, getting straight to work.
A faint blue light emanated from the device, washing over the entire body of the Iron Hands warrior before him.
Bone density.
Muscle fiber structure.
Organ layout.
Geneseed identification codes.
The extent of his cybernetic augmentations.
Line after line of data flickered across Fabius's retinas.
His frown deepened by the second.
"Hmm?"
A soft sound of surprise slipped from his lips.
Standing in the crowd, [Are You Sure This Melon Is Ripe] felt his heart leap into his throat.
Here it comes, here it comes!
The jig is up!
--
Bonus chapter at 200 Powerstones.
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