Emperor's Bane

Chapter 74
Jonson stroked the armor on his left arm, his face was as gloomy and terrifying as a deep forest after a heavy rain.

The emblem showing the sword and wings of the First Legion has been completely torn by an overly obvious scar, just like a goshawk roughly scratching the metal wound with its sharp claws, triumphantly Showing off his successful blow.

This is the only crack on the Primarch's black armor, and the rest is nothing more than some dark scratches, only missing sporadic paint spots, but it is this whitish trace, on the pure black armor. It is extremely dazzling on the surface, so that anyone can easily observe it at first glance.

The white in black is even more eye-catching and eye-catching than the black in white.

The Primarch of the First Legion kept watching the rough rift, and his vision grew darker, even when he saw the mortal: she looked very miserable now, from the corner of her mouth. With the blood dripping from the earlobe continuously due to the overload of psychic energy, this low-pitched gaze did not have any sense of victory.

Jonson was sure, at that moment, that he didn't let his guard down.

When he warned this offending mortal and started another round of training, he never relaxed his vigilance even a little bit, and he didn't abandon any means enough to win: except directly laying his sword on the mortal on the neck.

But despite this, even though he was indeed trying his best to dodge and perceive, the net woven by Morgan with psionic energy still gradually shrunk and squeezed his activity space until the psionic energy condensed by a cluster of fire The edge finally secured the Primarch's location, leaving a wound that nearly shattered the shoulders of the Seiko Power Armor.

Zhuang Sen carefully recalled that moment, took it apart tirelessly, kneaded it bit by bit, and analyzed it inch by inch, but in the end, he still came to that conclusion.

Under those conditions, he really didn't have the means to keep himself unscathed.

Either rush into the impenetrable psychic net, or under the threat of that psychic impact, use the most defensive shoulder armor to resist this blow, leaving the possibility to the equipment, not own strength.

The speed and reaction that the Primarch was proud of showed a different kind of paleness and powerlessness in front of the thorny net woven with psionic energy.

At that second, it seemed to be a dead end.

After reaching this conclusion, the Primarch's complexion became more and more gloomy.

Although he had spent the past two Terran hours wandering through a net capable of destroying thousands of Astartes warriors, although he had countless opportunities every minute to wipe off Morgan's beautiful snow-white neck, so that The absolute winner pretends to be himself, but just this moment of inevitability is enough to wipe out all the arrogance and victory of Jonson.

He even thinks he's lost, in a way.

This made his aura even a little dangerous and terrifying.

But Jonson wasn't obsessed with that, he wasn't Perturabo, he didn't get pissed off when he stepped in a puddle of rain and got splashed with mud, the Primarch rationally swallowed himself small failures and start thinking about the things that really matter.

The Primarch raised his head and glanced around. At this time, the arena was completely in ruins. The aftershocks of psionic energy, the waves of sword energy, and even the violent breath of the Primarch himself were in the past two Terra standard times. The pitiful space was ravaged back and forth in the room, and the anti-psychic devices used for fixing and maintenance had already been shaken to pieces, and the sound waves and air waves echoed in countless corridors and rooms, attracting the attention of countless dark angels.

But even so, Jonson found an area that was still intact. It was a spectator seat on the edge of the arena that could still sit.

He walked over, stretched out his hand, smoothed the ashes and gravel on it, and then pointed to Morgan to come over.

The silver-haired mortal female officer obviously spent too much energy in the training just now. She walked with difficulty, her feet dragging on the ground, and the blood that had just dried up could be seen from the sockets of her eyes, the corners of her mouth and the pinnae of her ears. The result of over-squeezing psionic energy.

Compared with the glamor of the past, the current Morgan can be said to be a little disheveled.

She was originally wearing a light silver-gray knee-length windbreaker with tight waistbands and calm folds, paired with white trousers and the usual pure black high riding boots, and a dark blue scarf on her pale neck It was wrapped unintentionally, and only a few traces of snow greasy could be vaguely seen.

Morgan even keeps a pair of sunglasses pinned in the pocket of his trench coat, just in case.

And all of this was already two Terra Standard Time ago.

The folds that were once specially arranged on the cuffs and waist of the windbreaker have been completely disrupted, and the collar is now dotted with drops of dark red blood, which is completely dirty, and the corner of the scarf has also been tainted by an unknown gas. Waves slashed alive without a trace, and now he is lying limply on his chest, like a poisonous snake whose head has been beheaded.

It is true that Jonson will not win this training by pointing his sword at Morgan, but this does not mean that one or two of his countless sword lights will not pass by: how to interfere with a psyker's spellcasting has always been [ Kill the Psyker] is an important research project in this discipline, and the Primarch is obviously well versed in this. Just a seemingly random swing is enough to make Morgan's strangulation formation become ridiculous in an instant. object.

At first, Jonson was just quiet, but after a few minutes, after realizing that Morgan's figure was still looking a little far away from the seat, the Primarch simply walked over, grabbed Morgan's arm, and put her He carried it in the air, took a few strides, and pressed it on the seat.

Morgan felt a slight tearing pain from her shoulder, and she turned her head slightly, only to see that Jonson's other hand was still holding his big sword tightly.

The Primarch stood before her like a towering mountain that cast endless shadows.

He pointed to the scar on the shoulder armor, and there was nothing unwilling to face it.

"Is such an attack an accident or the result of heavy calculations."

Jonson's question came, but Morgan just pursed his lips and smiled.

She didn't answer immediately, but just lowered her head slightly, breathing slowly, adjusting her own breath, until Zhuang Sen's already frowning brow deepened a little.

[Both, Your Excellency. 】

This answer did not ease the Primarch's frown at all.

"Don't play charades, speak clearly."

[I made it very clear, sir, both. 】

[You can say it was accidental, because it is also the first time I use this kind of step-by-step strangulation net, and it is unpredictable what effect it will have. 】

【but……】

She took another deep breath, and the Primarch's gaze shifted slightly to match her breath and tone.

[This is also inevitable, because when you choose such a training venue, it is doomed that I will only choose this unfamiliar method, because this is the only way I can fight against you here. 】

Johnson looked up.

He heard the overtones.

"You didn't use all your strength."

Morgan slowly raised his finger and tapped the blood in the corner of his eyes. Jonson looked at the scarlet trickle on those pale cheeks and the evoked smile.

His face tensed.

[These bloodstains, Your Excellency, they appear because I am suppressing my psionic energy, not because I am overloading my power. 】

As soon as the words fell, an icy cyclone exploded around the Primarch, turning into one after another severe storm that was enough to chill the soul.

"I, I ordered you... to use all your strength."

[Yes, Your Excellency, you ordered. 】

"But you are violating this order."

[No, Your Excellency, I did not violate it. 】

She's still laughing, even though Jonson's blade looks like it's about to kiss her neck in the next second.

"This time, you can explain."

[If you really want my full strength, then things will go badly. 】

Morgan tilted his head and leaned back, exuding a combination of tiredness and lethargy.

[Of course I can try my best to let every ounce of my strength explode in the battle, but the consequences of this are unimaginable. At the very least, the Invincible Reason cannot survive such an explosion. Its reactor will My psionic shriek exploded, sweeping the entire warship into a rift in the void, along with thousands of Dark Angels. 】

[Please don't underestimate the desperate struggle of an alaph, and don't overestimate those anti-psychic devices. If they are really tried and tested, psykers won't become a nightmare. 】

[I did carry out your order, Your Excellency. 】

[As far as the situation allows, I did my best. 】

Jonson lowered his head, his green pupils were covered by long golden hair, and the blade of the sword made a piercing sound of rubbing sparks on the metal ruin floor.

"Next time, tell me before you start, don't play your tricks."

"My tolerance is only once."

[Of course, Your Excellency. 】

Morgan straightened her back up again and nodded meekly. This time, she was serious.

Just as Jonson was serious.

The Primarch was silent for another moment, as if waiting for Morgan to rest.

"Now……"

"Tell me, your [full strength]."

[As ordered, Your Excellency. 】

------

【Have you ever thought about how, in real battles, psykers are better than Astartes warriors wielding swords? 】

【strength?In fact, this is not that important. In a duel, the power enough to cut the enemy's neck is more than enough. Although more power is not a bad thing, it will not have any essential impact on a duel . 】

【Focus?In this regard, it is even possible that psykers suffer even more. The whispers in the warp have been tormenting every character involved in psychic power. In fact, a psyker who can fully focus is almost a fake proposition, unless he has decided to die. 】

【defense?This is actually not easy to judge. If it is an Astartes duel with a psyker, then in the face of the power of bombs and lightning, both of them are actually weak babies without clothes. The so-called defense More or less it won't do that much. Of course, psykers can maintain a protective shield at any time, but it's just a vain bubble in front of your big sword. 】

[Unless another factor is added. 】

[Yes, speed. 】

[As long as the speed is fast enough, the psyker can kill an Astartes in a hundred ways, whether it is to smash everything in the armor with lightning, or let the flames end the suspense of the duel, or set up a thick The barrier, so that oneself is within the absolute protection. 】

[And in the same way, as long as the speed is fast enough, even a rusty dagger can end an alaph. 】

[In terms of speed, top-level psykers have a natural advantage over Astartes. A truly powerful psyker does not need spells. A single thought of his is enough to accomplish everything he wants, while a warrior's No matter how fast the reaction is, he still has to complete at least two steps from thinking to drawing the sword. This mere time gap in thinking is fatal. 】

[In addition, it is said that the reaction speed of the Astartes fighters is as fast as milliseconds... Anyway, I didn't see it. 】

[But speed is not omnipotent. If you are close enough, a quick sprint is enough to end everything before the game starts. Therefore, apart from those psykers of the biochemical department, real psykers will also care about speed. The second factor above. 】

【distance. 】

[On this point, there is no doubt that psykers also have an advantage, even an absolute advantage. No one says that a duel must be resolved within a few meters square. Psykers can hide at a safe distance. Finish everything before rushing over. 】

[So, what would a truly powerful psyker who exerted all his strength look like? 】

[It is a psyker who has opened enough distance and has enough room to move. Like this, fighting a psyker in an arena several hundred meters wide is like climbing into the eagle's nest, This is not a challenge, but a reward. 】

[If you really want to see my full strength, then you should arrange the training location in a world, Your Excellency, and you will know by then. 】

[I can have many ways to try and kill you completely. 】

------

Kill.

The word lingered at the corner of Morgan's mouth, and turned into a wisp of green smoke, slowly dissipating in the dead air.

Jonson lifted his head slightly, he caught the syllable keenly and seemed to enjoy it.

"Kill me?"

[Yes, kill you. 】

[Like a real battle of life and death. 】

【I can directly tear open a rift and fall you into it. 】

[Or let the strong wind and metal gather into a real cage, take you high above the sky and throw you down, turning into a fiery meteor. 】

[Or, the easiest way, I can directly tear open a crack in the subspace, and let you be involved in the turbulent flow of time and space. When you come out of the irregular subspace, Perhaps the so-called race of humans did not appear. 】

[In short, for psykers, death does not mean simply falling to the ground with blood flowing, that is really unartistic. 】

Speaking, Morgan raised his head.

Then she saw that Jonson was smiling, a smile with the corners of the mouth slightly turned up and the teeth bared.

Jonson's laugh was even scarier than Jonson's anger.

"You can do it all?"

[Time, means, luck, and some necessary delaying methods, such as traps and dead soldiers, are all indispensable. Psykers are not real gods after all, and occasionally they still have to be tainted with some fireworks. 】

There seemed to be a hint of a smile in Jonson's voice.

"and also?"

"Besides these, what else do you have to [kill] me?"

Morgan tilted his head.

[Temporarily... not thinking about it. 】

"You have time to think about it."

He turned around, put away the great sword, and slowly walked towards the gate of the arena.

"The battle is urgent, and the real [training] conditions you mentioned have not yet been carried out, but you have time to continue thinking about them."

"Think of more ways to kill me."

"..."

"This is an order."

Morgan stuck out his tongue and licked his chapped lips.

[As ordered, Your Excellency. 】

------

really.

Compared to Magnus and Perturabo.

This dangerous, arrogant, ineffable lion.

It was the one that made her feel more cordial and joyful.

(End of this chapter)