Warhammer: I don't want to become a stinky can!

The bright white light shone on the duel cage, casting a hazy white glow in the dark duel hall.

The two people on the stage stood still, ready to fight.

The sickle and the longsword faced each other.

"Om-"

Domingo, a veteran from Terra, thrust his longsword directly at Haznir on the stage, showing no mercy.

Haznil raised his sickle to defend, but as if he had already anticipated Haznil's next move, Domingo suddenly accelerated and broke through Haznil's side. The blade flashed, and in a short moment, red blood vessels appeared on Haznil's arm and neck!

It was just a exchange of blows!

If Domingo had been wielding a fully sharpened longsword, Haznil probably wouldn't be able to stand on the dueling platform like he is now.

The outcome is decided!

Haznil glanced at the veteran Domingo with resentment and anger, but the burning scratches on his shoulders and neck reminded him like chains that he had long been a defeated opponent.

He silently jumped off the stage.

On the stage, Domingo stood there like a stubborn rock, showing no intention of leaving.

On the Barbarian side of the stage, some remained silent, while others expressed dissatisfaction. The crowd was bustling, creating a slight commotion and noise, but no one dared to step onto the stage for a duel.

Haznil is usually among the top three winners in the dueling cage. The people below the stage have all been defeated by Haznil to varying degrees and know that they are inferior to him.

But Vox, the only one left who could defeat Haznil, suddenly disappeared. He, who was usually watching the Duel Cage, was nowhere to be found.

The veterans in Terra remained silent. Even though some veterans did not approve of Domingo's actions, all they could do for now was wait.

The Primarch's towering body remained motionless, like a skeleton, shrouded in smoke, the smell of poison quietly piercing the nostrils of everyone present.

The Primarch's face, shrouded in a hood, a gas mask, and smoke, made it impossible to discern his true feelings.

Mortarian was also waiting.

The atmosphere became somewhat tense, and the slight commotion that had just arisen among the Barbarus crowd gradually subsided, with silence once again enveloping the entire hall.

Veteran Domingo stood proudly and silently on the stage, like a stone knight guarding a treasure, waiting for the challenger who had come without permission.

Footsteps broke the silence.

Karastiphon slowly stepped forward and silently walked onto the stage. He glanced at the weapon rack and drew the scythe that the previous two Barbarus had used.

Typhon moved to face Domingo, raised his sickle, and assumed a stance.

Veteran Domingo raised his sword once more, calmly gazing at Typhon across from him.

The original remained motionless.

"Om-"

The duel begins!

Domingo continued his previous strategy, using the same move of thrusting his longsword, aiming to defeat the arrogant new recruit in the shortest possible time.

He was not afraid of Carrastiphon countering his moves based on the strategy from the previous match. Most duels on the battlefield are often a matter of overwhelming strength and speed, while combat skills are left to those evenly matched opponents!

These new recruits, who haven't even completed a full year of Terran transformation surgery, are no match for these seasoned veterans in terms of their current training intensity, unless they are exceptionally gifted.

However, Calastifon showed no fear or contempt, directly using his scythe to block the longsword thrust, and then accelerating to block Domingo's second attack.

The whole process was smooth and efficient, unlike those two new recruits just now!

Domingo was slightly surprised. He hadn't noticed Typhon at the Barbarus Cage before, as Typhon wasn't a regular at the Cage.

This is a roadblock that suddenly appeared out of nowhere—

But this has absolutely no impact on the outcome of the battle!

Domingo did not retreat. Instead, he used the momentum of his charge to engage in close combat with Carrastifon, his longsword moving with the agility of a snake as he tried to pierce Carrastifon's defenses.

In comparison, the scythe's long and wide attack range instantly became pale and powerless. The scythe, which was not suitable for close-range defense, could not exert its best effect at all. Karastiffon could only use the scythe to block Domingo's attacks one after another. The scythe became increasingly cumbersome under the thrust of the longsword.

Carrastiphon tried to create distance, but Domingo didn't give him the chance, relentlessly engaging him and not allowing him any opportunity to retreat and launch another attack.

Compared to the veteran Collina from Terra, Domingo appeared much more aggressive, his sharp aura pressing down on the new recruits on the other side!

Anyone with eyes can see that if this offensive continues for a few more breaths, Carrastiphon will inevitably be the one to lose!

But Carrastiphon did not appear flustered, and continued to struggle to block Domingo's attack with his sickle.

Ha, what an arrogant brat.

Domingo remained calm and composed, maintaining his offensive rhythm, and the already rapid pace of his attack continued to gradually increase—

Finally, a flaw appeared!

Domingo thrust his longsword downwards, then back up with a hook, abandoning his own defense, the tip of his sword aimed straight for Karastifon's heart!

As the duel reached its climax, time seemed to slow down. Domingo clearly saw the cold light slowly flashing across the blade, and—

A barely perceptible frost suddenly appeared on the sword!

what? ! ! !

Domingo's eyes narrowed suddenly. His veteran instincts told him to instinctively defend, but it was too late. The thrusting sword could not be easily withdrawn.

Domingo felt the pressure around him suddenly increase dramatically! His movements faltered, and he looked up at Karastifon opposite him, the recruit with a barely perceptible smile on his lips.

This guy is a psionicist!!!

Although Domingo immediately adjusted his stance, in the heat of battle, a mere instant can determine life or death. Calastiffon seized Domingo's opening, his scythe slashing down from beneath him, dodging the arms, and piercing Domingo's chest—

The outcome is decided!

The moment Carrastiphon's scythe touched Domingo, both stopped moving.

Domingo's longsword was still an inch away from Callas, but Callas's scythe actually touched Domingo's chest.

The unpleasant chill quickly dissipated, and it seemed that apart from the two people on the field, none of the other spectators had noticed the psionic fluctuations just now.

Domingo's pupils trembled; he wanted to open his mouth to say something, but when he looked up at Carrastiphon's face—

There was no trace of relief or joy on his face, but rather a serious and respectful expression!

This guy is a very good cloak!

Wait a minute, that recruit's move just now looks a lot like the moves used by the Deathguard Intelligence Agency!

how come?

Domingo was quite puzzled, but his defeat on the dueling platform was a foregone conclusion, and he had no face to stay any longer, so he jumped off the platform and disappeared into the crowd.

A commotion broke out among the crowd in Terra.

Calastiffon stood there, seemingly unlike the others, not intending to continue fighting, but instead turned and walked toward the weapons platform.

Upon witnessing this victory, cheers erupted again from Barbarossa's side.

The Primarch remained still, but the incense burner on Mortalian's body gently bumped against each other, the crisp but weak sound quickly drowned out by the noise of the crowd.

Karas, oh Karas, my friend, is this all you wanted?

Happy reading! ω

Chapter 58: More Changes Than Plans

Perseverance, Duel Cage.

just now.

.

On the stage under the spotlight, Callastiphon turned around and lowered his sickle. With a humble yet slightly proud expression, he smiled at the Barbarosian crowd below.

The audience erupted in cheers and applause, with some even whistling.

Surprisingly, Primarch Mortarion did not stop the commotion.

Just now, only two people in the audience clearly saw Karastiffon's little trick.

One is Mortarion—

Mortarion remained seated, his Primarch's towering figure now as still as a corpse.

Is this what you wanted me to see, Typhon?

Mortarian's gaze, hidden beneath his hood, fell upon the cheering crowd of Barbaros. When had his sons and his people ever celebrated so joyfully since leaving their homeland?

Is this what you wanted to say?

You win by using psychic powers, and then—"using" this emotion, you want me to relax the restrictions on psychic powers so you can use them?

Are you still so persistent, Callas?

Or did I do something wrong?

Mortarian fell silent.

On the stage, Karastiphon glanced at Mortarian almost imperceptibly.

He knew perfectly well what Mortarian was thinking.

Previously, Kalastiphon had subtly probed Motalian's attitude toward think tanks.

Clearly, based on his understanding of witchcraft in Barbaros, Mortarion completely denies the existence of the think tank.

But Calathiphon knew that witchcraft—no, it should be psychic power—was a tool, neither good nor evil.

The think tank that Deathguard previously had is the best proof of this.

Karastiphon knew he needed a chance to prove to Mortalian that psychic powers could bring him glory.

Motalian, however, did not adhere to the standards as strictly as he believed himself to.

Karas chuckled to himself. In their previous interactions, Mortalian had actually been someone who was easily influenced by crowds.

He cared about his offspring and his people far more than he imagined.

Moreover, Karas knew that Mortarian trusted him and Hades.

As long as Hades doesn't come out to oppose psionic powers

After this victory, Typhon will gain the support of the Barbarus, and Mortarion will not swallow his pride and reprimand Typhon for using psionic powers.

Then Typhon only needs to seize the opportunity to make his request again.

Mortarian will hesitate.

If Mortalian could grant even a slight leniency regarding the use of psionic energy, it would already meet Karas's expectations.

He had indeed prepared a lot for this day.

However, a second person who saw through Karastifon's little trick stepped out from the crowd—

[I challenge you to a duel!]

Ugo, the current think tank leader of Deathguard, shouted to Karastiphon on the stage.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, Karastifon froze. What was Ugo doing here?!

Typhon hadn't even noticed him!

Generally speaking, the Deathguard think tank members would spend their free time reading in the archives or meditating to regulate their connection with the warp. Noisy dueling cages were places the think tank members would never go.

It was precisely because other think tanks wouldn't be present that Karastifon chose the Duel Cage.

In his agreement with Hugo, Hugo knew that their meeting and training were not honorable, so he hoped that Karastiphon would communicate with Mortarian in private, as long as the think tank was not cut off from its source of troops.

But it is clear that Carrastiphon did not keep his promise.

Karas had planned to act first and report later, and then he could make up for his breach of contract by getting Motarian to relax restrictions on the think tank.

If Motalian is willing to relax restrictions on think tanks, then Karastiphon will take credit for this and openly apply to join the think tank.

If Mortarian does not agree to relax the requirements, then Karastiphon will take the opportunity to sever ties with the think tank, sell it off, and focus on building his reputation among the Barbarosians.

As long as he can defeat an old soldier with his psionic powers without being discovered by anyone except Mortarion, then no matter how things develop, he, Karastifon, will not lose.

However, to everyone's surprise, Ugo stepped out from the crowd, his eyes blazing with anger!

The think tank members slowly walked from below the stage to the stage. With each step they took, frost appeared on the ground, and the cracking sound of the ice was particularly jarring.

So this was your plan, Tiffany?