Chapter 29: Setting Sail for New Horizons!

Tyberos struggled to maintain his composure, his dull eyes cast downward, momentarily unsure if Romulus was being sarcastic.

Watching the three warriors below who had been downed in seconds, he suppressed the urge to descend and join the fray himself, instead remarking, "This is a sword-guard like no other."

"Indeed," Romulus affirmed.

Naturally. He had sent Arthur out specifically to secure a total victory; without humbling these proud sharks, there was no way to earn their respect. As for whether Arthur might lose? Such a concern was entirely impossible. Did you see that circle of elite Cataphractii Terminators in the plaza? Even without heavy weapons, Romulus himself could not best Arthur in a gauntlet, and he had been thoroughly outclassed alongside the rest of them. Only Karna, upon surrendering to the Black Rage, could disrupt Arthur’s rhythm enough to claim a victory, but Karna, mindless in his fury, would be toyed with like a fool by Romulus and Rameses. However, Karna was far too volatile; the Black Rage and the Red Thirst were talents perfectly suited for the battlefield, but if he were to accidentally kill someone during a duel, the fallout would be messy.

Romulus pondered this while continuing to converse with Tyberos. Usually, it was Romulus who initiated, while the Chapter Master of the Carcharodons chose silence or a grunt, exuding the aura of a socially anxious teenager.

The battle below gradually drew to a close alongside their exchange. Amidst the cheers of the Astral Militarum, who served as the atmosphere-setters, Arthur had already toppled every member of the Third Company. The guardsmen, who had remained vigilant due to the sharks' sudden assault, found their perceptions of these crude and destitute warriors shifting as the inexplicably comical duel progressed. These warriors didn't seem to care much about winning or losing; after defeat, they felt at most a flicker of annoyance at failing to secure a suit of power armor for their chapter, but they would immediately return to their ranks, happily clutching their brand-new chain-axes.

To the guardsmen, this scene felt strangely familiar. It was exactly like the time during the victory parade on the ocean planet, when their Colonel had ordered them to bring their shabbiest, most broken gear to demand supplies from their superiors. Back then, they hadn't cared if their commanders despised them, so long as they provided the equipment. Except for on Cadia, they seemed to do this at every parade.

"Akia."

The shout from the Apothecary roused the Third Captain, who was still lost in thoughts of food. He looked up, scanning his surroundings, only to find that everyone, including the Apothecary, had received their own new weapons.

"Heh."

Inherited from a different primarch, his blood-thirsty eyes—so unlike those of the other sharks—widened, and Akia couldn't help but let out a scoff.

"Shar!" he called out to a warrior in the ranks whose features bore a resemblance to his own. "How many blows did you last?"

"One," the young warrior muttered, clutching his axe.

A single strike had disarmed him, leaving a scar across his cheek in the process. A gauntlet of over a hundred men, and not a single one had won.

Admittedly, this was a humiliating affair, though the sharks didn't seem particularly distressed.

"Now it’s your turn," they said, clearly eager to see their Third Captain suffer a setback.

"Fine. Let me give it a try." Akia wiped the remnants of his meal from his mouth, banished the rising anger stemming from his World Eater gene-seed, hoisted his 'Grim Reaper' chain-axe, and leaped into the arena.

He pointed his weapon at the sword-guard. "Hey, if this weapon breaks, do you cover the damages?"

How incredibly direct—so direct it was hard to keep a straight face. Arthur was certain that if he replied that there was no warranty, this guy would definitely jump back to swap for an older axe.

"I can replace it with an identical one."

Akia felt an inexplicable chill. His instincts screamed a warning, driving him to raise his heavy axe blade.

*Clang!*

The sweeping killing intent made the very air turn biting. Akia’s battle-hardened intuition saved him; the heavy axe body blocked the sharp blade.

"But you have to answer one question." Arthur withdrew his blade and lunged again.

This movement was much slower, as if the previous gauntlet had exhausted his stamina. But only Akia knew that his opponent was simply giving him a chance to answer.

"Blood tax. Why are you so obsessed with strength?"

"Do you care that much?" Akia squeezed the words through his teeth.

"Yes, I do." The sword-guard pinned Akia’s axe handle with ease. "Just as a man needs to consume calories and train his body to become strong, why do you collect the blood tax and seek collective power?"

To pursue strength, to the point of harming one's own kin—there had to be a reason. Just as his companions had chosen to explore risks and seek power for the sake of everyone's future, Arthur served as the final insurance, the trump card should everything collapse. Therefore, he had to be strong. And this body was truly gifted.

Monitoring every contraction of Akia’s muscles, Arthur relied on techniques honed from relentless sparring with Romulus and an understanding of Astartes anatomy gained through Rameses' research, easily suppressing a veteran of a hundred battles with equal strength. He absolutely could not be weak.

But what were the Carcharodons for? They could have been like their kin, the Ash Claws, finding a planet in the outer reaches to play petty tyrants, or returning to the Imperium to find a comfortable place—after all, the Raven Lord was no longer in the Imperium, and the secret orders themselves held no authority.

"Hmph!" Akia snorted, not responding immediately. His gaze drifted, landing on the guardsmen who stood alongside the Space Marines, cheering for the duel.

"For Humanity."

For the first time, Arthur finally heard these words spoken by humans in this world.

"This is the mission bestowed upon us by the Void Father."

Right. It was for the Emperor, after all.

"To protect humanity from being surrounded by powerful enemies, are you willing to become beasts?" Arthur sighed.

Uprooting a generation of a planet just to protect the humans of other worlds? It was quite tragic; the Trolley Problem was merely a simple multiple-choice question in this universe.

"Have you never thought of changing?" The sword-guard took a bold step forward, parrying the chain-axe and forcing Akia to retreat.

"Change? You mean like these mortals?" He had already realized who had provided the gear for these mortal soldiers, and realized why a ship that had suffered such heavy damage would look the way it did.

"The kindness and humanity you hope for—I don't believe it can last long," Akia said truthfully.

"We are trying."

Muscles bulged, and the blade struck the weak point of the chain-axe with the precision of a hawk. Under the immense pressure between the two metals, the axe blade began to deform.

*Clang!*

With a crisp sound, the struggle of strength ended.

"But how much can you change? You don't even have as many people as we do." Akia was knocked to the ground by the impact, a scratch appearing on his cheek. He propped himself up on one arm, speaking without a hint of mockery.

A mayfly trying to shake a tree—the pursuit of the beauty of humanity inevitably leading to a painful price was a set formula in this universe. Hadn't he seen that the chapters who cared for mortals were the ones who fared the worst?

"Then what if you include yourselves?"

The surrounding cheers had stopped at some point. Akia looked back toward the high platform; the onlookers were rising one after another, beginning to pack up their supplies. He looked at Tyberos, but the Chapter Master remained silent, merely donning his helmet.

"......We only know how to fight. It can only be this way."

"We will try. That is enough."

Having received his answer, the sword-guard shrugged indifferently and smiled. A servo-skull carrying a power axe approached, and he extended a hand toward Akia.

"It is yours now, War Hound."

The engines of the Stormbird roared, as if in response.

"And as for us—"

"It is time to set off."