Warhammer: Start with a dog.

Chapter 718 (19) Death

The battle between Sigismund and Kahn was so fierce and swift that anyone who wanted to assist in the attack would have been unable to keep up with their fighting speed.

They were like a tangled storm of swords and axes, leaving a trail of debris and blood on the battlefield to announce their presence. Anything that was not able to escape in time or was petrified by shock and was more than a foot above the ground would be completely destroyed.

Although every angry attack from the Blood God's mortal chosen ones was like the Blood God's punishment himself, Sigismund's defense and counterattack were not at all inferior. It was like a high wall standing eternally before the storm, silently, solidly, and reassuringly guarding what was behind the wall.

- No, perhaps it is not appropriate to say so, because his high wall is not only made of solid rocks, the high wall he has become is aggressive, it is the doomsday of the enemy, it is like the entire sky overturning, rushing towards the opponent, launching an overwhelming attack on the opponent.

Because there was no "defense" in Sigismund's sword swing.

Every move he makes is ultimately for the purpose of attack, always only attack, and his offense is his defense.

A long, long time ago, when Sigismund was still an orphan in a wandering camp on the Innonus Plateau, he had already done this in ignorance, and he had not even realized until just now how incredible it was that a malnourished, skinny orphan could use an iron rod to repeatedly injure or even kill many adult murderers.

Fighting and its consequences were not something he had to learn or learn from others, but a talent he was born with.

If he was born in a rich, peaceful and ideal world, with an ordinary family with some troubles, then this talent might never have had a chance to be discovered, just like the rock layer wrapped around a gem crystal, living an ordinary and peaceful life; but this Terra and the Milky Way full of war, pain and death gave him birth, and ultimately fed him with endless war and killing.

The graceful posture, perfect balance and insight faster than thought that he was able to maintain even in the most brutal battles were not brought about by the Emperor's Astartes genetic engineering and surgery. To Sigismund, all these enhancements were merely "enhancements" of his talents rather than "grants".

The miraculous power created by the uncertain probability of natural evolution is definitely not something that humans, or even immortals, can replicate in the short history of mankind. Any summary of combat skills is nothing more than a poor imitation of the power of nature in the face of his talent.

——This actually has nothing to do with the category of gene seed that he is suitable for, but there must be someone on Terra and Luna who knew this and his talent very well at that time, and the attention on him began at that time. This can explain those things.

Why were the Eighth Legion members who came to take him away? Why were the people who performed the transformation surgery on him on Luna personally the matriarch of the Selena Gene Cult and her heir? Why did Euphrates Keele and the others come to him and believe that he, Sigismund, was the one who was "most suitable to be a weapon" when there were many heroes of the Legion on Terra and even more than one Primarch still walking on the earth? And Malcador sent someone to deliver the sword, which means that Malcador acquiesced in her determination - interesting, isn't it? He remembered that Malcador had always been vigilant and unenthusiastic about Keele's beliefs and missions.

Perhaps, then, it wasn't just Khârn and his Primarch who were being watched and placed on the chessboard of fate from the very beginning.

If so, then...

When Sigismund dodged Kahn's slash and turned his wrist, the black blade rubbed against the blood son's mica dragon tooth chain with a sharp hissing sound that made one's teeth ache and even burst eardrums. His ice-blue bionic eyeballs stared at Kahn's bright green eyepieces that were full of madness and anger, but still had a hint of cunning, and he suddenly understood again.

——Use the sword in your hand to create our destiny, son.

"As you wish, father."

These words were spoken again with relief after ten thousand years. The reflection on the blade was now so dark, without any golden light. It roared, and an invisible storm that harvested souls formed around it.

The time has come, Sigismund's mental matrix is ​​running steadily, this is the moment.

He stepped differently, twisted his body, raised the sword high, swung it, and chopped it down. The trajectory of the sword was in perfect harmony with his posture, flawless.

Any warrior who saw this and could see it clearly would be mesmerized, even the most frantic Khorne berserkers and daemons would pause to be mesmerized by the sight of such a perfect strike. Sigismund swung the sword at this part of Khârn's fate.

He knew he would not fight for the past and the old friends, but he would fight for their fate to not step into that future again.

Finally, someone landed the first hit in this fight.

The guardian's sword split the power armor, skin and muscles of the blood god's favorite, and an arm fell on the pitted ground. The champion's blood and the mortal's blood gathered together, equally bright red.

Immediately, the smell of sulfur, steam, blood and brass corroded and roasted by countless fresh and old plasmas merged into a sharp and pungent stench, and the high temperature of the warp flames baked the marble white and brittle.

But Sigismund no longer had any sense of smell, so he simply turned off his scent simulation receptors in a normal way and then delivered the next attack without any hindrance.

"you……"

The monster that was once part of Kahn's destiny made a hoarse sound like the friction of a damaged sword from the fangs or broken things under his helmet, "It is dead..."

"Correct."

Unexpectedly, Sigismund responded to him, just as he cut off his legs, kicked him to the ground, raised the black blade in his hand, and was about to chop off the head of Khorne's chosen champion, whose body was surging with the power of the Blood God, like an executioner.

The voice was so familiar, but it instantly froze Kahn's boiling blood and thoughts.

He knew the owner of this voice, and the other party also knew him, there was no doubt about it, but the owner of this voice showed an overly calm and polite respectful attitude towards "killing Kahn", an event so important that represented a certain node of fate, not even forgetfulness and nothingness.

What is contained therein is more terrifying than oblivion and nothingness.

He couldn't... he couldn't do this... just like this...

"You can't... do this to me..."

"Of course I can."

The sword blade fell heavily, and the hot blood in the cavity flew high.

"Because I know what I'm fighting for."

The head fell and fate was cut open.

(End of this chapter)