Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 112 Three Competitions
Doom remained silent; he was studying Fenris's language.

Although the Empire and Nur are separated by half a galaxy, they share the same language, which originates from the "High Gothic" language of the Golden Age.

Although the two sides met thousands of years apart, they had no problem communicating in the language.

The language of Fenris has degenerated, becoming what the Empire officially designated as "Low Gothic," one of countless dialects.

While on the spaceship, Doom read the planetary data provided by the imposters, listened to related recordings, and memorized some terms.

Now, while the emperor is communicating, I will quickly learn the Fenris language.

As for the Emperor, his psychic power is so great that any language he speaks is the true language that the other party can understand.

The two were quickly led by guards to the center of the tribe, where they could hear the jubilation and commotion of a banquet in the distance.

Laughter and shouts mingled together, emitting wild roars, and occasionally the howls of wolves could be heard, as if one had entered a primitive tribe where humans and beasts lived together.

Doom's nostrils twitched as he caught the smells around the hall: a greasy, sweaty stench, and even the stench of wolf droppings.

He widened his eyes for a moment, then smiled and shook his head to indicate that he understood.

You may not understand, but you must respect it. It's best to heed the advice of the Warrior's Law, observe first, and then offer your opinion.

The emperor merely shook his head, showing no disgust whatsoever. The primitive era he had experienced was a hundred times harsher than what lay before him.

"Honorable Ruth! Fenris's mightiest warrior, may you conquer the storm!"

The banquet was in full swing, and the warriors of Fenris offered praise and blessings to their ruler.

Doom and the Emperor exchanged a glance, and then, led by the guards, politely pushed open the door.

The moment the door opened, the previously bustling banquet hall gradually cooled down, and all eyes turned to the entrance.

A giant stood before the door, cloaked and enormous, with a mysterious rune mark on his chest, surveying the hall.

The Fenrisians' gazes darted back and forth between the mysterious giant and Ruth, subconsciously comparing the sizes of the two towering beings.

Ultimately, it was concluded that Ruth was slightly inferior.

The giant at the entrance was someone I'd never seen before. Judging by his height, he must be five meters tall. Ruth was only four meters tall, not nearly as imposing as him.

Ruth, who had been lying on her back, sat up straight in the chair and stared at the tall figure.

His primal instincts told him that the giant before him was an invincible being.

Doom also saw the person on the huge chair. He had a wild and unrestrained look, with sharp canine teeth in his mouth, wolf mane under his cheeks, and eyes that were a beastly brownish-yellow, as sharp and dangerous as a wolf.

But Doom sensed a calm, a wisdom hidden beneath the savage exterior, and a uniquely steadfast soul.

"Stranger?"

Lehman Russ stared intently at the giant, instinctively straightening his back, but casually picked up the roast meat in front of him and brought it to his mouth.

"We are strangers in a distant land, travelers passing through."

Attracted by the tall figure and hearing the unusually calm voice, I noticed that there was another person standing next to him.

The companion in the cloak was a thin, brown-skinned middle-aged man.

"A traveler?" Ruth rubbed his chin, his eyes constantly glancing at the person who called himself a "traveler," clearly not imagining it.

“However…” the middle-aged man raised his voice so that everyone in the banquet hall could hear him: “I do not agree that he is the strongest warrior.”

"Not to mention the man next to me," the middle-aged man pointed to the tall figure, then to himself, "you can't even beat me!"

As soon as the middle-aged man finished speaking, a huge burst of laughter erupted in the banquet hall.

"Hahaha!"

The Fenrisians burst into laughter, as if they had heard a joke; their spittle and strong liquor soaked their thick beards.

The guard who brought the two in simply stepped aside silently.
He felt that this person was a bit off, so he said he came in to rest and ask for a cup of hot wine to warm himself up, but before he could say two words, he started picking a fight.

Ruth laughed too, a hollow, drawn-out laugh like the howl of a lone wolf under the moon.

He found the person in front of him ridiculous. The first half of his statement was debatable, as the tall figure was indeed dangerous, but the second half was arrogant and ignorant.

"If I defeat you, will you submit to me?" the middle-aged man asked again, his voice filled with a mysterious confidence.

With his thick eyebrows furrowed beneath his hood, the Emperor's "interaction" was indeed a bit... amusing.

If forcing a master to submit is a form of interaction, then the Emperor has certainly done a good job. "Alright then, strangers," Ruth said, running his hands through his head to smooth his blond hair, and looked at the two strangers. "According to Fenris tradition, we will have three contests."

“If you can defeat me in the three tests—eating, drinking, and strength—I will submit to you.”

"How is it?" Russ's wild, beastly eyes stared intently at the tall warrior who had remained silent.

"can."

“I’ll compete with you in eating and drinking,” the Emperor said, pointing to himself and then to Doom. “He’ll compete with you in strength.”

“No problem, stranger.” Ruth stood up from his chair and looked at the stranger with confidence: “Ruth accepts all challenges.”

While he may lack martial prowess, Ruth fears no one when it comes to food and drink.

“No,” Doom shook his head and refused the Emperor’s offer, saying in a slightly unfamiliar Fenris language, “I am not good at fighting. I will compete with you in eating and drinking, while he will compete with you in strength.”

"Whoa~~~~"

Upon hearing this, the Fenris people booed loudly, slamming their hands on the table to mock the big guy for being all looks and no substance, a waste of his size.

What do you mean he's not good at fighting? Just the sight of that size on his body is enough to terrify anyone.

The Emperor looked up and glanced at Doom, who was wearing a hood, and shook his head helplessly when he found that Doom had no intention of cooperating.

Not good at fighting? Who in the universe can rival you?
“No problem, I can accept it.” Leman Russ grinned smugly, revealing his canine teeth.

Eat and drink to defeat the big guys, strength to defeat the small guys, and victory is within your grasp.

"Bring the drinks first!!!"

With a low growl, Russ announced the official start of the competition.

Doom pulled back his hood, sat down at a long table with Ruth, and wore a mysterious smile, anticipating the spirits and roast meat.

Rus and the Fenris were taken aback when they saw the tall, handsome man's face. The maids at the banquet blushed and swayed their slender waists, occasionally throwing out flirtatious glances.

They all shook their heads. A strong, powerful man with a heroic face—not a single word of his claim that he was not good at fighting could be believed.

The emperor also sat down to the side, quietly watching their eating and drinking contest.

Doom grabbed the barrel, which required two Fenris to lift, and in his hands it looked like a large cup.

He took a small sip of the local Fenris wine, and a warm, fiery current flowed down his throat, making his eyes light up. He glanced at the burly man carrying the wine, then looked up at Russ directly opposite him and said, "It's not quite enough."

Ruth glanced at the mountain of barrels piling up beside the two men, somewhat surprised by the outsiders' drinking capacity. His face lit up with the excitement of a worthy opponent, and he roared with high spirits, "Keep moving! Empty the entire cellar!"

On the emperor's calm face, his eyebrows were slightly raised, and a hint of interest was aroused in his dark eyes.

Without using spiritual energy, one's body would have difficulty metabolizing such a large amount of strong liquor.

"Ready!" With no more barrels of wine to be placed beside the two giants, a warrior stepped to the middle and smashed a wine cup: "Begin!"

At the signal to begin, the two Primarchs started their drinking contest.

Doom tilted his head back, raised his mouth and throat into a straight line, and grabbed the barrel with both hands to gulp it down.

His drinking style was even wilder; the exceptionally strong liquor flowed down from his mouth to his throat and then to his stomach like a waterfall. In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen empty barrels had been left beside him, leaving the Fenris people dumbfounded.

"Awesome!" the Fenris cheered, captivated by the wildness and screaming at the stranger's frankness.

Russ's eyes were red, and he used both hands to pick up the barrel and gulp down the wine, observing the outsiders as he drank the fine wine.

"It's fierce!"

The Fenrisians at the scene shouted and screamed continuously, watching the two extraordinary warriors drink the fiery, magma-like liquor, which made everyone's blood boil.

"Give me a jar!"

Seeing that they were falling behind, Ruth took a moment to roar and order the Fenris warriors to carry the large vat; he was about to exert his strength.

He leaned down into the vat, and the people around him kept pouring wine into it. The original body's throat was like a high-powered water pump, and a whirlpool appeared on the surface of the wine in the vat.

"That's incredible!" the crowd exclaimed, covering their faces to avoid getting too excited.

White smoke billowed from Ruth's body as his bodily functions worked at full capacity to expel alcohol from his skin and prevent intoxication.

Doom caught a glimpse of this scene out of the corner of his eye and knew he had to find a way to break the deadlock!
(End of this chapter)