Warhammer 40: Doom

Chapter 23 Why the Fear

Defend the arena.

One of the most iconic buildings in the City of Warriors, it is circular and carved from a single block of stone. The stands surround the center of the arena, gradually rising outwards in tiers, large enough to accommodate hundreds of thousands of spectators.

The arena is generally used for communication; it is a place where warriors face each other with swords drawn, showing no mercy, letting their martial skills speak for themselves, and competing to see who is better.

On certain special days, when there is no war, the Night Watchers will hold competitions to release their excess energy and select the strongest champion.

The arena, now devoid of the clanging of swords and the clashing of the crowds due to the departure of the Night Guardians, appears ancient and solemn.

Banners hung around the arena, with a dark red background and gold thread embroidered with the names of each champion, below which were the opponents they had defeated.

The banners fluttered in the wind, silently recounting the glory that belongs to the champions.

In the outer stands, a dozen Night Guards who had returned from the front lines were resting. Their white power armor was stained with blood, and they exuded visible fatigue.

No one disturbed them; the exhausted warriors leaned back to back, closed their eyes to rest, and prepared for the next expedition.

In the central area, several guards who remained behind took over their duties, guarding several specially made iron cages containing dozens of green-skinned beasts.

A large crowd had gathered around the cage, including scholars dressed in robes, apprentice warriors undergoing training but not yet becoming Night Guardians, and some onlookers.

Inside the cage, a muscular orc with bloodshot eyes bared its teeth and growled incessantly, attempting to intimidate the humans watching them.

In order to more effectively combat the orcs, the Night Guard specifically captured orcs from the front lines and sent them to the rear to provide researchers at the War Institute with in-depth knowledge of orc culture.

There are also living whetstones used by soldiers and apprentices to hone their skills and as training tools.

"Although I hate aliens, I heard from people at the academy that orcs have characteristics similar to fungi, so their flesh should taste similar to mushrooms. If we use them to make soup or grill them, the taste would definitely be good!"

A young man squeezed out from the crowd, about 1.2 meters tall, less than half the height of the Night Guard warriors. He wasn't afraid of the orcs at all, and was holding onto the cage bars, his eyes gleaming as he looked at the orcs imprisoned inside.

The guards all turned to look at the man who had uttered such outrageous words.

He was a young man. Putting aside his astonishing words, the young man's voice was as crisp as jade breaking and as clear as metal striking metal. It had a natural attraction that made people feel good about the owner of the voice.

The boy was also handsome, with large, clear eyes, a straight and prominent nose, and a fair complexion with a rosy glow. His demeanor was less childish than his peers, possessing more of a heroic and noble air. It was foreseeable that he would grow up to be a dashing and handsome young man.

"Oh~ ho ho ho..."

The beastmen in the cage laughed, one hand clutching their stomachs, the other pointing at the boy, laughing so hard they were doubled over, tears streaming down their faces: "Little shrimp? Eat me? Wahahahaha!"

Having fought against humans for a long time, and with their strong learning ability, orcs naturally understand human language.

The boy's boastful words amused the orcs, relieving much of their frustration at being captured, and they became happy again.

"Orcs must taste delicious~" Some of the more unruly greenskins even started mimicking his speech with exaggerated movements, chattering and laughing without a care in the world, rolling around and making a ruckus in their cages.

"The soup will definitely be delicious." The boy wasn't annoyed; his tone was serious, and he was really looking forward to the taste of the green-skinned fish.

"Whose child are you?" someone asked from the side as he was lost in thought.

The speaker's voice was hoarse and deep, a rough voice like a handful of colliding rocks and gravel, extremely resilient yet weathered by time.

Upon hearing this, the boy turned around and saw a tall warrior covered in blood in white armor, with the hilts of two lightsabers hanging at his waist, holding an unactivated guard spear in his right hand, and his helmet tucked under his arm with his left hand, exuding a fierce aura.

He was tall and straight, with thick eyebrows and big, bright eyes. There were a few scars on his cheeks, but they did not affect his heroic spirit at all; instead, they added to his bravery.

"Hallan Oglieve, the champion swordsman, the duelist!"

The boy glanced at the guard and then said his name, along with the glory and accolades associated with it.

"You know me?" Harlan was surprised. He searched through his memory but had never seen the energetic young man in front of him before.

"Twenty times you've won the arena championship, you win every time you participate, your name is hanging high up there." The boy glanced at him, his eyes looking at him like he was a fool, and pointed to the highest flag hanging in the arena.

Harlan forced a smile to hide his embarrassment.

The constant battles had dulled his mind, causing him to forget that he was somewhat famous in the defense of the main domain.

The boy underestimated him; those clear eyes clearly saw him looking at a brute whose brain was only filled with muscles.

"What's your name?" Harlan asked. He was unsure of the boy's identity, but he had a keen sense that he was not from an ordinary family.

"Doom Norwick! The third son of the King of Norwick!"

When he mentioned his name, the boy gently raised his head, his clear voice carrying a hint of solemnity and pride.

“Doom Norwick?” Harlan repeated the boy’s name, then suddenly gasped, his scarred face twitching with shock. “The child who fell from the sky three months ago?” “No…”

As a witness to Doom's sudden appearance, Harlan looked incredulous, fastened his helmet to his waist, and used his spear as a ruler to measure a length.

"You were this big three months ago?"

Harlan was shocked, but then he looked at the boy in front of him again. He saw that the boy was wearing a long robe and that the mysterious mark could be vaguely seen on his chest.

After a couple of breaths, the champion swordsman, who had seen it all, fell silent and asked the boyish-looking Doom, "What did you eat to grow up like this? A royal secret recipe I've never seen before?"

A group of warriors who had never seen Doom before, drawn by Harlan's exclamation, all came closer.

Harlan gestured wildly, giving an exaggerated explanation, which drew gasps of surprise from the Night Guards, who all said they had never seen a child grow up so fast.

The guards marveled and exchanged their opinions.

Just then, King Norwick and Queen Daisy arrived at the edge of the arena and saw Doom being surrounded by onlookers. Daisy's first reaction was to pull Doom out of the crowd.

Just as she was about to act, King Norwick grabbed her hand and said in a low voice, "Look at how he gets along with the guards."

Surrounded by numerous fierce warriors reeking of blood and still radiating murderous intent, Doom remained unfazed, puffing out his chest and declaring loudly, "Don't be so surprised! I've fallen from the sky, isn't it normal for me to grow faster?"

Doom never felt uneasy about his own extraordinary abilities, and he accepted others' surprise with equanimity.

The Night Guards paused collectively upon hearing this, then burst into hearty laughter: "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

"I like this kid!" Harlan laughed the loudest as he tossed his spear to his colleague, then grabbed Doom and lifted him over his head, placing him on his neck.

Doom's candid self-acknowledgment and carefree manner of speaking made the Night Guard quite fond of him.

Harlan lifted him high, then slowly lowered him, squatted down in front of Doom, put his hands on his shoulders, and asked with a smile, "You think orcs should taste good?"

"While your idea is interesting, orcs are a warlike race, and we must always maintain the necessary vigilance and respect."

“I agree with what you said, but I disagree with one point.” Doom nodded seriously like a little adult, his youthful face revealing a calmness beyond his years.

Looking directly at the champion swordsman before him, the most valiant of the Night Guards said, "We must be wary of orcs, but why should I fear delicious mushrooms?"

Harlan's face stiffened, his smile gradually fading. He felt that the boy in front of him was arrogant and his heart was filled with ignorance and conceit.

Can you defeat it?

Instead of directly suppressing the boy's arrogance, Harlan pointed to the orc imprisoned in the cage, a "special forces kid" who was far stronger and more cunning than the average orc kid.

By using clever rhetorical questions, Doom was guided to think for himself, make serious comparisons, and examine himself.

"can!"

Doom's clear voice left no room for doubt, revealing strong confidence: "Just one punch and one kick!"

Hearing the resounding answer and seeing the determination and composure in the boy's eyes, Harlan fell silent.

I wonder how Queen Daisy raised him, making the third prince so different from his two humble older brothers, as if they came from completely different families.

"You're doubting me!" Doom keenly sensed the distrust in Harlan's eyes, a doubt about his strength.

“Champion Swordsman,” Doom said solemnly, pulling Harlan’s hands off his shoulders and staring at him with piercing, imposing eyes. “I’m stating a fact, not exaggerating.”

Faced with those burning, clear eyes and the rising aura, Harlan was surprised to find that he dared not meet his gaze and involuntarily looked away slowly.

Doom looked around and saw the disdain in the eyes of the Night Guards, which made him slightly angry.

But then I thought about it again, and realized that my small stature was indeed not convincing enough for them to believe that I was being looked down upon.

Helpless, he could only shrug and say indignantly, "One day, you will all know that I was not lying!"

What if I give you a chance to prove yourself?

Upon hearing the solemn and authoritative voice, everyone instinctively looked over, and recognized the voice as the Night Guard kneeled on one knee and shouted:
"My king!"

　The author is currently adjusting and will strive to write 3-4 chapters a day!

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(End of this chapter)