Warhammer: Empire Reboot

The Mastiff-05's defenses were breached.

A second glint of cold light immediately slashed towards his throat.

Mastiff-05 leans back.

The blade swept across the front of the neck armor, leaving a narrow slit on the surface.

In a swarm network, the two previous clashes have been broken down into millions of data sets.

Mastiff-05 charged forward again, aiming straight for Fugrim's heart.

Fugrim turned to the side, the blade gliding past his chest.

His longsword rose from below and struck the middle of the Mastiff-05 blade precisely.

Mastiff-05's sword was deflected upwards.

Foghrim twisted his wrist, the blade bypassing Mastiff-05's arm, and stabbed at its armpit from an almost impossible angle.

That's where the gaps in the armored mobile structure are.

The Mastiff-05 took a step and moved sideways, but it was still a little slow. The blade pierced the armor, cut through the skin and muscle, and then grazed the surface of the ribs.

Fresh blood flowed down the side of Mastiff-05.

Fugrim drew his sword and retreated.

“Look, you have perfect strength and speed, but you don’t know how to use them. True swordsmanship is intuition, inspiration, and an art that determines victory before the blades even clash. You are just imitating.”

Mastiff-05 glanced down at the wound, and its original-level muscles quickly contracted, clamping the blood vessel and stopping the bleeding.

The next moment, he rushed forward again.

This time, his pace changed.

His body moved quickly along one side of the wall, suddenly changing direction just before entering Fogrim's attack range.

The longsword slashed upwards from below at an angle.

Fugrim swung his sword to deflect the attack.

However, Mastiff-05 loosened its grip before the weapons made contact.

The sword hilt slid half an inch across the palm, suddenly extending the attack range.

The sword tip bypassed Forgrim's parry and slashed a bloody gash across his chest.

Some of the disdain in Fugrim's eyes disappeared.

That was the distance deception he had just used.

Mastiff-05 learned it after only watching it once.

Not only did I learn it, but I also removed the unnecessary steps to make it more direct.

The two swords collided repeatedly in the narrow passage.

The sword light grew faster and faster.

At first, the trajectory of each attack was still visible, but soon, only large swaths of intersecting silver afterimages remained on the screen.

Fugrim's swordsmanship was like a meticulously choreographed performance.

The sword may appear to be aimed at the shoulder, but it will turn to the waist and abdomen at the last moment; the feet may have moved to the left, but the body can launch an attack from the right side by twisting the spine and hips.

His rhythm constantly changes, alternating between fast and slow, and blending reality and illusion.

An ordinary soldier who follows even one beat will be torn to shreds in the next second.

The battles of Mastiff-05 are completely different.

The previous sword strike was the positional combat that the Empire's veteran soldiers excelled at, and the next step brought with it the distance control that the combat sequence had summarized from hundreds of millions of actual battles.

Sometimes he would take the attack head-on in the most solid defensive stance.

Sometimes he acts like a madman who doesn't care about his life, willingly offering his body to the sword's edge just to gain a chance to counterattack closer to the vital point.

In his swarm mentality, the experience accumulated from countless battles was flowing through his mind.

Those experiences were conclusions verified one by one using corpses.

Foghrim thrust his sword into Mastiff-05's chest.

The sword pierced through the armor and entered the left side of the chest cavity.

Fugrim frowned slightly, and his attack missed.

The Mastiff-05's left arm clamped down suddenly, its muscles, bones, and armor locking the sword in place.

Fugrim tried to draw his sword.

Mastiff-05 had already forced its way into his arms.

His forehead slammed into Forgrim's face.

boom!

With his nasal bone shattered, Fugrim fell backward.

Mastiff-05 slashes horizontally with its right hand, aiming straight for the waist.

Fugrim decisively released his weapon, spun around in place, and kicked Mastiff-05's wrist with his long leg like a battle axe.

Mastiff-05's longsword flew out of its hand.

Fugrim pulled the sword out of the other man's chest and stabbed him in the throat.

Mastiff-05 raises its palm.

The sword's edge pierced through his palm; he closed his five fingers and gripped the blade directly.

Fugrim exerted force with both hands.

The blade sliced ​​through Mastiff-05's hand, but could not continue downwards.

Mastiff-05 clenched its other fist and slammed it into Forgrim's chest, while Forgrim retaliated with a punch of his own.

The two Primarch-level fists collided head-on.

A loud bang echoed through the entire passageway.

The air was compressed into a white impact ring visible to the naked eye.

The two of them stepped back at the same time.

Mastiff-05 crashed into the wall.

Fugrim also slid more than ten meters across the ground, his bare feet carving out two furrows.

He slowly straightened up.

The bridge of my nose is recovering rapidly.

The bloodstains on his chest had stopped flowing.

The smile on Forgrim's face was gone.

"I see."

"You steal everyone's skills and then put them together."

Mastiff-05 drew his longsword from his palm and casually flicked away the blood.

"The bee colony never steals, old man. Don't talk nonsense if you don't understand."

Foghrim charged again.

This time, he didn't test the waters.

The Primarch's true speed was unleashed in full force.

The ground cracked beneath his feet, and his body instantly covered dozens of meters as the sword slashed down from above.

The two swords clashed.

The ground beneath Mastiff-05 suddenly collapsed.

Fugrim's sword fell continuously, faster and faster, with increasing force.

No matter how fancy the moves are, they must ultimately be accomplished through bones, nerves, and muscles.

And Mastiff-05 has the same body template as him.

He can do the same things that Fogrim can do.

The battle lasted seventeen minutes.

For the third time, Fugrim's longsword swept past Mastiff-05.

The Mastiff-05 suddenly moved ahead of schedule.

He thrust his sword into the nascent path of attack the moment Forgrim's shoulder showed even the slightest contraction.

Ding!

Fugrim's sword was blocked head-on.

Mastiff-05 flipped its wrist, and the two swords intertwined.

Fugrim tried to distract his opponent's strength as he had done initially, but found that Mastiff-05's sword had already positioned itself at the optimal angle for striking.

The same technique, but shorter and more vicious than when he used it earlier.

Fugrim's longsword was pressed downwards.

Mastiff-05 kicked him in the knee.

Fugrim lost his balance, immediately abandoned the physical confrontation, and spun around, the blade slicing across Mastiff-05's neck.

Mastiff-05 moved forward, its blade slicing through his neck armor and leaving a wound on his skin.

That inch of distance was deliberately left by Mastiff-05.

He traded a non-fatal wound for the chance to enter the inner circle of the Vorgrim Sword Enclosure.

Shoulder bumps into chest.

Forgrim was knocked backward.