Chapter 133 Holy Hammer
What is needed to survive in the ice and snow?
This is not a conclusive question.
If a person is hungry, his stomach and intestines seem to be cut into thin pieces by the piercing cold wind, and all that is left in his dull mind is the desire for food to melt on the tongue.
If he takes a bite of food, he will still remember that he is thirsty. The dry sharp blade is like a thorn digging into the heart and lungs, and the only sound he can make is thirsty swallowing.
By the way, put a thick fur coat on this person, or give him a piece of warm giant animal skin, place a warm fire next to his crouched body, and then use a tent-or even simpler , using the eternal ice and snow of Invite to build a hut with snow bricks and ice bottom, using the temperature to melt away the last obstacle to frozen thinking.
At this time, if you ask this person what he needs to survive in the ice and snow, he will finally be able to pick up enough sense to answer with a shake.
A spear, he might have said. Or more realistically, an axe? A hammer with a rock tied to the top of a stick? In the world of ice and snow, you have to find ways to keep yourself safe in order to survive. Right.
Then comes hunting. Use weapons to kill some animals and take their fur, bones and flesh. Fill the stomach and blood vessels, content and guard the cave in the wind and snow.
Asleep, falling from darkness into deeper darkness. Wake up in Inwit in half an eternal night and wander around the snowfield until you meet your tribe. It belongs to it and rests on a turbulent heart.
Going forward, what else is needed to survive in the ice and snow?
Respect me for my strength, said the Invite who originally founded the dueling ground, placing his weapon on the shoulder of his companion, or respect me for the joy our dueling show will bring to the camp, my friend. them. I will be satisfied.
"In the recorded history of Invite, the murderous nature of the duel evolved into the showy nature only very quickly," Rogal Dorn removed his sword from the stone wall. "Today, every settlement and ice cave has several dueling arenas. Tribes and tribes, communities and communities, groups and groups all have the custom of promoting technical and emotional exchanges through friendly competitions."
His residence was less a ruler's palace than a solitary fortress on the ever-light side of Inwit. The cold sunlight passes through the window panes and falls on the large stone table, and is reflected by the smooth marble floor, giving off an almost golden white light.
The native armor of Inwit is as practical as the planet itself. It is made of brass and leather. It only has golden eagle patterns painted on the toes and chest, and the back plate is only made of gold nails. The decoration, just like Rogal Dorn himself, who is currently wearing armor, sharply scatters golden light.
"Are you ready?" Perturabo asked, holding the warhammer on the ground with one hand. The black and yellow stripes on the armor corresponded to the stripes on the helmet's visor. He doesn't often wear a helmet, although the main reason is that he doesn't often go to the battlefield. The audio filtering and visual enhancement systems further enhance his perception abilities that are far beyond those of mortals and even Astartes, and are carefully designed to seem as light as a second skin. The armor gave him psychological strength.
There is also a warhammer, a warhammer given by Morse that he likes very much from the distribution of the center of gravity to the grip of the hammer handle. He hasn't given the hammer a name yet, maybe today's battle will give it an honorable name, like Stonebreaker?
"Okay." Dorn put on his helmet, and through the three copper bars across his face, you could see his stone-cold expression and pure light-colored eyes. "On the other side of the peak south of this fortress is a flat snow surface that no one dares to approach."
"Then let's go," Morse tightened his round thick fur felt hat , turned down the ears of the hat decorated with fur, making a gesture to keep out the cold. He finally followed the locals and conjured up a thick sweater and a windproof brown animal skin jacket out of thin air, with a string of animal bone arrowheads and small bone needles of unknown meaning hanging from the edge of the jacket.
The golden rune flashed past. The next moment, if anyone is still looking through the window panes of this stone fortress in the ice and snow, they can see three more tiny figures on the snow-capped mountains walking in the narrow gap of Tianhe Mountain, gradually crossing the ridge and going to to the windward half.
As they climbed over the ridge, Perturabo felt his warhammer become lighter.
He was not sure whether the inscriptions floating on the surface of the hammer under the bright sunshine on the Invite ice were a normal phenomenon due to Morse's carving skills, or whether some other special ability was triggered by an unknown mechanism.
He skillfully calculated the hardness and smoothness of the local ice and snow surface, and incorporated all the conditions of Invite's light and air factors into the assessment of the battlefield, and rehearsed the battle between the two in his mind. various scenes. Although he didn't think that Invite's local armor, which didn't even have power, could defeat him, he should not be arrogant in anything.
Soon, Perturabo turned around and made an inviting gesture to Dorne. He felt that the light around him suddenly became a little brighter inexplicably. He wondered if this was a unique astronomical phenomenon due to Inwit.
Dorn's face hidden behind the grid seemed to begin to reflect bright light, and an extremely rare surprise appeared in his always calm light-colored eyes. Despite this, the white-haired primarch maintained his overall composure and gradually entered a battle-ready posture.
Morse sat on the floor, covering the lower half of his face with his folded hands.
Let us fight, Perturabo wanted to declare.
However, in the microsecond when he opened his mouth and his vocal cords were about to start vibrating, a warm touch suddenly surged up from the joint between the war hammer and the gauntlet, filling his throat. .
"We will fight with each other's weapons in the name of the Emperor." His words were modified by this irresistible energy, and then rumbled out, among the clouds in the empty mountains. It echoes endlessly. At the same time, golden light overflowed from the gaps in his armor, like lightning coming from the sky, making it impossible to look directly at it.
Perturabo immediately understood what was going on with Dorn's glowing face. In the other's irises, he saw a golden giant as bright as the Emperor's arrival. The eyes of the armor emitted light. There was a flash of light, and the hammer was wrapped with the phantom of thunder and lightning.
No, this is not the effect I designed!
"This is not what the Emperor has prepared for me, nor is it what my heart desires."
This sentence spewed out of Perturabo's mouth uncontrollably, intensifying his anger. Turabo felt a chill in his stomach.
He stared at Morse through the helmet, and found that the guy showed an encouraging smile and gave him a keep up gesture in Gutera's way.
"I can understand, my brother. You don't want to fight me." Dorn's reason defeated his confusion, and he tried hard to guess the opponent's intentions from Perturabo's sacred words. It means, "You don't have to hold anything back from me, please feel free to use your power."
That's not what I meant, Donne!
Perturabo wanted to throw away the hammer with the runes on it shining brightly, but the thing seemed to be integrated with his gauntlet and he could not put it down at all. At the same time, more High Gothic words automatically popped out of his tongue.
His anxious heart was turned into noble pity by the echoing sacred voice, and the tone sounded just like the murmur of pity from the saint.
If one had to use an adjective to describe this tone, Perturabo could only think of one word: Emperor.
"Rogal Dorn, I didn't mean that, and I didn't mean to say that." He found himself saying this, and Dorn frowned slightly incomprehensibly, very unhappy. He let his hand slide on the hilt of the sword as he got used to it.
"Then what do you think, Perturabo?" Dorn asked, pitifully not knowing why he went wrong, "Did I understand it wrong again?"
It's not your fault this time. Perturabo wanted to say.
"You have done no wrong in my eyes. Your words and deeds are all upright."
"Really?" Even Dorne was inevitably pleasantly surprised by Perturabo's rare gift. Praise, a bright color flashed in his eyes, although from an objective point of view, it was a reflection of the increasingly bright golden light on Perturabo. "You are a truly tolerant person, my brother."
He thought for a while: "Also, I have always misunderstood you. It turns out that you also like our father's golden style."
Don't slander me!
"You must not slander me. I do not like my father's behavior, and I have never imitated him. This is an accident, it is..." He wanted to say that this was Morse's fault, However, only this half of the sentence was completely reversed.
“It is my friendship for you, because you have found favor in my eyes, and you share my heart and share the Emperor’s grace.”
Dorn Difficult to interpret: "Are you welcoming me back to the Empire? Thank you, Perturabo, I am with you."
Perturabo closed his eyes in pain, not wanting to see Morse laughing silently while huddled in his plush hat and thick fur.
He finally understood why Morse asked him not to use this hammer in front of the Seventh Legion - maybe it should be called the Holy Hammer, because this is the function Morse designed for it, and the Emperor The emperor makes the inexplicable become sacred.
He just gave Morse a chair with a speed of two hundred miles per hour. Why was the thing Morse gave so unique in bringing people painful experiences?
Let’s start fighting directly. He must end this thing that seems extremely stupid now.
"We will compete before the glory of the Emperor, and I am willing to reconcile with you, because you are my brother and we are both sons of the Emperor."
"Okay." Dorn nodded solemnly, the golden light illuminated his entire helmet, and the smooth surface of the helmet almost reflected Perturabo's golden appearance at this moment. "Thank you, my brother."
After receiving Dorne's permission to fight, Perturabo took a deep breath, raised his warhammer and rushed forward.
Before the war started, he imagined several ways to defeat Dorne to make the battle more overwhelming and oppressive, but now he just wanted to finish it.
"We must put an end to this foolish thing as soon as possible, because it is not in line with the emperor's will, nor is it our wisdom!"
The Iron Lord roared loudly, his tone trembling. , making Dorn even more guilty, thinking that Perturabo's hidden kindness and tolerance made him unable to bear to fight.
In the conversation just now, Rogal Dorn didn't quite understand why his brother suddenly showed off his golden glory and spoke like an emperor, and how he could make his words so penetrating in the snow-capped mountains. Overlapping echoes spread out from the peak one after another.
He guessed for a while, feeling that this unusual behavior was probably Perturabo's official welcome to join the expedition as the Emperor's son.
Perturabo's act of selflessly putting aside personal grudges deeply touched him, but instead of saying it directly, he used indirect methods to let him understand. Could it be that this brother was embarrassed to speak out?
Thousands of thoughts passed by in an instant. In an instant, Perturabo's golden armor crashed in front of him, and the giant hammer hit him head-on with unrivaled rolling wind and thunder. The waves split several feet of ice that never melted all year round, and the overturned layer of snow spread several meters away.
Rogal Dorn immediately defended with his sword, but even his original body could not resist Perturabo's first swing of the hammer. Terrifying golden light filled his field of vision, and in the next moment, the majestic force knocked him several meters away. He used all his reflexes to barely stabilize his posture.
There was a momentary lag in Perturabo's movements, which seemed to come from the hesitation of the primarch himself. In Rogal Dorn's view, this was part of Perturabo's mercy.
After all, apart from this explanation, it cannot be guessed that Perturabo himself is not used to the power he is using now.
"Be careful and guard yourself! For I am at war with you!" Perturabo's war cry amplified and echoed in the mountains. Dorn had heard the loose snow beginning to roll on some mountains, but at this time he had no time to care about anything else, as Perturabo's second attack followed.
He rolled on the spot and then aimed at the gap behind the knees of Perturabo's armor to attack with his sword. A golden light spread from the war hammer and immediately swayed the sword's edge, eliminating all the failed attack power. At the same time, the heavy hammer cracked the several-meter-thick ice layer, and the ice and snow used the precursor of fracture as its mournful cry.
Dorn tried to find an opportunity to stand up, but Perturabo was too fast and he could not complete his combat goal.
As a planet lord, although he did not expect to surpass Perturabo in terms of combat skills or combat experience, he was influenced by a brother who loved building cities for mankind and mainly ordered warriors instead of personally participating in battles. Functionally defeated, Dorne was indeed a bit shocked.
The entire battle quickly evolved into a one-sided show. After hesitating at the beginning, Perturabo took the initiative to accept the power given to him by Morse's warhammer, and moved faster than expected. and power injected into combat through earthy hammer swings.
His only idea was to end the battle quickly and then lock this useful but evil hammer into the Iron Blood's storage room. The only thing he was still curious about was the conditions under which Dorn would admit defeat.
Blood quickly overflowed from the corners of Dorn's mouth and spilled onto the pure white snow. His armor was twisted and dented in many places, and some bones were definitely broken. This was not a fight to the death. Perturabo hoped that Dorn would know the limits of his injuries and call a stop at any time.
Sure enough, after another attack from the golden giant hammer, Dorn called out his name.
Although this move was expected, Perturabo actually felt faintly disappointed in his heart. He was actually looking forward to a scene where he actively stopped the hammer an inch away before smashing into an unyielding chest. Then he stretched out his hand and pulled up this extremely strong stone.
"Perturabo——"
"Rogal Dorn, these are my words to you, in mercy..."
"Avalanche. "Dorn coughed up a mouthful of blood, lay on his back on the ice, and informed Perturabo in the calmest tone.
In an instant, with a rumbling sound like the earth was shattering, ice and snow rolled down, overwhelmingly rushing downwards, howling and roaring like the anger of the earth itself. Their massive battle unsurprisingly caused the snow to collapse.
Mors appeared above Perturabo at some unknown time, and easily grabbed him with a power beyond human scientific understanding, preparing to lift him away from the range where he would be swallowed by ice and snow. The rising ice mist covered Dorn's body, leaving only a blurry golden afterimage.
Without even a moment's thought, Perturabo stretched out his hammer to Dorne as an extension of his arm: "Grab it!"
In a moment that could be called eternity Afterwards, he felt a heavy pull on his right hand holding the hammer. Dorn accurately grasped the edge of his war hammer, and Morse led the two of them to fly high into the sky, waiting for this natural force to vent its last ray of power.
Perturabo found that he was no longer glowing, and Dorn was silently holding the side of his hammer with one hand, hanging there motionless. So he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the warhammer had finally ended its weird additional effects.
“Let all bitterness, wrath, wrath, clamor, slander, and all malice be put away from you,” Morse’s words were barely audible amid the loud noise of the avalanche, "Be kind to one another."
Then he amplified his voice, and his smile covered the roar of the snowy mountains: "Is my gift useful, Perturabo!"
"Very useful," Perturabo shouted back, "But I I will never use it again!”
(End of this chapter)