Chapter 363: Can’t fight, can’t fight at all
The first ray of superhuman blood flew out from under the sharp sword blade.
Not surprisingly.
This is not Sigismund's blood.
A strand of silver hair was cut off from Fulgrim's temples as if he was sighing, and a flash of bright red flew from the corner of the fallen primarch's mouth.
Phoenix's face turned pale and he screamed in annoyance, but even so, he covered his injured face and turned sideways to avoid the next seven or eight consecutive sword slashes.
“How dare you!”
A slight disappointment flashed in the eyes of the templar leader who didn’t even utter a war cry, and then he immediately changed his next step to jump away and block. direction.
But among everyone present, except for Zifeng, perhaps only Magna Dorn clearly saw Sigismund's attack and Fulgrim's dodge.
No other, in fact, Sigismund's attack movements are really.
Too fast.
The tip of the two-handed power sword of the leader of the Templar Knights immediately and firmly slashed across Fulgrim's thigh after the blow to the neck failed, and those gorgeous and exquisite armor pieces were Like snake scales, they shattered and flew under the force field. Fulgrim screamed and angrily kicked Sigismund, who was close to him, in the heart.
The latter rolled on the spot three times in a row, narrowly dodging Fulgrim's long-legged flying kick and subsequent trample.
"Dang! Dang! Dang!"
The sound of the power sword and the single-edged sword clashing is like another harsh noise, and random tuning is introduced into the harmonious music tuning fork.
"Dang! Dang! Dang!"
By the time the sixth blow of the two swords was over, the spine of Sigismund's great sword had been "glued" to Fu like soft spider silk. Grim's.
Even their huge size difference did not prevent Sigismund from using his dexterity to "twist" the latter's single blade until it was almost out of his hand - the Lord Templar's own sword The handle was always firmly tied to his arm with an iron chain, which made him much more convenient in this unfair struggle.
The sword wind, piercing, slashing and slashing of this Imperial Fist in black and yellow armor are so precise, steady and powerful that no trace of redundant power is used for purposes other than attacking. , go all out to attack and defend to the extreme.
But his steps and figure are so incredible - not as nimble and light as the Eldar or the Emperor's Children, but extremely efficient and smooth, every step and every sideways turn The angle was just enough to miss the sharp blade that could cut him into two pieces immediately or break him from the throat to the lower abdomen.
Magna Dorn used the extraordinary dynamic vision ability of the original body to almost obsessively watch and capture every move of Sigismund, ignoring his own injuries and focusing on the subtle self-sustainment of joints and muscles, and the formation of every twist of the body. The angle of attack of torque, each continuous slash achieved with the help of inertia and coordination, is so beautiful, this... This is the elegant balance created by violence and cruelty, calmness and endurance, the art of aggression and the spirit of resistance. The perfect combination with an eternal moment that cannot be repeated.
Although it is not as complicated and beautiful as the swordsmanship of Fulgrim or other Emperor's Children officers and has the charm of a Bacchanalian dance, the swordsmanship shown by Sigismund at this moment is practical. The ultimate move carved another kind of simple and perfect beauty in the air. This kind of beauty is completely different from the current aesthetic common to the empire and the galaxy, but it reminds Magna of Lamizane and Pettu. Rab's beautiful new office on the Ironblood.
Just like the arc drawn by the blade when he swings the weapon or the angle at which he swings the weapon, it can reflect the...
Mystery of this universe?
No, not a mystery.
nature.
Some kind of essence.
The nature of weapons.
The essence of wielding a weapon.
The essence of why to wield a weapon. Magnar suddenly realized that Sigismund was revealing to him the nature of the weapon he now wielded so freely in the presence of a blessed Primarch.
That rich, warm, full and full of hope, it is now supporting the Lord Templar, giving his excellent talents extraordinary abilities.
Magna Dorn tightened her grip on the greatsword in her hand.
I seem to understand a little bit!
Thank you! Hao Xiji!
You must be trying to teach me this! You are such a good person!
Don’t become like the Black Templar in ten thousand years!
Now then! I am coming!
He raised his sword high and rushed into the battle group of the two.
——————————
In the distance, the Emperor's Children and the Imperial Fists defenders battled amid bombs and flames.
Under the gaze of the blood-covered Matheus and Sigismund, Magnar Dorn—"Rogal Dorn"—raised his sword to block Fulgrim. The swords were swung wildly, and the two faced each other in a pace that was like a spinning court dance. Each step of the death pas de deux was trying to find the other's fatal flaw.
Finally, Magna swung his sword several times in a row, and Fulgrim parried it. Magna took the opportunity to press forward, using his sword to block the long blade that stabbed his armor frantically, regardless of the situation. The sword blade, which left a long bloody gash on his side, approached again——
The giant sword drew an arc in the air that could be described as a combination of strength and beauty, and one of Fulgrim's hands moved forward. The scene of falling blood petals left his body, and the door opened wide——
Magna stepped forward——
Dorn's great sword penetrated deeply into Fulgrim's body until it had no handle.
The end of the sword glowed bright red on the spine of the Fallen Primarch's back.
They hugged each other tightly for a moment.
Fulgrim lowered his head, leaned his broken and bleeding face on the shoulder of "Rogal Dorn", and sighed softly.
Then Magnar pulled back, his blade withdrawing from Fulgrim's body cavity with heat, and the Terran Guard cleared his throat, about to say something.
Then they saw the broken and almost cut-in-half Demon Lord opposite, smiling beautifully and maliciously at his brother, with blood staining his teeth and lips purple.
An ominous premonition came to Magna's heart.
"You..."
Before he finished speaking, Fulgrim's wounds and armor began to silently heal themselves, and the brilliant blood he shed quickly turned into powder, and then The wind blew away, and his limbs began to reshape, becoming as smooth as new. His legs began to come together, and his skull began to lengthen. The gleaming gem scales together with his huge bright snake tail finally stood above Magna holding the sword. ·In front of Dorn.
"Did I tell you? Roger?"
He opened his mouth and his tongue came out like a snake letter.
"I won't die, and you are the one who is going to die here today."
Then, in the gaze that was stretched and lengthened due to excessive absurdity, it was much longer than the original one. Fulgrim's larger snake shadow gradually rose higher and higher.
"...How can he be resurrected in the same place?! How the hell is he going to fight?!"
The darkness that finally ended in this battle swallowed up his Before realizing it, Magna Dorn finally couldn't help but cursed Lamizane again with the foul language that he would accidentally say.
(End of this chapter)