Chapter 133 Holy Hammer

What does it take to survive in snow and ice?

This is not a settled 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 the hunt. 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.

Falling 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 arena, with a weapon on the shoulder of a companion, or for the joy our dueling performances will bring to the camp, my friends. I will be satisfied.

"In the recorded history of Invet, the murderous nature of the duel was transformed into a showpiece in a very short period of time," 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, and 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.

Invite's native armor 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 decorated with gold nails, just like the current ones. Just like Rogal Dorn himself, the golden light is scattered sharply.

"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 does not often wear a helmet, although the main reason is that he does not often go to the battlefield. The audio filtering and visual enhancement systems further enhance his perception ability that is far beyond that of mortals and even Astartes, and the carefully designed helmet seems 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 and turned down the fur-studded ears 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.

Golden runes flashed past. The next moment, if anyone is still looking through the window pane of this stone fortress in the ice and snow, they can see three more tiny figures on the snow mountain 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 Inwit 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 Invite's light and air conditions into his assessment of the battlefield, and rehearsed various scenarios in his mind for the battle between the two. 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 Dorn. He felt that the light around him suddenly became a little brighter inexplicably. He wondered if this was a unique astronomical phenomenon due to Invite.

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, echoing in the clouds of the empty mountains. 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 his irises, he saw a golden giant as bright as the Emperor's arrival. The eyes of the armor emitted shining light, and the hammer The phantom of thunder and lightning is wrapped around it.

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.

The words came out of Perturabo's mouth uncontrollably, intensifying the chill in Perturabo's stomach.

He stared at Morse through his helmet and saw that the guy gave him an encouraging smile and gave him a "keep up the good work" 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 what the other party meant from Perturabo's sacred words, "You don't have to fight me. If you have reservations, 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 couldn't put it down at all. At the same time, more High Gothic words automatically popped out of his tongue.

His anxious heart was transformed into noble pity by the echoing sacred voice, and the tone sounded like the murmur of mercy from the saint.

If he 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, and put his hand on the sword uncomfortably. The handle slides.

"What do you think, Perturabo?" Dorn asked, pitifully unaware of why he was wrong. "Did I understand it wrong again?"

It's not your fault this time. Perturabo wanted to say.

"You have no sin in my sight; your words and deeds are upright."

"Really?" Even Dorn was inevitably surprised by Perturabo's rare praise. A bright color flashed in his eyes, although from an objective point of view, it was Perturabo who was getting brighter and brighter. reflection of golden light. "You are a truly forgiving man, 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 speak ill of me. I am not pleased with my Father's ways, and I have never imitated him. This is an accident, it is..."

He wanted to say it was Morse's fault, but only this half of the sentence was completely reversed.

"It is my friendship for you, because you have found favor in my eyes. You share my heart and share the Emperor's grace."

Dorn struggled 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 it is as inexplicable as the Emperor. Become holy.

He just gave Morse a chair that could travel at two hundred miles an hour. Why was the thing Morse gave so unique in bringing people painful experiences?

It's better to start fighting directly. He must end this thing that seems extremely stupid now.

"We will compete before the glory of the Emperor. 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 engage in battle, Perturabo took a deep breath, raised his warhammer and charged 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 foolishness as soon as possible, because it is not in line with the Emperor's will, nor is it our wisdom!"

The Lord of Iron roared loudly, his tone trembling, making Dorn feel even more guilty for 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 and felt 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?

All kinds of thoughts passed by in an instant. In an instant, Perturabo's golden armor crashed in front of him. The giant hammer brought unrivaled rolling wind and thunder and hit him head on. The air waves it brought only split the year-round. Several feet of ice melted, and the overturned layer of snow spread several meters away.

Rogal Dorn immediately defended himself with his sword, but even his Primarch's body could not resist Perturabo's first swing of the hammer. The terrifying golden light filled his field of vision, and the next moment, the majestic force knocked him several meters away. He used all his reaction power to barely stabilize his posture.

Perturabo's movements were momentarily stuck, which seemed to be due to the Primarch's hesitation. In Rogal Dorn's view, this was part of Perturabo's kindness.

After all, apart from this explanation, it can't be speculated that Perturabo himself is not used to the power he is using now.

"You must be careful! Because I am fighting with you!" Perturabo's battle cry was amplified and echoed among the mountains. Dorn had heard the loose snow on some mountains began to roll, but at this time he had no time to care about things outside, and Perturabo's second attack followed.

He rolled on the ground and aimed at the gap behind Perturabo's armor knees. A golden light spread from the hammer and immediately swept away the sword, eliminating all the failed attack power. At the same time, the heavy hammer smashed the ice layer several meters thick, and the ice and snow used the sign of breaking as its sad cry.

Dorn tried to find the right opportunity to stand up, but Perturabo was too fast and he couldn't complete his combat goal at all.

As a planet master, he didn't expect to surpass Perturabo in combat skills or combat experience, but being defeated by a brother who loved to build cities for humans and mainly commanded warriors instead of personally participating in the battle did make Dorn a little shocked.

The whole battle quickly turned into a one-sided performance. After the initial hesitation, Perturabo took the initiative to accept the power given to him by Morse's hammer, and injected the speed and power far beyond expectations into the battle through the simple swing of the hammer.

His only thought was to end the battle quickly, and then lock this useful but weird hammer into the storage room of the Iron Blood. The only thing he could still be curious about was under what conditions Dorn would admit defeat.

Blood soon overflowed from the corners of Dorn's mouth and sprinkled on 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 limit of his injuries and call for a stop at any time.

Sure enough, after another attack from the Golden Hammer, Dorn called out his name.

Although this move was expected, Perturabo was actually faintly disappointed in his heart. He actually expected a scene where the heavy hammer would stop an inch away before hitting a chest that would never yield. Then he reached out and pulled up this extremely resolute stone.

"Perturabo--"

"Rogal Dorn, this is what I say to you, I forgive..."

"Avalanche." Dorn coughed up a mouthful of blood, lying on his back on the ice, and informed Perturabo in the calmest tone.

In an instant, with a rumbling sound like the collapse of the sky and the crack of the earth, the ice and snow rolled and rushed down in an overwhelming manner, howling like the anger of the earth itself. Their massive battle unsurprisingly caused an avalanche of snow.

Morse appeared above Perturabo at some point, easily grabbed him with a power beyond human scientific cognition, and prepared to lift him away from the range where he would be swallowed by the ice and snow. The rising ice mist covered Dorn's body, leaving only a vague golden afterimage.

Perturabo did not even think for a moment, and extended his hammer to Dorn as an extension of his arm: "Grab it!"

After a moment that could be called eternity, a heavy pull came from his right hand holding the hammer. Dorn grabbed the edge of his hammer accurately, and Morse took the two of them high into the sky, waiting for the great force of nature to release its last ray of power.

Perturabo found that he was no longer glowing, and Dorn was silently holding the edge of his hammer with one hand, hanging there motionless. So he breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the hammer had finally ended its strange additional effect.

"All bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor, slander, and all malice should be put away from you," Morse's words were almost inaudible in the roar of the avalanche, "and you should be kind to each other."

Then he raised his voice, his smile covering the roar of the snow mountain: "Is my gift useful, Perturabo!"

"It works very well," Perturabo shouted back, "but I will never use it again!"