Free Interlude Collection of Dark Eldar Stories (From Reader Yuan Tuanzi)

Free interlude: Dark Eldar story collection (from reader Yuan Tuanziyo)

——This is a work by reader +Yuan Tuanziyo+, telling the story of Nefertari and the "Dusk Ghost" handed over to Vulcan for disposal——

————Interlude: The Birth of a Bird by Yuan Tuanziyo————

The smell of alchemical potions mixed with the ozone breath brought by the special force field that kills harmful microorganisms, mixed with the fishy smell of flesh and bones, the sweetness of pain and joy, and the stench of burning organic matter floated in the cold secret room.

The owner of the secret room, hunched over his thin body, which was much taller than most residents in this dim city, slowly walked around the material of today's work, as if on the third planet illuminated by the yellow star in its prime that gave birth to his genetic foundation, a huge feline predator that once strolled in the forest and snow, silently, elegantly, and full of deadly power, calmly paced.

Today's material is not the kind he likes. If it was those who were full of sin, his claws would not hesitate for a moment, because pity was not the kind of emotion he valued. If it was those who were motivated by ambition, his heart would not throb for a moment, because all pain must be rewarded, this is the rule of this ancient city, even he is powerless and has no desire to break it.

But today's material is unfamiliar to him. Love. An individual who has obtained the opportunity of expensive natural disaster transformation because of love, almost only half of the adolescence of the Eldar life cycle, hanging on a temporary surgical stent composed of the tentacles of two silent Talos pain engines, countless mechanical and organic limbs from the ancient technology, or the technical memory in the brain of the Lord of the Chamber, stretched out from the rock wall, quietly suspended around the beautiful naked body.

Although in the superhuman senses and consciousness of the Bloody Marquis, he could instinctively explain from dozens of details why the body in front of him was so different from the race that constituted the basic structure of his genetic sub-structure. From the four-helix genetic structure to the organs, bones, and muscles that are completely different but similar in every way, at the bottom of his consciousness, in the subconscious of the race that is his most direct biological ancestor, how instinctively he would think that this is a kind of person, how this perfect body would stimulate the most primitive desires of this primitive race, all of this in his superhuman consciousness, as clear as the pages of a book, stimulating his brain to think endlessly.

How... how primitive and ugly. No matter which race, the instinct to continue their genetic information through primitive means will stimulate what kind of desire, and how much that desire will suppress reason, and how much sin will it bring. Those sins, whether in the residents with pointed ears in this city that he has seen with his naked eyes, or on the star of eternal night that he has seen in his dreams, he has already seen them all... My legion, he thought, my legion must not have such a weakness. Just like countless times before, this moment of thinking exploded countless memories in his mind. It was as if someone had written all this in his mind a long time ago.

Chemical castration, brainwashing education, memory weakening, mental castration, mental discipline, no, more than that. He saw the street illuminated by dim neon lights, through the strange, dark red vision, familiar yet unfamiliar words and icons flowed in the vision, marking the outline of a person. It was as if his height had become shorter. There were many people around "him", many people who were about the same height as "him", his, brother? No, not the mechanical brother, no, not so noble, not so great, like "him", born from the warm body of the mother, only a vague past, only love for the father of genes, only the unrestrained pursuit of order and justice, everything can be sacrificed, everything.

The outfit of the law enforcer who maintained order was strange and familiar, the bustling crowd, what was the elderly female individual shouting? Why did she ignore the order? Why did she squeeze through the crowd? He should know, he should remember, why did the individual shout the name that did not belong to "him" but belonged to him? His name? The name of his offspring? Why could she know that what was wrapped in the midnight blue armor and the skull-like mask was... the sound of gunfire, the fallen old body. He should have remembered, he should have stopped it, he should have felt heartbroken, he should have felt that as a living being he had lost something that he could not lose. But "he" could not feel it, he could not feel these, "he" only felt a strange and vague vibration. He should have cried, but "he" was only calm. He should have been angry and sad about his mother's death, but "he" only silently accepted that it was natural for an individual who destroyed the order to be wiped out by the order. All this was because of him! Because he took away "his" basic desire as a living being, and took away "his" instinct. No, no, no, no!

The touch of cold rocks and hot, sticky vomit slowly soaking his hands from his palms and knees awakened the young marquis. How strange the touch of warm liquid rolling down his cheeks was. Two faces overlapped in front of him. One of the Eldar, and one of the human. A servile, flattering and fearful face of a man who was kept young by dark technology, or a pale and old face, ignoring everything around her, full of pride and blind joy, and the face of a woman who had been robbed of more vitality by years of malnutrition and labor than time had taken away. Such different faces, but in the same dark eyes, the primitive will of the individual who only watched the continuation of his own genes was so similar.

"...What will you say, craftsman?" The dark eyes that were exactly the same as the other two eyes seemed to shoot through the barrier of the dimension and look directly at the black man standing shoulder to shoulder with his metal brother. Although the two men were not genetically related, in the eyes of the young marquis, they were the closest example of the concept of family he had. "What will you say? Perturabo? My brother? Or will you throw me into the wall again, for what I will do to my offspring?"

No one answered. Neither Mandrake Warriors nor Nightmares were allowed to enter this room, and the young new Haemonculus did not have his own apprentices and servants. The face under the Talos Engine's mask, no, these unintelligent flesh and machine blends naturally would not have any interest in their master's occasional attacks, only some smaller flesh and blood constructs cleaned up the filth he left on the ground according to instinctive procedures. A pair of long arms mixed with flesh and blood and machinery cleaned the attachments on his hands with a precise decomposition position, with a slight stinging feeling, without leaving any traces.

"Ubermensch" Razor-thin lips spit out a word that would be classified as the ancient Germania language in today's human empire. The Marquis chewed on the word and repeated it several times, as if it was so strange and yet so familiar. "Prophet, guide, prophet, hero" In the dim light, he raised his hands high and looked at his sharp claws like a scalpel. Then, he slowly put them down and almost gently drew the ink line on the slender shoulder blade of the "material".

The snow-white skin opened up, revealing the fat and deep red muscles that were much thinner than those of humans and almost difficult to identify with the naked eye. The body sleeping in the dreamland under the restraint of alchemical drugs trembled slightly, and the countless slender servo arms extending from the rock wall gathered silently like scavenging fish in the sea, deeply buried in the incision as precise as a work of art.

"All species will create and give birth to existence beyond themselves" The ancient Germania language recited the words of the philosopher whose image has been distorted countless times in the long river of history. "And the transcendent person can only accept his instinct and guide the energy of the primitive impulse to achieve the higher achievements in culture or social sharing."

The nimble and slender fingers danced in the flesh without any unnecessary movements, like art. Just like the covenant reached with the future overlord, as a symbol of submission to the bloody marquis, the white skin of the body gradually turned healthy brown-black under the genetic editing, and the long hair that was originally as black as the night sky gradually faded, shining like silver-white moonlight.

"Existence beyond the self..." The wings edited by the genetic material taken from the body, a pair of slender and graceful wings covered with feathers that seemed to be wet crows, shining with beautiful blue-purple metallic halo, were implanted in the shoulders of the body. Under the effect of countless alchemical potions, the bones twisted and deformed at a speed visible to the naked eye, healed together, and the muscles and tendons connected themselves. This huge pain can take the life of a mortal even under anesthesia. Only a determined will can turn this pain into the essence of life.

If this was an ordinary Haemonculus operating table, there must be dozens or even hundreds of slaves around, wailing in the torture carefully calculated by the master of the vicious art, nourishing and maintaining the existence on the operating table with their own life essence, but for the Bloody Marquis, all this is unnecessary. The life essence condensed from the dead in the previous battle and the pain he experienced in countless premonitions is enough to maintain the life of the girl on the stage.

"I offer my clan, my wealth and my loyalty" the mediocre noble of Gomor kneeled in front of the new overlord and the marquis, swearing his loyalty with a flattering expression. "All I ask is that in your great plan, let my only daughter, the gem left to me by my lost love, keep the chaotic child who is not suitable for this city away from all these dangers."

That was a man who couldn't be more ordinary, and a clan that couldn't be more mediocre. Even by the standards of the two young ambitious people now, his clan could not be called a very attractive existence. But something felt from that man made the young marquis agree to his request.

Then the man resolutely proved his loyalty with his own life.

He did not use the red bat wings that he usually used to create natural disasters, but instead made black feathers that matched the emblem of the man's clan. Perhaps it was a hint of tenderness in the Marquis's unconsciousness.

"...I can't decide the fate of your daughter, this impatient father." The black-haired demigod whispered, gently stroking the healing flesh around the implanted alchemical pump. "...Maybe you will be a much better father than me?" Pale fingers stroked the dark skin and slightly trembling wings. "Maybe you are wiser than me. Maybe you are better than the people I know of yours..." He shook his head slightly. "It doesn't matter anymore. But maybe I will learn a little from you. Maybe I should let my offspring retain more of their nature,"

Another trance made him stagger. A mountain cat? An axe carved with a wolf's head? A dark-skinned youth dressed in red and gold? A hound with burning hands? A court swordsman wearing a silver mask? More adventures? No, this is not his destiny. It belongs to the child in front of him.

But what future is certain?

"Then... at the moment you are reborn, my child," the Son of God who controls sin and punishment whispered in the ear of the young raptor who was about to open his eyes, "let me give you a new name. You don't have to remember it, because when someone calls you by this name, your souls will be entangled forever."

The long silver eyelashes of the sleeping girl trembled. Fate swirls in the silk thread before the birth of the young raptor.

"Nefertari" a name deeply loved by an ancient king flows out of the lips of the demigod.

A graceful raptor descended on this world.

————Interlude: A certain prisoner by Yuan Tuanziyo————

+++Criminal Record+++

+++ 843M30NCT-WC-DE-001+++

"The defendant, Melatarin Tehashira of the Dark Eldar, belongs to the Broken Claw Cult, and is 140 standard Terran years old. In the Dark Eldar raids known as the Twilight Ghosts, he committed a total of 15 second-degree murders, 5 blasphemy of truth, and attempted first-degree assault. The victim was the Primarch Vulkan, 15 second-degree assaults, 7 second-degree ordinary kidnappings, 15 armed robberies, and 3 arson. According to the latest judicial interpretation by the Ministry of Justice, praising the wisdom and justice of the Emperor and the Primarch, the lawsuit was initiated by the legal representative of the Eighteenth Legion according to the wartime summary military court, and the representative sent by the Eighteenth Legion defended him. Based on the defendant's confession and the testimony of the victim's representative, the Primarch of the Eighteenth Legion, Lord Vulkan, he was sentenced to life enslavement, and executed in the form of semi-machine slaves. He cannot be commuted or paroled within 200 years. The defendant has given up the appeal, and this judgment is final."

+++ AVE JUSTITIUS IMPERIALLI +++

The tall stone hall, the barbarians sitting upright, and the strange nobleman and the iron-masked wreckage sitting on the high platform. Ah, the wreckage is repeating the judgment in a beautiful aristocratic accent. So annoying. I can understand the barbarians' language, what is this? A drama? A victory performance? The justice of the barbarians? It has nothing to do with me. I failed. I am a loser, so my life is naturally in the hands of the winner, the huge black barbarian. I remember him. Yes, I remember. The speed and elegance that make the succubus I serve ashamed... What kind of torture will be waiting for me? The crude torture of the barbarians who worship the lizard-releasing barbarian is painful, but it is completely without any refinement and elegance. It's really disappointing.

Why am I seeing this scene again? Don't I have the ability to dream without permission? Or is this what they want me to see.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" In my hazy consciousness, I seemed to hear an overly loud and beautiful voice. Just this voice made me feel the trembling and joy running from the bottom of my spine into my brain.

"This is my gift. Giving up personal revenge and handing it over to the law is naturally noble, but relief for the victim is also indispensable." This voice with a familiar accent seemed to scratch every nerve in my body, making me want to beg for mercy and scream, but I knew it was useless. No, maybe I was screaming at that time? I don't remember. It would be great if I still remembered the pain and fear at that time. I don't know how many nobles would go bankrupt to get that experience once. This is my only memory. Ah, it's too much, why did you take these treasures from me? Sharp claws took out eyeballs, cut muscles and bones, that is the ultimate in flesh and blood art, why don't I remember it? Ah...'The prisoner has no right to access related memories on his own'. Am I being warned? There is no way.

"Question." The rock-hard voice was a little far away this time. "Conrad, why is it that the negative emotions in the screams of the sample during such anesthesia-free machine slave transformation surgery are far less than the positive emotions? This is not in line with common sense... Perturabo? Why did you pull me away? What do you mean you don't need to know? This is a rare and precious experimental sample of alien physiology..."

It's really interesting. They didn't delete this piece of memory.

——

The awakening program is over, and the atonement unit MT-01A is activated 920 843———————

The memory was interrupted abruptly, and the vision began to brighten. Lines of barbarian text and icons quickly swept across the left field of vision, and even my vision far superior to that of the barbarians could not see clearly. This seems to be a strange persistence and tradition of the barbarian machinery. In the end, all the text disappeared, leaving only the indicator box and a line of warning in the field of vision

——

Deprivation of autonomous action, five seconds ago, 4, 3, 2, 1————————————

I have become very accustomed to not resisting. Although I cannot see it, I know that the collar made of the leather of volcanic reptiles living on the planet I once plundered is actually a kind of machine that has been healed with my original skin. Its countless tentacles are connected to my nerves, and at the back of my neck, the warning lights on the mechanical and biological devices under the golden bionic skin with several barbarian standard digital interfaces have turned red. The next moment, a coldness flowed through my whole body. I would not be able to speak my own words, my brain could not transmit commands to my limbs, and I could not even make expressions freely. Only my eyes still belonged to me, but if I deliberately closed them for too long... Well, I won't try again. There is no joy in that kind of pain.

This seems to be my punishment. And I have learned to accept it.

The hibernation chamber hums, and the internal lighting allows me to see my own reflection on the armored crystal hatch. The people who transformed me are geniuses. No, not only by the standards of the barbarians, but even by the standards of the masters in the legend of Gomorrah, they are flawless. My physical appearance has hardly changed, except that my hair has been combed into the simple and elegant style of the imperial servants. The machines implanted in my body are completely invisible from the outside, and there is no trace on my lower abdomen where the metal spear pierced. Who can tell that they once peeled off my skin, leaving only the piece on my forehead that was stabbed with the Black Heart Blade, and now my body is all bionic skin made of my genes? I can even sweat! The giant with long white hair said that this will make the visitors I serve feel more natural. Well, I don’t hate this. Speaking of which, what exactly does the one who calls himself the Bloody Marquis want to do by taking my skin? Damn, I’m starting to look forward to it.

My green eyes, well, they are still the same. My left eye has been replaced with a mechanical one, but you can't tell from the outside if you don't look closely. My arms below the shoulders, my legs below the hips, well, they are all cut off. It looks like a work of art made of white porcelain and golden ball joints that are very close to the color of my skin. The joints are inlaid with crystals ground from green dragon scales. What a bad taste. It seems that this is another rule of those ignorant people called Mechanicus by the barbarians? The appearance of social slaves and pleasure slaves must have a certain mechanical component. Well, pleasure slaves, I like the trembling look of the red-robed priest when he said this, and the expressions of those giants, especially the black giant I am serving now.

I still hate the few seconds when the organic matter and water recycling device automatically cuts off my lower body's tactile sense when it is connected, but it seems that this is the decision made immediately by the red-robed priest's words to the giant with half of his body made of mechanical bones. What a boring person, even by the barbarian standards, hum.

——

Dressing completed, the operation of the Atonement Unit MT-01A begins——————————

"Primarch Vulcan, the Atonement Unit MT-01A, unit call sign Mela, at your service."

The sound from my vocal cords and mouth, although rhythmic and not as mechanical as the sounds of other flesh-blood-machine hybrid creations I have seen on this ship, is not due to my habit or will, but just an automatic playback when a machine is started and contacts everyone for the first time in a Terran day.

However, if according to what the Blood Lord said when I first started it, if I am unwilling to atone and intend to resist, it will not work properly, well, it seems that I am still quite obedient.

After all, I am the loser, and the loser has no right to resist the winner. This is the justice of Gomor. It is said that there are more changes now, but with me, well, it should have nothing to do with it.

It is better than being transformed into a freak or a pain engine.

It seems that at the suggestion of the Blood Lord, all of my people are bound to the black-skinned giant in front of me. Of course, I know him. It was he who nearly killed me with one punch. If I hadn't been frightened by the rage he exuded when I killed the barbarian blacksmith, I would have never been able to dodge that fatal punch. The rage he exuded at that time was really terrible and sweet. It was also him who described in that court with an extremely calm attitude what he understood to be my crimes by the barbarian standards. Well, suppressing terrible anger and murderous intent at the same time, but that alone was not enough. From the hatred, anger, contempt, and pity in his eyes when I first walked out of the maintenance cabin and stood in front of him and said the same words as the first words I uttered today...ah. If it weren't for the neural control that prevented my face from making any expression, I couldn't imagine how my expression would melt into something shameful just by his stare.

My mechanical hands, made by the purple giant with long white hair, look cold but are soft and warm, and have a more sensitive sense of touch than my original hands. Now I am holding a heavy metal tray with a kettle as big as my upper body, and two huge teacups that are big enough for an average barbarian to wash his face. This weight makes the natural muscles of my shoulders and upper arms ache violently, but the reinforced bones and implanted artificial muscles completely offset the tremors. This pain, well, is probably part of the punishment in the eyes of the barbarians. I can't say it is not a punishment for me, but it is also a sweet torture, a kind of life force that keeps flowing...ah ha...

The giant with brass eyes sitting opposite everyone in the depths of my vision glared at me, ah, that fearless fighter. The electronic eye recognized him in the field of vision the moment it captured him, and then made my face make a quiet and obedient smile, but I could feel something touching my mind, and then he slightly widened his eyes for a moment and moved half the distance of an ordinary barbarian to the depths of the sofa where he sat.

"What's wrong with you, my brother?" My all-powerful voice was still so gentle and deep, the dragon leather sleeveless shirt was tightly attached to his huge body, I couldn't help, well, maybe not so involuntarily, staring at his body that seemed like the gods incarnated in the mortal world. If such a mortal god personally ravaged me, would I resist? I don't know, but my life and death once depended on him, and now it depends on him, so it doesn't seem to be a sin to fantasize about it, right?

"...Nothing" Ah, the liberator of the red sand moved half a body. His disgusted eyes that turned away from me deliberately made people tremble all over. "Is this the machine slave punishment? Sorry, Vulcan, but I think it might be more merciful to execute the alien."

"I told Conrad that everyone will pay off their debts one day." Ah, how sweet, the anger that is still rolling and a trace of pity... So, the man I killed was someone he regarded as a relative, although I don't know why, but I suddenly understood. That's it. He hated us and me so much... "Conrad also told me... In fact, I knew it myself a long time ago. If he hadn't reconciled with the Eldar, I would have killed all the humans in that room, and this woman. I later saw the wounds on this woman's body. The descendants of my compatriots tortured her, using the methods she and her kind used. I understand that this is a natural behavior, but if Conrad hadn't gone in with me, I might have given this woman a quick death first, and then..."

Why do you blame yourself?

Why are you more miserable than me who was tortured?

I am a loser, and it is natural for losers to be ravaged. Why do you want to punish your compatriots for this?

Do you think they are corrupted?

No.

You think that they would rather break the bottom line to protect their benefactors, and the behavior of those fugitives who herd lizards is in line with your justice, but it will make your hometown bear the wrath of the empire...

You...

I'm sorry...

Ah, why didn't the neural control touch my eyes?

Not because of pain or ecstasy, but because it's so strange to shed tears because of this strange feeling.

I'm sorry...

"So I plan to give her a chance. Just like Conrad gave her compatriots, I will actually give her a period of control of her body before she needs to replenish nutrition and complete a day's duties to enter the dormant program, so that she can meet her needs in the living area of ​​the lower servants..." Don't stop suddenly, all of my people, torture me with your feelings, isn't it a rare opportunity? Although I don't know why, I can feel what you think, what is this feeling of tearing the body and soul apart? I have never experienced it.

Why should I say sorry? For what? Is this what the Blood Marquis said about reflection? I don't know, but I think it would be better if I hadn't made you feel those things.

Ah, the plate was taken over. There was a little confusion in the instructions. Don't wipe my face with your fingers, you...

Is this your new ravage on me?

"...In this case, I have no reason to object"

Listen, big black guy, your brothers have said so.

"Atonement Unit MT-01A, your mission here is lifted. According to the standard work process, go to the training area as a simulated enemy to participate in the recruit training. You are allowed to replenish nutrition freely from 1400 to 1500 standard time on the ship. The activity range is D-25-C-1 area, go"

"Yes, my Lord"

I don't want to obey, are you going to let me escape like this? Are you going to let me go like this?

I don't want to.

This is torture for me.

So your recruits will be unlucky in a while, and I will invest several times more than yesterday.

Don't regret it!

Don't regret it! My Lord!

There are still many days to come! ! ! ! ! !

Although no one noticed, the footsteps of the individual called Atonement Unit MT-01A were much more flexible and natural than before when they walked through the corridor.

"What a strange story"

In a bar in a certain hive spaceport after the Great Crusade had become a thing of the past, young void sailors were still unsatisfied and muttered that the story lacked content that would have made these young boys more excited and stimulating.

"It's a strange story, but if you listen to it all, you will become grandfathers."

The storyteller stood up with a smile, wearing an all-weather cloak and putting the straw of the drink into the drinking port of the helmet.

"There are many interesting stories. If I am lucky, I will tell you again."

The one who left a few silver coins on the bar was a white porcelain-colored, slender and soft mechanical hand. The beautiful nails polished by unknown organic crystals flashed green fluorescence under the dim light of the lighting ball.

————Interlude: Gladiator by Yuan Tuanziyo————

Once there was a wise man who didn't know which race he belonged to, or there would be such a wise man in any intelligent race in this galaxy. He once said that life is a continuous confrontation. Therefore, for any intelligent race that has developed individual consciousness, whether it is to learn this confrontation, or to declare the advantages in this confrontation, or even to experience the ability to participate in primitive confrontation that they cannot have, any such species will give birth to a limited violent confrontation as entertainment.

The venues that accompany this kind of entertainment are either round or spherical due to the universal physical principles in this galaxy. This is no exception on this human immigrant planet named after the mountains where the ancient gods lived.

Two pairs of bare feet moved in circles on the fine white sand, a pair of petite and slender, perfectly shaped feet, and slender legs that seemed to be made of a soft, jade-white ceramic material. The bright gold color of the joints at the knees, ankles and toes made it look like a doll's limbs. The inorganic feeling brought by the perfectly shaped toenails made of light green organic crystals and its soft and natural movements are integrated, beautiful and weird.

The other pair of legs and feet, although not as slender, and slightly huge for human feet, are also well-proportioned, slender and beautiful. However, one of them has a healthy wheat color, with light scars and slightly protruding nerve interfaces, while the other is a mechanical creation made of harder red metal, which is no less powerful than the opponent's feet. It makes a barely audible driving sound with flexible movements. Under the smooth black iron joints and the armor plates that slide slightly with the movements, the occasional flashing blue light seems to be brewing a unique power.

However, neither of the two opponents intends to use any additional assistance.

Under the bright light as daylight emitted from the lighting balls arranged on the carefully designed lamp posts so as not to interfere with the sight of the two competitors in the circular field of white sand and to minimize shadows, the gladiators who circled each other like two beautiful feline predators were all women.

The girl had artificial feet like white porcelain, and also had hands that were made in the same way. The body connected by the inorganic limbs was slender and even, like the most ideal female body that humans could dream of. The color difference between the white skin and the inorganic limbs was so small that it made people feel a bit inhuman. The emerald green almond-shaped eyes that once shot out arrogant eyes on the slightly childish face were now as calm as water. The half-long black hair was simply tied up, and a pair of short ears like daggers announced that she was not human. On her slender neck, the collar made of fire dragon leather, inlaid with a photon thinking engine, and the golden bionic skin on the back of her neck were symbols of her being a criminal punished for slavery. The functional synthetic material short vest and shorts tightly wrapped around her young body exposed her perfectly shaped belly. In her right hand, she held a tuning fork-like training wide double-edged short spear, and the simulated blade net wrapped in her left hand was kept in the most suitable state for spreading.

If this alien girl has a posture that is like the embodiment of agility and elegance, then the woman who is confronting her can be said to be the embodiment of strength and beauty. Although she has a height and physique that exceeds that of ordinary men, this does not hurt her beauty as a woman. Her graceful and well-proportioned muscles are like the embodiment of a female warrior carved by the Ultramar people based on an ideal athlete. Her slightly thicker frame than that of an ordinary human does not make her look clumsy. Under her red hair that is braided into countless braids is a still young face. She has eyes of the same color as her opponent, but they seem to burn with blazing flames and reveal a ferocious smile like a beast. She had tiny scars and neural interfaces on her body, like her legs, marking countless battles. If someone familiar with the Empire's technology was here, they would be surprised that someone had actually performed a quasi-Astartes transformation on a young woman, which was considered to be extremely cost-effective because it had a very high success rate but was also extremely expensive and could not produce gene seeds for continuation. However, when people saw the giant mouth tattoos on her shoulders that were exposed because she was wearing the same clothes as the other party, they would immediately feel relieved. In the hands of the liberated slave, there was a spear that was slightly longer than her height and had a huge gun blade that was like a dagger even for a legionnaire.

The weapons of the two gladiators were flashing with sparks simulating the activation of weapons. Although the body hit by it would not be injured, it would lose some or even all of its functions due to the special electric current.

This was not a formal fight, so there were only a few people in the audience, and the special thing was that most of them were legionnaires wearing power armor, and the few mortals were mostly focused on adjusting various equipment that would be used in the competition, and ignored the confrontation in the field.

"Who do you think will win? Huh?" Along with the sound of rude chewing, a young but slightly hoarse voice sounded in the audience. "Master of swordsmanship? Who is better?"

"I never predict or evaluate the outcome of a fair fight, my dear Fire Fist brother." A soft, sweet voice sounded. "But speaking of personal preferences, I have no intention of belittling the martial arts of your genetic father's sisters, but I prefer the skills of the Fire Dragon Lord's... Pleasure Machine Slave?" The speaker let out a deliberate laugh. . "By the way, Terra, ha, the pleasure machine slave of the Lord of Fire Dragons, believe me, brother, if those boring chroniclers are allowed to see that venue use application, they will definitely be able to write delusional works that will sell well for a century."

"That's just a matter of legal definition." A third voice sounded, accompanied by the faint servo drive sound of the power armor sitting down and the friction sound of metal gloves rummaging for nuts in the paper bag. "For God's sake, Leo, we didn't do the intensive surgery to make you chew kaaba nuts in their shells."

"Anyway, it can be eaten and eaten. Go on, great scholar." The first voice made a more deliberate chewing sound, while the third voice let out a long sigh.

"That's just a legal issue, defined in the document." A third voice brought the topic back. "Any machine slave that retains functional external genitalia is legally considered a pleasure machine slave. The noble personality of the master of the 18th Legion should not be slandered by such frivolous suggestions. Not to mention the alien girl" The hand wrapped only in a gold-red iron glove gestured towards the smaller one among the gladiators: "It's just a prisoner who is subjected to semi-machine slavery. Surgery to remove the reproductive system is performed on a prisoner who has the possibility of being released after serving his sentence." It’s unnecessary, unreasonable and too cruel.”

"Oh my God, Scholar," the second voice uttered a pretentious lament, "I never knew you were so good at chatting to death. As far as I know, your legion does not chemically or mentally castrate its recruits. Tradition? Can’t you sympathize with mortals’ enthusiasm for entertainment in that regard?”

"If you want to play noisily." The first voice growled slightly. "Please speak plainly, please. Especially you, a great scholar. As soon as this guy opened his mouth along the way, you rushed to pick up his thread. I really don't know how you won that ax from Ruth's wolf cub." Yes. Shut up now, it looks like the boss is about to start."

The three young warriors immediately shut their mouths and turned their sights inside the circle.

The distance between the gladiators on the white sand is gradually shrinking at a subtle speed.

"Although I have fought with your kind several times," the red-haired gladiator's spear tip trembled slightly, moving back and forth in front of her opponent's chest, while her opponent's tuning-fork-like short spear pointed diagonally at the ground. Drawing small circles from time to time, while mostly hidden behind the body, the counterweight hanging under the blade net of the left hand swayed with exquisite tiny movements, reflecting the light and making an exquisite and crisp collision sound. "But this is the first time for me to compete one-on-one with a warrior like you."

"Really?" The young Eldar girl's steps gradually became more agile from cautious sliding steps, as if she started to dance. "How did you fight?" She was temporarily given complete control over her body and language, and smiled like a predator.

"With a gun" seemed to correspond to her dance steps, and the daughter of the Red Sand Star also changed her rhythm. The toned feet took one step on the white sand, and then the other. The strong yet soft body gradually lowered itself and started running, while the broad gun head was still pointed steadily at the opponent's chest and abdomen. "The more guns, the better. You are very fast and flexible, but if you have enough guns, you will be beaten badly, and we will be beaten easily."

"That kind of battle is not happy at all." She shook her head slightly. The girl, who was nearly a head and a half shorter than her opponent, jumped up into the sky without any warning. Her slender body crossed the opponent's head. The red-haired warrior instinctively raised his head. head, but only saw the silhouette of the girl carrying the lighting ball like a dancer. Her battle-experienced instinct made her jump back suddenly, and at the same time, she crossed her hands and waved the wide gun head and gun shaft into a fan that covered her from waist to head. , under the crisp sound of gold and iron clashing, the girl in the air slightly twisted her waist to lose the amazing momentum, landed outside the threat range of the spear, flipped backwards, and once again covered most of her weapon with her body. . "It's no fun fighting for anything other than fighting, human."

"Is fighting fun?" A wry smile appeared on the face of the woman who once had her leg amputated to satisfy those nobles' desire for fighting. "This is really enviable. Do you like fighting?"

Two people, two gladiators, once again began a cautious confrontation.

"Well, I like it, don't you like it? Then why do you ask for this battle?" The Witch Spirit girl shook off the blade net in her left hand and began to spin, jump, and dance, her fair cheeks flushed, and her emerald green eyes Sparkling under the light, her rose-colored lips were slightly parted, revealing a sweet smile that seemed to be seeking pleasure in front of her lover. "I like fighting very much. Look, look, haven't you seen the beauty in the dance of that beautiful person? Haven't you seen the brilliance of the silver blade under his seven-layered robe?"

She is dancing. That was the dance the Phoenician men in purple once danced in front of thousands of people the other day. The blade net flashed in the light, surrounding her body like a gorgeous tulle. The golden joints on the white porcelain-like prosthetic limbs and the emerald green crystals like deep pools were like magnificent jewelry. She smiled, her eyes staring at her opponent, and then seemed to be looking in a more distant direction. Both the woman in front of her and the legionnaires watching the battle held their breath for a brief moment.

Compared to the purple phoenix, the dance steps must be immature. But the fresh life dancing in the dance steps and the joy from the bottom of my heart are like fire and clear spring.

"I like fighting very much. I like defeating my opponent." She stabbed out a spear, and when the momentum was not exhausted, it turned into a slash as her body rotated. "I also like to be defeated." With a well-timed leap back, the spear head she chopped off collided with the red-haired gladiator's big spear. The crisp echo was like the right accompaniment in a dance, and her slender body floated lightly with the help of it. The ground swings open. "My fights, every fight makes me stronger, allows me to enjoy more pain and joy, and brings me closer to the perfect martial arts of Kara Mansha Kahn. My fights can also make me richer , it fills my audience with vitality, makes me noticed, and brings me closer to the achievements of the muses, so I like fighting.”

"Is that so?" The Nucerian smiled bitterly and sighed. "...That's it"

"That's right." The legionnaire known as the scholar in the stands suddenly sighed. "According to the research of my genetic father, the nets used by gladiators in the era known as Rome were not like this. The fishing net gladiators at that time threw the fishing nets around their opponents and then attacked with tridents, like The nets of these Eldar gladiators are fixed on the arm armor, and are closer to the cloaks used in gladiatorial combat more than a thousand years after the Roman era than to fishing nets..."

"Shut your mouth and watch the fight, great scholar!"

"Please don't kill the scenery while enjoying a duel between beautiful ladies, okay my friend?"

The other two mercilessly interrupted the young man's subconscious lecture on the history of ancient Terran martial arts.

The small commotion in the stands did not have any impact on the two people on the field. The snow-white antelope and the red lioness were still facing each other, gliding, sprinting, briefly running, leaping, and retreating without revealing any flaws. , there are not many real confrontations, but there are only a few in this arena who can clearly see the sprints, weapon swings and blocks that are far beyond the eyesight of unmodified humans.

"I don't like fighting. At least I don't like gladiatorial combat." The red-haired Valkyrie spoke in a low voice at the moment when the two of them crossed paths, after avoiding the blade net trying to wrap up the spear.

"You have so many reasons to step into the arena for yourself. If I had heard decades ago that there was such a thing in this galaxy, I might have died of jealousy."

The gun handles of the two men were intertwined again. It was an overly primitive and one-sided struggle that rarely happened between these skilled warriors. Before the smaller one could release the pressure that could almost crush the rock, The two pairs of emerald green eyes stared at each other for several seconds.

"I'm actually very curious about why a gladiator would participate in a robbery. So I applied for this competition with you." After regaining distance, the woman who walked out of the red sand shook her head, lowered her weapon, and signaled a pause. . "Judging from the recently updated information in the legion's database, your kind's plundering of other intelligent races is actually closer to a behavior between hunting and entertainment, right?" While saying this, The woman who had been fighting under the banner of the Twelfth Legion for half a century gave herself a wry smile in her heart. What? Every time I talk about this slightly more complicated topic, the words that come out of my mouth are like teaching materials for an educational brainwashing device. They are different from the rough and simple Nucerian slave dialect that I am usually used to. It's also too much. But there was nothing we could do about it. In that era, it was impossible for slaves and civilians to have access to decent education. They didn’t even know that the earth under their feet was a ball revolving around the sun in the sky, and that the moons waxed and waned from time to time. It is a ball that surrounds the earth beneath your feet. She even remembered the pale and shocked face of old Oymenos, who had undergone a full set of transformation surgeries and remained unshakable, when he saw Nuceria, who had lived for most of his life, from the universe for the first time, although she herself was not fine either. Just go wherever you go.

"Why?" The doubt of the young alien girl was so real. "It's not uncommon for the Witch Spirit Order to be hired by nobles to participate in robberies, or to organize robberies themselves, although I now know this..."

"When my hometown has not been liberated, although the nobles will also hunt, even hunt humans." The red-haired former gladiator looked up at the night sky. Under the artificial light, even his modified eyes were very bright. It's hard to see the stars in the sky. "They will also bring their favorite gladiators, but it is definitely not hiring or cooperating. To them, the gladiators are just a group of beasts raised for fighting, and there is no difference from the various war beasts they bring."

"..." It's really interesting. Kleist, one of the Primarch's Guards of the Twelfth Legion, the Form Breaker, and one of the brothers and sisters of the Primarch, was amused by the disgusted expression of the alien girl in front of him from the bottom of his heart. . Damn it, those high-ranking knights, even these aliens who are known for their sadism, despise you. Deserve it.

"So, I hate wrestling the most."

It is the hatred that you, the little alien who loves gladiatorial combat, cannot understand. Fighting is one thing, and gladiatorial combat is another. Fighting to survive, then fighting for freedom, and then fighting for more people not to suffer like the past self. Kill oppressors, kill invaders, kill tyrants, kill slave owners, kill plunderers, whether with spears, bolts, missiles or tanks, fighting always has a purpose, so although she learned the unique martial arts of using anti-gravity spears when she was still a gladiator, compared to that, whether it is body modification, or giving up the high-mobility fighting method, choosing to wear heavy terminator armor, as long as you fight efficiently, you can survive better and fight better. Although it is not true that she has lost her desire for the kind of fighting method of riding the wind and galloping, fighting does not need to be fancy.

As for gladiatorial combat, she hated the way of fighting that had to please those guys who sucked her bones and marrow from the bottom of her heart, and she would no longer fight for anyone's entertainment. So she had an unspeakable feeling about this gladiatorial arena. Although it was for the friendship between the legions, and although within the legion, whether she was a person who could only accept the transformation of the quasi-Astartes or a pure legion warrior, they were willing to compete in the gladiatorial cage without any barriers, but this gladiatorial arena would become part of the sports meeting held on this planet, and many people would come to watch. Then, wouldn't it be that fellows would fight for people's entertainment? Even if no one died, even if no one was really hurt, but.

Is this why you agreed to my request to fight your blood brother against his little enemy? Angron? Really, you are always too considerate of others, which is very tiring.

However, just knowing that there are such incurable guys in the world who are willing to participate in gladiatorial combat seems to have smoothed the discomfort in my heart a little.

"... But you don't hate martial arts, right? Isn't there an anti-gravity engine in your prosthesis?"

"Probably" Indeed, if there was no lingering attachment to that martial arts, why would you install that thing in your prosthesis? I know it myself. I just kept telling myself that I might be able to give myself an explanation when I can use it on the battlefield.

"I want to fight you with all your strength." The black-haired Eldar girl, now with the number of the Atonement Unit MT-01A, and the name Mela, which is easier to pronounce with the human tongue, showed a dazzling smile. "Thanks to you, I have a rare opportunity to be free, and when I help with training, those recruits are not enough to fight. So I want to have a real fight with you!"

Damn it, the red-haired girl found herself grinning. What a hopeless guy. Is this kind of battle, this kind of fight so happy for you? Damn it, it seems that there are more than one hopeless guy. The self in my heart who rode on the anti-gravity spear and laughed and killed the high-level knight was also there.

"Okay!" Saying this sentence was like breaking a shackle on my legs. There will be no more high-level knights here. There will be no more people forced to fight, and no one will cheer for death.

The sand here is white, not the red sand of Nuceria.

Naturally, just like decades ago, she pulled the cable from her prosthetic limb and connected it to the anti-gravity field guide of the spear, and then naturally sat horizontally on the spear handle.

Naturally, the alien girl bowed gracefully, and then once again unfolded the blade net that shone like a bead curtain, like a silk dress, and like a light gauze.

So, the video data recording the gladiatorial fight that night was circulated in the private data exchanges of each legion participating in the Games for a long time afterwards, and the young swordsmanship champion of the Third Legion had to wear a silver mask and not speak for a Terra Week because of his careless remarks, and a female warrior from Nuceria smiled and carved a section of the red victory rope on her waist after decades. That is another story.