Chapter 32: Training

"Sir."

Approaching Soshyan was Pul Armin, his newly appointed tactical squad leader.

Due to the extreme scarcity of manpower—not even enough to form a single company—Soshyan had been forced to organize these recruits into three tactical squads and promote three squad leaders. Once the Chapter's numbers could be partially restored, they would be candidates for company command.

However, looking at them now, they still seemed too green, much like Soshyan himself.

"Interested in observing our training results?"

Wiping the sweat from his face, Armin flashed Soshyan a bright, hearty smile.

Because of Soshyan's approachable personality, a strict hierarchy had not quickly formed within the Chapter; the recruits were no longer as nervous as they had been when they first met him. They even occasionally cracked small jokes.

"Forget it, you're as clumsy as a bloated camel-beast, Armin!"

At that moment, another man stepped out from the crowd and shouted toward Armin.

"The things you're practicing are too simple and easy. I don't think the Chapter Master would want to see that."

The speaker was Bahash Farzad, also a newly promoted leader. He had likely served about ten years less than Soshyan; he was a warrior full of passion, though sometimes appearing overly impetuous.

Yet Soshyan had to admit that his combat skills and tactics were the best among this group of recruits. Perhaps because of this, he had developed a certain degree of pride.

Pride and vanity were the great enemies of a Space Marine's soul, and Soshyan felt he had to teach them this lesson.

"Farzad, are you looking to challenge me?"

Armin turned instantly to face him, his tone as forceful as his gaze.

"It's been a while since I last beat you."

Farzad rubbed his fists together, then looked toward Soshyan.

"Chapter Master, may we demonstrate our training results to you?"

"Of course."

Soshyan nodded calmly. The two captains immediately picked up their weapons and stepped onto the metal combat platform in the center of the training hall.

Armin used a short sword and a shield, while Farzad wielded two battle axes.

Due to the Horus Heresy, battle axes were not popular among Astartes Chapters, but the Knights of the Star maintained the ancient art of the axe. This skill was extremely difficult to master, and it was precisely Farzad's command of it that Soshyan had noted.

Though not yet proficient, his aggression and spirit were rare.

After the two warriors stared each other down for a few seconds, Farzad predictably made the first move.

He closed the distance with extreme speed, then swung his right-arm axe past Armin's shield, pulling it back sharply.

It was an ancient tactic: using the blade to hook the opponent's shield, forcing them to leave their center exposed for a lethal strike. Many tribal warriors from primitive worlds still employed such tactics.

Farzad was indeed a warrior from a primitive tribe. That recruitment world provided excellent sources of manpower; the Chapter had only been expanding there for less than twenty years, and he was among the first batch of recruits. However, his world had now become the recruitment world for a different Chapter.

Armin was prepared for Farzad's tactic. He tilted his shield back at a 45-degree angle, allowing the axe to scrape a spark across the surface, then braced his knees and thrust forward with force, knocking his opponent away. He then lunged forward with his longsword, like a wasp striking with its stinger.

But he struck empty air.

"You're too slow!"

Farzad mocked, suddenly launching another attack. He swung his battle axe, hurling it toward his enemy's shoulder.

Armin leaped to dodge the incoming weapon.

"At least I'm fast enough to deal with you!"

Panting heavily, Armin retreated first, coldly watching his opponent's movements.

In the next second, the screech of metal friction and the sparks of collision echoed throughout the training hall.

The warriors watched, some even cheering.

Soshyan was a calm man. He knew very well how frustrated his brothers felt about being driven from their homes; they could only strive to keep themselves busy to alleviate the confusion and resentment in their hearts. The training hall had seemingly become a place for them to vent their inner turmoil, and this was exactly the kind of strength Soshyan needed.

On the platform, Farzad continued to launch attacks, maintaining his agile footwork. His trimmed hair was a dirty brown, seemingly retaining the savage energy of a primitive tribe, and he carried an air of confidence that bordered on arrogant intimidation.

"No."

Farzad grinned widely.

"You're just fucking slow."

"Shut up and fight!"

Suddenly, Farzad lunged to the left, then abruptly pivoted back, raising his axe blade aimed at Armin's torso.

Then, the two weapons collided amidst a rain of sparks, becoming locked in a fierce struggle.

Seizing an opening, Farzad used all the strength in both hands, pouring his entire body's power into a massive shove.

Armin could only hold out for a moment before stumbling backward, losing his balance.

"Yah-ha!"

Farzad shouted, charging forward.

The axe blades and sword edges collided incessantly, each impact releasing terrifying shockwaves toward the defender. But Farzad was undoubtedly faster; his exposed arm even appeared blurred due to the speed of his movements.

"Here I come!"

Farzad gritted his teeth and roared, his face a mask of intense concentration. Despite the low temperature of the training hall, his temples were drenched in sweat.

Armin did not respond, preoccupied with parrying his comrade's ferocious and violent onslaught.

Neither warrior wore armor; instead, they wore leather short-tunics and greaves sewn with metal plates—the standard training attire for the Knights of the Star. Similarly, although the edges of the weapons had been intentionally dulled for training safety, they were still capable of crushing bone and piercing flesh. This was a deliberate arrangement by the Chapter's predecessors to instill weapon control in recruits and reduce their reliance on power armor.

"Ugh!"

Soon, Armin was forced hard against the railing, feeling the hard steel press into his back. However, he rolled away just before Farzad's battle axe could slash across his chest.

"Slow down, slow down, slow down..."

Behind him, Farzad strode forward, panting heavily, his face shrouded in a mist of sweat.

"If you weren't constantly yapping, you might actually fight better," Armin muttered, attempting to regain his balance and take the initiative.

"Think whatever you want, if that gives you some pathetic comfort," Farzad said loftily, swaggering with his battle axe held high.

With a self-important smile of impending victory on his face, he stepped forward, once again driving his comrade into the striking range of his axe.

"That's right!"

Catching a glimpse out of the corner of his eye, Armin suddenly roared, crouching his body in a coiled stance as if preparing to leap.

"That's exactly right!"

He lunged violently, charging at Farzad's undefended torso and slamming into him with immense force.

Farzad had gotten too close, too confident, making it impossible to bring his axe down in time.

Armin dropped his sword and shield, using his arms to bind Farzad tightly, shoving him backward until he slammed into the far railing of the platform with a loud clang.

"Che... Cheater!"

Though he had lost control of his axe, Farzad still clenched his fists, preparing to deliver a heavy blow to his opponent.

But Armin was more agile; he drove his head directly into Farzad's face.

In an instant, the sound of metal clashing mixed with the sickening crack of bone. Both men fell from the platform simultaneously, and the pungent scent of blood filled the air.

The spectators below were stunned.