The Lost Primarch Quest

So this is the machine spirit of the Armour of Scafrir that Maticus inherited.

The tournament began with Doom Slayer. One of the finest warriors in the Legion, it had been decided to have Maticus on opposite sides of the tournament brackets. Watching from his throne, Kesar understood why that was. After all, he personally thought that the two of them would be the finalists. Most of his sons believed the same, as Doom Slayer's opponent, Baldur, was already receiving consolations from the Wardens.

Doom Slayer wielded Eviscerator in his hands as Baldur entered the arena. The Astartes in question strode confidently to his designated corner, as he drew his own chainsword, carefully ensuring that the bladed teeth currently in use were properly dulled for the duel to come. Calmly, Baldur spoke up. "Slayer, how do you rate my chances?"

Doom Slayer tilted his head as he considered the question. Captain Baldur had come to him for training requests on multiple occasions, and while Slayer wasn't a good teacher, he was still able to impart some lessons onto the other Astartes. Yet, while he could hold his own, Baldur simply wasn't on his level. Shaking his head in the negative, Slayer prompted a slow nod from Baldur.

"I thought as much." Speaking in a resigned tone, the Captain mentally began to plot out any route to defeat Slayer. "But, I can make it difficult for you." Under his helmet, Doom Slayer's eyes narrowed.

It took 4 hours for Doom Slayer to land the two strikes needed. Four hours where Baldur frantically dodged, parried, and blocked with his chainsword. Throughout the experience, the Slayer never once paused in his unending attacks. Blow after blow echoed as Eviscerator smashed against Baldur's chainsword. The counters from the Captain, while inspired and skilled, simply couldn't stand up to the Slayer's own skills as he simply twisted his body away from the strikes. When the Captain was bested at long last, the Slayer stood above him victorious, his shoulders slowly moving up and down as he took in deep breaths of air.

On the ground, Baldur wheezed as his lungs demanded oxygen. Even for an Astartes, being forced to operate at a full sprint for four hours was tiring. Especially when the slightest misstep would mean a loss. When he entered the arena, Baldur was expecting to fall after an hour at most. Spending four hours in the arena with the Slayer was far more than he ever expected. And even as the Wardens cheered for Doom Slayer's victory, Baldur smiled as the Astartes in question lifted him to his feet. Feeling a light tap on his forearm, the Captain's smile only broadened as Doom Slayer nodded approvingly at his showing.

*Baldur gains Slayer's Teachings - Having been tutored by Doom Slayer himself on five occasions, Captain Baldur was already one of the Legion's better combatants. However, he didn't prove that to Doom Slayer himself until the Warden Tournament where he was able to hold off the Slayer for four consecutive hours of high-intensity dueling. +5 to duels.*

---

The next duel to take place was between two Librarians, Beltran and Abdul. After seeing the two enter the arena, Kesar leaned forward, prompting a curious statement from Oriacarius. "You're wondering why Abdul isn't leading a kill team as well?"

Muttering, Kesar trailed a finger across his chin. "It is curious." Looking over the Librarian, Kesar didn't see any obvious signs for why it was that Beltran had recommended against his inclusion. "Could it be personal bias?"

Frowning, Oriacarius looked on in consideration. "Perhaps, but even that would be a poor sign. He won't be the only one in the kill team after all."

"A good point, but then that would reflect poorly on his teachers." As the duel began, Kesar steepled his hands together, carefully watching as Abdul blurred forward, using his speed to the fullest and barely getting around Beltran's summoned flames. "He is showing enough skill to warrant a leadership role."

The two psykers continued to clash as speed warred with flame. Abdul couldn't get close enough to Beltran to land a blow, but neither could the Gamma psyker hem Abdul in with his flames. It was a magnificent display of psychic power and skill, and the Delta psyker that was Abdul was only struck once after three hours when his concentration slipped and he was finally trapped.

The second blow that Abdul suffered came two hours later. Once more, the Delta proved that his speed was able to match a Gamma's power. Darting throughout the arena, the Astartes was more of a blur to mortal eyes and many of the Wardens cheered as the duel entered the fifth hour. But it couldn't last as Beltran snapped his fingers and the flames he had been throwing out for the past five hours surged into a series of hands. Closing his eyes in concentration, he felt rather than saw Abdul try to take advantage of his hyper-focused state only to be thrown into a wall by one of the flaming hands. Exhaling in relief, Beltran's focus shifted from his opponent to the crowd as he reveled in the cheers.

From his position on the throne, Kesar didn't join in. Instead frowning in displeasure. "Oriacarius."

"Already on it Kesar." The First Captain looked towards the wincing Abdul who was slowly picking himself off the ground. "I'll look into this personally."

"Is this something I should worry about?" Raising an eyebrow, Kesar was relieved to see Oriacarius briefly consider the question before shaking his head.

"No, it seems to be a squad sized dispute rather than a company level one. But I'll be investigating the full battalion in case we've overlooked something." Oriacarius looked over at Kesar, letting an unasked question hang in the air.

"You have my permission to interrogate who you wish as long as it doesn't harm preparations for the ritual." As the arena was being fixed from the damages done to it, Kesar extended a hand to grasp Oriacarius' left shoulder. "I know whatever you do will end with the Legion happier."

Taking his right hand, the First Captain placed it on top of Kesar's. "Of course Kesar. Everything I do is for my brothers and you."

A warm smile was his response, and as Kesar's hand left his shoulder, the third match began.

---

Petus, the eldest member of the Khalsa, slashed expertly at Captain Aurelian. In the first round, they had taken two hours of dueling until Petus slipped and Aurelian landed a blow.

The two of them were very well matched, and while Petus had a slight edge, Aurelian had proven himself far more cunning than expected. Whenever his guard was broken, the Captain was always able to disengage in some way. And his attacks were far from toothless. On a number of occasions, Petus had barely managed to avoid being hit. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, and by now the second round had reached its 4th hour, making this duel the longest one yet.

As Petus' chainsword was once more blocked by Aurelian's shield, the Khalsa member leaped back to avoid the riposte that was sure to come. But this time, Aurelian's hand didn't hold a chainsword. Petus' eyes widened as he twisted, making his body a smaller target. But, Aurelian was still an expert shot, and the weakened beam struck his chest signaling Aurelian's victory.

Petus looked at Kesar as the cheers from the Wardens rang out. He wasn't expecting disappointment, as the Primarch was far too kind for that. Instead, he was searching for approval, to see Kesar understand that he had fought as best as he could. The kind smile and nod that came from his father did more for his spirit than his brothers ever could. And as Aurelian basked in victory, Petus walked up to him, and with a smile, he congratulated his brother, "Well fought Aurelian. I look forward to seeing what else you can manage."

---

Bader grunted as he caught Julian Hectus' blade on the shaft of his thunder hammer. "Julian, I see you're still as skilled as I remembered."

Attempting to divert the sword into Bader's chest, Hectus was stymied by his brother tilting his weapon downwards. "And you're still as talkative as I remember."

Laughing, Bader brought his weapon above his head, spinning it in an arc at Hectus' leg as the Astartes leaped over the strike. "Fighting in silence, it's never been my preference." Dodging a sword strike, Bader stepped back, gaining the space he needed to twirl his weapon without creating an opening. "Let alone when dueling a brother of mine."

Hectus smiled that wordplay while he momentarily halfsworded in order to divert the thunder hammer's path. "You always were good at starting conversations." Lashing out with a kick, Hectus wasn't surprised when Bader leaned out of the way. "Still have your door open for everyone?"

Smiling at the question, Bader was forced to guard as Hectus once more pressed him. "You know it Julian. My door is open to any that wish to speak. No matter the day or hour." Momentarily wielding his hammer in one hand, Bader lashed out with his fist, gaining enough space to once more swing his weapon. "No matter the topic."

A brief flurry of blows sprang forth from both sides as Bader tried to end the match. He had already landed the first blow, all he needed was one more. As the intensity of the strikes continued to increase, Hectus continued the conversation. "Any that you care to share?"

Bader smirked as he deflected another of Hectus' sword strikes. "Now, now Julian, you know I value my brother's privacy."

Rolling his eyes, Hectus once more dodged Bader's thunder hammer. "And yet you have no problem speaking in general terms."

Swinging his weapon in a figure-eight, Bader's laughter was heard by only Hectus. "You know me so well brother." Breaking the pattern to swing the thunder hammer in a wide arc, Bader forced Hectus to leap back. "I had a fascinating talk with a Scout on the nature of humanity just the other day. We have another meeting in a month, and I for one look forward to it."

"The Golden Path? I didn't know you still followed that." Grunting in exertion, Hectus took a step back, allowing the duel to settle into a brief lull. "Have you converted anyone else?"

Shaking his head, Bader made sure to keep an eye on Hectus as the two began to circle around the other. "Most of the Wardens are content with their spiritual sides. It's rare that someone is interested, and I'm not going to be proselytizing those that are uninterested."

Continuing to watch his opponent, Hectus responded. "You sound like you have one convert at the very least."

Bader glanced at Hectus' stance, adjusting his own to match. "I don't. He's not interested in the Golden Path, he's just a philosopher in the making."

Hectus frowned at Baldur's movements, as he adjusted his stance into a more flexible one. "Why does it sound like you're happier this way?"

"One's conviction only grows when challenged. If you never seek out its flaws, how can you truly claim to be truly committed?" Leaning forward, Bader hunched his body in preparation for a burst of motion. As Hectus prepared to defend, Bader charged forward. Surging forward, the thunder hammer swung in an underhand arc as the Captain closed in. Twisting and bringing his sword up to deflect, Hectus was caught off guard as Bader's momentum ceased, and the charge stopped early. As he tried to compensate, he realized it was too late as the thunder hammer took his legs out from under him.

Lying on the ground, Hectus took a moment to catch his breath as Bader waited at his side. When he had composed himself, he held out a hand which Bader grasped immediately. Getting to his feet with his brother's help, Hectus gave his brother a short embrace. "Challenges are the key to growth, brother. You either crumble or become something more." Turning to the crowd, Hectus noted the Astartes celebrating Bader's win. "I know which one you will follow next month."

---

The fifth duel was between Captain Thule and Sergeant Lares of the 3rd Company. At the moment, however, Lares was in the middle of conversing with his opponent. "I can't say I expected to duel you Lares." Thule's pride was evident, as he had been the one to train Lares back when he was a Scout. "Make sure to show me everything you're capable of."

Lares smiled shyly as he nodded. In a quiet voice, he assured the Captain of his convictions. "I'll do my best." Nervously, the Sergeant traced the head of his spear, for once not drawing blood as he did.

"Your best got you to this point didn't it?" Thule raised an eyebrow at his younger brother, before draping a hand over his shoulder and pointing to Maticus' position. "Maticus believed in you enough to personally train you."

Muttering under his breath, Lares bemoaned how he had fared against the Captain. "Still can't last thirty seconds against him." At Thule's cough, a crimson blush appeared as he seemed to hunch into himself. "The Captain … I won't let him down."

As Thule let his brother go, he smiled at the sheer respect Lares had for the 3rd Captain. "Even if I utterly crushed you, he would still be proud that you got this far. The other Sergeants in your company didn't make it, did they?"

"No." Thule was momentarily surprised at the conviction in Lares' voice. But he remembered that when the Sergeant truly believed in something, he could fight harder than anyone he had ever seen. "It's for that reason I can't lose here."

Captain Thule could safely say that he had underestimated Lares. Being forced to hide behind his shield for the entirety of the match hadn't been what he expected when he had learned who his opponent was. If the match was longer, then perhaps it would have been excusable. And yet it was barely into the 30th minute and he had already been struck once and was moments away from losing the match as a whole.

Even as he felt his pride slowly withering away, Thule glanced out of his eye at a beaming Maticus, whose cheers were louder than any of the other Wardens. Looking back at Lares, he saw a triumphant grin on his younger brother's face, one Thule truly enjoyed seeing. He remembered training Lares fifteen years ago and seeing how he had grown brought a smile to his face.

He had been utterly surpassed, and Thule loved it. As Lares managed to break his guard and point his spear at the Captain's throat, Thule dropped his sword and shield. With a crash, they fell onto the ground as he smiled warmly. "Well done brother."

The roars of the 3rd Company drowned out the cheers of the Wardens, and as Lares walked over to his brothers, he was greeted by a beaming Maticus. Not a word was exchanged as the 3rd Captain pulled the Sergeant into a tight embrace. "Lares, I couldn't have asked for a better showing. You've made me so proud."

Swallowing once, Lares' smile was positively radiant. Squeezing tighter, the Sergeant spoke up. "Thank you, Captain. I couldn't have done it without you."

*Lares gains The Black Swordsman's Apprentice - Trained by Thule and then by Maticus. The reserved Sergeant was known for his combat skills and odd beliefs. Wielding a spear with enough skill to catch the 3rd Captain's eye, Lares was personally tutored by Maticus until his skills were above those of his brothers. His showing in the Warden Tournament proved that the 3rd Company was truly the pinnacle of the Legion. +10 to duels.*

---

Solarus was not happy at this moment. He initially had looked forward to the tournament, as how often was it that he could use explosives in a friendly manner? Hearing that they were prohibited wasn't pleasing, even if it was understandable. But there were other tricks he could use. Flashbangs were still allowed, and he still had his Volkite.

Halmzen Inzhun on the other hand was looking forward to the duel. It had been years since he had been under the command of his brothers. For years he had flitted from Legion to Legion learning their ways and styles. As he faced off against Captain Solarus, one of the heroes of the Legion, Captain Inzhun found himself considering which style he should use. The defensive style of the Imperial Fists? The gracefulness of the Emperor's Children? Perhaps the cold, brutally efficient Iron Warriors? His stance shifted subconsciously as his body made the decision before his mind. No, he would begin this fight the same way he had left the Legion. With a purely Eternal Wardens combat style, one he had developed alongside his brothers in the 12th Company, the base that made the Argent Stream.

The duel began with Inzhun's charge, followed instantly by the arena turning a blinding white and deafening sound of thunder disorienting everyone. Shifting to the soft form of the style, one that focused on speed and evasion, the 12th Captain blindly began evading attacks he had no way of seeing. As the ringing in his ear faded, he heard the faint sizzle of Volkite beams where he once was.

His eyesight returned once more, only to be taken away from him once more by another blinding flashbang. Using his lance as a pole, the Captain stabbed it into the ground, using it to throw himself across the arena as more Volkite rounds passed through where he once was. And several which passed just below him. Staying on the move, Inzhun darted around the arena, hoping to close the distance with Solarus only to find once more that the Mad Bomber was ready.

This time it wasn't a flashbang that took away his sight, but rather a smoke bomb. Adjusting the filters of his helmet didn't help him see through it, but it seemed Solarus didn't have that problem. Three shots sizzled as they passed through the smoke, only to hit naught but air as the fluid movements of the 12th Captain allowed him to evade them all.

Over and over this continued with some form of denial device being used by Solarus nearly constantly. Inzhun was forced to use his soft style of evasion the entire time, and eventually, he made a mistake. When a flashbang was thrown in front of him, he closed his eyes and waited for its detonation. Only for him to be struck by a Volkite round as it was revealed that the flashbang in question never had its pin pulled.

Tracing the names he had carved into his right arm, the 12th Captain shifted his stance. The basics of the Argent Stream weren't working. It had extended the duel far more than the Wardens had expected judging by the chants of his name, but it would ultimately lead to a loss. Chewing the inside of his mouth, Inzhun knew what style would work best. The aggression of the Blood Angels.

The next round was marked by a mad dash by the Captain, one that made use of the hard style of the Agent Stream, supplemented by what he had learned from the Blood Angels themselves. His lance reached out, as Volkite rounds burst around him. Solarus dodged as expected, but Inzhun twisted, continuing to chase the Mad Bomber around the arena as he barely dodged Volkite beam after Volkite beam.

His lance couldn't get within a meter of Solarus at first. But that meter became half a meter which became a quarter meter then a tenth. He was getting closer and closer, and as Solarus' face grew more and more focused, Inzhun's did as well as the two Astartes dueled. Could the Mad Bomber find some trick before the 12th Captain caught him? No, he couldn't. Continuously pressed as he was, Solarus wasn't able to find some feint or trap to turn the tide, and after an hour of this chase, the lance touched his armor and tied the match.

The last round proceeded the same as the second, with Inzhun continuing to chase the Mad Bomber through the arena, and Volkite rounds and flashbangs delaying him. As the duel continued, Oriacarius leaned forward as he spoke. "He made a good choice."

Breaking his gaze from the duel, Kesar glanced at his son. "The Blood Angels taught him well."

Nodding in agreement, the First Captain nonetheless was more focused on other aspects. "Yes, but he has also learned from other Legions as well. I think we might have Maticus' opponent in the semifinals."

Cautiously, Kesar asked a question, making sure his tone was curious rather than accusatory. "You don't think Lares can beat him?"

Shaking his head, Oriacarius explained his reasoning. "Lares is good, but Izhun has much more experience. I suspect he'll be using what he learned from the Imperial Fists against him. Maybe the Iron Warriors' own style as well?"

"He doesn't seem to have a single cohesive combat style." Thus far, the way Inzhun fought between the first round and onwards seemed opposed to each other. "Rather he has several combat styles he uses based on his opponent."

"When he does combine them, I think he may even give Maticus and Doom Slayer trouble." Remembering the day when Inzhun had requested leave, Oriacarius mulled over how long that would take. "But that could take anywhere from years to centuries."

Just then, Inzhun landed a second blow on Solarus, signaling himself as the winner of the duel. Taking a moment to cheer for his son, Kesar spoke softly so that only Oriacarius could hear him. "He may not have even that long if the Ritual Crusade goes poorly."

"Neither will any of us."

*Champion of the Legions - For years, Inzhun flowed between the Legions, learning the styles, practices, and techniques of each in turn. For years he trained in solitude, away from his Brothers. For years he visited every arena of every Legion, fighting and winning in each. And now, in his Legion's time of need, he returns home. +15 to duels in the first eight rounds he fights someone in.*

---

Before the next duel, the two combatants stood next to each other. Chief Librarian Raziel, was a level headed individual, one that focused on their mental will rather than the strength of his powers. To the Eternal Wardens that prized purity of soul over all else, he easily rose to the top of the Librarians. Rene on the other hand was an enigma. An Apothecary once, he woke his powers late into his life, resulting in the First Captain ordering his interrogation.

Thankfully for his sake, he was deemed to be untainted, instead simply an oddity among Astartes, Rene had since developed into an accomplished biomancer, although occasionally he slipped into the future and rode the currents of fate. Often dreaming of horrific battles, Oriacarius had ordered his visions to be recorded and analyzed far more thoroughly than was the norm. Thus far his visions had proven to be less than detailed, often covered in metaphor and allegories.

Rene was happy to have made it to this point in the tournament. It would have been better if his first opponent wasn't the Chief Librarian, but he still had a better chance against him than he did against Maticus in the next round. Letting his tower shield down onto the ground, he glanced over at Raziel who was searching into the future to see who would be the victor.

Flashes of a blade so achingly familiar. A single man slaughtering all that tried to slow him. A Volkite beam tearing through his brother's skull.

Shuddering from the memory of the vision, Rene forced himself to breathe. Raziel himself didn't notice his brother's lapse into the future as he himself dove into the currents of fate.

A daemon, strengthened beyond even normal bounds. Flames licked at poisonous sludge burning it away. It screamed in agony as his psychic warpfire tore at its very soul. But the second one still remained. And he could only watch as it rampaged through the Imperial Army, slowed only by a rapidly rusting Baneblade.

Raziel opened his eyes, making a note to segment his forces when he deployed onto the daemonworld. As well as making sure that he had a proper amount of NBC gear for the Imperial Army. Turning towards Rene, the Chief Librarian whispered three words. "You fought well."

Rene leaned over his shield as he sighed. Sometimes, he really hated diviners.

The duel between Raziel and Rene was interesting to Kesar. Rene towered over his brother, and his shield alone was far too unwieldy for a normal Astartes to dream of wielding. With Rene's frame, however, one which Kesar's own frame merely eclipsed him rather than dwarfed him, he was able to wield it with far more speed than expected. Using his own biomancy skills to supplement the matter, Rene reached a level of speed comparable to a normal Astartes.

Raziel, on the other hand, was far less imposing. Preferring to use his powers in short bursts, often timed exquisitely well. Despite Rene's formidable defense and strength, the duel ended after a total of four hours. With Raziel landing two blows onto the Astartes, one of which would have ended him had it been a duel to the death.

---

The last match of the round of sixteen was treated as if Maticus had already won. Aengus simply wasn't comparable to the 3rd Captain at all. The only question that was being asked was how long he would last.

Currently the longest time for an individual not one of the Legion's finest was 58 seconds. Aengus was determined to beat that. Smirking, the Astartes twirled his sword around as he contemplated how to do it. Trying to hide in a corner for the entire time was an insult to himself as well as the Legion. He would meet Maticus in the center of the ring, and he would give everything he had.

The duel began, and Aengus sprinted forward, ducking behind his shield as he maneuvered his sword behind it. With it hidden from Maticus' view, the 3rd Captain would be forced to defend for the moment, buying Aengus a moment to act.

Instead what happened was Maticus grabbing Aengus' shield with one hand and yanking him off balance before sweeping his legs out from under him. Trying to bring his sword up into some semblance of a guard as he fell, Aengus felt his back hit the ground before a foot slammed into his shoulder, pinning it in place. And like a conqueror, Maticus stood above him, the Sword of the Lost pointed at his helmet. Point one had gone to the 3rd Captain, in less time than any other round had taken.

Aengus remained where he was, wondering just how he had been crushed so easily. Replaying the moment in his mind again and again, he found there was no way around it. Captain Maticus was simpler above him.

The Astartes in question looked down on his brother, concerned. "Are you … alright?"

"No, I don't think my ego will ever recover." Quipping away, Aengus brushed off Maticus' extended hand and got up on his own. "How did you do that?"

"Hiding your sword behind your shield meant that while I could see it, it also meant you couldn't use it quickly. So I grabbed your shield without worry and swept your legs with my own while you were off balance."

Hesitantly, Aengus nodded as a thought came to him. "And … how would you suggest I deal with that next time?"

Maticus lifted a hand up to his chin as he thought about it. "Would you say your skills are on par with Captain Thule?" At Aengus nodded, Maticus frowned further. "You know the basics, so you already know to try and get close. What I would suggest is sticking to those basics. The move with the sword and shield has too many holes in it."

Unwilling to simply lose the duel, Aengus frowned. "But then how can I beat you? If I don't try something I'll lose."

"Because what you need to have happened isn't for you to be brilliant. What you need is for me to make a mistake." Explaining further, Maticus described how he viewed a duel. "A duel at its most simple is a series of moves from all combatants. They both act at the same time and react to the other. If one side pulls an inspired move, the other tries to counter it. What you were hoping for was a series of brilliant moves one after another rather than just one. A mistake, on the other hand, is far easier to capitalize on. Not to mention that trying a move that you have never attempted before means the other fighter can find the holes in it and exploit it to the fullest."

Aengus nodded slowly, understanding his elder brother's teachings. "Next round Captain, I'm breaking that record."

"I look forward to it." Maticus smiled, daring Aengus to do so. And the Astartes was happy to oblige.

The second round started, and this time Aengus marched forward. His stance was basic, and his guard one he had practiced time and time again. Maticus on the other hand stood in a fluid stance, the Sword of the Lost placed so that he could both guard and strike without hesitation. Then the 3rd Captain struck, his weapon clashing with Aengus' shield. A counter from the former Scout was easily dodged, as was the shield bash.

The Sword of the Lost slammed into the shield once more, forcing a grunt of exertion from Aengus. A kick from the 3rd Captain forced him back, and another strike turned his counter into a block. Having lost the initiative, the Astartes was put on the back foot, and rapidly forced into a corner. Vaguely, Aengus heard cheers from the Wardens, but his focus was entirely on the fight at hand.

Another blow, this time forcing his shield downwards. A second forcing his chainsword lower as well. A third same as the second, a fourth forcing him to crouch, a fifth preventing him from standing back up. A sixth disarming him, then a seventh preventing him from reaching for his chainsword. An eighth, back on his shield once more, then a ninth forcing his free hand to cower behind the shield again. A Tenth strike aimed at his legs, forcing him off balance to avoid it, then an eleventh, slamming into his ribs and forcing him against the arena's sides.

Still standing, Aengus let go of the shield as he coughed, regaining the air that had been forced from his lungs with the last and final blow. He had lost utterly, but the Wardens didn't seem to think the same way. Before he could puzzle out why they were cheering for him, Maticus smiled and patted him on the shoulder. "92 seconds brother, a new record."

---

Raziel watches from his place among the other five Wardens as Doom Slayer and Beltran face off. He's asked which of them will win, yet he remains silent, preferring them to feel the tension of the battle. The first point predictably goes to Slayer, his raw aggression preventing the psyker from getting a moment to use his powers.

Eviscerator screams as another daemon falls, the Astartes snarling in fury as another one of his brothers falls. A Great Unclean One rushes him, taking the place of the one that has fallen. Two have fallen at his hand, yet there are more. He duels four Greater Daemons at once, yet there are more still. And he is only one man.

Raziel breathes deeply, exhaling through his breath as Maticus walks up to him. "A vision?"

In a cracked voice, the Chief Librarian speaks. "Not a good one."

"How bad?" The 3rd Captain listens as Raziel looks on, unsure how to answer.

"Doom Slayer, he'll be tested. More than you or I could dream of." Raziel doesn't look at Maticus, as the Astartes' face turns to worry.

"When can I read the report?" Maticus' voice is serious, his normal kindness absent as he learns one of his friends may perish.

"The moment the tournament ends, you'll receive it." The Doom Slayer charges for a second time, and the crowd seems certain he will easily score a point. He doesn't. In a fraction of the time it normally takes him, Beltran summons a sheet of flame. Slayer aborts his charge and dodges. He does not make it, and flames lick his chest, and the second round goes to Beltran.

The third goes to Doom Slayer, but Beltran seems different. His flames emerge faster, and his control grows more precise. He loses, but he has grown from the duel. Not many can say they landed a blow against Slayer, but Beltran is one of the few that can.

*Beltran Gains Might and Magic - Already a powerful Gamma Psyker, Beltran often struggled in close quarters where his psyker abilities couldn't be properly leveraged. During his fight with Doom Slayer, he grew, displaying more control over his flames than ever before. For this reason, he is one of the few to have ever landed a blow on Slayer. Gains half his psyker bonus in melee.*

---

Bader stands up, his chest bruised from where Aurelian struck him. Laughing, the Captain congratulates his brother on his victory. "Well done Aurelian, I thought I would have landed at least one hit on you."

The Captain lifts him up, embracing him as he does. "As did I Bader, it would have been nice to see the third round."

Bader smiles at the thought. He had come far this tournament, and he was hoping to do well in the next one that would occur. Perhaps in a few decades' time he would even emerge victorious. "Next time then Aurelian. Then we can have our third round."

"A bit premature for that isn't it?" Aurelian's voice turns serious, the Astartes knowing that one of them may die in the coming years. "And if one of us isn't around for that?"

"Then the other will have won our rematch." Bader smiles as he speaks, hopeful as always. "We'll survive the ritual Aurelian. I'm certain of it."

*Aurelian gains Timing and Opportunity - Once Aurelian wielded two chainswords at once, but a battle with a Bloodthirster alongside Bader made him change his combat preference. Wielding a sword and a shield, Aurelian has learned to wait for the perfect moment to strike before taking advantage of the opportunity. +5 to duels.*

---

Lares wasn't confident in the upcoming duel. He had seen Solarus in action before, and his loss was far from expected. The spear user twirled his weapon idly as he looked at his opponent. Inzhun looked back at him in return, his own spear slowly turning in his hand. Lares broke the silence first. "Captain, I'm glad I have the chance to fight you."

Inzhun took the praise in stride, not quite smiling, but displaying a more pleasing expression. "I wasn't expecting a Sergeant to be my next opponent, but from the rumors of the 3rd Company, I should have." Going over the idea of taking on the Sergeant with the other Astartes in his squad, Inzhun wondered if he could manage it. He suspected not.

Blushing at the praise, Lares glanced at Inzhun's right arm, one that had names carved into his flesh. He didn't mention it, but the Captain noticed where his gaze was. Almost subconsciously, Inzhun traced the names on his arm before shaking his head at Lares. Neither of them wanted to discuss the matter.

It was silent when the duel began, Inzhun rushed the Sergeant, hoping to chase him as he did Solarus. But Lares used his own spear to redirect the thrust, before trying to twist into a thrust of his own. Inzhun leaned backward, letting it pass over his face before regaining his balance and surging forward again, following the movements he had seen Blood Angels use in the past. The two clashed again, as both studied their opponent for an opening.

Lares was the one to discover it first. Inzhun was skilled, but his actions and techniques were taken from another. And the Wardens had a chapter of Blood Angels with them as a part of the exchange. The next thrust by Inzhun was met not by Lares' own techniques, but rather with a Blood Angel one.

Then Inzhun felt his opponent's spear hit his chest plate, and he grimaced as he realized what the Sergeant had just managed. "You studied with the Blood Angels as well?"

"I … picked up a few things." In truth, Lares only learned that particular technique after a training session with Captain Maticus where he had the chance to duel one of the Blood Angel Captains. "One of the Blood Angels dueled with us a few months ago."

Nodding in realization, the 12th Captain tried to decide what style he would use in the next round. "They are pretty free with their techniques, aren't they?"

"The Captain didn't even ask our cousin for them. He just started sharing them." Lares smiled at the memory, even as Inzhun winced as an idea came to him.

"I think anyone could ask them for a lesson and they'd give it." Then, silently so that only he could hear it, he muttered. "Unlike the Imperial Fists nowadays."

Ever since that year, where he barely escaped the Imperial Fist vessel, where the Legion had been cut down to under a thousand Astartes, they never were the same. Before, they were straightforward and annoyingly blunt. Now, they were closed off and fractured. Only one letter of his was responded to, saying that his presence was enjoyable, but the Imperial Fists can no longer allow it.

Their techniques were rigid and stubborn. Ones that focused on defense and ensured the wielder could withstand any attack. It was defensive and strong, and so much different than what the Fists used now.

The next round went to Inzhun as Lares failed to find a hole in his defenses. As did the third round. It felt alien to the 12th Captain to use the Imperial Fists' combat style. Not because they would take offense, but because it was almost as if that Legion died 14 years ago and a new one had taken its place. He wondered if he would even be able to recognize them now.

---

Raziel leaned against the arena walls unconcerned. There was no point in it, as he already knew the result of the duel to come. Even with his powers, he'd have known it. Maticus is simply better than him. The 3rd Captain approached him, before asking a simple question. "Do you like knowing the future brother?"

A question he had asked himself before. Divination was a great gift, but his took the form of small flashes. Enough to warn and act as omens, but little else.

Rot fills the battlefield, as the Imperial Army turns on itself as their own corpses rise against them. Raziel can't do anything for them. He cannot even save his brothers.

Raziel gritted his teeth at the vision. "Sometimes. In the short term, it guides me, Maticus. But the more distant visions only warn me of suffering nowadays."

Placing his hand on his brother's shoulder, Maticus squeezes reassuringly, letting his brother know that he is there. "With the Ritual Crusade upcoming, it's no surprise. But I'm sorry that you must bear this burden brother."

Raziel waved his brother's concerns away. "I don't consider it a burden anymore. Most of the time at least." Taking a step from the arena wall, the Chief Librarian looked over at the crowd of Wardens all of whom were conversing with their brothers. "When I see my brothers dying, however, then it feels like a curse."

Maticus looks up, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He charges again. Then the smell of rot grows to be overpowering, and Raziel can see no further.

Maticus began to walk away from his brother, before stopping and looking over his shoulder. "Good luck Raziel."

The Chief Librarian smiles. "Congratulations on your win Maticus."

The duel commenced and Raziel proved to be far more evasive than anyone expected. After nearly an hour of combat, Maticus landed his second blow, and his place in the semifinals was assured.

---

The semi-finals ended predictably. Aurelian stepped into the ring and took two heavy blows from Doom Slayer. Each took time to land, however, as the Astartes focused more on his defenses rather than attempting to create openings. Ceding the initiative over to the Doom Slayer, however, was a poor choice. Blow after blow landed on his sword and shield. Again and again he defended, and once more Doom Slayer emerged victorious.

---

Captain Inzhun suffered the same fate, albeit swifter. At first, he attempted to use a style he had learned from the Iron Warriors. Only to suffer a loss within a matter of minutes. In the second round, he attempted to use the style of the Emperor's Children, turning his every move into a graceful dance. It took him nearly an hour of back and forth combat with the 3rd Captain until a second blow crossed his chest.

---

Maticus and Doom Slayer, as everyone expected are the finalists. Before the duel begins, the two of them discuss matters. Or rather Maticus speaks, and Doom Slayer grunts occasionally. Both finalists know the other's fighting styles in and out, and both know that this will be a far harder duel than any of the previous ones.

He speaks words of brotherhood and friendship, of gratitude at having him be his final opponent. Doom Slayer tilts his head. He does not speak, he never does. Yet he still nods, and Maticus takes meaning from it that few others do.

In a part of the room segmented off from the other spectators sit the Sisters of Silence. Astartes shy away from them, and the Librarians place themselves as far from them as possible. They do not cheer, nor do they seem invested in the duels that have taken place thus far. Those that have fought alongside them in the past do not notice anything strange. Only the Primarch does.

A group of the Sisters of Silence lean forward by the barest of degrees. Kesar notices, and as the duel begins in earnest, he notices that they lean forward even further.

The 3rd Company looks on, cheering for their Captain as they do. Lares, normally one of the quietest Sergeants within the company joins in, his voice barely piercing the din of his brother's cheering.

The Sword of the Lost clashes with Eviscerator and the fighters turn into blurs. Neither Astartes pauses, nor do they retreat. Blade clashes with blade, as the sounds of combat compete with the sounds of cheering.

Beltran looks on, he does not like that he lost to Doom Slayer, even if he went into the arena expecting to lose. Flames dance across his fingers, motes of light jumping from one to another. He looks at the combatants who stand above him, and he joins the cheering.

Baldur watches as Doom Slayer's stance shifts. It's subtle, and his own combat skills aren't enough to tell what it means. But he knows how to read people, and right now, Doom Slayer knows he has made a mistake. He turns to the Astartes next to him and makes a wager.

Bader cheers for Maticus as the first round continues. The two of them have talked on many occasions, with the 3rd Captain gracing his room whenever he can. Maticus is a kind man, perhaps too kind for this galaxy. It has caused him too much grief, yet now, he seems to have grown stronger for it.

Thule does not see the blow that wins the first round. Nor does Aengus. The Captain looks at the former Scout and tells him that one day, he might be able to compete with Maticus. Aengus claims he will within a decade, but Thule knows his younger brother was always reckless. He looks the Astartes in the eye and cautions him to avoid growing too arrogant. He hopes it is enough.

Raziel does not know who will win this duel, even if his brothers do not believe him. Whenever Maticus and Doom Slayer fight, he sees flashes of countless duels among them, out of order and with no context. The Sword of the Lost clashes with Eviscerator, yet it does not happen at this point in time. Perhaps it never will. The second round begins, and Raziel sees them clash in another time, two blades meeting as none dare approach the heroic titans that rule the battlefield.

Oriacarius looks at his brothers, and he frowns. He knows Maticus is a good duelist, but in the past year, he has grown by leaps and bounds. His prior contingencies in case the 3rd Captain betrayed them are no longer useful. He will have to spend time rectifying this, but he wonders if that is needed. He shakes his head, backups and contingencies are always needed. No matter how much he trusts his brother. He has one for his father, and one for himself. He has one for every hero within the Legion, so why would he allow one of those folders to remain obsolete?

The second round reaches its fifth hour, yet neither Astartes has slowed. Their speed and skill remain on display, with the intensity of the duel remaining constant with the occasional peak and trough. Kesar is smiling, for he is proud. Proud of Maticus, and proud of Doom Slayer. Proud of every one of his sons that fought over the past few days. The Legion is at its peak, and it may never reach such heights again. He hopes to celebrate with them in five years' time. Yet he knows his sons will be far fewer in number then. He has a new set of carving tools ready. He does not look forward to using them.

Doom Slayer does not hear anyone but Maticus at this moment. He does not see beyond the arena, even if he retains complete awareness of it. His body screams and aches, for he has never been pushed this hard. A stray thought is suppressed, as his entire existence is devoted to this duel here and now. For years the two of them had been evenly matched, yet it is becoming clearer and clearer as the duel goes on. Doom Slayer is losing. He does not care. He does not change his stance, nor does he defend. He attacks and attacks and attacks as he has always done. None of his strikes land. None have for eight hours now.

Maticus is smiling. His muscles scream at him, and his breath comes in gasps and heaves. The second round has reached the twelve-hour mark, and even Astartes have their limits. Yet, he is winning. He has fought Doom Slayer too many times to count, and both Astartes can read the flow of the duel masterfully. He is winning. And he is reveling in it. It is his victory, one that no one can deny. Not even himself. It is just a matter of time.

The duel ends in the fourteenth hour. Countless clashes, countless dodges, unending blocks and parries, and an endless number of positional changes have led to this. Even as their bodies grow weary, and their minds lose focus, neither has made a major mistake. Both know that one such mistake at this point will lead to a loss. It is Doom Slayer that makes a mistake first.

He parries the Sword of the Lost and turns Eviscerator's motion into a slice. A muscle in his shoulder twitches as he does, a sign of fatigue. Maticus sees it, and it is all that he needs. The Sword of the Lost twists in midair, moving faster than any Astartes but Maticus can manage. Doom Slayer dodges, but he does not have time to counter for the 3rd Captain's leg is coming up to meet his chest. Yet again he dodges, but he has already lost. They both know it.

It takes another five minutes for his tricks to run out. One after another Doom Slayer dodges, ducks, dips, and dives, avoiding the myriad of attacks Maticus dispenses. To a normal Astartes, it seems that they are still evenly matched, but the 3rd Captain controls the fight, and it is Doom Slayer that finds himself trapped. The Sword of the Lost slams into his forearm rather than his chest, for even in a duel, Slayer refuses to treat it as if it were not a fight to the death. His arm screams in pain at the action, but it does not matter. For Maticus is now the Legion Champion.

*Doom Slayer gains Until it is Done - Across the course of a duel that lasted nearly a day, Slayer did not rest, nor did he pause. Even at the end, he was still fighting at full intensity. His body has learned to obey him, and his mind will remain as sharp as ever. No penalty from exhaustion.*
*Doom Slayer gains Rip and Tear - Over the years, Slayer has honed his style again and again. His style is filled with aggression where he attacks and attacks and attacks. Eviscerator rips and tears their enemies to shreds and he has perfected a thousand different cuts. +10 to duels.*

---

The cheers from the Wardens felt like a distant memory to Maticus as he savored his victory. Panting, he extended his arm out to Doom Slayer. The Astartes glanced at it for a moment before reaching out to shake it. Slayer growls out what seems like congratulations, and Maticus returns the kind words. "Well fought brother."

Kesar stood up with a broad smile on his lips. Clapping as he did, he walked forward towards the arena, the Wardens settling into a hushed silence. As he entered the arena and took a moment to study the ground where he could see hundreds of marks. Some of which were partially buffed out by the Master of the Forge. To his credit, Kesar doubted that any but a Primarch could see the scratches without specialized equipment. Turning his attention from the arena to the two Astartes that stood within, the Primarch studied Maticus who seemed to be waiting for a signal.

"My sons, you have shown incredible skill these few days. Each of you has shown me that with each passing week you grow stronger and more powerful. With each passing month I can feel the trials we will undergo in the Maelstrom growing easier. With each passing year, we strive towards the future as one. And on this day, we have determined which of my sons is the most skilled with a blade. We have seen dozens of incredible fights from your brothers, each of which would be worthy of a dozen tales. And it is on this day, that we have seen Captain Maticus emerge as the Legion's Champion. I ask you all, is there anyone that feels he has not earned this right?"

A thousand differing denials were roared out by the Wardens. The 3rd Captain shifted where he stood, thankful that his helmet concealed his blush. At his side, Doom Slayer stared at him, almost daring him to say something. Based on his stance, Maticus was sure that if he dared say he didn't deserve the honor, Slayer would likely have done something drastic. So it was good that he had no intention of doing so.

"Captain Maticus, on this day I crown you Champion of the Wardens. And as the Champion of my sons, I grant you a gift. One worthy of your station."

Kesar turned, gesturing towards a group of techmarines carrying an artifact upon a palanquin. Maticus inhaled at the sight, glancing at Kesar. "Is that … ?"

The Primarch smiled at his son, as he picked up the artifact that had been brought in. "I grant you a creation I have built myself, one that safeguarded my own body from danger. Now, it is yours." Holding out his old Sentinel Defense System, Kesar's smile broadens at the joyous disbelief on Maticus' face. "And it will forever be your own."

The 3rd Captain broke off his stare at the void shield generator, forcing himself to look at Kesar's beaming face. "Father, I am proud to be given this title. And I swear that I will hold myself to the standards of an exemplar of the Legion. When duty calls I shall be there, when death beckons, I shall refute it. When the warp itself tries to harm our fellow man, I will be there at your side to fight it. And when we dive into the Maelstrom itself, and face horrors never before seen. I will make them fear my brothers and I. We will show them that they cannot hide within their warpstorms! We will show the Archdaemons that there is no escape from the Wardens!"

The Daemonsbane did not hesitate to add his own words to his sons. "Many of us will not return, but know that your deaths will have meaning. Every one of them will be remembered." Kesar's hand drifted to the names on his arm, slowly tracing the thousands upon thousands of names inscribed on it. The Primarch's voice turned quiet, yet it still reached the full Legion. "Look around you, my sons. Look at your brothers. Remember them, no matter what. They will fight by your side, they will fight hell itself alongside you, and they will remember you should you fall." Slowly the Primarch's voice rose, as he began to pace about the arena. "We embark on this mission, not for glory, nor do we fight for rewards or riches. We invade the Maelstrom because we can! We are bringing war to the doorsteps of the Archdaemons, and they will learn what fear is! The warp is not their hiding spot! It is their prison!" The last sentence ended in a roar from the Primarch, as his voice echoed through the room.

Cries from the Wardens responded, a thousand voices chanting in unison. "IT IS THEIR PRISON! IT IS THEIR PRISON!"

Turning back to Maticus, Kesar slowly withdrew Epitaph from his scabbard, taking a moment to contemplate his decision on what the victor's next duel would be. "There is but one more duel that remains." The 3rd Captain froze up, as his body acted independently of his mind. Extending the Sword of the Lost, the Primarch and Astartes crossed blades as Oriacarius walked up to them and added his own. "The Legion's Champion and First Captain on one side. And their Primarch on the other. Show your brothers what you are capable of my sons."

---

Raziel watches from his position among the Librarians. He gazes intently at it as if he had not already seen its outcome. His brothers for once do not ask for the fate of the duel, as they do not believe he knows. He himself doubts it.

The Primarch makes even Maticus' sword skills look amateur in comparison. Of Oriacarius and Maticus, it is the 3rd Captain that engages the Primarch directly. His swordsmanship skills are on full display, yet he can barely stand up to Kesar for anything longer than a few minutes at a time. The Daemonsbane is stronger, the Daemonsbane is faster, the Daemonsbane is more agile, and the Daemonsbane is more skilled. Yet, it is enough, for Maticus does not fight alone.

Whenever Maticus stops being able to hold back Kesar, Oriacarius is present, his own blade constantly striking at the Primarch's flanks and back. When the 3rd Captain is unable to hold back the unstoppable being that is a Primarch, Oriacarius leaps in, his own sword flashing through the air as he strikes again and again. Then Maticus leaps back into the duel, resetting it once more.

Raziel awaits the moment from his vision as he leans forward further. He still does not believe it will happen. Yet, like all his visions. It does.

The Primarch locks blades with the Champion, twisting to avoid the First Captain's own stab at the same time. The 3rd Captain tries to create a minuscule opening, and Kesar avoids the trap. Oriacarius leaps back and targets Kesar's rear. The Primarch lashes out with his foot at the First Captain, and a sword strikes his leg before Oriacarius goes flying back.

Kesar's hand reaches down to his leg, unconsciously checking to see if the skin has been broken. It is not, yet it feels strange to the Primarch. His chest vibrates, and guffaws of joyous laughter are heard. "Oriacarius, I have never been so happy to have been hit. Well done my son."

Slowly, the First Captain rises, wincing as he feels his ribs that Kesar hit. None of them are broken, and for that he is grateful. "Maticus? Same plan as this round?"

The Champion of the Wardens nods. "I don't think it'll work, but we need to see what father does in response so we can counter it."

Rikard for once is not in the Apothecary. He is watching his brother fight instead. He watches Oriacarius rather than Maticus, for as much as he loves the 3rd Captain, it is Ori that he is closest to. It is rare that they truly get to meet nowadays, for the First Captain is eternally busy. Yet RIkard treasures the moments where he is free. For Ori is his closest brother. They were in the same batch after all, and they will always be brothers and friends.

The Chief Apothecary watches as the two Astartes continue the same pattern as the first, but there is something different about Oriacarius. Rikard's gaze turns from his brother's movements to what he can see of his face. The First Captain looks displeased.

It is for a good reason, for just a few minutes later, Epitaph sings as it stops inches from Oriacarius' chest. Kesar has won the round, and the duel is now tied.

A Remembrancer sits alongside the Wardens. She has been with the Legion for decades now, and as she watches the duel, her hand traces images along a sheet of vellum. She does not add her name to the drawings, and she never has. It is not her story, instead, it is the Warden's.

She sketches scene after scene, her own mind committing the duel to memory. Once it ends, she will return to the vellum and add the fine details that make it what it is.

She does not understand why or how the duelists are doing what they are. Nor does she care. She is only there to depict what happens. She sketches as Maticus blocks the Sword of the Lost and as Kesar avoids two blades with grace beyond mortal possibilities. It is an incredible sight, and as she draws she is lucky enough to see the end of the third round.

The Primarch does not make a mistake, rather he loses track of Oriacarius for a tenth of a second. Maticus notices this, and he attacks like a madman. His offensive will leave him open to a strike in a matter of seconds, yet that does not come to pass, for Oriacarius sword finds its way past Kesar's own, and into his arm.

The fourth round begins, and Kesar is smiling. He is losing, yet he is enjoying every moment of it. As he fails to break Maticus' guard in under a few minutes, he feels proud. As Oriacarius distracts him, letting the 3rd Captain regain his footing and balance, he feels proud. As the two Astartes attack him at once, forcing his attention to be split, he feels proud. When the round reaches its fourth hour, the feeling of pride in his sons is overwhelming. And out leaks tears of joy.

Maticus has never felt more alive. Kesar outmatches him in every way, yet he still stands against him for minutes at a time. He knows that if Oriacarius was not helping him, he would have lost long ago. Yet, with the First Captain's strategies, his own skill, and some luck, they are winning. And Maticus seeks to go further. He seeks to confirm that victory. His self-doubts are not present, nor are any thoughts of inferiority. He feels stronger and taller than he ever has. Yet the peak of his emotions is yet to come.

Inzhun is staring, for even his eyes can barely follow the spectacle below. The three combatants are all above him, yet his father stands at the tallest. But two Astartes stand against him, two of the finest within the Legion. It is an even fight, yet there is something about the fifth hour that makes him feel as if that is no longer the case.

Oriacarius sees the moment victory is theirs. It is when Kesar lashes out with a strike he has practiced countless times, one honed to near perfection. There are no holes in his defenses for Oriacarius to exploit, nor does he have the time to dodge or parry. His strength cannot hope to match his father's, and by all accounts, the round should be Kesar's. If Oriacarius was any less paranoid he would be hit at this moment.

But over two decades ago, he had been tasked with creating a plan in case Kesar ever did fall to the Archdaemons. And now, a fraction of that knowledge is used against the Primarch. His strike is parried, not by any technique that would work on anyone else, but on one meant specifically for Kesar. It is a technique Oriacarius has spent years refining until it was usable.

Kesar's eyes widened in surprise, as he felt the blow on his chest. His hand fell down towards the First Captain's sword, as Oriacarius breathes deeply. Kesar does not know when he grabbed his son and hugged him. He does not care either. "Oriacarius, Maticus." At some moment when he spoke, Maticus joined him within the embrace. "Words can never express how proud of you I am."

[] Focus on Oriacarius
[] Focus on Maticus
[] Focus on both

*Maticus gains Legion Champion - The 3rd Captain has been regarded as one of the Legion's finest swordsmen. And now he has proven it. Over a series of duels, he has emerged as the Champion. He was not hit once, even when he fought Kesar himself. Now all wait to see what he will do in the future. +10 to duels. No Exhaustion Penalty. Double wound thresholds.*
*Maticus and Oriacarius Gain Kingslayer - Over the course of a duel, the two Captains did what none within the Wardens thought possible. They won against Kesar. It is a moment that the Legion will treasure for all time, and one they will remember as long as they live. +10 to Maticus and Oriacarius' rolls if they fight against a Primarch.*