Robert took a deep breath: "And there's one more thing you all must know—currently, there are three space marines alive on Perditia."
The air solidified once more.
"...The surprises you bring me are truly endless." Krona's weathered face showed little surprise. It wasn't that he wasn't shocked; it was just that in such a short time, he had already experienced too many impacts. Although his brain was still processing this unbelievable information at high speed, under the same level of stimulation, he was too lazy to move his facial muscles to make any exaggerated expressions.
"It seems my earlier statement about directly entering the battlefield was indeed a bit rash... First, take me to see those three space marines. And along the way, tell me about their origins. Oh, and what are they doing now?"
"Two of them are in the Mid-Hive's training ground," Robert replied, "According to them, they are currently..."
Robert deliberated over his words twice, but in the end, he decided to relay the original text. As for how the system would translate it, that wasn't his problem.
"...They are currently precipitating."
"Precipitating?" Krona repeated the word. Although in his vocabulary, this word was usually only used to describe brewing or chemical reactions, this did not prevent him from understanding its general meaning through a warrior's intuition—some kind of deep training or post-battle reflection.
The group passed through the labyrinthine industrial district of the Mid-Hive, finally arriving at an abandoned factory that had been converted into a giant training ground. Before they even got close, the boisterous human voices and the colossal clang of metal had already penetrated the thick walls, assaulting them.
On the vast ground, two space marines in black power armor were fiercely sparring. And around this area, hundreds of thousands of mortal soldiers were surprisingly gathered three deep, not showing the slightest fear. Instead, they were like spectators at an exciting gladiatorial match, erupting in cheers and shouts of approval from time to time.
"A-da—!"
In the arena, the slightly more agile space marine, Andrew, let out a powerful shout. He seized an opening, starting with a right hook, his movements as swift as lightning. This punch was not straightforward; instead, it carried a cunning arc, cleverly bypassing his opponent's block.
Immediately following, a fluid combo unfolded. His fists and feet were constantly wreathed in fiery red energy, like the legendary Dragon Flame. Uppercut, elbow strike, spinning kick... Each attack seamlessly connected, leaving trails of scorching afterimages in the air. Finally, he delivered a powerful front kick, heavily striking the crossed, blocking arms of his opponent, Caleb!
"Bang—!"
Amidst the heavy metallic clang, Andrew's defense was forcibly kicked open, and his massive body involuntarily staggered back several steps, leaving his guard wide open.
"Good!"
"Well fought!"
"Andrew was careless! He didn't dodge!"
The surrounding player-soldiers erupted in thunderous applause and cheers, the atmosphere as lively as a festival celebration.
However, Caleb, who had gained a huge advantage, did not press his attack. Instead, he stopped his movements and extinguished the flames on his fists and feet.
After Andrew stabilized his body, he also stretched his arms, which were a bit numb from the shock, and said in a muffled voice: "Your 'Dragon Flame' skill proficiency is getting smoother and smoother."
"You're not far behind, big brother," Caleb said, "If I had gotten too aggressive just now, I probably would have taken your 'Immovable Mountain' counter-attack skill."
Both sides knew perfectly well that this was just a friendly spar. As biological guys who had been training together for so long, they knew each other's habits and trump cards inside and out; there was no way they would actually try to kill each other.
"I think our 'precipitation' phase is sufficient," Caleb spoke first, "The accumulated experience points are almost spent, it's time to go to the battlefield."
Andrew pondered for a moment, then nodded: "You're right. Now both of our base power levels are at fifty. It's not difficult to instantly reach one hundred by using a few skills. Continuing to train in isolation like this won't achieve anything. We really should go back to actual combat."
Just as the guys, Andrew and Caleb, reached a consensus and were preparing to head to the real battlefield, a sudden commotion and gasp erupted from the surrounding crowd.
The two turned their heads in confusion, only to see the human wall, which had been packed tight, now split open as if by an invisible giant sword, actively creating a wide passage.
At the end of that passage, a group of giants, clad in gray-blue power armor and draped with beast pelts over their shoulders, swaggered in. Each of their steps seemed to pound on a war drum, full of a primal and wild sense of power. The Wolf Lord leading them—Krona—even enthusiastically waved at the surrounding player-soldiers, a completely unhidden smile on his face.
Responding to him were cheers, whistles, and even a few vivid wolf howls, more intense and fervent than when they had watched the guys' duel.
This unexpected enthusiasm clearly infected the Space Wolves. They bared their teeth, revealing their stark white fangs, and a low resonance rumbled in their chests, finally converging into a series of loud war cries from the icy world of Fenris!
"Awooo—!"
For a moment, the entire training ground was swept up in this wild atmosphere. While it was unclear how other space marine Chapters would react to such a scene, at least, Wolf Lord Krona Dragon-Gaze of the Space Wolves' "Slayer of Dragons" Great Company and his Wolf Guard thoroughly enjoyed being the center of attention and admiration.
"I thought I would see soldiers as lifeless as the Krieg Death Korps," Krona's booming voice drowned out the cheers, his smile could be described as "unrestrained," "but it seems you are much livelier than those Kriegers!"
In the crowd, someone shouted back at the top of their lungs: "The dying living are, of course, much livelier than the moving dead!"
"Hahahahaha—!"
This dark humor instantly ignited the entire venue, and the soaring laughter almost blew the roof off the abandoned factory.
"You two Astra Militarum are six of one, half a dozen of the other!" Krona was also amused. He waved his hand grandly, then turned his gaze to the two black-armored space marines in the arena, who now had serious expressions. "Given the current situation, it seems an arena match is in order."
Krona Dragon-Gaze, this name was quite famous within the Space Wolves Chapter for his fanaticism for battle and contests. Whether in friendly matches within the Chapter or during joint operations with other space marine Chapters, he would always seize the opportunity for a spar.
Just as he was in high spirits, he suddenly remembered something and looked down at Robert beside him: "By the way, your front line... shouldn't collapse anytime soon, right?"
"No," Robert shrugged, answering calmly, "but if you count the time, some radioactive dust might drift over from the front line soon."
"Such a small matter is irrelevant." Krona waved his hand dismissively. He looked around his Wolf Guard. Of course, he wouldn't personally go into the arena to bully two greenhorns. "You, Okeharis Rivers! Go up there and let them experience the cold winds of Fenris!"