From the perspective of players Andrew and Caleb, the entire world's aesthetic abruptly changed with the arrival of these uninvited guests.
As the giants, clad in grey-blue armor and adorned with animal pelts, stepped into the training ground, a series of numbers furiously flickered on Andrew's right eye combat power detector, almost overwhelming him.
"Holy moly!" Andrew let out a strange cry, "So many space marines, not a single one with a combat power below three digits! The leader's combat power shot straight to four digits! The version hasn't even updated yet, so how are the stats already inflating? Where did Commander Robert find these tough guys?"
Caleb, meanwhile, muttered in a low voice, "And from the looks of it, they seem to be here with ill intentions, like they're here to challenge us..."
"Do we even have anything for them to challenge here...?" Andrew subconsciously retorted.
"Aren't we it?" Caleb sighed, "I think we're about to be ganged up on..."
Fortunately, the worst-case scenario the two guys envisioned—being ganged up on by a group of tough guys with combat power above three digits—did not happen. The Space Wolves did not swarm them; instead, their Wolf Lord singled out one warrior. After all, they had no grudge against Perditia's Helldivers Legion and Martyr's battle group, and even the warlike Sons of Fenris valued a warrior's honor and rules.
The Wolf Guard who was called out—orkearis Rivers—stepped forward, his power boots thudding heavily on the ground with a "thump," and a fierce, beast-like aura emanated from him.
Listening to the rising cheers and howls around the training ground, this competition was clearly inevitable; it had to happen.
Caleb was the first to elbow Andrew beside him, saying, "Brother, the real combat opportunity you've long awaited, to spar with true powerhouses, has arrived."
"Ahem, such a precious real combat opportunity, I'll let my younger brother have it," Andrew immediately kicked the ball back, saying earnestly, "Respecting the old and loving the young is a traditional virtue of our people. As an older brother, I must set a good example for you with my actions."
"No, no, no, haven't you heard the story of Kong Rong yielding the pears, older brother?" Caleb also began to quote classics, "As the younger one, I should offer this 'pear' for you to taste first..."
"No, no, no," Andrew suddenly clutched his abdomen, his expression becoming very "painful," "I suddenly feel unwell and urgently need to rest for a while; I really can't go on. Younger brother, the battle group's honor rests on you today..."
"What kind of illness can an astartes possibly have?" Caleb retorted, narrowing his eyes.
"Chancroid," Andrew uttered a word without changing his expression that made Caleb's brain freeze.
"..."
After a while, Caleb squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth: "...Alright, you're amazing."
He resignedly turned around, flexing his wrists and neck, his joints making crisp "crackling" sounds. Amidst the thunderous cheers and roars from the entire venue, he walked alone to face the Space Wolf from Fenris.
"If I have to go, I'll go..."
Caleb took a deep breath, the power armor's circulation system humming softly. He took a few steps forward, standing in the center of the training ground, facing the Space Wolf named orkearis Rivers.
A chilling atmosphere spread between the two. The clamor outside seemed to recede at this moment, leaving only the heavy breathing and the faint creak of their armor joints. He assumed his combat stance, slowly gathering the Dragon Flame's energy in his fists, preparing for a tough fight.
He originally thought that the next second would be a fierce collision of metal and strength.
However, a harsh static noise suddenly erupted, as if someone had just turned on an old loudspeaker. Immediately after, a powerful voice, with a slightly exaggerated echo, filled the entire training ground:
"Alright—ladies and gentlemen, this is your old pal, Cohen!"
"Oh my god, who the hell is this genius!" Caleb was instantly shocked, almost losing his stance, "How did even a commentator show up? And what's with this dubbed voice, seriously!"
"We can see! On the field right now, two majestic space marines are engaged in an intense standoff!" Cohen's voice was full of passion, as if he were witnessing an epic duel, "First, let's look at the one on the left! Dressed in black power armor... it's none other than the 999th generation master of the Dragon Flame Fist, who has honed the mysteries of hard and soft to an art form! From the Helldivers Legion—Caleb!"
As his prolonged final syllable echoed, the training ground immediately erupted in thunderous cheers; the players clearly enjoyed this kind of style.
However, Caleb, as the person involved, was already starting to feel a headache.
"Don't just randomly give people nicknames!" He ranted wildly in his mind, "How did you casually make up a bunch of titles that even I almost couldn't remember? Wouldn't it be better to use such eloquence for something serious...?"
"And on the other side!" Cohen paused deliberately here, building suspense.
Rivers on the field clearly understood what this meant; he raised his head and announced his name in a booming voice: "Orkearis Rivers!"
"And on the other side!" Cohen's voice rose again, "Is an elite warrior forged by the biting cold winds of the icy world of Fenris, tempered through a thousand trials—Orkearis Rivers!"
"...How come he doesn't get a nickname?" Caleb grumbled inwardly, "Are you afraid he'll chop you down on the spot? The differential treatment is too obvious!"
"So, among these two powerful warriors, who will emerge victorious and claim today's glory?" Cohen's high-pitched tone completely stirred up the emotions of the live audience.
Then, he suddenly changed his tone, rattling off at a speed comparable to a heavy logging gun:
"Before that, attention, audience members! Just look down, and you'll see the 'Battlefield Flatbread' sold at our mobile stall! Made with the freshest rat meat and dried cockroaches, with four times the protein content of beef! Crunchy, chicken-flavored, guaranteed to be a hundred times tastier than nutrient paste! Warriors with a craving must not miss out! Buy now and get a free cup of filtered water!
Thank you for your support!"
"I'm completely dumbfounded! So you're a commentator just to run commercials!" Caleb was utterly furious, "You really do have a damn business mind!"
Thinking of this, Caleb suddenly realized, his expression changing: "Wait... what did he say his name was? Cohen?"
"Alright, stop with all this nonsense!" Rivers on the opposite side was clearly getting impatient; he tapped his chainsword on the ground, making a dull thud, "Let's get started!"
"Alright, since our contestants are already so eager," Cohen said compliantly, "then let's fast-forward to the exciting pre-match trash talk segment—Mr. Caleb, do you have anything you'd like to say to Mr. Rivers before we begin?"
"Hmm..." With Cohen's prompt, Caleb successfully pulled himself back from his frantic emotions and realized that he indeed had something to say.
He looked directly into Rivers' eyes and said in a deep voice, "I can feel it, you are very strong... If this were a simple spar, I would not be your opponent."
"Oh?" Rivers grinned, showing a hint of disdain, "You're giving up before even fighting, recruit?"
"But I don't want to lose," Caleb finished his sentence, his tone suddenly becoming sharp, "So, I'll have to use my full strength. If I accidentally injure or cripple you... then I can only say I'm very sorry."
At these words, the noisy scene instantly fell silent, as if the air had been sucked out.
The next second, an even fiercer storm swept through the entire venue.
"My goodness! Can I interpret this as the ultimate provocation from Mr. Caleb!" This was the commentator Cohen's exclamatory addition of fuel to the fire.
"Well said! Damn impressive! Kill him!" This was the bloodthirsty audience, eager for chaos.
"Rivers! Let him experience how biting the cold winds of Fenris are!" These were the enraged Space Wolves.
As for Rivers, the center of attention, he first stared in disbelief for a moment, then, reacting, he slowly spread his mouth into a grin, revealing his snow-white and sharp fangs—just like a true wolf.
A low, dangerous growl rumbled in his throat, every word edged with ice: "Very good, it seems you, recruit... need a bit of discipline. I'll personally teach you how to respect a veteran."