Chapter 361: The Duel
Kian turned back, sized the warlord up head to toe, and scoffed.
"You think you're tough? Being tough means nothing without backing, without a real organization. Which slum did you crawl out of?"
The warlord bellowed, "My name is Tyron! I rose up from Widow's Hollow, and I've made it my life's work to kill high-and-mighty nobles like you!"
Kian gave a dismissive grunt.
"Ah. A two-bit rebel, then."
The warlord took that as an insult, roared in fury, and charged, greataxe raised in both hands.
Kian just smirked, planning to cut the axe clean in half with a single swing and take the man's head off in the same stroke.
He surged forward to meet the charge, greatsword raised high.
The two weapons collided in midair, and to Kian's genuine surprise, that unremarkable-looking metal axe didn't get sheared apart by his disruption field.
Instead, the impact sparked like two powered weapons colliding, disruption field against disruption field.
The force staggered Kian, nearly knocking the sword out of his hands.
It wasn't a matter of raw strength, exactly. It was leverage. A guy under five and a half feet swinging a long-hafted axe could still overpower a taller man with a sword, purely on torque.
The fact that the axe hadn't been sliced apart by his field caught Kian genuinely off guard, and combined with his stumble, the warlord seized the opening and pressed the attack.
Kian found himself dodging left and right in something close to disarray, unable to fully recover his footing.
The cultist horde around them let out an ecstatic roar at the sight of the enemy's champion on the back foot against their general.
Luca's men, meanwhile, watched in mounting dread. If the man in gold armour couldn't hold against this monster, what chance did the rest of them have?
The warlord's strength was no joke. Fully armoured and still swinging a hundred-plus-pound axe with terrifying speed and force.
Kian dodged fast, ducking clear of a follow-up swing that buried itself in a merlon and actually cracked the stone.
The axe came up again immediately, swinging back at him without pause.
Kian dodged and weaved, finally finding an opening, and swung the adamantium shield off his back to block.
DUANG!!!
A thunderous crash rang out, sparks erupting in a bright shower where axe met shield.
Kian felt like he'd been hit by a car, stumbling back several full steps.
The warlord's raw strength genuinely exceeded his own, and something was clearly off about that weapon too. Kian filed the observation away.
Looking closer, he noticed the axe carried a dark crimson tint, wreathed in a churning aura of Warp energy.
He understood immediately. This axe had probably killed so many people that it had absorbed Khorne's blessing right alongside its wielder. There was no way an ordinary mundane weapon could otherwise withstand a disruption field.
"Die, you slippery little flea!!"
The warlord shouted with manic glee, swinging in a frenzy, hammering down on Kian's raised shield again and again.
DUANG! DUANG! DUANG!!!
Sparks flew off the shield in bursts, Kian forced back step by step.
The warlord was practically giddy. It had been ages since he'd faced an opponent who could actually trade blows with him.
Undefeated for too long carried its own kind of loneliness.
Now that he'd finally found someone worth a real fight, part of him almost didn't want to kill Kian too quickly.
What he hadn't noticed, though, was that despite absorbing blow after blow purely on the shield, Kian hadn't actually given up a single step since regaining his footing.
After more than ten consecutive strikes, the warlord's swings were visibly starting to slow.
Kian took the opening, stepped back, and put a bit of distance between them.
"Heh, big guy. Free advice for your next life: don't just grind strength stats. Put some points into cardio and agility too."
"WHAT?!"
The warlord was breathing hard, fully lost in his berserker haze, barely registering what Kian had even said.
He raised the axe again, and brought it down in a huge, uncontrolled arc, aiming straight for Kian's helmeted skull, determined to end this.
In that split second, Kian moved with blinding speed, twisting hard to the left, slipping the swing entirely.
In the same motion, with perfect precision, he laid the tip of his sword against the axe's iron haft and hooked it upward in a sharp flick.
CLANG!
"AAAAAAAH!!!"
The axe hit the ground, and a scream of agony followed instantly.
That single flick of the blade had sheared clean through four or five of the warlord's fingers.
The warlord stared at his own mutilated hands, letting out a howl of fury and terror in equal measure.
Kian raised his greatsword high and brought it down at the man's neck, intending the same finishing cut he'd used on ordinary mortals all fight, straight through neck and chest.
But the warlord twisted his body away, throwing both arms up in a desperate block.
The blade cut through slightly slowed, but still cut clean through both raised arms, which dropped to the ground like fallen sausages.
The follow-through landed hard on the warlord's shoulder, sparks and blood erupting from the impact.
The warlord screamed and lashed out with a kick, catching Kian square in the gut, using the momentum to throw himself backward, out of range.
Kian was genuinely startled. One clean hit, and the body hadn't come apart.
What the hell has this guy been doing to earn this much favor? Is Khorne really that invested in him?
Mutilated, both arms gone and a deep wound in the shoulder, the warlord screamed out in terror.
"Get in there! Stop him! All of you, stop him NOW!!"
The cultists exchanged uneasy looks and didn't move.
An honor duel had only one survivor. No one was allowed to interfere.
Anyone who broke that rule would be executed on the spot, even if it meant letting their own general die.
Kian closed in, ready to finish off the wailing warlord for good.
But seeing that his men wouldn't budge, the warlord turned and threw himself off the wall, back into the city.
Kian chased and landed one more strike, catching him across the back as he fell.
The blade tore through his heavy armour and opened a deep gash down to the bone.
The warlord screamed and dropped from the wall.
Twenty-five meters down, and the bastard hit the ground apparently unharmed, scrambled back up, and ran for the city center, bleeding heavily.
Kian had a bad feeling this guy was about to pull something serious, and knew he had to finish him off immediately.
He leapt off the wall himself and gave chase, straight into the city after the fleeing warlord.
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