Chapter 63: Battle! Battle! Battle!

A brilliant white light cascaded from above, illuminating the elevated platform, its gaze unwavering.

Below, a chorus of gasps and exclamations erupted.

Above, Hades, with a bruised right eye, floated in mid-air. His left fist connected squarely with Blanca's chin, sending him soaring into the air.

"Up, down, left, right, baba—"

Rising Dragon Punch!

Blanca's body seemed to glide in the air for a moment before crashing heavily to the ground, signaling the end of this duel.

The outcome was clear!

Yet, even after taking a full-force blow from Hades, Blanca managed to stagger to his feet within moments, clutching his chin.

"Good lad, well done!"

Initially, Blanca had the upper hand against Hades, using his experience to predict and counter Hades's moves. But as the duel progressed, Blanca realized that Hades was also predicting his moves.

And with increasing accuracy!

What's going on with this guy?

Blanca, being lighter and less powerful than Hades, was losing his advantage of prediction, tilting the balance of the duel in Hades's favor.

Damn!

Blanca recalled that the tactics Hades used to defeat the Type-3 Combat Servitor weren't typical of seasoned soldiers.

Usually, these Terran veterans would stand their ground, endure the servitor's combo attacks, and then exploit its weaknesses.

The more experienced the soldier, the better they could exploit the servitor's vulnerabilities.

But Hades had chosen to directly engage the Type-3 Combat Servitor, relying on his swift reflexes, immense strength, and exceptional predictive abilities.

Meaning, Hades had the upper hand against the Type-3!

Blanca suddenly realized he had underestimated this rookie.

Damn, this kid's so strong, yet he spends his days learning Gothic and always uses formal language.

If Blanca were a rookie with Hades's abilities, he would've demanded special treatment from their captain long ago.

This kid's weird!

Blanca spat on the ground in frustration.

He looked at Hades, his right eye bruised (from Blanca's punch), clearly exhausted.

Blanca, defeated by a rookie, thought bitterly, "He's pretending, right? It's all an act, isn't it?"

"Feng Ze, you're up!"

A robust veteran from the Seventh Squad jumped onto the duel platform.

However, Hades, panting heavily, seemed to have anticipated Blanca's choice and readied himself.

"Begin."

The crowd's excitement reached a fever pitch when the third veteran was defeated by the exhausted rookie. They realized this new recruit was not just for show; he was genuinely skilled and didn't pick fights unnecessarily.

"Let me have a go at him!"

But then—

"Jose, that's your move! That little punk learned it while watching from below!"

"Dodge to his left! His left arm's injured! It's weak!"

"Go for his legs, aim low!"

"Come on, Fidel! How did you get beaten by an injured rookie?"

"You think you can do better? Get up there!"

Another figure leaped onto the platform.

"I'm next!"

The figures before Hades began to blur. He dodged to the right, avoiding another attack.

Following his instincts, he reached out, then flipped—

A perfect shoulder throw!

The sixth one!

Hades shook his head, trying to clear his vision. He was bruised all over, and someone had just kicked him in the stomach.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Hades felt a growing weakness, a sign of low blood sugar. He was starving and nearing his limit.

Another challenger approached.

Hades readied himself.

"Begin," he muttered.

Then—

The opponent unleashed—

"Up, down, left, right, baba—"

Rising Dragon Punch!

Hades, now completely drained, was sent flying. Knowing he was defeated, he didn't bother getting up. He lay there, conserving his energy.

Across from him, Blanca, with a mockingly exaggerated expression, raised both hands triumphantly.

The outcome was clear!

Cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd. Blanca stood under the spotlight, basking in the prolonged adulation.

Suddenly, he seemed to realize something. Lowering his arms, he made a silencing gesture.

The cheers and jubilation ceased instantly.

A faint voice emanated from the platform floor—

"Old-timers have no martial honor."

Blanca burst into laughter, pulling Hades up and letting the exhausted rookie lean on his shoulder.

"There's no such thing as martial honor on the battlefield, kid."

"This was your first lesson."

"And also,"

Blanca raised an eyebrow,

"Welcome!"

Cheers and whistles erupted once more.

"Welcome, Hades!"

Post-Battle Analysis:

Barbarus Lineage: Loyal to the Primarch, not much to say.

Terran Lineage:

- Radicals: Most of the veterans who participated, hoping to defy the Primarch.

- Neutrals: Skeptical of the Primarch but recognize the need for unity in future battles. The cool-headed observers.

- Moderates: Believe the Legion is only complete with the Primarch, free from troop control restrictions. They try to sway the Radicals and are the peacemakers.

Think Tank: Radical

Chief Think Tank: A peculiar individual.

Calas: Hoped to use the duel platform to stir things up and make Mortarion accept psychic powers.

Mortarion: Took a break from studying, got caught in Calas's scheme, but after Ugo's participation, realized Calas wasn't as innocent as he seemed. The Death Guard's relationships are complex, but they're all discreet. Normally, such a duel wouldn't occur.

If this were the original story, these factions wouldn't interact, and most Terran soldiers would be dispatched.

But this duel was orchestrated by Calas, who was provoked into studying psychic powers by Hades, leading to a butterfly effect.

Interestingly, even though the factions disagreed, the outcomes on the duel platform genuinely determined the story's direction.

Terran Veterans Win:

Outcome 1: Terran casualties, dispatched by Mortarion.

Barbarus Lineage Wins:

Outcome 1:

Typhon Wins:

Outcome 2: Gradually becomes Chief Think Tank, with the Think Tank becoming Calas's private army.

Ugo Wins:

Outcome 3: Complete annihilation of the Think Tank.

However, our Hades, through strength and luck, achieved the hidden outcome, successfully breaking the mold.