From three different directions, the players launched a thunderous assault on the Slaaneshi Space Marine. Their triangular pincer attack required no words; after dozens of battles fought side by side, the coordination had become instinctive.
“Interesting,” Gerard said calmly from the center of the storm. A faint smile tugged at his lips. “But only slightly so.”
Before the final syllable faded, he swung his power sword.
A perfect ring of light exploded outward from the blade.
CLANG—!
The deafening impact reverberated through the twisted art hall. The trio’s attacks slammed into an invisible wall, and a terrifying force surged back through their weapons. All three were thrown backward several steps at the same time, their synchronized assault shattered in an instant.
“This is bad…” AlphaBravo gritted his teeth, struggling to keep hold of his violently trembling sword. “That speed and strength are absurd. If we weren’t on combat stimulants, that swing alone would’ve cut us in half…”
He exhaled shakily.
“So this is a real Space Marine.”
“Too slow. Too predictable. Too many wasted movements.”
Gerard remained where he stood, leisurely critiquing them like an artist mocking amateur brushwork.
“If you have any other tricks, use them now.” His smile widened slightly. “Otherwise, you probably have ten seconds left to live.”
“Tch.”
Garry spat to the side and casually switched on the portable radio at his waist. Ethereal, distorted music drifted through the hall.
Then he looked up.
“Don’t act so cocky, ugly freak.”
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Gerard’s expression froze.
“You…” His voice turned dangerously soft. “What did you just call me?”
“Oh?” Garry’s eyes lit up. He immediately caught the shift in emotion. “So that’s your weak spot.”
A grin spread across his face.
He puffed out his cheeks and exaggerated his expression into an infuriating caricature straight out of a Stephen Chow comedy.
“Ugly freak” he sang mockingly. “Ug-ly freak! What’re you gonna do about it? Hit me?”
Silence.
The laziness vanished from Gerard’s face, replaced by naked killing intent.
“Since you insist on dying early,” he said coldly, “then don’t blame me.”
His gaze sharpened.
“There are still two toys left. One breaking doesn’t matter.”
The moment the words left his mouth, Gerard moved.
The three players’ pupils constricted violently.
Even with combat stimulants boosting their neural reflexes several times over, all they could see was a streak of violet afterimage slicing through the hall.
But Garry reacted before conscious thought could catch up.
Driven purely by battle instinct, he raised his power sword.
That instinct saved his life.
CLANG!
The impact nearly tore his arms apart.
He blocked the strike—but in that instant, Garry understood something clearly.
I’m dead.
“To kill us in ten seconds…” He tightened both hands around the hilt as blood streamed from split skin between his thumb and forefinger. “At this rate… I won’t even last three exchanges.”
“Do you despair now, mortal?”
Gerard pressed down with one hand on his sword, effortlessly overpowering Garry’s two-handed defense.
“The gap between us,” he said arrogantly, “is the difference between an insect crawling through dirt and a god standing above the heavens.”
CLANG!
Another slash descended almost too quickly to follow.
Garry barely managed to block it.
A sharp cracking sound echoed from his arms. His wrists fractured instantly, and sparks burst from the joints of his carapace armor.
The next strike would kill him.
“It’s over, insect.”
Cruel delight flashed across Gerard’s face as he swung his blade toward Garry’s neck.
Then—
The fatal strike twisted off course.
“What?!”
The universal last words of arrogant villains.
Garry stared in disbelief as Gerard’s own strength seemed to wrench the blade aside at the last second. The sword scraped across Garry’s helmet instead of cleaving through it.
At the same moment, Gerard abruptly turned around, exposing his back completely.
No—
Not at random.
He was staring directly at Name.
Only then did Garry notice what Name held in his hands: a thick, ancient tome in his left hand and a feathered quill in his right. Fresh ink still glistened across the page.
“You’re too confident,” AlphaBravo said with a mocking smile. “Confident enough to think you could turn your back on us and still react in time.”
“Weakness and ignorance aren’t fatal,” Name sneered as he closed the book. “Arrogance is.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What did you think I was asking your name for earlier?”
Name: The Book of Hatred
Type: ToolQuality: ExcellentAttribute: None
Effect:After the holder writes the name of an intelligent creature in the book, the target develops overwhelming hatred toward the holder, abandoning all other priorities to kill them.
Usage Requirement:The holder must be weaker than the target.
Remark:
“I only remember the High King lecturing me for half a day. Truth be told, I barely listened—I’d finished an entire bottle of Erguotou beforehand. Strong stuff from the East, you know… Ah, I’ve wandered off topic again.
Anyway, the High King thought dwarves hated people a little too enthusiastically, so he ordered me to forge something opposite to the Book of Hatred.
Looking back, I think what he actually wanted was probably the Book of Benevolence.”— Anonymous Dwarven Elder
Ignoring the agony tearing through his shattered wrists, Garry seized the opening.
With a savage roar, he drove his power sword deep into Gerard’s exposed lower back.
The blade punched through ceramite armor.
Blood erupted from the wound in a violent spray.
Yet Gerard did not retaliate.
His entire will remained locked onto Name, consumed by supernatural hatred. He could only let out a howl of fury and humiliation as his overwhelming aura rapidly began to falter.