Exactly three minutes after Sebastian finished his al, the training resud with pitiless punctuality.
This ti, Telax had indulged a sudden whim. He released a pack of mutated beasts into the arena while the initiates were still adjusting to the gravity.
The creatures were abominations. Pinkish-purple, crab-like pincers sprouted from lavender skin, which was mottled with dark, necrotic scabs. As Telax threw open the shackles, the beasts let out a chorus of lodic, high-pitched shrieks and surged from their cages, closing in on the initiates with blurred speed.
The mont the cloying, musk-heavy stench of the Warp hit his nostrils, Enkidu discarded his training weights. He reached out, tore a jagged length of piping from a nearby wall, and gripped the fractured end like a spearhead.
High above, suspended from the ceiling, the mutilated Noel continued to drip blood, his sightless eyes bearing silent witness to the carnage below.
The mutants fanned out. So scaled the overhead pipes while others circled on the ground, forming a loose, predatory periter. Their eyes glowed with a frantic, red hunger.
"This isn't so bad," Truen grunted, his face relaxing slightly as he assessed the threat. "Just beasts. I've killed plenty of vermin in the deep shafts."
"Don't be a fool. These aren't the rats from your mines," Enkidu warned. He stole a quick glance at the veterans lounging in the gallery. They seed bored, their attention drifting. "Look at the claws. There's a pattern to the mutation. And rember—Telax didn't give us any weapons for a reason."
These were creatures saturated with the essence of the Prince of Pleasure. A single scratch could carry more than just physical infection.
"I won't be careless," Truen promised.
"See that you aren't. Sebastian, stay close. If you can't hold your own, get behind or Truen."
Enkidu shifted the balance of his tal pipe, testing its weight. His gaze swept over the encircling pack and locked onto the largest individual—the one with the most advanced mutations.
If I take the head, will the rest of the pack break?
He adjusted his stance, centering his weight until every tendon was coiled like a high-tension spring. His blood roared through his veins, his dual hearts drumming a war-beat against his ribs. Then—
"Rember, whelps!" Telax's voice shrieked from above. "Speed! Agility! Elegance! Perfection!"
With a cacophony of screams, dozens of shadows blurred through the air, colliding with the initiates.
The beast lurked in the shadows, saliva dripping from its needle-thin teeth.
It understood that these bipedal giants were unlike anything it had hunted before. They were larger, faster, and radiated a predatory pressure that would have normally sent the beast scurrying back to its hole. In its simpler life, "big" ant "death."
But it had been "ascended."
Sweet, intoxicating power had flowed from the Great Void, pouring into its once-pathetic fra. Its coarse fur had fallen away to reveal supple, sensitive skin. Its bones had been hollowed and lengthened, making it light as a feather. Its forepaws had withered into elegant, pink pincers, and a pair of scorpion-like tails now swayed behind it, tipped with a toxic violet sheen.
The most profound change was in its mind. It no longer just wanted to eat; it wanted to savor. It understood beauty. It craved the exquisite flavor of a terrified soul. It dread that one day, it might beco one of the majestic steeds that galloped across the silver plains of its master's realm.
But first, it had to hunt.
The beast crept through the shadows of the overhead pipes. It singled out a giant with silver-white hair and piercing purple eyes. The target was currently occupied, fending off five of the pack with nothing but a rusted tal tube. Other giants tried to move in to assist, but the silver-haired one waved them off, refusing help.
Arrogance, the beast thought, a human-like malice flickering in its tiny brain. What could be easier to kill than a hunter who thinks he is untouchable?
The beast settled into a hidden corner and exhaled a puff of anesthetic gas from its snout. It waited for the giant's movents to falter, then pounced.
In the fraction of a second before its pincers could pierce the giant's neck, the world shifted.
Thanks to his Lyman's Ear, Enkidu had heard the faint scrape of claws on steel the mont the beast climbed the pipes. The rush of air as it leaped was as loud as a thunderclap to his heightened senses. Even the anesthetic gas was neutralized by his preomnor before it could cloud his mind. He had simply feigned a mont of sluggishness to draw the creature in.
The big fish takes the bait.
Enkidu pivoted mid-air, slamming his shoulder into the beast's chest with the force of a crashing rhino. As the creature recoiled, he spun, driving the jagged tip of the tal pipe straight toward its throat.
The beast shrieked, twisting its body mid-flight with unnatural elasticity. It slid past the strike at a grotesque angle and began to circle him, hissing and chirping. The other beasts changed their rhythm in response to its "song," probing his defenses from multiple angles.
Enkidu raised an eyebrow. This was definitely the pack leader. It was faster, stronger, and seemingly capable of tactical coordination. Yet, strangely, he felt no fear. He didn't even feel disgust. He felt a cold, sharp thrill—the kind of excitent a gar feels when finally reaching a boss. The more he fought, the more his reflexes sharpened. His control over his new body was becoming seamless.
Am I actually enjoying this?
The thought flickered and vanished. Enkidu stepped aside, dodging a spray of toxic ichor. He reached out, caught the lead beast's overextended, slender tongue, and yanked the creature toward him. He t its montum with a rising knee. The beast's spine shattered with a sickening, rhythmic series of cracks.
He impaled the twitching carcass onto a jagged piece of rebar sticking out from the floor.
That's one.
Four minutes later, a second carcass was added to the rebar.
The third beast had its head twisted off, its body discarded like trash.
With three of their number dead, the pack's coordination collapsed. Their rhythm broke, their confidence shattered. Several beasts abandoned the assault on Enkidu, turning instead to harass the other initiates.
Enkidu blurred through the gaps in the fray, parrying strikes that would have gutted Bellator and Varangis.
Four.
The pack began to give him a wide berth, their predatory instincts finally overriding their Warp-induced frenzy.
Five.
Enkidu felt a strange sense of isolation. He realized that Telax's training, while sadistic, was actually calibrated. Astartes possessed strength and speed that defied mortal comprehension. These drills were designed to shock their minds into catching up with their bodies.
For his comrades, the terror was real. They were still thinking like humans.
But Enkidu? He was starting to think like an Astartes.
He stepped forward, calm and deliberate, facing the final beast that still dared to hiss at him.
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