"Apologies for the interruption, my lord, but have you concluded your discourse with the gladiator? He is scheduled for redeploynt in the arena."
As the two brothers finalized their decision, the cybernetically enhanced guide stepped into the chamber, her servo-jointed movents near-silent save for the faint hiss of pressurized hydraulics.
She barely finished speaking before Grot raised his gauntleted hand.
A pinpoint blast of scatter-laser fire erupted from his wrist—
A superheated lance of energy punched clean through her torso.
The attendant convulsed as flesh, ceramite, and augtic plating vaporized in an instant. The air filled with the acrid stench of scorched at and burning synth-flesh as what remained of her collapsed in a heap of smoking ruin.
He reached back, unseating his grav-hamr, and with a casual toss, hurled it toward Heavy Hamr.
The gladiator caught it in his pincer with an audible clank, flexing his augtic grip around the weapon’s haft. His armor groaned as he adjusted his stance, the weight of the hamr barely registering against his colossal fra.
Grot stepped forward, his power armor humming with murderous energy.
Behind him, Heavy Hamr followed, the dull glow of his optics fixed ahead, his every motion the embodint of violence waiting to be unleashed.
....
Outside, the walls shuddered with the sound of approaching boots.
The arena enforcers had already registered the weapon discharge.
They were ready.
Dozens of enforcers stood in formation, las-carbines raised and prid to fire.
"OPEN FIRE!"
The hallway erupted in a maelstrom of las-bolts and muzzle flashes.
Searing lances of energy streaked through the confined space, each impact scarring the ferrocrete walls with blackened craters—
But Grot did not slow down.
He marched forward, his shoulder-mounted cannon glowing hot—
And unleashed a storm of scatter-laser fire.
The narrow corridor beca a slaughterhouse.
Enforcers were shredded instantly, the energy blasts punched through flak armor as though it were parchnt, boiling flesh away from bone. So barely managed a scream before liquefying into unrecognizable husks. Others twitched in death spasms, collapsing into pools of bubbling viscera.
The tallic scent of scorched blood filled the air.
The guards' final screams were lost in the roar of weapons fire and death.
....
A new wave of enforcers surged forth from an adjacent corridor—
Only for Heavy Hamr to charge forward, roaring.
"FOR THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!"
His servo-driven pincer spun, turning Grots grav-hamr into a brutal whirlwind of destruction.
The first wave of enforcers were obliterated on impact, their bodies pulverized into indistinguishable masses of at and shattered armor plating.
So were sent crashing against the corridor walls, bones shattering, limbs severed in an instant—only to slump into twitching, broken heaps.
The rest were simply gone, their bodies reduced to chunks of ruinous flesh.
....
Grot gestured toward his power armor’s gauntlet, offering to detach it for his brother to wield.
"You want to use this?"
Heavy Hamr scoffed, shaking his head.
"I do not need weapons for the weak."
With a disdainful grunt, he dropped his grav-hamr, letting it clatter to the blood-slicked floor.
Instead—
He searched among the corpses, his pincer arm dragging through the ruined flesh.
Finally, he found it—
A massive, two-handed war axe, its steel edge dented and rusted from years of slaughter.
One of the favored weapons of the Underhive gangs.
He hefted it, rolling his shoulders as he tested the weight.
Then he grinned, his teeth flashing like a beast before the kill.
"Perfect."
....
More guards arrived—
But this ti, one of them towered over the rest.
A hulking slab of muscle, standing over 2.3 ters tall—
An Ogryn.
A genetically divergent offshoot of humanity, Ogryn are the descendants of those abandoned to the crushing gravity and harsh conditions of high-G worlds.
Their ancestors, once normal humans, evolved into massive, muscle-bound warriors through generations of adaptation. Their bones beca denser, their skin rougher, and their intellects—well, simpler.
The mutant shock trooper scratched his scarred, oversized skull, his tiny brain struggling to form words.
"Ogryn… gonna… gonna… SMASH!"
Instead of finishing his sentence, he simply charged.
The colossal brute barreled forward, his gargantuan fists raised—
A moving wall of raw, unstoppable destruction.
Even Grot, clad in Thunderborn power armor, felt a rare instinctive unease.
But Heavy Hamr did not falter.
He roared, lifting his war axe, and sprinted forward.
They collided with the force of siege engines. Flesh, augtics, and armor slamd together in an earth-shattering impact.
The Ogryn’s sheer weight sent Heavy Hamr hurtling backward, his armored fra slamming into the steel wall with a sickening crunch.
His newly installed augtic arm was torn clean from its socket, sparks and dark arterial blood spraying in all directions.
But Heavy Hamr laughed.
His face twisted into an ecstatic snarl.
"FOR THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!"
....
Grot raised his cannon, lining up a killing shot—
But his brother rushed back into the fight, blocking the firing angle.
"Damn it!" Grot cursed, then charged in himself.
The Ogryn swung, his fist like a wrecking ball, crashing into Heavy Hamr’s tal-plated skull—
Bone cracked. Armor dented.
And yet—Heavy Hamr grinned as he took the blow head-on.
He hacked into the Ogryn’s arm, his axe biting deep.
The Ogryn howled, but retaliated—
A second punch connected.
Another rib shattered.
Still—Heavy Hamr kept swinging.
Blow after blow landed—
Until—
The Ogryn made a fatal mistake.
He raised both fists, preparing to bring them down like a sledgehamr.
At that mont, Grot struck.
His grav-hamr smashed into the Ogryn’s knee, sending shockwaves of kinetic force through its mutant fra.
The Ogryn stumbled.
And Heavy Hamr seized the opportunity.
He leapt high, raising his axe—
And buried it in the Ogryn’s skull.
....
The Ogryn’s massive corpse crumpled.
Its head separated from its body, rolling across the blood-slicked floor.
Heavy Hamr lifted it high, his face streaked with crimson, roaring:
"GLORY TO THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!"
The remaining enforcers hesitated, their nerve breaking.
Then—
They broke ranks and ran.
Heavy Hamr sprinted after them, his tallic limbs clanking.
Though he was slower than the fleeing enforcers, his rage never waned.
So shoved their comrades down, hoping to slow their own deaths.
Heavy Hamr gladly obliged,.
Every fallen body was hacked apart before he resud pursuit.
....
The chase led them out of the tunnels—
Straight into the open coliseum.
The guards scattered.
But Heavy Hamr no longer cared.
Instead—
He turned toward the center of the arena, where two gladiators fought.
They had been locked in a fierce duel—
But neither was prepared for what happened next.
Heavy Hamr charged into them, his war axe flashing.
They barely had ti to react—
Before their heads were severed in a single brutal swing.
....
The audience fell silent.
Hundreds of wealthy nobles, gang lords, and corrupt officials sat in stunned horror.
Then—
Heavy Hamr raised his axe, drenched in fresh blood, and shouted.
“PRAISE BE TO THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD!”
His voice was like the roar of a predator in the deep void, raw and deafening. As he lifted his gore-drenched weapon high, sothing small and unassuming slipped from his belt.
It tumbled through the blood-slicked air and landed upright in the widening crimson pool at his feet.
A tiny brass effigy of the Champion of Blood himself.
The assembled crowd—n and won who had gorged themselves on excess, who had thought themselves untouchable—stared, transfixed by the unholy idol.
Then—
A few gasped, clutching at their pendants of the Imperial Creed or whispering hurried prayers to the God-Emperor.
To so, the statue’s mouth appeared to curl into a grin.
To others, the fresh blood of the slain seed to flow unnaturally, creeping toward its feet as if drawn by so unseen force.
Then—
A shriek split the silence.
The spell was broken. Panic spread like wildfire.
....
Nobles shoved past each other, trampling the weak.
A woman in an embroidered dress of gold and lapis scread as she was thrown to the ground, her silken garb torn and soiled beneath the trampling mob.
A rchant-lord, bloated with years of excess, was crushed under the weight of panicked bodies, his pleas lost in the chaos.
And in the eye of this chaos, Heavy Hamr grinned.
His massive fra heaved with exhilaration. He turned his gaze toward the stands, toward the fleeing cattle, his mind consud with but a single thought: more blood.
He lunged forward, eager to continue his bloody worship.
But before he could ascend the steps, a new line of enforcers poured into the arena.
"Enough."
Grot stepped forward, trying to stop the madness.
"Let handle this."
But Heavy Hamr no longer listened.
He ramd into Grot, forcing him back.
His eyes burned with madness.
His axe glead in the crimson light.
And with a feral snarl, he declared his intent—
"IN THE NA OF THE CHAMPION OF BLOOD, I PROCLAIM YOUR DEATH!"
Announcent
Hey everyone! 🚀 Just a quick update—I'll be reducing my upload schedule to one chapter every two days instead of daily.
Why, you ask? Well...
1️⃣ I need to focus more on my studies 📚 (apparently, books outside of fiction exist? Wild.)
2️⃣ My amazing girlfriend deserves more of my attention 💖
But don’t worry! The chapters will keep coming, just at a slightly slower pace. Quality over quantity, right? 😉 Thanks for sticking with , and I promise to make each update worth the wait!
Much love,
Hemonts
If you’d like to support and read a bit ahead, feel free to check out my Patreon. /TLHemont.
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