bullyxtreme Chapter 288 Training from White Scar
Chapter 288 Training from White Scar
Inside the medical bay of White Scar Fortress, Russell stared at the metallic patterns on the ceiling, golden arcs of electricity faintly flowing beneath his skin. Arya's psionic healing had repaired his bones and internal organs, but the Pride that had been shattered by Kahn's axe would require a much longer time to heal.
“Your psionic power experienced a 0.3-second delay during the conflict,” Arya projected the holographic data into the air, and the battle scene was replayed on the cold blue light screen—the moment when Kahn’s axe blade tore through the golden shield was analyzed frame by frame. “You rely too much on brute force, but you forget that the Thousand-Faced Demon Lord was able to be banished because of the Grey Knights’ tactical coordination.”
Casal stood by the door with his arms crossed, the leather on the scabbard of his White Tiger sword creaking from being gripped too tightly: "White Scar warriors never face their enemies alone, Russell. Speed requires a group to create a storm."
Russell silently gripped the sheets. He recalled his arrogance when he took on Voda Bloodsong one-on-one, and his words to Kahn, "I am enough on my own"—those solitary acts that he once regarded as honor now felt like thorns piercing his heart.
Three days later, at the training ground.
The White Scar warriors stared in astonishment at the mortal. Russell had removed his heavy armor, leaving him in only a black tactical uniform, and his 600-pound body darted about on the field with the gravity generator fully activated. The Bloodthirsty entrenching tool clashed with the White Scar power sword, creating blinding sparks. His movements were haphazard, yet carried an almost self-destructive ferocity.
"Again!" Russell wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and growled at the white-scarred warrior opposite him. His golden arcs of electricity were deliberately suppressed, relying purely on physical strength to counter the Space Marine's speed.
Arya stood on the observation platform, psionic threads wrapped around Russell's joints: "Left arm blocking angle off by 5 degrees! Right side under ribs open!" Her warning was accompanied by psionic needles, inflicting painful punishment on Russell when he made a mistake.
Casal plunged the White Tiger Blade into the ground and stepped into the gravity field himself: "You think strength is just muscle and psionic energy?" His scabbard suddenly swept across, and Russell barely managed to raise his shovel to block, but was forced back five steps by the impact. "Watch closely, the breathing rhythm of a pack of prairie wolves hunting—"
The scabbard blurred into a silver afterimage, and the White Scar Company Commander's attacks were as relentless as a desert storm. Russell's golden psionic energy instinctively wanted to erupt, but he gritted his teeth and suppressed it back into his body—this was Casal's requirement: only by learning to survive in dire situations without psionic energy could one be qualified to control it.
Seven hours later, Russell collapsed at the edge of the training field, his body bruised and swollen, but a bloodied grin on his face. The holographic recording showed that in the final exchange, he successfully struck Casal's shoulder armor seam with the handle of his shovel—though at the cost of three broken ribs.
“We’ll continue tomorrow.” Casal tossed him a can of clotting potion and added as he turned away, “A bit stronger than a berserker, but still three Terran standard years behind Kahn.”
As night fell, Russell lay in the medical pod, a Bloodthirsty entrenching tool held across his chest. The blade reflected his swollen face, but not the whispers the Thousand-Faced Demon Lord had planted deep within his psychic energy: "You will never catch up to a warrior blessed by chaos..."
He swung his shovel violently, shattering the mirror image, golden arcs of electricity exploding in the darkness. Some growth is destined to be nurtured by the ashes of arrogance.
Three months later, on the training grounds of White Scar Fortress, the gravity generator was set to its limit. The air was thick with the acrid smell of metal rubbing together and the salty tang of evaporating sweat. Russell stood in the center of the field, his Bloodthirsty entrenching tool held horizontally across his chest, his massive body motionless under the immense pressure of gravity.
"Again!" His voice was deep yet powerful, and golden arcs of electricity flickered faintly beneath his skin.
Three white-scarred warriors attacked from different directions, their power swords whistling sharply as they sliced through the air. Russell's feet seemed rooted to the ground as he wielded his entrenching tool, precisely parrying each attack.
"45 degrees to the left, power sword thrust!" Arya's voice entered Russell's mind through the psionic link.
Russell leaned slightly to the side, the serrated edge of his entrenching tool precisely wedging itself against the power sword's blade. With a flick of his wrist, the blade slid down the blade, forcing his opponent to retreat.
"30 degrees to the right, chainsaw sword sweeps!"
Russell's body sprang up like a spring, the entrenching tool spinning in his hand, its serrated edge colliding with the teeth of the chainsaw, sparks flying. His feet landed firmly, the pressure of the gravitational field seemingly having no effect on him.
"Heavy hammer strike straight ahead!"
Russell's legs were slightly bent, and the entrenching tool was held horizontally above his head. The heavy blow of the power hammer was firmly blocked by the handle of the shovel; his body remained motionless, but the metal floor beneath his feet dented.
"Beautiful!" Casal's voice came from the observation platform. "Your parrying skills are approaching the level of a Space Marine."
Russell put away his entrenching tool, golden arcs of electricity flickering faintly around him. His gaze was calm and resolute, but deep down he still felt a sense of inadequacy.
“That’s not enough,” Russell’s voice was deep but powerful. “Kahn’s strength far exceeds what this training has provided. I must become stronger.”
Casal nodded, gripping the White Tiger Blade tightly in his hand: "Then let's continue. White Scar's speed and fury will help you break through your limits."
Arya stepped forward, her psionic energy flowing between her fingertips: "Your psionic power is steadily improving, but you still need more real combat experience to hone it."
Russell took a deep breath, gripping the entrenching tool tightly in his hand: "Then let's have more real combat experience."
The gravity generator on the training field activated again, and the White Scar warriors lined up once more. Russell stood in the center of the field, golden arcs of electricity crackling around him. He knew the real battle had only just begun.
…………
Inside the command center of White Scar Fortress, a signal from a Speaker scout squad flashed on the holographic projection. They were less than fifty kilometers from the fortress, attempting to infiltrate its defenses and gather intelligence.
“Russell,” Casal said with a smile, “this Word Bearer scout squad is yours. Take five White Scar warriors with you and wipe them out.”
Russell nodded and said, "Understood," his voice deep yet powerful. "I will complete the mission."
Arya stepped forward and said, "I will use my psionic powers to disrupt their communications and make sure they can't call for help."
Russell nodded, then led five White Scar warriors aboard the Thunderhawk gunship. The roar of the engines echoed through the air as the gunship shot towards the location of the Word Bearer scout team like a bolt of lightning.
-
In the desolate desert, the Word Bearer scouts advanced cautiously. Their bodies were enveloped in chaotic energy, and blasphemous runes writhed on their skin.
“An unusual energy fluctuation has been detected ahead,” a Word Bearer scout whispered. “It could be the White Scar’s defenses.”
“Keep moving,” the scout captain’s voice was deep but powerful. “We must gather intelligence to prepare for Lord Malcarn’s revenge.”
Just then, a golden arc of electricity flashed through the air. Russell's figure leaped out from behind the sand dune, wielding the Bloodthirsty entrenching tool in his hand, its serrated blade gleaming coldly.
"For the Emperor!" Russell's voice was like thunder as his entrenching tool cleaved open the chest of a Word Bearer scout. Chaotic blood splattered onto the sand, instantly evaporated by golden arcs of electricity.
The White Scar warriors followed closely behind, their power swords and bombardment rifles wreaking havoc among the enemy ranks. The Word Bearer scout squad attempted to retaliate, but their communications were disrupted by Arya's psionic interference, rendering them unable to mount an effective resistance.
"Retreat!" the scout captain shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of the slingshots.
Russell swung his entrenching tool again, the serrated blade cleaving open the skull of a Word Bearer. His eyes were calm and resolute, and golden arcs of electricity around him shone even brighter.
"Leave no one alive!" Russell's voice was deep yet powerful. "For the glory of White Scar!"
The Whitescar warriors swiftly cleared out the remaining Word Bearer scouts, their power swords and bombardment rifles wreaking havoc among the enemy ranks. The Word Bearers' screams echoed through the dust, but were quickly swallowed by the howling wind.
“Mission accomplished,” a white-scarred warrior whispered, his power sword still dripping with chaotic blood. “The Word Bearers’ reconnaissance operation has been utterly crushed.”
Russell nodded, the golden arcs of electricity around him gradually dissipating. He turned to the White Scar warriors, a hint of concern in his voice: "Is everyone alright?"
The White Scar warriors responded in unison, their power armor joints emitting a synchronized hydraulic groan. Russell's gaze swept over each of them, then he nodded: "Then let's return to the fortress."
The engines of the Thunderhawk gunboat roared again, and the White Scar warriors quickly boarded the gunboat.