It was a terrifying amalgamation of pale flesh, a machine built for murder. It would be Wolf Lord Bloodhowl's opponent.
Bloodhowl spat blood onto the arena sand, clenching his fists until his joints creaked.
Exhausted, covered in wounds, and on the verge of destruction.
The Wolf Lord chose to take the initiative, charging toward the half-machine. It was the final elegy of a Fenrisian wolf.
Emperor, this thing is fast, Bloodhowl said to himself.
In a mere instant, the Talos Pain Engine vanished from Bloodhowl's sight. Utilizing its anti-gravity engines, it swiftly positioned itself behind the Wolf Lord.
The Pain Engine's tail coiled up, and a spiraling tube sprayed a stream of static electricity at the Space Wolf.
The terrifying weapon made no sound, but the crack of the static striking Bloodhowl's chest was loud enough.
Bloodhowl held his ceramide fists in front of him. His entire body trembled in agony, and his teeth chattered uncontrollably.
He collapsed, convulsing and screaming, slamming his fists into the sand, roaring as he tried to force the pain out of his body.
The Pain Engine gave the Wolf Lord no time to rest. The hooks on its mechanical arms found their angle, approaching the paralyzed Wolf Lord from behind, and in a single strike, hooked deep into the flesh of his back.
The Pain Engine turned, hanging Bloodhowl upon its cruel weaponry. It moved forward slowly on its anti-gravity engines, parading Bloodhowl's miserable state to amuse the audience.
Being suspended helplessly in the arena was the ultimate insult for Bloodhowl.
The disappointed groans of the Dark Eldar audience shot straight up toward the dark sun in Commorragh's sky; syllables like shattered glass rained down upon the arena.
"Made it. Don't blame me, Wolf Lord Bloodhowl; there were quite a few human slaves in the arena, so it took me a little time."
Wolf Lord Bloodhowl heard that familiar voice once again.
Somehow, a thought suddenly surfaced in his heart: You definitely did this on purpose. You just wanted to see me make a fool of myself.
Struggling and enduring the agony of the hooks piercing his flesh, Bloodhowl raised his head and looked forward.
A Dark Eldar—but unlike the others in the stands, there was no madness in his eyes. He climbed over the railing separating the audience and vaulted down into the sand.
The entire arena fell silent, watching this Dark Eldar who had suddenly intruded onto the battlefield.
"Where did this death-seeking fool come from?"
"Who cares? I want to see rivers of blood. Kill him!"
Zeke turned a deaf ear to this. He held a few potions in his hand and chugged them down, glug glug glug.
When Wolf Lord Bloodhowl saw those familiar bottles, his previously unfocused pupils suddenly contracted.
In that moment, he felt a long-absent sense of relief, excitement, and even a tiny bit of grievance.
"Is it you? Zeke! Zeke!"
"Wolf Lord Bloodhowl, you'd better spin a good story to explain how you ended up in this state. I'm waiting to hear the joke." Zeke joked as he pulled the Reaper's Scythe from his inventory. "But for now, let's solve your problem first."
The visual effects of the Emperor's Sword were too blinding and didn't quite fit the atmosphere of Commorragh, so Zeke stuck to using the Reaper's Scythe.
Zeke's extreme speed kicked up the sand in the arena. The Pain Engine rapidly retreated, searching for the figure at full speed.
But Zeke was faster and fiercer.
Zeke dashed toward the massive engine, his shadow fluttering behind him.
In three steps, Zeke arrived before the Pain Engine and raised the Reaper's Scythe. The wind pressure it generated actually caused the scorching gladiatorial arena to drop to the freezing point.
The Pain Engine raised another hook to block, but before the Reaper's Scythe, it was as fragile as a twig.
The Reaper's Scythe not only sliced through the hook but also pierced right through its chest.
Mist sprayed from the machine, and fluids vented from all its ports.
The monster's gravity drive stuttered for a moment, then failed entirely. It spun and crashed down, allowing Wolf Lord Bloodhowl to break free.
Zeke delivered a vicious kick to the Pain Engine, sending it flying to the edge of the sandy arena. With a massive boom, the Pain Engine exploded into a smoking wreckage.
The audience hadn't expected the Dark Eldar before them to have such strength.
No one cared that this uninvited guest had broken the rules; they all began shrieking, and gifts were showered down in handfuls.
Zeke walked over, slung Bloodhowl's arm across his shoulders, and hauled the Space Wolf up from the ground.
"Can you still fight?" Zeke asked.
"Have you ever seen a wolf that can't fight?" Bloodhowl shot back.
"Not yet," Zeke admitted, waving an Enchanted Golden Apple in front of the Wolf Lord's eyes. "Since you're in good shape, I guess you won't need this."
"Hey, don't! Zeke, I was just joking."
As one of the first people to taste the effects of an Enchanted Golden Apple, Wolf Lord Bloodhowl had never forgotten it. He snatched the apple right away.
If the crisis hadn't been ongoing, Zeke figured Bloodhowl would have probably asked for a couple more.
Bloodhowl devoured the Golden Apple, stuffing it into his mouth in one bite. "The prisons in the arena are still holding several of my brothers. It's my fault they ended up in this state—"
Zeke cut him off. "They've all been rescued already. Why else do you think I arrived so late?"
Earlier, while under the effects of Invisibility, Zeke had slipped into the cages, transported all the slaves away using a Nether Portal, and casually recalled the Burning One back into the Poké Ball along the way.
Wolf Lord Bloodhowl breathed a sigh of relief. Zeke's way of doing things was as reassuring as ever.
Suddenly jets of flame erupted from nozzles set into the arena walls, growing in both length and intensity.
The roaring hellfire turned blood and sand into glass, attempting to force Zeke and the Wolf Lord into the center of the arena.
It seemed these slow-witted Dark Eldar had finally realized their slaves had escaped. Zeke smiled, unafraid of the spewing flames.
Zeke threw a Splash Potion of Fire Resistance over his head, covering both himself and Wolf Lord Bloodhowl.
The flames enveloped Zeke and Bloodhowl. The Dark Eldar in the audience cursed the arena masters for interrupting the match.
They leaned forward, eager to see the fate of the two men in the flames to make up for the cost of their tickets.
"Bloodhowl, duck," Zeke commanded in a low voice.
He gripped the Reaper's Scythe with both hands. The soul pool within the blade boiled at this moment.
This was a function Zeke had discovered in the Reaper's Scythe: it could convert stored souls into energy, unleashing various forms of energy blades with impressive power.
"Since you like watching so much, let me let you participate personally." Zeke swung the Reaper's Scythe with both hands, carving an arc—an arc composed of pitch-black energy.
As Zeke completed the arc, it spun and expanded outward.
The flames were dispersed, and the lowest tier of the stands completely collapsed under the strike.
Amidst screams, the high-and-mighty Dark Eldar plummeted into the abyss.
Zeke smoothly swung the scythe upward, the tip of the blade skewering the chests of several falling xenos like a skewer of candied haws.
The entire arena echoed with exasperated curses blaring over the loudspeakers. Blinding exhaust trails streaked across the sky as elite forces, riding Hellion skyboards, flew into the arena.
"Tch, looks like the stealth plan is completely ruined."
Zeke stood proudly in the center of the collapsing ruins, surveying the armed forces swarming in like locusts from all sides.
He wasn't in a hurry to escape. Instead, he slowly leveled his scythe, the blade greedily absorbing the soul echoes that hadn't yet dissipated from the air.
"However, if I eliminate all the witnesses at the scene, in a sense, this still counts as a perfect stealth mission."
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