Chapter 325: The Inquisitor's Man
In the front row of the spectator gallery, Kian cracked sunflower seeds between his teeth, eyes locked on Baron Pallid with laser focus.
General Zeppelin leaned over. "Are you really sure about this? That man moves so fast even my old eyes can't track him!
I've heard he's heavily bio-augmented — veins pumping with combat stimms.
He's been doing wet work for noble houses since day one. Assassinations, every single one. And he's never lost!"
Kian waved him off. "Relax. He's fast, sure, but he's got nothing on that Aeldari Warrior.
Besides, speed's all he's got. His strength and endurance are probably garbage."
Having watched Baron Pallid butcher his way through the earlier bouts, Kian had already taken a rough measure of the man. Speed roughly on par with his own, but raw power? Not even close.
General Zeppelin's brow furrowed with worry.
"If it doesn't look good, just pull out. Let's not gamble our lives on this!"
The words had barely left his mouth before Kian planted both hands on the railing and vaulted straight down into the duelling pit.
Inside the pit, Lady Nightingale's side had just sent out three fighters Kian knew all too well: the Traffic Light Trio.
The three idiots stood in their colour-coded powered armour, power swords raised, pointing in unison at Baron Pallid across the arena.
"The three of us are a package deal! Surely you won't object to us fighting together!"
Baron Pallid actually laughed at that. He twirled the dagger in his hand and gave them a nod.
"By all means."
The Traffic Light Trio let out a war cry that sounded more like a playground taunt and charged forward to gang up on the Baron.
They didn't make it three steps before Kian sprinted in front of them and blocked their path.
"Stand down! This one's mine!"
The trio froze, then demanded in perfect unison:
"You're fighting him? Then what are we supposed to do?"
Kian stuck out his boot.
"Polish my shoes."
The Traffic Light Trio went absolutely livid, fingers jabbing at Kian, mouths already forming insults. But Kian cut them off first:
"Hey! Are you three out of your minds? You think you can handle this guy?
Unless you want him to split your skulls open like ripe melons, get out of the pit. I'll deal with him."
The three exchanged glances. They belonged to Lady Nightingale's camp, and the only reason they'd stepped up at all was because her side had run out of fighters to feed into the grinder. They'd volunteered out of sheer desperation.
But if the big gun was stepping in, there was no reason to throw their lives away.
"Fine. We generously yield the battlefield to you. Don't disappoint us!"
The Traffic Light Trio retreated, leaving only Kian and Baron Pallid in the arena.
The moment Baron Pallid laid eyes on Kian, that easy, languid composure vanished, replaced by something hard and wary.
They faced each other across a dozen body-lengths. Kian reached back, drew the greatsword from its harness, spun it through a lazy flourish, and levelled the tip at Baron Pallid.
"Skills like yours are wasted dying in some petty civil war. Surrender, and I'll let you keep your miserable life."
He was wearing the Infiltration Reactive Power Armour — the set with the speed boost. Against an agility-type opponent, the play was simple: out-speed him.
"Heh."
Baron Pallid let out a thin laugh.
"Are you ready, Count Voss?"
Kian locked his helmet into place. He was about to say yes when his pupils contracted sharply.
The bastard had zero interest in honour. In an instant, one of his daggers came whipping through the air like a thrown blade.
The dagger was fast — a silver blur that crossed the gap and came screaming straight for Kian's head.
Good thing Kian's reflexes matched. A single upward sweep of the greatsword swatted the dagger aside, sending it spinning off into the distance.
Since the Baron had already drawn first blood, Kian held nothing back. He exploded forward, closing the distance at maximum speed.
The opponent matched him in speed, but Kian had him comprehensively outclassed in strength and endurance.
At best, the Baron was an assassin. Kian was a hexagonal fighter — no stat gaps, no weak points.
The moment he closed to melee range, this assassin was a dead man.
Baron Pallid saw Kian's terrifying burst of speed and something flickered behind his eyes. Shock.
He didn't hesitate. He raised his remaining dagger and met Kian's charge head-on.
Kian activated the greatsword's disruption field. The instant blade met dagger, the dagger sheared clean in half.
The follow-through brought the sword arcing down toward Baron Pallid's torso. If it connected clean, it would bisect him on the spot.
But the man's combat instincts were razor-sharp. Both feet slammed into the ground and he launched himself backward, narrowly avoiding being carved into separate halves.
He didn't even get a breath. Kian was already on top of him, greatsword sweeping in a vicious horizontal aimed at his midsection.
Baron Pallid dodged again. Fast.
The fight became a rout in seconds. Kian swung the greatsword in relentless pursuit while Baron Pallid leapt, twisted, and weaved. It was acrobatic, almost beautiful — but anyone with eyes could see the Baron was done. He didn't dare make contact, not once.
Nor'n's greatsword was a monstrous weapon, and with the disruption field active, it could cut through virtually any material on this planet.
Add Kian's raw power behind it, and there was essentially no one on this entire agri-world who could stand against it.
Baron Pallid didn't even have a power weapon left. Both hands empty, he could do nothing but rely on pure footwork to dodge every swing.
But stamina is finite. Under that kind of sustained high-intensity evasion, his movements were visibly slowing.
Bio-augmented or not, the man could still tire.
In the spectator gallery, the crowd watched the two combatants move at speeds that defied belief, gasps and shouts erupting with every exchange.
The stepmother's faction had gone pale. This was looking bad. Baron Pallid appeared to be cracking.
Lady Nightingale's people, on the other hand, were practically glowing. That was the Count for you. The man who had killed an Aeldari warrior. What else could you expect?
Three minutes of engagement, and Baron Pallid's form had fallen apart completely.
Kian spotted his opening. A diagonal cut, shoulder to hip.
Baron Pallid's eyes went wide. He burned the last of his reserves on one final evasion, then chained backwards leaps to open up distance.
But Kian wasn't the merciful type. He gave the man nothing — no space, no air, no recovery time.
The instant Baron Pallid's feet found purchase, Kian was on him again, driving the greatsword forward in a dead-straight thrust aimed at punching clean through his chest.
Just as the blade was about to run him through, Baron Pallid shouted: "Stop! Don't kill me!"
Kian's motion froze. The sword tip pressed against Baron Pallid's chestplate, the disruption field already etching a dark circle into the ceramite.
One twitch of his wrist, and the blade would go straight through.
"Go ahead. Give me a reason not to kill you. I'm not great with words, so keep it under ten."
Baron Pallid pulled off his helmet, revealing a sweat-drenched pale face. He forced out the words between ragged breaths:
"I'm an Inquisitor's agent!"
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