Tears streamed down Frederik's face as the young baron nodded, urging his horse to gallop away. The greenskins, though displeased, did not stop him.
Unbeknownst to anyone, Frederik had no intention of fleeing. Instead, he rode straight toward the east.
Face to face, Karl-Franz and Wargaz Ironjaw studied each other for a few seconds. The surrounding battles seemed to come to a halt, and an unnatural silence fell over the battlefield. All eyes turned to the two champions.
"Humie Emperor? Come here, I'll rip your helmet off and slap your face!"
"Filthy scum, return to the Badlands where you belong. This is the sacred Empire!"
Here, they would engage in a champion's duel.
The victor would win the war, and the loser would become a footnote in history.
The emperor's warhammer, Ghal Maraz, blazed with fiery light, and the Silver Seal on his chest gleamed brightly.
Wargaz Ironjaw's axe was longer than Karl-Franz was tall. The warlord's body was enveloped in a mysterious green energy field, the same field that had rendered Gelt's Ultimate Alchemy useless. The emperor couldn't help but wonder what this mysterious green energy was.
A momentary distraction gave Wargaz Ironjaw the opportunity it needed. With incredible speed, it lunged at its enemy. Despite its massive size, its movements were unnaturally agile. With a roar of "Waaagh!", its massive axe came down in a vertical slash, aiming to split the emperor in two!
Karl-Franz, only at the high Legendary level, faced a high Saint-level greenskin warlord. He could only rely on the instincts ingrained in him from his years at the military academy and his service in the army to fight back. The emperor raised his shield, blocking the warlord's axe. The tremendous force transmitted through the shield made Karl-Franz inwardly groan. He knew that if it weren't for Ghal Maraz amplifying his strength tenfold, that single blow would have killed him!
Ghal Maraz was that powerful. Any emperor of the Empire with even decent combat skills could fight an entire tier above their level when wielding the hammer.
The high-quality iron shield, inscribed with dwarf runes, shattered under the force. The remaining impact was enough to send Karl-Franz staggering, leaving him wide open. The warlord, sensing an opportunity, stepped forward, raising its shield to smash the emperor's face!
But Ghal Maraz granted the emperor unparalleled strength. Using the momentum from the previous blow, Karl-Franz retreated, gripping the hammer with both hands. With a graceful downward swing, he struck the warlord's face. The force of the blow made the warlord howl in pain, its face deformed, green flesh rippling like waves, and six teeth, including a large fang, flying from its mouth!
This single strike drained the emperor of all his strength. He used the opportunity to create distance from the warlord, who touched its mangled face and realized it had lost several teeth. Its primal instincts flared even more fiercely, driving it to attack with renewed ferocity.
The battle resumed, and this time, neither side held back. Ghal Maraz burned with fiery light in the emperor's hands, as if Sigmar himself had returned. The warlord's axe, guided by Gork's will, struck at the emperor's elbows relentlessly. Everyone stopped fighting to watch this champion's duel, a rare tradition between greenskins and humans. The emperor's figure flickered like golden light, while the warlord loomed like a dark green fog, oppressive and overwhelming.
"Clang!" Seven minutes later, the emperor was the first to falter. He gasped for breath, his arms feeling as heavy as blocks of iron. Sweat poured from his forehead, then stopped, only to return as cold sweat. His body screamed in pain, and even the slightest graze from the warlord's attacks left massive bruises on Karl-Franz's body.
He was, after all, only human.
The emperor began to weaken, going from an even match to being overwhelmed. From five blows to three, then two, and finally only one counterattack for every ten strikes. The greenskin grew stronger, while the emperor retreated.
From birth until now, Karl-Franz had never hated his weakness more. His senses dulled, his body grew numb, and his strength left him. The taste of iron filled his mouth as his internal organs tore.
Is this how it ends?
The emperor was struck by an axe. Ghal Maraz blocked the blade, but it couldn't stop the tremendous force. He was sent flying, landing several meters away. He instinctively tried to rise but could only kneel on one knee.
In his final moments, Karl-Franz's mind was flooded with questions.
Why had he lost?
Why? Was it because the Empire's forces were too few? Was it because the Empire's technology wasn't advanced enough? Were the Empire's warriors not brave enough?
It made no sense. Over two thousand years ago, at Black Fire Pass, Sigmar had led an alliance of twelve tribes with fewer than twenty thousand men. Now, the Empire had over forty thousand!
Back then, humans were primitive, wearing only cloth or leather armor, or even fighting half-naked. Most didn't even have proper bows. Now, the Imperial army was fully equipped with firearms, cannons, and even steam tanks.
Was it because there were too many greenskins? No, the greenskin horde back then was much larger!
So why? Why were they losing here?
As the emperor watched the warlord approach, drawing a curved blade to take his head, he suddenly understood.
Because we've lost our faith. Our race has lost its ferocity. Our culture has decayed over time. When did humans start relying solely on firearms and cannons to fight? When did we lose our courage? Those once-feared barbarians have vanished from the Old World, replaced by a divided, ridiculed "Empire."
Civilization has given humans many advantages, but barbarism always defeats civilization.
Why?
A few steps away, the greenskin warlord's muscles loomed like a mountain. The sun shone on its face as Wargaz Ironjaw laughed maniacally, striding forward. The Imperial soldiers who witnessed this scene wept in despair.
The emperor wanted to accept his fate calmly, but he found he couldn't.
So he forced himself to keep thinking.
Is barbarism destined to defeat civilization, or has civilization regressed to the point of losing to barbarism?
And why do humans look down on greenskins? Has arrogance and prejudice destroyed the Empire's spirit of progress?
If I could reclaim that challenger's spirit, if I could be as strong as Sigmar, I could defeat this enemy and save my people, just as he did two thousand years ago!
For the first time in twenty or thirty years, the emperor prayed to Sigmar with utmost sincerity.
Great Sigmar, founder of the Empire, savior, goblin slayer, king of the Carolingians, wielder of the hero's hammer, unifier of humanity.
Grant me the strength to keep fighting.
If you still love your people, if you still love your Empire.
Grant me strength!
Thunder roared in the sky, and a brilliant golden light tore through the clouds.
This change went unnoticed by most, but the emperor suddenly felt an omnipotent presence respond to his prayer. For the first time in over fifty years, his prayer was answered.
The emperor's final thoughts were transmitted to that omnipotent being, who praised its heir for finally seeing the truth.
Over two thousand years, that omnipotent being had received countless such prayers.
This time, due to the unstable Great Vortex and the failing Great Warding caused by the raging Winds of Magic, it could finally respond to its faithful.
This time, the emperor's sincere prayer was not ignored.
As the warlord raised its blade, the emperor suddenly felt a chill run through his body. Powerful golden lightning surged from Ghal Maraz's handle into his body. Karl-Franz didn't understand what was happening, but he no longer felt tired. Instead, divine power filled his limbs, and an omnipotent being had granted him strength.
"Huh?" The greenskin warlord paused, staring in confusion at the emperor. Karl-Franz's appearance seemed to shift in its eyes. One moment, he was a young man with wild brown hair, his face painted, exuding raw vitality, wearing only a loincloth. The next, he was a mighty middle-aged man, standing like an ancient war god amidst hundreds of thousands of Chaos warriors, unstoppable.
This hammer-wielding boss…
Then, Karl-Franz's appearance changed to that of an elderly man, his temples graying, wise and dignified like an ancient dragon. He sat silently on his throne, yet his presence overshadowed armies.
"???" Wargaz Ironjaw was dumbfounded. It stared in confusion, and then the emperor's appearance changed again. Now, before it stood a barbarian, wielding Ghal Maraz, muscles bulging with power. He was only slightly taller than Karl-Franz, but his aura was worlds apart. He was like a giant, stronger, more savage.
"Still messin' with me…" The warlord instinctively tried to mock, but when it saw the barbarian's face, its words died in its throat.
That face was etched into the greenskins' DNA. Over two thousand years ago, this barbarian, alongside a group of savages and dwarfs, had driven the greenskins from their lands. The memories buried deep in its soul resurfaced. The hammer, everything was exactly the same.
Before this barbarian, the Old World had been a greenskin paradise. Powerful barbarian tribes had defeated the orcs in war, conquering vast, fertile plains and driving them into desolate mountains.
"No! No! No! You're not him, you're not!" The warlord retreated in fear, a terror it had never known before. Wargaz Ironjaw instinctively stepped back, terrified.
"Return to where you belong, foul green creature!" Ancient Carolingian words spilled from Karl-Franz's lips. Golden lightning shot from the emperor's eyes as he rose again, Ghal Maraz blazing with light.
In that moment, on the battlefield, before countless eyes, Karl-Franz broke through to the Saint level.
After stagnating at high Legendary for over a decade, the emperor ascended in an instant.
A golden halo radiated from him, enveloping Black Fire Pass in a dazzling light. Twin-tailed flames surrounded him as his aura surged, his fighting spirit blazing.
It's him! It's him! It's him! That barbarian! The warlord's soul trembled under the emperor's radiant figure. It tried to retreat, but the fear etched into its DNA was overwhelming. Before this man, greenskins had never suffered such defeat.
In an instant, the tide of battle turned. Karl-Franz felt his power, letting the instincts that had appeared guide his attacks. Ghal Maraz shone with indescribable brilliance as the hammer came down, shattering the warlord's armor in an instant. The emperor raised the hammer, and a golden bolt of lightning struck from the sky, knocking the warlord to the ground.
In just five seconds, Karl-Franz felt the mysterious power fading rapidly. In his vision, a golden-armored, golden-robed figure with a brown beard smiled at him before returning to where it belonged.
"The Empire endures!" the emperor roared, grasping the last vestiges of that power. Summoning his final strength, he swung the hammer, this time devoutly calling out the name of that omnipotent being.
"For Sigmar! For the Empire!"
The twin-tailed comet's flames on Ghal Maraz's head flared as the hammer struck Wargaz Ironjaw's skull.
The warlord's skull shattered, its brains splattering over Karl-Franz.
"You… are not… him!" the warlord uttered its final words.
"I am Karl-Franz! Many call me the Emperor!"
The warlord fell.
The greenskins panicked. The black orcs were stunned. The orc bosses, having seen the emperor's apparition, fled in terror. With the warlord's death, the greenskin horde was leaderless and in disarray. Some black orc chieftains and greenskin bosses tried to take command, but it would take time.
At that moment, Karl-Franz suddenly sensed something. He turned his gaze to the east.
Deep, resonant horns sounded from the east. The heavy, rhythmic footsteps of dwarfs accompanied a golden throne entering the battlefield. Four dwarf warriors carried the throne on shields, followed by thousands of Eternal Guard and more dwarf armies.
Frederik, riding his purebred elven steed Voltaire, stood beside the throne. He turned to the High King and said, "Your Majesty, look! As I promised, my godfather hasn't lost! They're still fighting alone!"
"Humans and dwarfs will fight together, just as we did two thousand years ago! They've fought well. Now it's our turn." High King Thorgrim Grudgebearer raised his axe, Gromril. He nodded calmly. "Dwarfs!"
"Yes!" A thunderous response echoed across Black Fire Pass.
"To aid our allies! For Grungni, for Karaz-a-Karak!"
"Forward!!!"
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