Warhammer 40k : Space Marine Kayvaan

The moment Jacob finished speaking, one of the three Space Marines charged straight toward Kayvaan with an expression twisted by rage. Kayvaan realized this was the same man named McCain who had been guarding the door earlier. Back when Kayvaan wanted to get inside, McCain was the one assigned to block him. By all rights, it should have been easy for McCain to stop a normal person, but Kayvaan had knocked him flat instead. That brief encounter had deeply humiliated the Space Marine. He had been stewing in that embarrassment ever since, feeling that as a warrior of the Emperor's, he had lost face by failing to subdue an ordinary young man. Such a disgrace would follow him for life, with his fellow soldiers likely mocking him at every opportunity. He'd never expected a chance for revenge to come so soon, but here it was. Now, all McCain could think about was beating Kayvaan into the ground, wiping away that shame and restoring his lost pride. He couldn't wait to repay this humiliation with pain.

He jumped forward and lashed out with a ferocious kick. The force behind that blow was easily enough to shatter a steel plate. If it connected solidly, it could kill a normal man on the spot.

Yet McCain's attack was far too obvious in Kayvaan's eyes. Kayvaan shifted his body sideways, smoothly avoiding the kick. As McCain's leg swept past, Kayvaan extended his hand, fingers bent like claws, reaching toward the inside of McCain's thigh. He moved with terrifying speed. With just one sharp movement, three of Kayvaan's fingers pierced into the Marine's flesh, slipping in between muscle fibers and near the veins. Gripping firmly, Kayvaan jerked his arm backward, using McCain's own forward momentum against him, and tore away a chunk of raw muscle. The sound of ripping flesh, like thick leather being violently pulled apart, echoed nauseatingly through the arena.

"ARRGH!!!" McCain's pained grunt emerged a heartbeat later, the shock just registering in his mind. But the encounter wasn't over yet. Both men's bodies seemed to coil in unison, their legs bending preparing for another burst of movement. They halted almost simultaneously, then rebounded like tightened springs released from tension.

But McCain was no ordinary human. He was a Space Marine, trained and conditioned to endure punishing pain that would break lesser motal. So even though Kayvaan's brutal attack had just ripped into his thigh, exposing torn muscle and spilling blood, McCain did not relent. He refused to surrender, and if anything, the pain only fueled his anger. His scream was still echoing when his body moved into a counterattack, swinging his powerful arm at Kayvaan.

Kayvaan lowered his own body, ducking swiftly beneath the Marine's arm. He moved forward again, getting close enough to reach the open wound he had just created. This time, Kayvaan's fingers sought something vital. His fingertips found what felt like a soft, delicate tube within the ragged flesh—a blood vessel. He yanked with force. 

McCain screamed in agony and dropped to the ground. The intense exercise leading up to this moment had his twin hearts pounding like high-pressure pumps, each beat driving fresh blood through his body. But now, with a gaping tear in his thigh, the main blood circulation channel was compromised. Blood gushed out of the ruptured artery like a high-powered water gun, spraying bright red streaks across the ground in an instant.

Even with the remarkable regenerative capabilities of a Space Marine, no one could endure such catastrophic blood loss unchecked. McCain, realizing the severity of his injury, frantically clutched at his thigh.

In less than a minute, Kayvaan had incapacitated McCain with ease. The other two Marines, momentarily frozen in shock, struggled to process what had just happened. McCain was more experienced than them but now he was down, blood pooling around him. How could this so-called ordinary man dare to rush them, let alone succeed?

Before they could fully comprehend the situation, Kayvaan was already closing the distance with his next target.

One of the Marines reacted instinctively. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and launched a powerful punch. But Kayvaan, as if anticipating the move, slipped past the attack with ease, sliding into the Marine's guard. Both of Kayvaan's palms struck simultaneously—one pressing against the left side of the Marine's chest, near his heart, and the other on his right side.

Kayvaan stepped forward, planting his foot firmly on the ground as he drove his palms upward with explosive force. The impact reverberated through the Marine's body like a shockwave, bypassing the natural skin armor and striking deep.

There was a muffled thud, and the Marine's massive frame lifted slightly off the ground before crashing back down. His face was frozen in disbelief. How could someone half his size and weight send him flying? As his body hit the dirt, he felt an eerie lightness, as though floating. Then, darkness took over. He collapsed.

The third Marine, wide-eyed, stared at the scene in front of him, his mind racing. Two Space Marines—elite warriors of the galaxy—defeated in mere moments by a single man. He wasn't afraid, but the sheer absurdity of the situation left him shaken. "What kind of witchcraft is this?!" he bellowed, trying to mask his unease.

Blood dripped steadily from Kayvaan fingers, painting his hands in crimson. His dark eyes gleamed coldly as he spoke, "What do you think?"

Without waiting for an answer, Kayvaan charged. The last Marine, roared defiantly and swung both fists at Kayvaan with all his might. But Kayvaan ducked effortlessly, weaving through the blows. Slipping between the Marine's legs, Kayvaan struck a precise blow to his tailbone with a backhanded slap. He spun around swiftly, inhaled deeply, and launched a flurry of attacks at the Marine's unprotected back.

Fists, palms, fingers—every strike landed accurately, each one designed to bypass the Marine's armor and exploit his weaknesses. The assault lasted only three seconds, but the damage was devastating. As abruptly as it had begun, Kayvaan's onslaught stopped. He exhaled slowly, stepping back to assess his work.

The final Marine remained standing for a moment, his massive frame swaying slightly. Then, like a felled tree, he collapsed, his body clashed witha a loud bam against the ground.

In another room, an older man watched the entire spectacle unfold on a screen. His voice, calm yet commanding, broke the silence. "One minute and three seconds. That's all it took for him to take down three of my veteran Marines. Jacob, it seems you've made another unnecessary decision."

Jacob, standing nearby, visibly trembled. He had come here expecting to witness Kayvaan's defeat, but instead, he was facing an even greater nightmare—Marneus Calgar, the commander-in-chief of the Ultramarines Legion. "S-Sir, I thought you were leading a patrol…" Jacob stammered, his voice barely steady.

Marneus's expression remained unreadable, his tone unwavering. "That was the plan. However, the Imperial Palace recalled me. Someone else is leading the patrol in my place."

Jacob swallowed hard. "Then… what brings you back here, sir?"