Warhammer: Angron Training Manual

Chapter 128 Legion Tradition
Inside the flagship of the Resolute Resolve, the Triumph Hall.

The Primarch walked up the twelve steps and came to the tall throne on the steps. He turned his back to the throne and looked down.

Ten thousand Space Marines stood on the left hand side of the Gene-Father in this vast hall.

They had just finished a battle, and before they had time to prepare their armor and weapons, they were ordered to gather in the Triumph Hall, so they were covered in the smell of gunpowder and blood.

The light from the crimson sun in the galaxy shone into the hall through the portholes of the flagship Resolute Resolve, making the blood-covered Space Marines look like they were standing in blood.

The large amount of blood on the Space Marine's armor that shone in the light reminded Angron of the information about the 12th Legion, and how cruel the 12th Legion was.

But he was now very satisfied because his children did not resist his excessive orders and did the best they could.

The Primarch looked to the right.

As gladiators of the army generals and officers of all levels in the army, they also stood in neat rows, looking forward with their heads held high and their chests puffed out.

The Nucerias were always like this.

When they were slaves, they would stand in rows with their bodies hunched over, listening to their masters' lectures and waiting to be beaten.

Their genes, modified by the entertainment company mentioned by the Stone People, made them better at everything about war, especially discipline and obedience.

They are good at fighting and aggressive, but perhaps because of their natural admiration for discipline and obedience, crime rarely occurs on Nu Star - provided that the administrators tell them that a certain behavior is a crime.

Angron nodded to his brothers and sisters.

They were doing the same thing as usual in the war just now, which was hunting down the high knights.

After seeing his brothers and sisters return slightly smug looks, Angron looked to the right of the steps, to the spot in the Triumphal Hall where a seat had just been welded.

Qin Xia sat there.

“Very good, you guys fought well,” Angron said. He sat down, crossed his legs, rested his right arm on the right armrest, and supported his head with his right hand.

Qin Xia sat like this.

"cough."

After realizing that he had taught the original body a bad sitting posture, Qin Xia patted his chest and coughed.

Angron immediately looked at Qin Xia.

Qin Xia put down his legs and hands and changed to a very formal sitting posture.

Angron raised his hand to stroke his chin, pretending to be uncomfortable in his sitting position, and changed his sitting posture to a very formal one.

"Legion Commander."

Kiel, who was waiting for the Primarch to continue his comments, heard the Primarch calling him, so he placed his fist on his heart and looked towards the Primarch.

"Regarding the incident on Nusa II, when the champion warrior of the Eighteenth Company named Orontes requested a duel." Angron spoke, looking towards the Eighteenth Company.

The captain of the 18th Company, Mago, wore armor that was different from others, with a gorgeous cape on his back.

Kahn is also a company commander, but for some reason, Kahn and other company commanders do not have this kind of cloak.

The champion Orontes, who was named by the Primarch, raised his head, excited and honored that his name was known by the Primarch.

"Dueling is a tradition in my Legion, isn't it?" Angron asked.

My Legion.

These four words made Kiel feel relieved for something, and then he replied: "Yes, this is the rule I made. It is not qualified to be called a tradition. Before the return of the Primarch, the XII Legion should not have any traditions."

Angron scratched his chin as if he hadn't heard anything, and recalled: "My adoptive father told me that every legion has its own traditions, and they will do certain things because of their own traditions... Coincidentally, there is a similar tradition in Nuceria, that is gladiatorial combat." Kiel nodded and listened carefully.

"Do you know how gladiatorial combat works on Nuceria now?" the Primarch said. "To put it simply, no one dies in a fight now, because the two sides will not fight to the point of killing each other. When the winner is about to be decided, the referee will appear in the combat area with his thumb raised high."

"It's not some kind of behavior that's set up for the sake of rules, it's my tradition."

"They fought the Guards in the Arena while my brothers and sisters and I rose up in rebellion."

Angron looked at the gladiator officers, at his brothers and sisters.

"They were undoubtedly at a disadvantage. We had a hard time at that time and didn't have the high-tech equipment you saw in the battle just now."

"When the slave owners began to judge and sentenced my brothers and sisters to death with their thumbs down, my adoptive father walked into the arena with his thumbs raised high and announced that the verdict for my brothers and sisters was to live."

Having said this, the Primarch was silent for a few seconds.

Kiel nodded. "The duel rules of the 12th Legion will still be preserved, but before anyone is injured or killed, an officer will raise his thumb to declare the duel over and make the judgment on who wins and who loses."

"That is what I thought," said Angron. "I can see that you, my sons, are very aggressive. You are using extremely harsh and strict discipline to curb your bloodlust. You prefer to resolve issues through combat rather than through words. At least for the time being, the retention of duels can resolve many conflicts between the warriors of the Legion."

Keel saluted.

"I don't reject each of you, and I don't reject your conventions, but they need to change."

The Primarch stood up from his throne and walked down the steps.

He was still wearing the armor that had been made for the Primarch.

The armor produced on Mars automatically fits the original body's current size. It is thick and heavy, and makes a heavy sound when he walks.

It was not designed at all for stealth operations, and even the sound of its movement was deliberately made complicated and louder by the Martian Mechanicus priests, because Mars felt that as a legion characterized by assault and annihilation warfare, the Primarch of the XII Legion did not need any stealth operations at all.

"My foster father, my brothers and sisters, and the freed people I liberated, they maintain an ancient military tradition on Nuceria."

"The rope of triumph."

Angron's voice echoed through the hall.

The Space Marines watched as the Primarch turned to face the man he had called his adoptive father, and then his armour was psionically opened, exposing his back to everyone.

A red line on the spine.

"I've never lost a battle, so there's only blood on my back."

"Whether we carve the bloody line of glory or the black line of defeat and shame is not determined by the outcome of a major battle."

Angron pointed a finger at his spine.

"A warrior who kills his enemies in the battles he fights and wins, can then carve a bloody line for himself, no matter what the outcome of a great battle may be."

"Otherwise he would have to carve a black line on himself, even if he won the great battle."

Qin Xia released the psychic energy he had applied to the Primarch's armor, allowing his armor to cover his burly body once again.

Angron turned and looked at Kiel, then at everyone else. "If you decide to accept this tradition of mine, I will personally carve you the rope of victory that represents the glorious victory you have just won."

"World Eaters, ten minutes to prepare, take off your armor and come back here!" Kiel turned and ordered everyone.

The Space Marines turned and left when Kiel was halfway through his words. They obviously shared the same urgency as their legion commander.

(End of this chapter)