I'm in Warhammer, please don't praise Doraemon

Chapter 564 Peturabo: Why am I working overtime again?

The Crimson Angels' home planet, on Corinnar,

Millions of heads were piled up like mountains, forming a temple that was both beautiful, terrifying, and eerie. Blood flowed continuously from the gouged-out eyes of these heads, filling the blood pool at the center of the temple.
Eight sons of Saint Gilles, in groups of nine, knelt in the pool of blood, praising the name of the archangel.
Within the circle they formed, the crimson angel was bathed in blood, the blood dripping from its hair and flowing over its naked body, revealing an eerie beauty.

But when the children of Saint Gilles surrounding him looked at him, what was awakened in their minds was not a sense of beauty, but a suffocating anger and a thirst for blood.

All living beings are born with impulses: the impulse to eat, the impulse to commit sadism, the impulse to enjoy pleasure, the impulse to be angry, and the impulse to seek revenge.
Saint Gilles' offspring were born with a bloodthirsty impulse.
They craved to chew on the neck muscles of the living, to pluck their scalding blood; they craved to devour the corpses of the dead, to savor their cold bodily fluids.

They were born to seize blood; the emperor molded them into this, the emperor transformed them into this, the emperor desired them to be this way.
However, over the long span of ten thousand years, their nature, their impulses, and their scarlet hunger were suppressed.
Suppression doesn't mean it will disappear. A caged beast will no longer have the opportunity to hunt, but that doesn't mean it won't miss the moments of gnawing on its prey's entrails with its fangs.
When impulses are suppressed, nature is distorted, and hunger is shackled, all of this will accumulate into anger.
This anger had been building up for ten thousand years. Ten thousand years ago, Saint Gilles put shackles on them, forcing them to suppress this instinct.

But ten thousand years later, Sanguielles returned, declaring that the long period of suppression had been a mistake.
Bloodlust is his and his offspring's true nature.
The so-called purity, perfection, and art were just a mistake, a subtle error he made while adrift in the warp.

+Accept your anger+
Release your anger!
Whispers rang in the ears of the children of Saint Gilles, urging them to abandon all pretense and embrace the burning rage deep within their hearts.

The red angel let out a deep laugh, watching with delight as more and more of Saint Gilles' offspring merged with his spirit.
He is that rage itself, the bloodthirsty instinct of the Holy Blood Angel suppressed by Saint Gilles, the sum of the rage of all the sons of Saint Gilles over ten thousand years.

Originally, in the Blood God's plan, the Red Angel would merge with Saint Gilles over ten thousand years, making Saint Gilles the Blood God's demonic archetype.

But a mere Blood Angel apothecary, Melos, replaced Saint Gilles and plunged into the raging flames of the Khorne artifact, thwarting the Blood God's plan.
Although the Red Angel was born by possessing Melos's body, it was never complete, because the vast majority of the Holy Blood Angels were still suppressing their anger.
In addition, there is another point.
No, remember Saint Gilles' teachings!
Don't succumb to anger!
Son of Saint Gilles! Do not betray the blood of Saint Gilles!
A series of weak growls emanated from the Red Angel's body, causing the Saint Gillesi offspring connected to the Red Angel to sway slightly.
The red angels let out a low growl filled with hunger and rage, which finally suppressed their wavering.

That was the soul of the apothecary Melos. Even though the Red Angel had occupied this body for ten thousand years and tormented that soul for ten thousand years, it had never been able to completely erase it.

"It'll be soon, it'll be soon."

The red angel whispered softly,

The Lord of All Changes laid out a destiny for him: he would completely replace Saint Gilles, devour Saint Gilles' essence, and become a brand new Primarch.
The Lord of Blood bestowed upon him unparalleled power for this destiny, sending him to usurp the throne of Saint Gilles.
But that wasn't enough; the Red Angel even went so far as to seduce two other deities.
Nurgle rejected him without hesitation, and Mortarion descended from the heavens like a pale death, banishing him from Nurgle's Garden.
Slaanesh, the Lord of Thirst, hesitated.

The Lord of Thirst did see the potential of the Red Angels. If the Red Angels were to replace Saint Gilles and become the new Saint Gilles, it would indeed be very tempting. This gave the Lord of Thirst an opportunity to share in the Primarch Saint Gilles.

However, the Lord of Thirst was unwilling to fall out with Zhou Yun, at least until Zhou Yun ascended to a divine position and completely crushed Inard. Slaanesh did not want to fall out with Zhou Yun.

Slaanesh ultimately rejected the Red Angel's request, and for the time being, he remained on the side of Saint Doraemon.

Fortunately, the Red Angels have other allies.
Electricity, sparks, and bursts of thoughts flashed before the pool of blood, from which the figure of the Creator Vashtor emerged.
Its steel wings trembled slightly, and its eyes, as red as furnace fire, stared at the red angel in mid-air.
Beside Vashtor, Primarch Peturabo and Chaos Warmaster Abaddon also appeared.

“I have completed the preparations, my ally.” Vashtor’s voice was like hissing steam, and as he spoke, a series of sparks flashed across the entire surface of Corinnar.

Those are Vashtor's ganglia, through which he can perceive everything on the entire planet and connect with it.

"My fleet is already in their proper positions." Warmaster Abaddon's somber gaze swept across the entire pool of blood, finally settling on the Scarlet Angel, his expression becoming slightly strange.
Peturabo's expression is somewhat similar to Abaddon's.
The Red Angel transformed himself to resemble Saint Gilles, but with an added bloodthirsty, eerie quality. He was naked, exposing his pale, muscular body to the air, letting blood flow freely over him.
Saint Gilles's body was indeed perfect. This was the thought that crossed Abaddon's and Peturabo's minds at the same time.

“The fleet is not important.” Perturaber slightly shifted his gaze away from the Red Angels and changed the subject.

This is something that Red Angel, Vashtor, and Peturabo themselves are all well aware of.
The real key is the Primarch
“I have made sufficient preparations and am not afraid of Saint Gilles.” Peturabo deployed a large number of iron ring robots to fight Saint Gilles: “But Saint Gilles is not our only enemy.”

"If Ryan and Sanguis were to descend upon this planet together, who would deal with him?"

Perturabo's gaze swept over the Scarlet Angel, Vashtor, and Abaddon. The Scarlet Angel was born from the wrath of the Blood Angels ten thousand years ago, and was exceptionally powerful, but it was still too difficult for it to fight against a Primarch.

If it were in the Warp, within the Soul Forge, Vashtor's true form could indeed contend against a Primarch. However, what exists in the real universe is merely an avatar of Vashtor, a part of his body. It would be far too much to ask him to fight against a Primarch.

As for Abaddon Delanickon, he could indeed be somewhat useful if he wanted to, but that magic sword is currently just a decoration, utterly useless.

Vashtor, the Red Angel, and Abaddon did not answer Peturabo's question. Instead, they all looked at Peturabo, as if hoping that he would answer the question himself.

"What use are you?!" Peturabo said through gritted teeth, seething with resentment.

Whether it was Peturabo's imagination or not, he felt as if his life was cursed.
For ten thousand years, when he wasn't rebelling, he did the dirtiest, most tiring, and least popular jobs.

When the Horus Rebellion broke out, after he rebelled, he still did the dirtiest, most tiring, and least popular jobs.

Ten thousand years have passed, and he has become a demon, still doing the dirtiest, most tiring, and least popular job.

Why does he have to endure pressure, whether it's loyalty, rebellion, or becoming a demon?
Wouldn't his betrayal have been for nothing?! Wouldn't his ascension to demonhood have been for nothing?!
Although resentful that they had dumped all the work on him, Peturabo was indeed prepared.

Abaddon, Vashtor, and the Red Angels clearly realized this as well, because a ringed robot was standing next to Peturabo.

The Iron Rings are Perturabo's personal guards, the only non-human among all Primarch guards, and also the strongest of all Primarch guards. Perturabo even used these self-created mechs to subdue the enraged Angron.
But the iron-ringed robot next to Peturabo was clearly different.
His body was made of gleaming silver metal, interspersed with some black stones, and his eyes gleamed with a cold green light.

Vashtor looked at the entity and narrowed his eyes slightly. He vaguely sensed what was inside the iron ring.

“I can help you.” The iron ring actually spoke on its own, turning its metal head to look at Perturabo: “But in exchange, you not only need to release me from the cage you created, but you also need to send me to Mars.”

“I agree to your request, fragments of the God of the Material Universe,” Peturabo said with a slight nod.

“A fragment of a Celestial God?” Abaddon stared at the iron-ringed robot for a moment. “But what if they have a third Primarch?”

“Robert Guilliman will never have the opportunity to interfere with this planet,” Peturabo said calmly. “There are so many tedious tasks in the galaxy that He has to do; how could he possibly spare the time?”

"Even if that Saint Doraemon has most likely already woken up, he would only have been awake for a day or two at most. How could he possibly bring back another original host in such a short time?"

Onboard the Makurag Glory, Guilliman wearily looked at the documents before him.
After rushing around, he finally finished processing the documents and had some free time.
But that doesn't mean he has time to rest.
Guilliman looked at the doorway with a hint of pain; he had received Saint Gilles' summons just hours earlier.

Saint Doraemon has returned; it's time to hold another small meeting among the Primarchs.

Between Primarchs
"Ryan. Sigh."

Guilliman rubbed his temples, trying to console himself:

"It's just Ryan, nothing to worry about."

(Next chapter will be later.)

(End of this chapter)