Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

Chapter 808 The Undying Fire Dragon
Strictly speaking, the last time Vulcan fought against Anglon was during the distant Battle of Istvan V.

At that time, the Sons of Horus, the Sons of the Emperor, the Death Guard, and the World Eaters, who had already openly betrayed the Mongols, had just used the Battle of Istvan III to purge the loyalist faction within their ranks.

Meanwhile, the three loyal legions—the Salamanders, the Iron Hands, and the Raven Guards—were ordered by the Sealholder to quell the rebellion.

Although in terms of numbers it was a three-on-four disadvantageous war, the actual situation was not like that.

The Emperor's Sons suffered the most severe internal strife, losing almost a third of their men, while the other traitor legions also suffered heavy losses.

Those loyalists who held Istvan III for three months exceeded their mission.

They not only relayed information about the traitors, but also did everything in their power to weaken the traitor's army.

However, with the arrival of four legions that had actually betrayed the cause but were outwardly keeping quiet, the battle situation completely spiraled out of control and collapsed.

Corax escaped, Feralus was beheaded by Forgrim, and Vulcan himself was killed once by the Iron Warrior's nuclear bomb, only to be resurrected thanks to his immortality.

During the subsequent war, Vulcan was always out of the loop. After returning to Terra, he was granted the Seven Hammers Amulet by the Emperor and placed beside the Golden Throne.

Vulcan had only heard of Saint Gilles's glorious achievements—the strongest champion who had consecutively exiled the three Blood Gods, Angrath, Kabanha, and Angron.

But when he looked directly at Angron again, he found that his brother had undergone a complete transformation from the person in his memory.

In the past, Angron was a cold and lonely man who had to endure the torment of the Butcher's Nail every moment, an endless and eternal pain.

But Vulcan knew that this was not the true nature of Angron.

He had asked the Emperor if there was a way to save Angron, and the Emperor showed him what Primarch Twelve looked like in its original design.

"In my view, Angron is not a warrior or a commander."

"He has a natural ability to sense, share, and feel the pain of others, thereby healing others and strengthening the bond between brothers."

"To put it simply, Angron was supposed to be a priest, a psychologist. His greatest value was helping me manage those primates whose minds were not fully developed."

Vulcan still remembers the shock he felt when he heard the Emperor's answer.

After all, Angron had just returned and immediately killed a member of the Imperial Guard in front of the Emperor. After returning to the Legion, he slaughtered all the high-ranking members of the Warhounds, leaving only the Fourth Company Commander, Cain, who barely managed to persuade the Primarch.

He then issued an eleven-kill order, slaughtering a large number of well-trained war dogs in the legion.

Those terrified World Eaters, in order to experience the pain of the Primarch, even voluntarily implanted themselves with a degraded version of the Butcher's Nail.

All of this turned the once orderly Twelfth Legion into a bunch of mad butchers who only knew how to hack and slash.

Even the other Primarchs held Angron, a mad and foolish brother, in utter contempt.

Although they outwardly consider their brotherhood and don't openly reveal their true thoughts, they do indeed look down on Angron.

Which Primarch failed to unify his homeworld and even became a slave?

Only Angron, even Mortalian who was defeated by his alien foster father, was stronger than him.

Such a blatantly mentally ill person was actually their psychologist?
This is why Vulcan felt sorry for Anglon's plight, but he also had no solution to the Butcher's Nail.

Sometimes Vulcan even thought that if there had been a psychologist, Anglon, to mediate, perhaps many of his brothers would not have gone astray.

Horus's morbid attachment to the Emperor will be addressed, Forgrim's arrogance will be corrected, Koz's madness will be calmed, and Perturabo and Mortarion's inner turmoil will find someone to confide in.

The great rebellion will not begin; it will be nipped in the bud by the psychiatrist Angron.

Vulcan's lava-like eyes burned with tangible anger, yet also revealed a helpless pity and sorrow.

He saw that the Butcher's Nail still remained on Angron's head, the metal instrument of torture still bound to Angron—how ridiculous!
If you ascend to demonhood but still have nails, what's the point of ascending to demonhood?
Vulcan's pitying gaze instantly stung Angron.

"No! I don't need pity!"

Angron was enraged, his Butcher's Nail churning his brains, releasing bioelectricity that stimulated the most sensitive nerve endings, bringing him excruciating pain.

The Dawnbringer is not a long-handled warhammer, and Vulcan did not gain any advantage against a ferocious melee enemy like Angron.

In the past, Angron didn't actually have any particularly sophisticated techniques or moves.

After all, expecting someone with a screw driven in their head to use skills is far too demanding and unreasonable.

However, after being promoted to the demon prince of Khorne, Angron spent every single moment of his life fighting in the Brass Arena.

Gladiators who can enter the Blood God's Domain are all the strongest individuals selected by countless races over a long period of time.

Fighting against these most powerful and ferocious enemies, even if Angron was foolish, he still made considerable progress.

Moreover, Angron is, after all, a Primarch. When he fights, the Blood God reduces his control over the Butcher's Nail, allowing his sanity to be freed.

With just a few close-range slashes, Angron's massive and sharp black sword forced Vulgan, who was wielding the Dawnbringer, to retreat repeatedly.

Angron's rage was like a volcanic eruption, relentless and unending. His demonic body contained boundless explosive power, and wave after wave of heavy sword strikes made Vulcan suffer terribly.

Vulcan was originally the most physically powerful Primarch, without exception, but now he is experiencing the passive feeling of being violently suppressed by brute force.

Primarchs have indeed made tremendous progress in terms of physical attributes compared to before; their physical structure no longer needs to consider physical limits.

The Lord of Fire Dragons understood that he would have to use some unconventional tactics to have any chance of defeating Angron.

“You are in pain, Angron.”

“I can feel how broken and empty your heart is.”

"You try to fill your heart with killing and victory, but it's like squeezing sand in your hand. The harder you squeeze, the faster the sand slips away."

The Dawnbringer in Vulcan's hand shone with a brilliant light, like the breaking sun.

The light emanating from this divine weapon, forged by Vulcan himself, can temporarily illuminate the mind of the target, revealing their innermost nature.

Under the radiance of this light, Angron instinctively closed his eyes, and then Vulcan seized the opportunity to instantly teleport more than ten meters backward.

Angron raised his crimson wings and suddenly blocked Vulcan's possible follow-up attack.

But instead of a heavy blow from Vulcan, he received only some light, dismissive words.

"I think you've wanted to die completely for a long time."

"Your soul has been scattered, everything has turned to nothingness, and even the Blood God cannot reshape you..."

“You are not His champion, you are just His slave.”

When he heard Vulcan's whisper, Angron was visibly startled, as if the other man had truly spoken his mind.

Yes, he had wanted to die for a long time.

Angron's heart died the moment he was taken from Nukelia by the Emperor and betrayed his loyal slave gladiator brothers.

Although he later returned to the Twelfth Legion due to pressure from the Emperor and pleas from the Warhounds, he remained essentially a Primarch with a strong desire for self-destruction.

Angron had expected to die on his way to fight for Horus, either killed by his loyal brothers or tortured to death by the Butcher's Nail.

But none of this happened. Loka used the destruction of Nukelia to hold a grand ascension ceremony, and Angron could never escape Khorne's clutches again.

He has even lost the right to die.

He was forced to sacrifice his very essence, becoming the so-called Blood God Demon Prince.

However, whether it is the Demon Prince or the Great Demon, they are essentially just fragments of a chaotic evil god, not much different from a piece of skin that falls off a human body.

The Blood God became his eternal slave master. Even after he committed suicide, Khorne could still piece him together at will and manipulate and enslave him at will.

Vulcan's words seemed like a spell, entwining in Angron's mind and causing him to slow his movements.

Vulcan didn't expect to subdue his opponent with words. He charged again, stomping his feet heavily on the ground, gathering power throughout his body and transmitting it up his spine to the warhammer in his hand.

The thunderous strike landed on Angron's head in an instant.

The square-headed warhammer unleashed unparalleled destructive power. Dawnbringer perfectly absorbed Vulcan's boundless pure power and transferred it to Angron.

Angron's hideous and terrifying head was smashed by the warhammer, leaving it deeply dented, bones shattered, and the white brain tissue inside faintly visible.

The Primarch's scales and armor cracked, and its black, bull-horn-like horns broke in two. Large amounts of foul-smelling blood, reeking of sulfur, were forced out, scorching craters into the ground.

The demonic body offers little reduction in melee damage, and the Blood God even turned his attention here, watching the battle between His proud Bronze Champion and the Undying Fire Dragon.

Khorne did not intervene, and in most cases, He did not undermine the fairness of a duel.

Of course, in moments of anger and frustration, Khorne may also choose to intervene and help his warriors enhance their strength.

The principles of the Blood God are not as strict as one might imagine.

Vulcan did not waste this rare opportunity. He struck Angron’s vitals with a continuous and powerful hammering motion, as if he were hammering an anvil.

He unleashed most of his attacks on that damned butcher's nail.

These vicious metal cables twitched wildly, amplifying the damage they suffered and feeding it back to their mounts.

Dizzy, Angron instinctively used his black sword to support himself as he got up. He spread his demon wings again and used his extremely resilient skin to block Vulcan's warhammer.

Angron was about to retaliate when he discovered that Butcher's Nail, which had been hammered by Vulcan, seemed to have withered and lost its original violent and cruel nature.

Before his muddled mind could react, Vulcan's hammer struck again, shattering the wings' protection and slamming Angron to the ground once more.

The warship's metal deck shattered, and Angron was thrown directly onto the lower deck.

"What exactly is going on?"

Meanwhile, Luo Jia, watching the duel from the sidelines, was filled with confusion and bewilderment.

Theoretically speaking, as the chief demon prince of Khorne, Angron is the most powerful among them.

After all, Khorne himself possessed the authority of "war" and "slaughter," and the demons under his command were naturally exceptional in combat.

"I think Vulcan got a good beating from him."

“Angron doesn’t want to fight right now; he’s enjoying a rare moment of peace.”

Forgrim, however, had an even more acute sense of smell, and he keenly grasped the truth.

"Don't forget, our fire dragon brother is best at forging."

"He can achieve atomic-level precision forging, which is something that even I and Ferrus cannot match."

Fugrim seemed to be recalling the past, his friendship with Feralus had begun with a forging competition.

At the foot of the mountains of Narrodnia, in the largest foundry in the Ural Mountains, the Phoenix and Gorgon spent more than three months forging weapons.

Forgrim forged an incredibly powerful warhammer, and Feralus forged a greatsword that burned with an inextinguishable flame.

Subsequently, the two brothers, meeting for the first time, instinctively exchanged weapons they had forged, as a sign of their unbreakable friendship.

"Perhaps Vulcan really can use his forging skills to beat that unruly Butcher's Nail on Angron's head until he faints?"

"Look, isn't Angron deliberately exposing his Butcher's Nail to Vulcan's hammer? He's enjoying it!"

Luo Jia suddenly felt a chill and subconsciously moved away from Fugrim.

Why did he seem so curious about what it felt like to be forged like an anvil by Vulcan?

To Slaanesh's demon princes, even the cruelest tortures are no different from sweet indulgences.

However, just as Forgrim had guessed, every time Vulcan wielded Dawnbringer, Angron was severely wounded, while that damned Butcher's Nail was also stunned.

Each time this vicious parasite and enslaver is struck, its self-awareness becomes dizzy for a moment, and it then loosens its control over Angron.

Angron felt real pain for the first time in a long time—not the fake pain inflicted by the Butcher's Nail, but pain that his body actually felt.

He was being beaten while laughing wildly, which made him feel that he was still alive.

He wanted to cry, but only molten brass and iron came out.

Vulcan was also quite speechless, but this strange tug-of-war between the two quickly aroused the dissatisfaction of the bloodthirsty audience in a higher dimension.

The Blood God discovered Angron's passive resistance, so He chose to intervene.

A crimson light instantly entered Angron's body, which was already broken and bruised, from the warp.

The Butcher's Nail, who had been knocked unconscious, awoke again and unleashed his fury with even greater ferocity.

Angron immediately dropped his black sword, staggered, clutched his head, and slammed it against the ground recklessly.

Each collision caused the warship's armor to shake violently, and Vulcan even had to balance his center of gravity to avoid losing his footing.

When Angron stood up again, his body was even larger than before.

The black sword that had fallen to the ground seemed to sense a summons, and it flew up and landed in its master's hand.

Khorne's demon prince's eyes held no other emotion, only a pure lust for slaughter and a thirst for blood. Blood... more blood.

Skulls... mountains of skulls!

Angron unleashed a deafening roar, and crimson sound waves spread through the ship's cabins, reaching the ears of the guards who were still struggling to fight off the invasion.

Those mortals with weaker mental constitutions exploded into a bloody mist the moment they heard Angron's roar.

The salamanders, enraged, engaged the invading Chaos Space Marines in close combat.

They hacked and slashed at each other with their power hammers and the rebels' chainsaw axes, replacing the roar of ranged weapons with pure, brutal close combat.

Vulcan's face darkened. He was about to swing Dawnbringer in retaliation when he discovered that Angron had already pierced his chest armor with the huge black sword, plunging it into his chest and tearing his heart to pieces.

Even the Fire Dragon Lord's willpower was shattered by this excruciating pain, causing his muscles to twitch and his power to recede like a receding tide.

Angron roared again and lifted Vulcan up with his black sword.

Pulled by gravity, the Fire Dragon Lord's body continued to pierce through the black sword's blade, falling forcefully before Angron's face.

Vulcan lunged forward, biting down hard on Angron's Butcher's Nail with his teeth, then violently ripped it off with a powerful thrust of his shoulder muscles.

The Butcher's Nail, along with a portion of Angron's brain tissue, splattered across the ground, causing blood to gush out. The bloodthirsty freak let out a miserable howl and began to writhe and fight with Vulcan on the ground.

The Lord of Fire Dragons' vision was completely red.

He felt as if he had returned to that afternoon when he fell into Macurag, the endless pain overwhelming his heart, leaving only a berserk, undead monster acting on instinct.

He gripped the black sword tightly with both hands, completely disregarding the secondary damage caused by pulling it out, and pushed the black sword directly out of his heart.

Then Vulcan swung his sword and cut off one of Angron's wings, which was still writhing and struggling on the ground.

"How magnificent..."

"This is the beauty of competition. Kill! Bloodshed! Let everything be elevated in war!"

Fugrim seemed to be having an orgasm, his lower body's snake tail tightly coiled together, his muscles churning violently, and the faint sound of some kind of liquid splattering could be heard.

Luo Jia was completely speechless. Damn Slaanesh, he ruined Forgrim.

The battle between the two power-type Primarchs quickly devolved into a chaotic brawl, with both sides discarding their weapons and relying solely on physical strength to determine the victor.

Vulcan had his arm broken, his throat ripped, and his spine snapped by Angron more than once.

But whenever Vulcan was on the verge of death, a miraculous force would give him the strength to live again.

As Angron killed Vulcan more and more often, the Lord of Fire Dragons resurrected at an increasingly faster pace.

Vulcan was like an unkillable monster, coming back again and again.

Vulcan, at the cost of several deaths, finally found Angron's weakness.

He resurrected and returned, forcefully pulling out all the Butcher's Nails, thus finally ending the war.

Vulcan was panting heavily, blood flowing from his entire body; the Primarch's blood accumulated on the ground was enough to fill several Vulcan's volume.

He shoved Angron's head aside, and Khorne seemed to boo in dissatisfaction. Angron was now on the countdown to his resurrection.

At most eight minutes and eight seconds, Angron will come back again.

"Both of you come at me at once, let me see if you can actually kill me?"

Enraged, Vulcan picked up his Dawnbringer again, held it horizontally in front of his chest, and immediately activated a close-range teleportation.

Vulcan used the Dawnbringer's teleportation ability to compensate for his speed disadvantage.

Even if the teleportation failed and he ended up stuck on the deck of a warship, it wouldn't be a fatal problem for Vulcan.

With a shriek, Forgrim unleashed a burst of cold light, ruthlessly slicing through Vulcan's flesh.

The Dragon Lord's dragon scale armor had already been shattered in the battle with Angron, with large chunks of strong, charcoal-like flesh exposed nakedly to the Fallen Phoenix's blade.

Even with the Primarch's tough skin and strong muscles, he couldn't resist the terrifying blade's edge. Vulcan's reaction speed was no match for Vograim's, who was known for his agility; he was simply a sitting duck.

In just six breaths, all the joints and ligaments in Vulcan's body were severed by Fugrim's horrific art of cutting.

Although he still looked intact, his body had actually lost its ability to support itself, and he could only lie on the ground like a lump of rotten flesh.

Vulcan had long since lost all feeling of pain; his nerves were completely numb. Only his stubborn will kept him from falling into unconsciousness.

Although his immortality granted him immunity from death, it did not mean that Vulcan would not faint from intense pain.

Once he falls, his offspring will be slaughtered, and his fleet will be completely destroyed in the siege of the green-skinned orcs.

Such consequences were absolutely unacceptable to Vulcan: it meant that the 18th Army would be in even greater danger than after the massacre at the Istvan V landing site.

Forgrim's scimitar was so fast that Vulcan couldn't even use his eyes to observe the trajectory of the blade's swing, and could only rely on instinct to counterattack.

While Vulcan could put up a fight against Angron, he was left only to passively take hits when facing Forgrim.

Like a shimmering purple storm, Fulgrim slowly and brutally sliced ​​through his opponent's flesh.

Vulcan attempted to use the Dawnbringer's teleportation ability to dodge and reposition, but the weapon's power was quickly discerned by the Primarch.

He was able to use his psionic tentacles to sense the ripples of spacetime rhythm and the location where Vulcan teleported, and like a prophet, he delivered his blade into Vulcan's body.

After his heart and other vital organs were crushed several times, Vulcan gave up the idea of ​​teleportation and could only obediently fight Forgrim to the death.

Forgrim patiently emptied Vulcan's internal organs, his curved scimitar proving incredibly convenient for the task, seemingly made for it.

"Look at yourself now, Fogrim!"

"You used to be so proud, so resistant to any alien creature, but why have you turned into this deformed half-human, half-snake?"

"You wiped out the Thorns, but you yourself have become one of them. You disgust me!"

“I hate Felus’s hesitation and restraint back then. If he had been more ruthless and killed you in the ruins of Istvaan V, you wouldn’t be in this ghastly state now!”

“If I had killed you then, it would have been Forgrim who died. If I kill you now, it will only be Slaanesh’s plaything and lover who dies.”

Vulcan, relying on his immortality, kept seizing opportunities to verbally attack Forgrim.

In fact, the two sides are currently in a passive stalemate, he can't hit Forgrim, while Forgrim is able to kill Vulcan time and time again.

If it weren't for their immortality, the battle between them would probably have ended long ago.

“Attacking me with words is not a good idea, my brother. I’m not that brainless idiot Angron.”

"I am very rational and clear-headed."

“I will win back Feralas’s heart, and we will be together forever.”

Forgrim's voice was incredibly cold, like the rustling sound of some kind of snake wriggling its scales against a wall in a damp, dark sewer.

Vulcan brandished the Dawnbringer and roared:
“Ferus is dead. Regardless of his warp nature, his physical body has indeed perished.”

"What conspiracy are you plotting? Felus will never betray the Emperor. Even if you can resurrect him, he will not submit to you!"

Enraged, Forgrim slit Vulcan's throat once more.

Primarch's blood gushed forth, and Slaanesh's prince seemed to dance in the rain of blood, immersing his entire body in the blood.

"Vulcan, you are even more foolish than I thought. Do you really think these pointless words can shake my resolve?"

"Are you ready? How much longer do you want me to waste here?!"

Fugrim yelled at Luo Jia, who was preparing.

The Great Manifestation Master was seen scribbling in the air without any hurry, seemingly weaving some powerful psionic spell.

"Don't worry, Vulcan has already been defeated by you, and Angron is about to be resurrected. There's no chance of anything else happening."

“I’ve changed my mind. Perhaps killing Vulcan isn’t the best option.”

“If I offer it to the original truth, the High Heaven will reward my contribution.”

What Luo Jia is preparing is an Ascension spell that can sacrifice the Primarch to the Warp.

Only a spell of this caliber would require Luo Jia to expend so much time and energy.

The Great Sage's spiritual power has improved dramatically compared to before he ascended to demonhood.

"You want him to become a demon prince of boundless chaos? What should we call him then? Vulcan, the Black Dragon of Purgatory?" Forgrim's tone was teasing and mocking.

"Hopefully, the black dragon doesn't want to eat us."

Meanwhile, Vulcan's body was healing rapidly, and the rate at which Fulgrim was destroying him was gradually falling behind the rate at which Vulcan was healing himself, causing the Pleasure Prince's darling to grow increasingly gloomy.

"What the hell? Are all immortals this twisted?"

"Behave yourself. You're not a fire lizard, you're just a little fire dragon."

The Primarch channeled his psionic power, and a pair of magnificent violet wings unfurled from his back, his entire being radiating an aura of arrogance and pride.

Forgrim was chanting a spell when he unleashed it on Vulcan, who was lunging at him.

The raging fire dragon was frozen in mid-air, his heartbeat and breath stopped, and an invisible storm frantically eroded his body.

The Primarch's skin was completely eroded by the storm, revealing the dense blood vessels and muscle fibers beneath. Vulcan hung in the air like a skinned beast.

His flesh and blood were also completely decomposed, and every cell seemed to be ignited by a hideous psionic flame.

The Lord of Fire Dragons was truly melted into the flames at this moment; his limbs were torn to pieces, and his internal organs were burned to nothingness.

In the end, only an empty skeleton remained in the same spot, the white skeleton corroded by the flames, yet still retaining its complete form.

"Now you should behave yourself for a while, right?"

Activating the psionic spell he had just used was no easy task for Forgrim, which made his voice sound lazy and tired.

He was getting tired of it; these days, it was hard for Fogrem to maintain enthusiasm and curiosity for anything for long.

Battles like this, which are meaningless, are incredibly boring.

However, Vulcan, now only a skeleton, once again summoned the messenger of dawn.

This short-handled warhammer, like Mjolnir from ancient mythology, rushed over and quickly landed in its master's hands, before the fierce warhammer fell down upon him.

Panting, Vograim was suddenly slammed to the ground. He used four arms to support himself and two arms to fight off Vulcan's seemingly inexplicable strength.

"I will not die."

"I will not fall."

“I will not ignore your atrocities.”

"I am the guardian of humanity, the fire dragon of Nocturne."

Vulcan's flesh and blood seemed to grow back as if time had reversed, and he swung his warhammer firmly, again and again, without the slightest wavering.

After countless deaths, he finally seized upon Forgrim's brief period of weakness.

Fugrim's stabbing sword was smashed to pieces, and his body was also knocked to the ground by the enraged fire dragon hammer.

The alluring snake-woman's body shattered under the violence, and the colorful broken bones could be seen with the naked eye.

Vulcan seized the opportunity and gave him a brutal beating, turning Forgrim into a pile of minced meat, not much better off than Angron had been.

Luo Jia covered his eyes with his hands. With a huge advantage of three against one, they had lost two Primarchs. It was a very shameful thing.

It didn't matter, since his ascension spells were already ready and Vulcan's fate was sealed.

Luo Jia put on a smiling face and approached the exhausted Vulcan, slowly conjuring a ritual dagger in his hand.

"Resistance is futile."

"Welcome to join us, bro."

"The subspace is the future, the ultimate salvation."

The Great Sage thrust a knife into Vulcan's heart, and the psionic array he had inscribed immediately began to flash with a dazzling red light, as if stimulated by something.

A blasphemous, chaotic eight-pointed star emerged from beneath Vulcan, and countless psionic tentacles surged from the star, tightly binding Vulcan's limbs.

Luo Jia chanted incantations, pushing Vulcan toward the abyss of depravity.

(End of this chapter)