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

Chapter 887 Angron's Redemption (Part 1)

As soon as he finished speaking, Kabanha slammed the black prism in his hand into the war-torn ground beneath his feet.

hum-

The black prism burst forth with a blinding, dark light, like a miniature black hole, frantically devouring the surrounding energy.

The light rapidly spun and expanded as it devoured everything, instantly transforming into a constantly twisting gate with viscous dark energy flowing along its edges.

At the center of the gate, the battlefield where humans and the Khorne army fought fiercely was no longer a place, but a deep passage that seemed to connect to an unknown land.

The next second, heavy footsteps shattered the silence of the passage.

The first to step forward was a tall and serene figure.

He was clad in a power armor that was a blend of dark red and jet black, covered with complex chaotic runes. Far from feeling blasphemous or unclean, these runes gave him a special sense of holiness.

Holding the gleaming golden spear of the Imperial Guard in his hand, Angeltai had been using the same weapon left behind by the very Imperial Guard who had killed his best friend all these years.

Angelte was not wearing a helmet. His face was heroic, like those great sculptures from ancient Greece, with deep eyes and a unique temperament that combined coldness and gentleness.

Following closely behind was an even larger and more imposing figure.

On the crimson World Eater power armor, the skull and beast head symbols were still glaring, but they were now surrounded by deeper, dark red patterns that resembled dried blood.

On Kahn's weathered, scarred, and resolute face, his once-mad, crimson eyes now burned with a deeper, more resolute flame of pain.

Kahn knew very well that when the teleportation beacon that Angortai had given to Kabanha was activated, they would have to face that moment of choice.

Since withdrawing from the Terra battlefield, Kahn has been following Angortai and together they have built the Chaos Legion.

Although Angortai never considered his brother a subordinate and always treated him as a close friend, Kahn was well aware that Angortai was the true leader of the Chaos Legion.

He has a clear understanding of his own abilities; he may be capable of being a general, but he is unlikely to be a perfect leader.

Angortai was a perfect fit; his charisma was so strong that even warp demons were willing to befriend him and even become sworn brothers.

In most matters, Kahn completely obeyed Angortai's will, including forming the Chaos Legion and practicing the idea of ​​a balanced coexistence between humanity and the warp.

But there was one thing Kahn was absolutely determined to do.

That would completely liberate his original, Angron, who had been a slave for his entire life.

After Kahn broke free from his blind loyalty to Angron, he frantically searched for ways to completely eliminate Angron.

However, the ascended Angron has become a vile warp creature, his essence sacrificed to Khorne, which means he has become a precious toy in Khorne's hands.

Even if you kill him, Khorne can still resurrect him, entirely at the will of the Blood God.

This made Kahn's obsession almost an impossible task.

Fortunately, he not only had himself, but also his close friend and brother Angelte who was always looking for a solution.

The moment the traitor Kahn set foot on Comoros soil, his gaze was drawn as if by a magnet, locking onto the massive Primarch in the distance, which was wreaking havoc.

Angron roared in fury, shouting "Blood sacrifice to the Blood God, skull offering to the skull seat" over and over again, but it sounded as stiff as a wound-up machine repeating itself endlessly.

Kahn's eyes revealed endless sorrow. That was his father. He would rather he die completely than let him be enslaved like a puppet.

Behind them, streams of chaotic Astartes silently and resolutely emerged.

Their armor inevitably showed signs of flesh overgrowth and mutation, even growing bone spurs and extra limbs, but their eyes remained unusually clear.

Powerful psychic energy flowed through them; this was a chaotic legion composed entirely of blessed sons, a formidable force jointly created by Angortai and Kahn.

Each blessed child incorporates the power of subspace creatures into their body and achieves a certain "balance".

This allows them to borrow the power of demons without being controlled or even possessed and enslaved by them.

Angertai's gaze swept calmly over the ready-to-fight Lemanrus, and he nodded slightly as a greeting.

Kahn, however, seemed to have his entire mind focused on Angron, oblivious to everything around him, only letting out a low whimper from deep in his throat, like that of a wounded beast.

"Father……"

Kabanha gazed at Angortai, who had answered the summons. Khorne's bloodthirsty freak was extremely arrogant, yet Angortai had earned its approval and even respect.

Its menacing jaws opened and closed, the brass teeth grinding together with a grating noise.

“Angoltai, Kahn, I have lit the beacon as agreed. Now tell me the method you promised to use to completely end Angol.”

Tell me how to completely erase this empty shell, which has tainted the ironclad laws of the Blood God, from this world.

Its voice was filled with urgency and an almost obsessive anticipation, which it could hardly contain.

Lemanrus crossed his arms, his massive Frostblade Battle Axe leaning against his leg armor, his eyes scanning back and forth between Angortai, Kahn, and Kabanha.

Interesting, really interesting.

The complexity of the situation has been escalating since the start of this war. He sensed a strong stench of conspiracy, betrayal, redemption, and madness, which was far more interesting than simple fighting.

The Chaos Primarch and the traitorous Chaos Space Marines join forces, but their goal is to kill another, more favored Primarch.
This ridiculous script is so bad that even the most eccentric and witty person wouldn't dare write it.

Angeltai remained completely unmoved by Kabanha's questioning.

His deep eyes seemed to pierce through the soul, and his voice, though calm, carried an undeniable penetrating power, echoing clearly in Kabanha's ears.

"The method is actually very simple. Its core is not external forces like yours or mine, nor is it any divine weapon or magical energy that can completely kill the demon."

"absurd!"

Kabanha growled, sensing it might have been tricked.

"Do you expect Anglong to suddenly wake up and lay down his sword? The nail has completely replaced his mind; the decision-making is no longer Anglong's."

“Exactly.” Angelte’s reply was concise and forceful.

He continued, meeting the tangible gaze of a Primarch, a Great Demon.

"The only key to completely snatching Angron's life imprint from the Blood God and from the essential constraints of the warp, so that he may attain eternal rest instead of cyclical torment, lies in Angron's own hands."

"On his own?" Ruth frowned, his rugged face filled with blatant disbelief.

"That madman, enslaved by both nails and the God of Blood, has almost forgotten what 'himself' even is."

Hoping he'd commit suicide? Or hoping he'd suddenly grow a brain and pry the nail out? Kabanha is right, it's absurd!

"You're right."

A deep sorrow flashed in Angeltai's eyes.

“The current ‘Slave Angron’ is an empty vessel twisted by the Butcher’s Nail and filled with the power of the Blood God, so of course he cannot do it.”

He had long forgotten his 'self' and eroded his 'will', leaving only imposed rage and the instinct for destruction.

Therefore, we need to stimulate him, not beat him with more force, which would only make the nails buzz louder and the power of the Blood God surge more violently.

We must use the obsession he long forgot, yet which lies buried deep within his broken soul.

Angeltai slowly explained his plan, and even Lemanrus felt that this traitor in front of him didn't seem so unpleasant anymore.

"I spent countless years searching for tormented fragments of souls in the raging, chaotic ethereal currents of the warp and in the forgotten corners of time... like salvaging a sunken ship in a lightless abyss."

Angelte's voice lowered, carrying a palpable weariness.

"Finally, after paying a huge price, I found them—the survivors of the Nukelia Colosseum."

Those who fought alongside Angron, defying fate with their lives and blood, sharing the dawn of victory and the despair of defeat, ultimately vanished like dust in the long river of history… brothers and sisters.”

“Yochuka… Kleist,” Kahn murmured the two names in a low, hoarse voice.

He did not recognize the two gladiators who had long since died, but after Angelte retrieved their remnants, he also glimpsed the time that his genetic father would forever cherish.

Although that period was incredibly difficult, Angron was still a flesh-and-blood person, capable of experiencing both joy and sorrow.

To be honest, Kahn had never seen Angron genuinely care about anyone, not even his Primarch brothers.

When Kahn saw the young Primarch weeping in sorrow for his gladiator brothers and sisters from the remnants of the Nukelian gladiators' souls, his heart was filled with complex emotions.

Angron's gentleness and humanity were reserved for the Nukelians, while their descendants received only brutality and madness.

There were moments when Kahn even hated himself for not being a Nukelian.

If he had been born in Nukelia, he could have fought alongside his genetic father and even become one of Angron's "brothers and sisters".

Leman Russ keenly sensed Kahn's peculiar and twisted emotions and couldn't help but click his tongue slightly in surprise.

“Their souls should have completely dissipated, devoured by greedy demons, leaving not even a trace,” Angelte explained.

"But I found their extremely weak echoes, the last remaining traces of obsession and emotion, which were as fragile as candles in the wind, and could be completely extinguished at any moment."

I told them about Angron's current situation, how he went from being the gladiator king of Nukelia, the hope of the slave gladiators, to a puppet in the gods' game, and finally the most pathetic plaything under the Blood God.

How he was eternally tormented by the butcher's nail, day after day, year after year, utterly sinking into endless pain and nothingness.

How he lost everything he had ever cherished: these blood relatives, bound together with their lives in the mud and blood of the gladiatorial pit.

“I told them that when the final battle came, Angron did not flee alone as the high-ranking riders had claimed. He was taken away by the Emperor and forced to leave his brothers and sisters.”

Angeltai paused, his eyes seemingly reflecting the intense emotions of those faint, lingering souls upon learning the truth.

"Their reaction... was a deep-seated hatred for the enslavers and for the Blood God, a heart-wrenching pain at the tragic fate of Angron, a pain that even surpassed the fear of their own impending annihilation."

Their sole remaining obsession was to save Angron, to free him from this eternal enslavement and torment, even at the cost of the complete annihilation of their already feeble existence.

"So, you put them..."

Ruth understood perfectly, his sharp gaze sweeping between Angeltai and Kahn's chests.

He sensed it; it wasn't just a fluctuation of psychic energy, but rather a purer, more profound emotional attachment.

“Yes,” Angeltai readily admitted, his hand still pressed against his chest.

"Their remnant souls are too fragile, like the most delicate glass, unable to exist independently here, let alone withstand the erosion of the chaotic spiritual energy, the aura of death, and the pressure of the Blood God on this battlefield."

“I carefully attach them to our souls, using our strong willpower, the special constitution of the blessed children, and our own complex emotional connection to Angron to provide them with a final refuge and a bridge of resonance.”

He looked at Kahn, who was also looking at him. Their eyes met, conveying a tacit understanding and determination that needed no words. "They are the last spark to awaken the nailed, forgotten anchor of humanity in Angron, the only way to pierce his shell of madness."

Kahn's eyes shone with an unwavering sense of mission and a determination to sacrifice.

He looked at Angelte, who nodded slightly to him, his eyes full of trust.

“It’s time, brother.” Kahn’s voice was deep and firm, yet contained the calm before a volcanic eruption.

He suddenly raised the chainsaw axe in his hand, the one that Angron had once used, known as Bloodfather and Bloodson.

The machine spirit sensed Kahn's will, and the engine began to spin wildly.

This was not merely a declaration of slaughter; the deafening roar that tore through the air was like a final, relentless challenge from the gladiators to their fate and their enslavers, emanating from the deepest part of the Nukelia Colosseum.

"For Angron! For freedom!"

With all his might, Kahn roared at the massive, monstrous figure in the distance, a figure that seemed to be the embodiment of calamity, as his chest resonated with power.

His voice pierced through the shrieks of bombs, the howls of demons, and the hum of iron men, carrying a soul-stirring sorrow, boundless pain, and resolute provocation.

"Angron! Look at me!"

Are you really willing to be someone else's slave forever?!

At the same time, the Chaos Legion warriors of the Devourer race behind him, those blessed children with mutations but clear eyes, let out a roar that shook the heavens and the earth.

The roar, like an invisible giant hammer, filled with Kahn's call and the will of the Legion warriors, slammed down on the area shrouded in the pure destructive power of Angron.

Angron, who was fiercely fighting with Ryan Johnson, suddenly paused, his massive, mountain-like demonic body stiffening.

Something seemed to flicker extremely faintly deep within his hollow eye sockets, which burned with endless rage.

A throbbing sensation originating from the deepest recesses of the soul, a vague and distant sound forgotten in the deepest swamp of blood, covered by the eternal hum of the butcher's nails... pierced through layers upon layers of pain and the noise of destruction with extreme difficulty.

His massive head, covered in thick keratin and bone spurs, turned very slowly, with an almost rusty, mechanical stiffness, from Ryan's direction.

For the first time, those demonic eyes, burning with the flames of destruction, truly focused and landed on the crimson figure that had challenged him and called out his name.

Kahn, his son.

His most loyal follower, the son who had shed the blood of a loyal brother in Istvaan, yet ultimately betrayed him.

The battlefield seemed to freeze at that moment.

Time is stretched out by an invisible force.

The bomb hovered in mid-air, the slashing blades froze, and even the splattered blood seemed to trace a slow-motion trajectory in the air.

Ryan Johnson was unaware of what was happening. He parried a delayed attack with his Lion Sword and the lion quickly leaped backward to create distance.

He gripped the lion sword tightly, his dark eyes filled with surprise, vigilance, and incomprehension.

This sudden turn of events was completely beyond his tactical calculations.

Out of caution, Lion temporarily abandoned Angron and turned his attention to other Khorne archdemons.

Ryan never dwells on individual victories or defeats; he cares more about the overall outcome.

Just because Angron could stop him doesn't mean other bloodthirsty monsters can stop him.

Lemanrus's lips curled into a playful smile, his eyes gleaming, and he leaned forward slightly, like an old wolf that had spotted a new and exciting prey.

Kabanha appeared somewhat nervous, gazing uneasily at the sky beyond the net, seemingly worried that the Blood God might discover the anomaly.

It knows exactly what it is doing, and once the Blood God discovers its actions, its fate may be even worse than that of Skabrand, who betrayed and ambushed Khorne in the past.

But now that things have come to this, all Kabanha can do is go down this dark path.

Angeltai stood quietly in place, the Imperial Guard spear he gripped tightly in his hand emitting a steady and soft glow, its tip lowered.

He was like the calmest spot in the eye of the storm, remaining unmoved even as the storm raged around him.

Angron's enormous bat wings, flowing with lava-like blood, slowly flapped, bringing with them a foul-smelling, scorching storm that drew ever closer.

He growled, and in that growl, besides the usual fury of a wounded beast, there seemed to be an unusual hint of confusion mixed in.
On his ferocious face, there appeared a bewildered look, as if he had been forcibly awakened from a destructive dream.

Like a beast dragged out of its deepest nightmare, it temporarily forgets its instinct to bite.

Step by step, Angron walked toward Karn and the silent, resolute array of Chaos Legion behind him, accompanied by a thunderous roar that shook the earth.

Each step seemed to tread on the heartstrings of everyone present, leaving a footprint burning with sulfur and blood.

Kahn stood at the very front of the formation, like a rock standing before a raging storm.

He watched as the overwhelming Primarch approached step by step, each step causing the ground to tremble and the air to become even hotter and thicker.

The pure aura of destruction emanating from Angron was enough to break the mind of even the bravest Space Marine, but Karn's eyes remained unusually calm, with only an inextinguishable pain and determination burning deep within.

“Father…” Kahn whispered again, this time his voice clearly reached Angron’s ears, or rather, it pierced through the barrier of rage and reached somewhere deeper.

Angron stopped less than fifty paces from Kahn.

This distance, given his massive size, was almost equivalent to being face-to-face.

His enormous eyes, burning with blood-red flames, were fixed on Kahn, and a threatening growl came from his throat.

The Butcher's Nail gleamed with an ominous red light on his massive head, each gleam bringing with it a violent spasm and a deeper rage.

He recognized Kahn, but couldn't understand Kahn's current state and intentions.

Why is Kahn here? Didn't I make him "betray" me and leave this place of trouble long ago?
These concepts had just begun to emerge when they were shattered the next moment by the buzzing of nails.

This blasphemous instrument of torture is enraged, dissatisfied with Angron's useless thoughts that go beyond killing.

It was so arrogant, like an invisible slave owner whipping Angron.

"Look at yourself, Angron!"

Kahn's voice suddenly rose as he pointed at Angron's enormous, twisted body.

"Look at what you've become! The Gladiator King of Nukelia? The hope for the liberation of slaves? The Primarch of the World Eater Legion? The conqueror of the galaxy?"
No! You are now nothing but a mad dog on a chain, a puppet manipulated by nails and evil gods, a pathetic wretch who has forgotten who he is!

Kahn's words were like a poisoned dagger, stabbing fiercely at Angron.

The Primarch let out a deafening roar, a pure, insulted rage.

The black sword was suddenly raised with the power to tear through space, and crimson energy surged along its blade.

Just by the point of that sword, the Chaos Warriors behind Kahn felt as if their souls were being torn apart, and involuntarily took a half step back. Only Kahn and Angortai remained unmoved.

"Angry?" Kahn met the devastating sword without fear, even taking a step forward to meet the black sword with his blood father and blood son.

"But is this anger yours? Or was it given to you by that damn nail? Or is it the thought of that guy sitting on the brass throne?"

Look me in the eyes and answer me, Angron, do you still have even the slightest bit of your own will left?!

All the humans present, including the Khorne demons, felt that Kahn was incredibly brave.

That's Angron. Although he's not very bright, he's definitely the strongest under the Blood God in terms of raw power.

Despite being such a formidable enemy, Kahn was able to confront him directly and even hurl insults at him.

Angron's response was an even more ferocious roar and a massive sword slashing down.

The sword strike was so fierce that it seemed to cleave Kahn and the ground beneath his feet in two!
Kahn didn't dodge, he didn't even raise his weapon to block, he just stared intently at the descending greatsword, his eyes burning with a martyr's light.

What they had to do was to provoke Angron relentlessly; if his death could awaken Angron's soul, he would not resist.

“Kahn!” Angeltai’s low voice rang out, tinged with a rare hint of tension.

Almost simultaneously, the Imperial Guard spear in his hand burst forth with dazzling golden light, transforming into an incredibly sturdy psionic shield inscribed with complex runes, instantly enveloping Kahn's head.

boom--! ! !
The black sword slashed fiercely at the golden shield, the destructive crimson energy colliding violently with the protective golden light, unleashing a light more dazzling than the sun and a deafening roar.

The violent shockwave spread out in a ring, instantly vaporizing or blowing away everything within tens of meters, whether it was rubble, debris, or unfortunate vampires that got too close.

The ground beneath Angeltai's feet instantly cracked and caved in. The veins on his arm, which was gripping the spear, bulged, and his body trembled slightly, clearly indicating that he was under unimaginable pressure.

The golden shield fluctuated violently, emitting a teeth-grinding cracking sound, and was instantly covered with spiderweb-like cracks, but it ultimately did not break.

Kahn stood beneath the shield, the strong winds causing the chains wrapped around his arms to sway violently, and the aftershocks of energy burning his face, but he remained fixed on Angron's burning blood-red eyes, not retreating an inch.

"Is that all you've got? You enslaved beast!"

Kahn's voice sounded exceptionally clear amidst the roar of energy.

"All you do is bite like a mad dog? You don't even have the courage to let me finish what I have to say?! Or are you afraid to hear the truth? Afraid to think of Nukelia? Afraid to think of those who fought alongside you, those who fell with you?!"

"Nukeria..." When this name came out of Kahn's mouth, Angron's ferocious slashing movements showed an extremely subtle pause.

He felt as if his most vulnerable spot had been touched.

The Butcher's Nail on his head suddenly burst forth with a blinding red light, as if it had been strongly stimulated, emitting a sharper and more painful buzzing sound.

Angron let out a roar that was a mixture of rage and pain, and the power on the greatsword seemed to weaken slightly.

Just then, Angelte suddenly raised his hand that was pressed against his chest.

He did not attack, but instead raised his palms upwards, and a gentle yet incredibly resilient milky-white light burst forth from his chest.

The light rapidly condensed and shaped, eventually coalescing into an extremely blurry, almost transparent humanoid silhouette in front of Angron, in the air where the violent energy had not yet completely dissipated.

The outline was vaguely discernible as a robust, naked male figure covered in old scars. His face was indistinct, but his eyes, composed of pure light, were filled with boundless anger, deep-seated hatred, and... profound sorrow.

"Angron!!!" A voice filled with endless pain roared angrily, violently impacting Angron's consciousness.

The voice carried the rude accent of a Nukelian slave, the lingering stench of blood from the gladiatorial pit, and a youthful innocence.

"Look at you! Look at what you've become!"

That blurry light and shadow posed a soul-searching question, filled with heartache.

"Was all the blood we shed for you, all the brothers who died for you, for nothing? You promised to bring us freedom!"
"You coward! You traitor! You betrayed us all!!!" Yochuka's remnant soul roared.

(End of this chapter)