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

Chapter 889 Angron's Redemption (Part 3)

The war between the Emperor and Khorne had long surpassed the limits of mortal comprehension.

Two great beings: one is the ruler of the Throne of Heartless Slaughter, a warp god symbolizing war, blood, and slaughter; the other is the Dark Lord who suppressed the ruler of Erosion and Destruction and forcibly incorporated him into the Trinity system, the human lord.

Although the Emperor did not sit on the Chaos Throne, with the support of the God Emperor and the Black King, he was not without the strength to fight even against the Blood God, who was known for his powerful combat abilities.

An endless ocean of golden flames, composed of pure human faith, a spirit of sacrifice, and the power to end death, and an equally boundless ocean of crimson blood, built from the rage and bloodlust of billions of living beings, are clashing and colliding wildly in the warp.

The subspace was repeatedly torn apart and forcibly mended, making the concept of time blurry and chaotic.

This is the ultimate showdown between wills, concepts, and divinity.

The Emperor and Khorne, who are wielding swords against each other, are a concrete projection of this metaphysical war.

Khorne has fallen into a state of complete madness, and the Emperor is the only enemy who has the strength and is willing to confront Him head-on.

Characters like Tzeentch and Slaanesh would never confront him head-on, while the slower-moving Nurgle was even disliked and loathed by Khorne.

The instant Angron looked up, at the heart of that terrifying battlefield, an indescribable, majestic will precisely projected its gaze upon Angron.

That was the emperor.

The Emperor's will did not harm Angron, but rather prevented the Blood God from further eroding Angron's hard-won independent will.

This will, like the strongest dam, instantly formed between Angron's soul and Khorne's will.

Angron felt a warm and powerful force envelop him, isolating him from the evil thoughts of the Blood God that had almost set his soul ablaze.

“Father…” Ryan and Ruth whispered almost simultaneously, feeling a mix of emotions as they sensed that familiar yet unfamiliar, vast will.

The Emperor intervened, not to eliminate the traitor Angron, but to protect his fragile soul, which had just broken free from enslavement.

The implications of this stirred up a tremendous storm within the hearts of the two loyal Primarchs.

Anglong's feelings were more direct and complex.

The Emperor, the one who forcibly took him away from the final battle of Nukelia, burdened him with the eternal shame of not being able to die with his brothers and sisters, and pushed him into the greater arena of the Empire… his father.

Why did he only appear now? And why should I help him?
Is it to make amends? Or... to use him again?

The Emperor's warm power isolated him from the Blood God's corruption, allowing his remaining consciousness to catch its breath and even giving him the strength to begin thinking about more complex issues.

As a Primarch, Angron naturally harbors a deep reverence for the Emperor.

However, this emotion had long been completely suppressed due to Nukelia's cruel experiences and the Emperor's miraculous act of taking Angron away at a crucial moment.

Anglo was filled with a mixture of grievances, anger, and confusion, which surged through his consciousness like a volcano.

Countless questions and turbulent emotions nearly shattered Angron's newly stabilized consciousness once again.

But at this moment, the echoes of Yochuka and Kleist's souls resonated even more strongly, like a stabilizing force pulling his chaotic thoughts back to reality.

"This is not the time to think about these things, Angron!" The gladiator's roar echoed in my ears.

"The Emperor's protection is only temporary. The Blood God's power is inexhaustible, and His wrath will only grow stronger."

Once He finds an opening, or the Emperor's attention is diverted to other battlefields, He will immediately tear you apart and reshape you, subjecting you to eternal torment a thousand times greater than before.

Angelte's words were like ice water, extinguishing the complex emotions churning in Angelon's heart, leaving only the cold reality.

The boy who cherishes words is right; his freedom is only temporary.

As long as the concept of Angron exists, Khorne will not let him go.

"Then... what should I... do?"

Anglong's voice was hoarse and strained, each word requiring immense effort.

Angertai took a deep breath and pointed to the great battlefield where the emperor and the blood god clashed madly.

“There!” Angeltai’s voice was firm and resolute.

"Charge in, charge into the core of their power collision, and with the power of ultimate annihilation generated by the collision of the Emperor and Khorne—power strong enough to shatter the very nature of the warp—completely erase yourself, along with the mark of Khorne on your soul!"

"This is the only way."

Kahn's face showed pain. He had just seen his father break free from slavery and gain a glimmer of free will, but in the blink of an eye, he was about to be pushed into utter nothingness.

"Yes, my brother, there is no hope of saving Angron."

"Only in this way can we ensure that the Blood God can never use him again or torture him again."

His essence, his pain, and the traces of his existence will all be utterly shattered by the collision of that supreme power, returning to absolute nothingness.

This is the greatest mercy for Angron, a solace for the sacrifices of Yochuka and Kleist. Kahn, isn't this what you longed for—to let him rest in peace? Eternal tranquility can only be given through utter annihilation.

Kahn knew that Angeltai was right, and he had known about Angeltai's plan for a long time.

But knowing something is one thing, actually putting it into practice is another.

Kahn stood at a crossroads, torn between choices and agonizing struggle.

“Angron, you have proven your courage and that you are not a slave.”

Now, it's time to prove your resolve. Will you choose to linger on in this broken body, waiting for the Blood God to drag you back to hell, or will you choose to embrace this ultimate annihilation and use your last existence to complete the most thorough revenge against the slave owners?
With your complete annihilation, declare to Khorne—you, Angron, would rather be nothingness than a slave!

“Complete… annihilation…”

Angron murmured, his enormous blood-red eyes reflecting the destructive vortex in the distance.

Fear? Of course.

There is no one who can remain unmoved when faced with a fierce battle between the Emperor and Khorne.

Is there an instinctive attachment to existence? Yes.

But more than anything, it's a longing for peace.

Fragments of Yochuka and Kleist's souls trembled gently in his consciousness, conveying warm encouragement and unconditional support.

They didn't speak, but their shared will to live and die was crystal clear: wherever you go, we will be with you.

Although only the souls of Yochuka and Kleist remain of the original gladiator brothers and sisters, it seems that the other gladiators have all returned to Angron's side at this moment.

“Klomage…Deshyi…Fowlet…”

Angron rescued hundreds of gladiators from the arena in Nukelia. He remembered each person's name, face, experiences, and deeds.

Finally, Angron saw his younger self.

The city devourer of yesteryear seemed to have returned. He stood at the forefront of the gladiators, his face full of arrogance and youth. He extended his right hand to Angron, gesturing for him to stand up and fight the slave owner to the death.

"Hey! Future me, I believe you're not a spineless coward."

"Stand up and come with me."

"Let's go together and kill all the slave owners in the world."

Angron's scarred lips twitched upwards with great difficulty.

It wasn't the smile of a demon, but a human smile—a weary smile, tinged with a sense of relief.

“Kahn…my…son…”

Anglong's voice was exceptionally clear, filled with an unprecedented gentleness and a sense of farewell.

"You...did...very well..."

"I'm so proud of you, really."

"I will repay the lives of those war dogs I killed."

"Father! No!"

Kahn burst into tears instantly. At this moment, he no longer wanted to follow Angelotai's plan. He just wanted to rush over and follow Angelotai to complete the final battle.

Angron's gaze finally returned to the vortex of destruction, his eyes becoming incredibly resolute, unyielding even to Khorne.

"I...choose...freedom."

"I choose... death!"

The moment the words fell, Angron's massive, tattered demonic body erupted with a final burst of brilliant light.

That was neither chaotic energy nor the blessing of an emperor, but a kind of light that burned all life and all souls in exchange for a fleeting moment of brilliance.

His enormous bat wings suddenly unfurled, ignoring all enemies and allies on the battlefield, and disregarding his own wounds and pain. Like a burning meteor, trailing a long tail, he charged headlong into the ultimate vortex formed by the fierce collision between the Emperor and the Blood God!

Kahn knelt down before the departing figure, kowtowing heavily, his tears mingling with blood, staining the scorched earth red.

"For freedom." Angelte straightened his back and nodded with utmost respect to the resolute figure.

He has used all his plans and preparations; whether he succeeds or not is up to fate.

Lemanrus and Lane Johnson remained silent, paying the highest tribute, for the first and last time, to the figure rushing toward destruction—the highest respect between Primarchs.

Even in Kabanha's eyes, a complex light, tinged with admiration, flashed.

It knew that this being, which it regarded as a rule-breaker, had now chosen the most resolute way of resistance, a way that even it had never imagined.

Let's perish together and embrace freedom.

Angron's speed reached its limit, his broken body constantly disintegrating in the violent energy turbulence, but his burning will grew brighter and brighter.

Yochuka and Kleist's soul fragments also ignited completely, like two accompanying stars illuminating his path and providing the final push.

From the depths of the warp, came a roar of extreme rage from Khorne.

He sensed Anglon's intentions, which were the most blasphemous provocation and desecration against Him.

The towering blood wave instantly condensed into billions of world-destroying blood spears, ignoring the obstruction of the Emperor's will, and shot towards Angron, intending to completely crush him before he reached the finish line.

At the same time, the golden holy flames also boiled, and countless golden light shields made of human faith instantly unfolded layer upon layer in front of Angron, colliding fiercely with the destructive blood spear.

boom! boom! boom! boom!
Angron traversed the death tunnel formed by the aftershocks of the divine war, golden shields constantly shattering and regenerating before him, and crimson spears whistling past his body, sending up splattered fragments of demonic flesh and souls.

Each collision of energy accelerated the disintegration of his already collapsing body, but his speed of progress did not slow down in the slightest.

His only goal was that annihilating vortex of destruction.

Close, closer!

"Brothers and sisters...we...are going home..."

In Angron's consciousness, the final, and most peaceful, farewell echoed.

He took one last look at the Butcher's Nail he clutched tightly in his hand, a symbol of his lifelong suffering, and then, with his last ounce of strength, hurled it fiercely at Khorne.

He threw his entire essence, along with the last echoes of Yochuka and Kleist, without reservation into the center of the vortex created by the collision of the Emperor's and Khorne's powers.

There were no earth-shattering explosions.

Only one beam of light, its color indescribable and pure to the extreme, flashed suddenly at the center of the vortex.

Then came absolute silence.

Absolute... nothingness.

Angron melted away like ice and snow, silently transforming into the most basic particle stream and disappearing completely.

There was no pain, no wailing, only a complete and eternal tranquility.

All traces of his existence—belonging to the gladiator Angron of Nukelia, to the human Primarch Angron, to the Blood God Demon Prince Angron—were irreversibly and completely erased.

He no longer exists.

But he also gained his freedom.

True, eternal freedom—from that moment on, neither the Emperor nor Khorne could control Angron.

The battlefield fell into a deathly silence.

The power of the Emperor and the Blood God continued to clash fiercely, but it seemed... something had changed forever. Khorne's roars rose and fell, carrying not only rage but also a hint of helplessness.

He lost an important puppet, a precious genetic prototype.

But He also gained a warrior who dared to defy the authority of the Blood God, pursued freedom without compromise, and whose courage even Khorne had to acknowledge Angron.

This feeling was unfamiliar and painful to the Blood God.

The Emperor's sacred flame still burns, for he has lost a son forever, a son who was once rebellious but ultimately risked everything for freedom.

The emperor sighed deeply; for Angron's tragic life, this might be considered a decent ending.

A moment of glory is better than a lifetime of depravity.

Kahn knelt on the scorched earth, his head buried deep, his shoulders heaving violently, and silent tears soaking the dust.

He lost his father, but his father was finally... free.

He is still the traitor; he betrayed the Emperor, the Blood God, and Angron, but today, he also helped Angron betray his own destiny.

Angelte stood quietly, gazing at the empty core of the vortex, a deep weariness flashing in his eyes, but more so a sense of relief and peace.

The plan was completed, in the most tragic yet perfect way.

Lemanrus and Ryan remained silent for a long time.

The brother they once despised and regarded as a disgrace to the Empire ultimately wrote his own ending in a way that eclipsed all Primarchs.

He was not tried as a traitor, but as a proud warrior who reclaimed his freedom.

Carbanha, dragging his tattered demonic body, stared at the spot where Angron had vanished, letting out a low, unintelligible roar.

It challenged the Blood God, but actually survived?

Angron is now dead. It has shown its attitude to the Blood God, but where will it go next?

Kabanha felt its mind go blank, with only its muscles twitching. Perhaps it should continue to learn from Angeltai.

It doesn't need to become wise; it only needs to ask wise people.

After a brief silence, the battle at the Kane's Gate in Comoros resumed with the sounds of fighting.

But in the air, there seemed to be an indescribable lingering feeling of freedom.

Even in the minds of the lowest-ranking vampires, the legend of a rebel who traded complete annihilation for true freedom is etched into their minds.

Under Khorne's command, many of the demon princes who were ascended from real-world life forms began to regret joining the Chaos faction after seeing Angron's example.

They originally thought that becoming a demon prince would be the beginning of gaining great power, but after truly becoming demons, they were shocked to find that no matter how powerful they were, they were nothing more than playthings in the hands of the Blood God.

They have all lost their "freedom," lost ownership of their own "essence," and become part of the grand concept of terror.

In the past, even if they were aware of this cruel reality, they were completely helpless. Who could resist terror? It was simply impossible.

But now, with the example of Angron, the seeds of freedom have been sown, and when the time is right, they will spread like wildfire.

The other, much larger group of Khorne, born naturally from the non-material realm, drew inspiration from Kabanha.

The conflict between the native Chaos Demon and the foreign Demon Prince will inevitably intensify from now on.

By challenging the Blood God, Kabanha issued a warning to Khorne—even the Lord of Bronze cannot arbitrarily bestow power upon life in the real universe simply because of his own whims.

This violates the principle of the skull ladder and betrays the law of survival of the fittest.

These effects are not temporary; their value will gradually become apparent in the very distant future.

With his complete disappearance, Angron hurled an invisible javelin called "Free Will" at the Brass Throne, piercing the Blood God's arrogant throne built of pure violence.

Perhaps this shot did not harm Khorne in the slightest, but it was just like in the ancient Terran era when a feudal lord named Duke Zhuang of Zheng shot an arrow at the Zhou emperor.

Whether the arrow hits its target or not is not important; what matters is daring to shoot it.

When this arrow is shot, the high and mighty deity has already lost its indestructible golden body, which cannot be touched, looked at directly, or profaned.

Just as Khorne was wreaking havoc in his impotent rage, the Emperor uttered a crystal-clear thought, tinged with icy mockery, from within the sea of ​​golden flames.

"Look, Khorne. Your strength is indeed great, but strength can never solve all problems."

The enslavement you were so proud of ultimately forced Angron to embrace utter nothingness.

The immortality you grant him is, in his eyes, no less than a moment of true freedom.

Even your most loyal hounds have raised their battle axes against you, and even the puppets you created would rather shatter themselves than break free from your shackles.

Khorne, your power is so... pale and powerless in the face of true will.

My son, Anglon… his choice today surpasses the century of wasted years he has spent in the past.

He won the most complete victory at the most terrible cost.

I am proud of him.

This thought, like a sharp razor, pierced precisely into Khorne's raging heart.

The Emperor's words did not directly attack His power, but rather ruthlessly revealed His crushing defeat on a spiritual level.

He could not stop Angron's choice, nor could he stop Kabanha's betrayal. For Khorne, who revered absolute control and power, this was a greater humiliation than any physical injury.

"How dare you!!"

Khorne's roar instantly rose to a frequency powerful enough to shatter stars, and the crimson sea of ​​blood surged wildly, coalescing into billions of even larger and more ferocious blood-red giant axes.

He will utterly tear apart this fellow who dares to mock Him and shelter the rebels!

"I'll avoid your sharp edge?" The emperor smiled contemptuously.

However, just as the intensity of this divine war was about to surge once again, two other immense wills, like persistent ghosts, quietly intervened in this destructive realm.

One was cloyingly sweet, a decadent sound that seemed to combine all the ultimate sensory stimulation in the universe; the other was slow and viscous, a heavy roar filled with decay and rebirth.

It was Slaanesh and Nurgle who had been watching from the sidelines the whole time.

"Giggle..."

Slaanesh's genderless laughter, filled with endless allure and malice, echoed through the Warp, each note seemingly capable of stirring the deepest, most decadent desires of the soul.

"Look at our poor war comrade, he got slapped hard by a toy. He can't even keep his little pet. It's both pathetic and laughable..."

The Prince of Pleasure's voice was full of schadenfreude and blatant mockery.

As the only evil god who still possesses a complete demonic primordial, Slaanesh's sense of superiority was almost overflowing.

Seeing Khorne suffer a setback, He was so happy He almost fainted.

"Plop plop..."

Then Naguru's bubbling sound, like bubbles rising from a swamp, followed.

“Anger is poison; it will erode your foundation, old brother. You need to calm down…”

“Look at the cursed one, his web is still buzzing, how annoying. Why don’t we join forces and dismantle it now?”

Nurgle's words, though seemingly comforting, were actually full of incitement and opportunism.

He harbored a deep-seated grudge against the Emperor. Mortalian, Heart of the Plague, Elsa, the Burning of the Garden—each event left indelible scars on Nurgle's heart.

"Yes, my dear brother, why insist on fighting alone? Let's end this boring war, join forces and tear down the Emperor's barrier."

"Just imagine how delightful and dramatic it would be when humanity's second chance for revival is shattered, and the future of the empire is plunged into endless darkness once more?"

Slaanesh's words were full of temptation, attempting to use Khorne's current rage to draw Him into the camp besieging the Emperor.

However, what responded to them was a more violent and purer roar from Khorne.

"Get away!!!"

"I, Khorne! Lord of War and Blood, Reaper of Skulls, have no need to join forces with you scheming maggots, plague gods who wallow in rot."

Khorne was filled with extreme pride and absolute contempt for the act of siege.

"My battles, my prey, my glory belong only to me!"
Team up? That's the behavior of the weak, a stain on a warrior. Your filthy claws are unworthy to touch my battlefield. Go back to your disgusting territory!

Khorne's refusal was absolute, tinged with an almost obsessive fanaticism.

He may be angry, He may fail, but He would never set aside the pride of a warrior for the sake of victory and cooperate with evil gods like Slaanesh and Nurgle, whom He despises to the core.

"Tsk... Stubborn to the end." A regretful and disdainful snort came from Slaanesh's will.

"Your folly will surely lead to failure." Nurgle's voice carried a slow, resigned tone, as if he had already foreseen this.

The wills of the two evil gods receded swiftly like the receding tide, leaving Khorne alone to face the Emperor.

They knew that Khorne, now enraged to the extreme, was beyond redemption.

He will only unleash His rage more furiously, whether against the emperor or against the potential "destabilizing factors" within His own domain.

Comoros, the battlefield of Kane's Gate.

The clashes and mockery at the divine level are like storms in a distant nebula to mortals and most great demons, causing only vague perception and trembling at the soul level.

But the sense of emptiness that followed the complete annihilation of Angron, and the enraged roar of Khorne that followed, were clearly discernible.

Kahn's heart sank into an endless abyss.

Angron's departure took away the last anchor in his heart called "father," leaving only a bottomless void and endless sorrow.

But he knew that his father was free, so his sorrow was mixed with a sense of indescribable relief.

Ruth sighed heavily, patted Ryan on the shoulder, said nothing, and turned to walk towards his wounded wolf pack. The Fenris began to regroup.

Llane silently raised his Lion Sword, pointing it at the Khorne army, which was briefly thrown into disarray by Angron's disappearance and Khorne's wrath, and the dark angels began to surge once more.

Angelthai walked quietly to Kahn's side, offering no words of comfort, but simply standing there silently, like a silent mountain.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, finally settling on the crumbling bronze demon.

Kabanha, this ancient bloodthirsty monster, is in a miserable state at this moment.

Its massive body was covered with spiderweb-like cracks, constantly oozing dark red blood that resembled cooled magma.

Its lava-like eyes, though still burning, had dimmed considerably, filled with weariness and a bewildered sense of helplessness.

It survived, fulfilling its warning to the Blood God, but also stood firmly on the opposite side of the Brass Throne.

Kabanha moved his massive body with difficulty, each step causing the ground to tremble, as if it might fall apart at any moment.

It walked up to Angelte and Kahn, lowered its head, and gazed at these two tiny humans who had left an indelible mark on its life.

There was no anger or hostility in his eyes, only a primal, bewildered look seeking answers.

“An…Gertai…” Kabanha’s voice was hoarse and low.

“Angron has vanished into nothingness, my warning has been fulfilled…”

It paused, its massive head turning towards the direction of Khorne's roar, a flicker of instinctive fear and deeper bewilderment in its eyes.

"But I'm still alive, why doesn't the Blood God crush me completely?"

Angeltai raised his head, his eyes calm and deep, as if he could see through Kabanha's chaotic soul.

“Because of your loyalty, Kabanha,” Angeltai’s voice rang out.

"You challenge Khorne not to betray His power or to join other evil gods, but to uphold what you understand as the 'Way of War' He represents, the iron law of the skull ladder."

Your actions, in Khorne's understanding, constitute a paradoxical, indirect form of loyalty. He admires pure courage and the will to fight, even if that will is directed towards Himself.

"Can you...understand?"

(End of this chapter)