This is our Warhammer journey

Chapter 300 There are still too few normal people in this universe.

The sky is weeping blood and shedding tears.

The leaden-gray clouds rolled up like festering wounds, and the sky itself was accusing him of the blasphemy brought by his arrival with the force of thunder.

On the wasteland, two Primarchs were locked in battle, while another Primarch stood outside the wasteland, holding a wand and chanting a prayer.

Hal knew them.

The noble Lord of the Ultra Warriors - Roboute Guilliman.

The Humble Lord of Words - Loka Aurelion.

as well as--

Hal's gaze fell on the bronze giant who was fighting Guilliman in a pool of blood.

Angron.

His gaze first fell on the butcher's nail behind the head, and Hal then noticed the blood energy that clung to him, accompanied by the Primarch's unprecedented bloodlust and desire for death.

Angron, a slave.

Poor slaves.

The twisted blessings from the Hymn of the Word Bearer pierced through the torn souls of countless sacrifices, the syllables digging into flesh like red-hot iron chains, binding and manipulating Angron’s dying body in reality.

The stagnant air convulsed, every speck of dust suspended and trembling, as if the material world was holding its breath, awaiting the arrival of some being—a power capable of shattering the core of Nukelia, a storm strong enough to completely dismantle and rebuild the Primarch.

When the sky shattered under an unseen force, the clouds, soaked in steaming blood, peeled away like rotten skin being torn apart.

That beam of light that cleaved the sky was neither lightning nor a spear of light symbolizing the arrival of humanity's great power.

It is the embodiment of anger, a scarlet spear forged from pure hatred.

The Lord of Otlama retreated, surrounded by the ever-victorious army.

Boom!

Accompanied by thunder loud enough to shatter eardrums, the light spears struck the blood-rust-colored earth, turning countless skeletons into dust in the shockwave, and the blood-red waves rolled over the remaining steel skeletons of human cities.

In a moment when all living beings were momentarily deafened, even the war itself came to a standstill, and the shadows that crawled out from where the blood spears fell twisted and writhed, tearing at the tiny Primarch in the center with their burning claws, trying to devour the pitiful body.

The demon is being born on a throne made of skulls.

In the center of the gradually dimming light of disaster, the silhouette, larger and more terrifying than any other shadow, slowly rose.

That body no longer belonged to a human being.

Its blood-red wings spread out, and the butcher's nails, like restraining chains, cascaded down its back. The blood seemed to have seeped into its body, casting its body into a deformed, blood-red color.

When the Primarch raised his face, which was covered in scabs, blood mixed with saliva was dripping from between his protruding gums and bitten lips.

Meanwhile, the hymn sung by another Primarch continued, and the crimson hue in the sky grew ever more intense.

"Roar--"

Angron let out a howl.

anger.

Sorrow.

This is the whole truth he witnessed.

The truth reveals the story of the Primarch's birth, and the process of its existence being constructed is gradually revealed as blood and warp forces surge again and again.

To understand this process, to listen to its whispers, is to know the true names that even the gods cannot speak.

"Part of one's real name."

Ramses collected the memory, and the remnants of the demon prince, which had instantly turned to dust, slipped from his fingertips.

He now understood why the first commander of the Imperial Guard, Constantine Waldo, could learn his opponent's true name with a single thrust of the Spear of Apollo.

After all that, these so-called real names are actually strongly related to memory.

"Ugh~ Ptooey, ptooey!"

Ramses, who wanted to review the ritual one more time, tasted a strange flavor rising on his tongue and quickly abandoned the part of his soul that he had used to watch the ceremony.

As is widely known, the sacrifice for Angron's ascension was obtained by Loka and him through the slaughter of a hundred worlds of Great Altera, and all of that blood was concentrated on Nukelia at the time.

As a witness to this sacrifice, Stoffel naturally drank a large gulp, which foreshadowed his future as a demon prince.

Chaos corruption is indeed cheating. Without the protection of other warp entities of the same level, one would fall into corruption just by looking at it. No wonder the only organization in the Imperium that currently possesses this kind of method of obtaining true names is the Grey Knights.

The only ones capable of resisting the corruption of the evil god are the minions of another evil god.

He instinctively tried to wipe his mouth, but instead touched a golden mask. Ramses and the other two guards all focused their attention on Hal, who was still in a daze.

"Are you okay?"

Ramses asked Hal.

"Don't pay attention to these clowns' nonsense. Even if the Emperor is essentially no different from those evil gods and acts like a slave owner, it doesn't change the fact that 99% of humanity in the galaxy is suffering and struggling. But the Emperor's goal is to save the human race, not to make you their lackey like those evil gods."

“You are superior to them, you are better than these clowns, there’s no need to worry about these trivial matters.”

Upon hearing this, the expressions of the surrounding Grey Knights and Imperial Guards immediately became tense again. How could they make such a comparison?
"I am fine."

Hal finally spoke, and this veteran, who had come all the way from the Thunder Warrior era, unusually loosened his clenched fist.

He took off his helmet, letting the smoke-filled air wash directly over his scarred face.

The taste of Nukelia dust still lingered on my tongue.

It is a memory mixed with the stench of rust, the sensation of broken bones grinding between teeth, and the ashes after countless unfulfilled dreams have burned out.

As a being resurrected with the blood of the World Eater, his soul and body can feel the Primarch's primal emotions while viewing that part of the memory.

Hal sensed the Primarch's anger.

This was a being who should have been perfect, but he endured boundless suffering and was shattered, leaving only hatred in his heart.

Compared to the cruel treatment he had suffered at the hands of the Nukelians, those in the galaxy who should have known him better treated him even more brutally.

The emperor ignored his broken son and the injustices he had suffered, forcibly granting him a legion and issuing an order, demanding of him the standards of a slave owner, to remind him of his lost comrades and brothers, and to prove how far he was from his former ideals.

Angron's few companions among the Primarchs, Loka, misunderstood his thoughts and, in a one-sided manner, completely sacrificed him—who already sought death in pursuit of eternal peace—to the Blood God, thus condemning him to an inability to die.

Nukelia's slave, the Emperor's slave, the Blood God's eternal slave.

“Angron is not worthy of sympathy, but he did not design such a fate for himself, nor did he willingly accept the change.”

Hal adjusted his expression and then spoke.

As a Thunder Warrior who participated in the war to unify Terra, and survived both purges against Thunder Warriors, he participated in the entire Great Crusade. During the Great Rebellion, he killed the Son of Horus inside a warship while unarmored, captured its officer, and returned to Terra.

After being forcibly imprisoned by the Commander of the Imperial Guard, Waldor, he killed a member of the Imperial Guard and more than two hundred Space Marines loyal to the Imperial Guard while naked in armor. At the request of the 'Holder', Makado, he joined forces with the Twilight Raider 'Garo', the Shadowmoon Wolf 'Loken' and other loyalists of the rebel Legion to form the Black Shield Shattered Legion of nearly a thousand men to fight until the Siege of Terra finally came to an end.

Hal believed he understood the Emperor's vision better than anyone else.

He was more clear-headed than anyone else.

He is not a butcher, nor a slave, but a tool forged by the emperor to save all mankind. He will not question the emperor, but will only choose to carry out orders, and will not let emotions interfere with his decision-making.

Therefore, he has always despised Angron, and he also despised his colleagues who were branded with the Butcher's Nail because of Angron.

But now, his opinion of Angron himself has changed somewhat.

"This universe is unforgiving to anyone, and this is especially evident in Angron."

Ramses also felt that the Emperor's approach to dealing with Angron was too abstract.

If it were like erasing Prototypes 2 and 11.

If the Emperor had chosen to deal with the already damaged Angron directly, and then, like handing their legions over to Dorne and Guilliman, put the warhounds under the command of Horus or other Primarchs, it would have been a better outcome for everyone.

Anglon himself would probably welcome this.

Then he spoke to Hal.

"It seems you're still able to stay clear-headed, I'm glad."

"A reasonable motive only provides a better explanation for why a person commits a crime, but it does not lessen the crime in the slightest."

The emperor's son, who was standing to the side, spoke up to explain.

After experiencing the massacre of loyalists on Istvan III, the 'Ancient Sage' Rellano continued to send signals to the outside world, eventually attracting three Thousand Sons and the corrupted Forgrim, who then detonated the viral bomb buried beneath him.

It is almost certain that this was a conspiracy launched by Tzeentch with the help of this loyalist.

The Wings of Dawn have been searching for the location of Istvan III for a long time, but after a long search, they have only found the star system, but the planet itself has disappeared.

Fortunately, Old Man Huang still had some humanity left and pulled the old man back from the brink of destruction.

Ramses originally wanted to draw Vespasian, since there were many loyalists among the Emperor's Sons who dared to confront Forgrim head-on, second only to the Dark Angel who dared to defy the Lion King.

I don't know if it was because he died too young or because the emperor wouldn't release him, but he didn't get his hands on it.

Ramses' gaze swept over the three members.

These individuals, along with Gara, are warriors who have personally experienced the Primarch's trials but have never fallen. They will also be his channel for understanding those demonic Primarchs through this connection in the future.

"If everyone thought like you, that would be great."

Upon hearing the well-reasoned analysis, Ramses almost burst into tears.

Damn, there are still more normal people earning 30k.

Ramses couldn't help but glance at the Imperial Guard captain, who was subconsciously taking on the role of a guard, and the Grey Knight, who was diligently chasing after the demon.

Although he was somewhat aware that the reason these warriors held such extraordinary feelings for them was because the Empire was rotten to the core, and only extraordinary Primarchs could bring about change.

But these people always like to attribute extraordinary significance to the savior.

For example, Karna is the reincarnation of Saint Geres, and he looks like the Emperor. Does this mean he has an extraordinary connection with the Emperor, and that Saint Geres or the Emperor's feelings for them are transferred to him?

The entire universe is a giant "I love my father, my father loves me" narrative, making normal people increasingly rare.

　P.S.: Currently being polished; more to come.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)