Warhammer: Expedition to the Multiverse from 30k

After several hours of continuous killing, Guilliman was covered in blood. Countless enemies were shattered in front of him, and legendary warriors fell here in vain.

Finally, as the last Astartes fell to Guilliman's hands, Dessian's defenses had fallen open for him.

The Primarch was breathing heavily, his eyes were red, the endless killing seemed to have infected him, and Guilliman felt as if there was endless rage in his heart that needed to be vented.

The hatred of Calth, the hatred of Amatra, the hatred of the five hundred worlds that burned under the blades of the rebels.

The fire of revenge in Guilliman's heart was completely ignited, filling his brain like a prairie fire.

His brain was deducing the way of fighting with Angron, Lorgar and others in a multi-threaded manner, even down to every look, every step and every confrontation in the battle. Guilliman was already fighting with the traitor Primarch in his brain.

Among all the Primarchs, only his brain could achieve this level. Even the calculations of artificial intelligence might not be stronger than Guilliman's deduction.

"Come on, who is it? Lorgar or Angron?"

Heavy footsteps were heard from the city. Guilliman took a fighting stance, staring intently at the figure that walked out of the scarlet mist.

The giant that emerged from the fog was taller than Guilliman. A string of skulls dug out from the ground hung on his chest. Blood was absorbed into the skulls, and some kind of shiny pendant was attached to the outside of the skulls.

The eye sockets of these skulls were particularly deep. They were arranged in a row on the giant's chest, staring at Guilliman together.

"Angron!"

Guilliman recognized the identity of his brother. It was Angron, the Lord of the Red Sands of Nuceria and the Blood Angel, who stepped onto the battlefield.

Angron looked at the corpses of World Eaters lying all over the ground. There was not much hatred or pain on his face, but a sadness that went deep into his bones.

He stroked the skulls of his brothers and sisters with extremely gentle and delicate movements, as if he was talking to their souls attached to them.

"Yochuka...Flett...Kleist..."

"I'm late. I'm a coward."

Each of these names is a brother or sister that Angron considers as family.

Angron wore only a few scattered pieces of power armor, leaving large areas of brass-colored skin exposed. He wore no helmet, and his smooth head reflected the light.

Guilliman's pupils suddenly contracted. In his deduction, the probability of Angron transforming into some hideous demon was higher than his current appearance.

He saw: Angron's butcher's nails that looked like braids had disappeared at some point, and what appeared in his sight was a round skull that perfectly met the standards of the Imperial Truth.

"Angron, my brother, what have you been through?"

After a second of silence, Guilliman couldn't help but question.

Yes, he had a deep hatred for these traitorous brothers, but when he saw Angron free from the slavery of the Butcher's Nails, he still felt a kind of comfort and joy from the bottom of his heart.

This joy was for his former tortured brother, not for the rebellion in front of him.

In Guilliman's multi-threaded thinking, there is even a branch line in which he persuades Angron to surrender and takes Angron back to Terra to accept the Emperor's punishment.

The probability was so small that it was almost impossible, but Guilliman still held on to that tiny hope. He hoped that Angron would come to his senses and return to the right path.

If Roxi was by Guilliman's side, he would definitely find that his belief in idealism once again occupied the top of his mind. The people of Macragge could often be described as naive.

However, Angron did not argue with him as Guilliman expected, he simply attacked Guilliman silently.

He showed no mercy to his Macragge brothers. The linked battle axe in his hand was the most violent fang, and every swing was filled with hysterical murderous intent.

The Red Sincere Dagger clashed with the Chain Axe at close range, the decomposition field of the power weapon against the monomolecular teeth of the Chain Axe, dazzling sparks and debris continued to explode.

The two majestic Primarchs confronted each other with strength and skill, their heads fighting each other in close proximity.

Guilliman's eyes were fixed on Angron's pupils, full of confusion and anger. If the Word Bearers had thrown themselves into the arms of the creatures of the Warp, then what was Angron doing it for?

Chapter 91 Everything is going as planned

Angron's immense strength was even enough to give him the upper hand against Guilliman, who was wearing his new battle armor.

His eyes were full of mockery and sadness. "You ask me why? How much do you know about struggle? Guilliman, your people worship you as a king, while the people of my planet say that I am a slave. Between you and me, who is the one who landed on a civilized world and was raised by a foster father?"

"You have received systematic military training, and your subordinates are capable generals and soldiers, but I have no choice but to rise up in rebellion."

"I am surrounded by only a bunch of hungry slave brothers and sisters. You inherited a civilized and powerful country, while my world is full of bloody and terrifying monsters."

"You arrogant Macragge men cry out for courage and honor, but you know nothing of courage." Angron held the Seraph beneath him with his axe, his saliva splattering on Guilliman's helmet.

"Courage is fighting against the kingdom that oppresses you, even if its army is ten thousand times stronger than yours. You know nothing about honor. Glory is when others are relying on the hypocrisy of the tyrant and breaking their promises to make a fortune, and you raise the banner of revolution."

Without the false rage stirred up by the Butcher's Nails, Angron released the real rage that was within him at the moment.

He was angry and hated the Emperor's favoritism and injustice. He hated why his brothers had completely different fates.

Angron's heavy axe chopped faster and faster, and Guilliman's sincere dagger gradually dodged left and right, resisting the sharp axe shadow tightly. The lightning claw in his left hand took the opportunity to move out and scratched a deep bloody mark on Angron's chest.

The Lord of Red Sand took a few steps back and stroked the wound on his chest with his bare palm. The flesh and blood turned inside out, and the decomposition force field tore through the muscle's defense, causing the blood to flow uncontrollably.

Guilliman found that there was something strange about Angron's wound. There was too much blood. With the Primarch's healing ability, the bleeding should not have continued.

The Nuceria supported himself and stood up from the ground. He looked at his wound and the sticky blood on his palm, and smiled a sad smile of understanding.

The string of skulls on his chest was leaking a strange liquid, which looked like a corpse weeping blood at first glance.

"Guilliman, do you really think you can take on both of us? Such arrogance is the real culprit. The Lord of Macragge will fall here today."

Lorgar's loud laughter was heard again from the city, and the Great Speaker wearing special Terminator armor and holding the Scepter of the Illuminator came to support his brother.

Roboute looked warily at Lorgar who had joined the battlefield. He knew very well that the opponent's psychic power posed a terrible threat and was enough to penetrate his armor's defense.

Angron's heartbeat was extremely violent, roaring like a war drum and thunder. He and Lorgar besieged Roboute from the left and right, and the three Primarchs were engaged in a fierce duel without any breaks.

His Ever-Victorious Guards attempted to intervene in the battle, but the arrival of Khârn and Angertai stopped the Ultramarines, preventing them from intervening in the duel between the Primarchs.

Three Primarchs, three sons of the Emperor, the noblest beings in the galaxy, fought in the tiny city of Dessian.

Relying on the advantage of equipment, Guilliman activated the anti-gravity backpack on his back. The powerful thrust made him rise into the sky, and he used the distance advantage to attack the traitor Primarch.

Angron roared and kicked out of the ground, swinging his axe towards Guilliman.

While Lorgar was chanting a spell in the back, a huge psychic lightning flashed by, brushing past the armor of the Primarch of the Ultramarines and disappearing into the blood-red mist.

Relying on his powerful multi-threaded thinking, Guilliman methodically blocked the attacks of Angron and Lorgar. He explored the potential of the new armor. The missile nests on the back of the Terminator power armor poured out, and the plasma cannon attached to the wrist armor directly blasted Angron to the ground.

Even the weakened plasma cannon still tore through Angron's skin defenses, and his carbonized muscles no longer bleed, but his strength was suppressed.

The blood of the Lord of Red Sand fell into the red sand of the Desian Arena, dyeing the sand that was soaked with the blood of countless victims even more red.

While the two were fighting, the Great Bearer's psychic power was concentrated in the Warp. The notes of the Warp were rearranged in his mind. The ritual site continued to play its role, and the curvature of the Warp was gradually taking shape.

"Angron, you always complain about everything. You accuse the Emperor of being unfair to you and lament your unfortunate fate. You give up on yourself and go with the flow. You have accepted that you are a slave. How can someone who thinks he is a slave get rid of his slavery?"

The Ultramarines Lord chopped fiercely, causing Angron's axe-holding arm to tremble violently. The difference in power armor between the two sides made the difference in strength smaller, and Angron's condition was even worse.

From the clash of weapons, Guilliman realized that the Lord of Red Sand was running out of stamina and was getting weaker.

He was bleeding profusely, enough for the pharmacist to abandon all hope of saving him, he was losing blood like a walking fountain, enough to be fatal even for the Primarch.

But Angron fought still, still fought, thirsting for vengeance on his brother.

"You are enslaved by your past, you reject your future, you hate everyone who comes near you, you are always regretful and find it difficult to learn." Guilliman pointed at the World Eaters surrounded by the Ultramarines and pointed at their Butcher's Nails.

"Look what you have done to your children. Proud war dogs have become madmen like you, wearing butcher's nails and thinking only of killing."

"Have you ever cared for a second about honor and creed? Or have you only thought about heads and blood?"

Guilliman's power claws flashed with beams of light, and another blow swept across the opponent's breastplate. The skulls strung together scattered to the ground and rolled in the red sand.

The trampling of war crushed the already fragile skull. Angron saw this scene and howled like a madman who had lost everything. He lost his beloved brothers and sisters again.

Angron's roar reverberated in the Warp, echoing the Warp Overture carefully composed by the Great Bearer. The Lord of Red Sand would take out Guilliman's heart at all costs, even if it meant exchanging injury for injury.

Psychic energy was boiling, the warp energy in the entire city of Dessian was surging violently, the sense of unease rose instantly, and the Primarch's keen senses detected the abnormality here.

The scarlet storm hovering over the city was approaching. Looking down from space, a huge scarlet vortex was forming on the surface of Nuceria. The alarm of Macragge's Glory was frantically sent to Guilliman's communicator, warning the Primarch to retreat immediately.

All the World Eaters Astartes felt as if their hearts were being tightly gripped by an invisible giant hand. They suddenly felt dizzy and intense pain spread from their hearts.

"Lorga, what the hell did Lorga do!" Kahn covered his chest and retreated to the rear under the cover of Angertai. The Great Speaker floated in the air, and psychic lightning gathered behind him. It was he who summoned those psychic energies.

The scarlet mist and the storm in the sky seemed to have found an outlet. They rushed madly into Angron's body and penetrated into every pore of the Primarch.

Kahn looked at the Gene Father who was suffering great torture, helpless fear enveloped his brain. He didn't know what was happening, but his strong intuition told him: this time it might be worse than Angron being blown to death.

The dozen or so Librarians left among the World Eaters stood up, led by Librarian Volyas and his battle-brothers who rushed to the location of the Primarch. In their eyes, the psychic energy here was boiling, and the core of it all was Angron.

The remaining think tanks of the twelve legions formed a tactical team, connecting each other's thoughts and strength. They were rejected by the legion because they did not bear the butcher's nails, but at this moment they still stood up and tried their best to save Angron.

These psykers noticed the changes in Angron. Angron was being transformed. He would completely change from a life in the real universe to a being in the subspace.

"Kahn, what are you waiting for? Our father is turning into a monster!"

Vorrias cursed at Kahn, and they reached a consensus at this moment. Kahn waved Blood Father and Blood Son to chop at Lorgar Aurelion who was casting Warp sorcery.

"Stop, you vile beast, what are you doing to my father!"

The Great Speaker maintained the ritual with one hand and used his psychic power to strangle Kahn's throat with the other, lifting him into the air.

"A bunch of idiots, I am saving your father, I am saving my brother, do you really think that sacrificing a planet of mortals is enough to resurrect a great Primarch?"

The Seventeenth Primarch's eyes were extremely cold, and he would never allow his plan to be disrupted.

"But fortunately, everything is still going as planned."

Chapter 92: Redemption? No Redemption

Kahn's whole body was trembling, he was tightly imprisoned by Lorgar's psychic power.

The force was so great that he couldn't break free even if he tried his best.

The spiritual energy continued to compress his body. At this moment, it was as if a 10,000-ton hydraulic press was ravaging Kahn's body. His muscles and bones were constantly breaking.

The psychic ritual was progressing, Angron was emitting an extremely terrifying blood-red light, and his voice gradually became distorted, as if it came from the abyss of hell.

"He would rather die!" Kahn was shrouded in endless regret at this moment. They should not have believed Lorgar's lies and resurrected Angron. Now he was about to become an even more terrifying and hateful existence.

He could already feel the power of the being called the Blood God boiling. He longed for a Primarch, and Angron had already stepped onto the altar that had been set up.

Angron's resurrection was only half complete. After reviving from the blood pool, he was in a state of half life and half death. There was nothing under his flesh but blood mixed with his genes.

That's why he bled like crazy when he was hurt by Guilliman, because the real Angron had not yet come back to life.