Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

The newly purchased gladiator tightly grasped the power spear in his hand. Claudia generously distributed these weapons, which were originally only used by senior guards, to every gladiator.

Now they finally have the capital to compete with the Royal Guards, but it is still a pipe dream to shake those high-ranking knights.

“We don’t need to win,” Angron said. “We just need to convince them that the balance of power is in our favor.”

Crest: "But you've won so many times, isn't that enough?"

Angron: "No matter how many victories I have, they are always within the cage of the high knights, working within the rules they set to please them. But outside of the rules, we only need to win once, and that's enough."

Oenomamos: "What are you going to do?"

Angron shook his head slowly, his sharp gaze slicing across each face like a knife. "No, it's not me, it's you." He paused, letting each word sink in. "My victory will only be meaningful if you truly win."

Chapter 92 Pulling Out the Nail in My Heart (5K)

"Ladies and gentlemen, commoners and nobles," Maggot Eye's shrill voice echoed across the arena. As its piercing words fell, the heavy prison door burst open, and the crisp sound of snapping chains echoed in the darkness. "I solemnly introduce to you, Ilkness and Turgidon, from the Deep Prison!"

Thunderous cheers erupted from the stands, and the enthusiastic crowd was as restless as boiling lava.

Angron narrowed his eyes, and the entire arena shook with the frantic stomping and roaring of the crowd.

As he turned his gaze toward the gaping cell door, two towering figures emerged from the darkness, their towering figures like iron towers. The ground shook slightly with every step they took. The moonlight outlined their beastly, muscular forms, and the chains clanked around their thick necks.

They are beastmen!

Thousands of years ago, a civil war tore apart civilization broke out in Nuceria. It was a dual war of ideas and blood.

Thousands of years later, the dust of history has settled and the crown of victory belongs to the Purists.

Their bloodline transformed into the high-ranking knights who now rule the world, engraving their rule on every inch of land.

The defeat of Fauvism became an eternal curse in their blood, and they were exiled from the light of civilization for generations.

As descendants of the defeated, the Beastmen huddle in the wilderness outside of civilization, licking their never-healing wounds with their rough tongues;

The gladiators were chained to the bloody sand of the arena, performing one dance of death after another with their broken bodies, just to win the cheers and alms of the high-ranking knights in the stands.

In the eyes of high-ranking knights, the so-called gladiators are all potential beastmen.

The favorite entertainment of high-ranking knights is to lock beastmen and gladiators on the same blood-stained battlefield.

Watching these cursed beings of the same origin tearing each other apart is like watching trapped beasts fight.

They sipped their wine gracefully and cheered every fatal wound in the palace.

This is exactly the glory they crave: for the descendants of the defeated to sacrifice each other's lives to enrich the victor's feast.

"howl!"

In the center of the battlefield, two giant beasts let out deafening roars. The sound seemed to come from the abyss, and the noise in the stands was stagnant.

Even among beastmen, they were giants, nearly three meters tall, far surpassing Angron, who was only six months old.

His growth rate has not met his father's expectations, and now he is only equivalent to a sixteen-year-old boy.

They were covered in deformed heavy armor forged from black iron. The twisted plates were covered with spikes, and on each spike hung a dried human skin trophy, fluttering like a flag as they moved.

Rusty chains were wrapped around their waists, and the skulls strung on them had long since lost their blood color and shone a dark white light in the sunlight.

One of them wielded two power axes that were as tall as an average person, while the other swung an iron chain wrapped around his left arm. The chain hammer at the end drew a deadly arc in the air, and the spikes on the hammer head made a creepy whistling sound as it rotated.

The most chilling thing, however, are the steel cables extending from the back of the helmet.

Butcher's Nails!

Just as Silver Vine was a tailor-made implant for the personal guards of high-ranking knights, the Butcher's Nail was prepared for the slave gladiators of Nuceria.

These cables penetrate the skull and penetrate deep into the brain like the long hair of a ghost. Sympathy, pity, fear, hesitation... all emotions that may hinder killing will be eliminated by the butcher's nails, leaving only the most primitive anger to continue to amplify and ferment in the neural circuits until the victim is completely transformed into a beast with only bloodlust.

Their roars would have struck fear into the hearts of any gladiator, but Angron's eyes flickered with an almost imperceptible emotion. He heard not only the roars of beasts, but also the agonizing howls of tortured souls.

"I know your pain, your anger." Angron's compassionate gaze swept across their hideous faces. "I will liberate you. From now on, no one will ever be struck with the Butcher's Nails again. This is my oath."

"howl!"

Sadly, the Butcher's Nails had already eaten away the last of their humanity.

Angron's words were like a stone dropped into the abyss, failing to stir even a ripple in the chaotic minds of the two gladiators.

They let out inhuman howls and roared like two out-of-control steam trains. It was not a charge of warriors, but a pure release of killing instinct. Their twisted bloodthirst longed to use Angron's blood to satisfy their endless rage.

"Poor Angron, let us pray for him!" The announcer's maggot eyes chuckled with gloating delight, and he enjoyed this bloody feast immensely.

The Butcher's Nails unleash the Beastmen's savage nature. These modified killing machines are capable of tearing apart any enemy that stands in their way. Their ferocity is so pure that even high-ranking knights will choose to retreat.

What's more, they are equipped with the most deadly weapons in the world. Even if Angron is accidentally hit by the power axe, his body will disintegrate in the decomposition field!

Thanks to Angron, the cash cow, Claudia has squeezed an astonishing amount of wealth from the arena. How could the announcer not hate Angron to the core?

He doesn't care about anything now, he just wants Angron to die!

"Kill him! Kill him!" the announcer screamed in his palace.

"Master." The messy footsteps and rapid breathing of the guards were heard outside the door.

"Get out of here! Can't you see I'm admiring this perfect art of killing?"

……

"Snapped!"

Faced with the deadly grip of the two beasts, Angron let go of the axe and let it fall into the red sand.

This unexpected move shocked the audience in the stands. They had seen too many deaths, but had never seen anyone voluntarily lay down their weapons and face death.

The beastman's massive body was like a moving fortress, casting a shadow that completely enveloped Angron.

In a contest of pure strength, even he would have found it difficult to defeat the Beastman dominated by the Butcher's Nails. His growth was too slow, and his muscles and bones had not yet fully adapted to the full potential of this body.

But at this moment, Angron displayed a breathtaking fighting instinct.

The decomposition field of the power axe tore through the air, and the screams of the chainsaw hammer were deafening, but they always missed the moment they were about to touch his body.

His dodging was not a panicked escape, but an almost predictable and precise movement: the axe blade brushed against the corner of his clothes, the chain hammer passed through the ends of his hair, each time just a hair's breadth away, but never able to truly touch his flesh and blood.

Like a seagull flying through a storm, it treads on the edge of death with incredible agility.

He wasn't toying with the two gladiators; he was stalling for time, seeking a fleeting opportunity.

“Stop!”

Angron seized the opportunity and leaped into the air, pressing his palm gently on the beastman's nerve-ridden head.

In an instant, time seemed to freeze.

The ferocious beast suddenly stiffened, and a hint of clarity flashed in its scarlet eyes.

The power axe hanging above Angron's head suddenly stopped, and then the beast let out a deafening roar, and swung its axe at its companion's chainsaw hammer with its backhand. Sparks from the collision of steel exploded like fireworks.

But Angron's purpose was definitely not to watch the absurd drama of the two men killing each other. He jumped onto the other beastman's shoulder amid the beastman's roar and pressed his palm against the beastman's burning forehead.

"Squat down." Angron's voice was soft. It was not an order, but guidance to the suffering man.

The two beastmen, each as massive as a mountain, knelt simultaneously, their bodies crashing into the sand in a cloud of dust. Angron landed lightly, his hands resting on each of their bowed heads.

The butcher's spikes above their heads were still wriggling, but the boiling murderous intent had dissipated like the tide.

This is not mind control, but resonance at the soul level.

Angron slowly closed his eyes, a furrow of pain appearing between his brows.

His consciousness was tossed like a lone boat in the brutal ocean of the Butcher's Nails. Every nerve bundle was injecting boiling rage into his veins, and every painful memory that he could not bear to look back on was tearing at his soul.

His handsome face began to twist, veins popping out of his temples, and the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably. Two sharp canine teeth pierced his lower lip, and blood dripped down his chin, blooming dark red flowers on the red sand.

"So this is your pain. It really is painful."

The corners of Angron's bloodstained mouth twitched slightly, forming a broken smile.

The beastman's distorted face gradually thawed like a frozen lake, and his knotted muscles and bulging veins relaxed little by little under Angron's touch.

They unconsciously lowered their heads, their rough foreheads gently caressing Angron's palms, as if lost cubs had finally found a warm nest.

A low whimper escaped from the depths of his throat. It was not a battle roar, but a sound more primitive and fragile. It was the first cry of a soul that had been imprisoned by the Butcher's Nails for too long, upon regaining its freedom.

The entire arena fell into dead silence, but cheers soon exploded like a volcanic eruption, and the sound waves almost blew off the dome.

"Angron! Angron! Angron!"

People didn't understand how Angron did it, nor did they care about its significance. They only knew that it was a miracle that even high-ranking knights would be afraid to achieve - he tamed two beastmen twisted by the Butcher's Nails and even made these killing machines regain their humanity!

"Victory belongs to you, Angron." The Maggot Eye stopped before Angron and said impatiently, "Use your sword to cut off the heads of these monsters and use their blood to adorn your glory!"

"No!"

Angron's voice was not loud, but it instantly cut through the noise in the room.

"Angron, here we come!"

Suddenly, a girl's sweet cry was heard from the sky, and the audience looked up at the same time.

Little Crest hummed a tune as she rode her two-meter-long anti-gravity spear, with Mira sitting behind her, using her psychic power to hold up a struggling fat pig.

"Let him go!" Dozens of Maggot Eyes swarmed out, trying to intercept the two uninvited guests, but Mira just clenched her fist lightly, and in an instant all the drones were as if grasped by an invisible giant hand. Their shells collapsed with a harsh sound of metal twisting, and the burst circuit boards burst out with blue arcs of electricity.

Mechanical debris fell like rain from the sky, creating charred pits that emitted blue smoke on the sand.

"boom!"

When the spear flew over low altitude, Mira suddenly released the psychic restraint, and the fat pig fell like a meteorite, creating a funny deep pit in the red sand field.

As the fat pig struggled to turn over, it suddenly met the eyes of the two beastmen. It immediately crawled backwards on its hands and feet in fear, howling heartbreakingly: "Get these monsters away! You damned lowlifes! Do you know what you are doing? I am a high-ranking knight. I will kill you and your entire family!"

"Did you see clearly?" Angron's voice boomed like thunder. The beastman grabbed the high-ranking knight by the scruff of the neck and lifted the trembling mass of fat high into the air.

The sun shone through the gemstones in his earlobes, casting ridiculous shadows on the sand.

"This is the high-ranking knight who has enslaved the people of Dexia for thousands of years!"

The entire arena instantly fell into a dead silence, and even the sound of breathing was clearly audible. Because they all recognized the voice of Fatty, he was the announcer and the owner of this arena.

The audience's necks all stretched forward, trying to see more clearly.

Their expressions were frozen between shock and absurdity, as if they couldn't believe that the supreme ruler of Desia, those high-ranking knights who hid behind the eyes of maggots all day long, would actually be a fat pig covered in sand and incontinent from fear!

"They have never been noble, and we are not humble. Their posture is a thousand times uglier than ours!"

"The rulers of Desia have been able to maintain their power not because of their noble bloodline or their extraordinary strength, but because we have never woken up. True power has always been firmly in the hands of the people!"

"The day of awakening has come, fellow citizens!"

"howl!"

The beastman let out a deafening roar. He lifted the high-ranking knight upside down, and clasped his struggling legs with his hands like pliers. With the crisp sound of broken bones and heart-wrenching wails, the high-ranking knight's morbidly obese body was torn into two pieces in the blood mist like a broken rag doll.

"Resist! Hold on to your swords and your rage!"

"Strike! Let the master's estates lie waste and the factories go silent!"

"Roar! Let the nobles' palaces crumble and their thrones tremble!"

"The land of Desia belongs to the people who work hard, and power also belongs to the people!"

Angron's roar echoed throughout the arena. He saw hundreds of his guards pouring into the arena like a tide, silver vine tentacles dancing wildly behind them.

The two beastmen warriors suddenly broke free from his grasp. Their tortured souls had long since disregarded life and death. All they desired at this moment was to make the most heroic sacrifice and water this revolution, which was destined to go down in history, with their boiling blood!

"for freedom!"

A hoarse sound was squeezed out of their throats for the last time, and the last trace of clarity in their turbid eyes was once again swallowed up by rage. The veins on their thick necks bulged and they let out heart-wrenching roars.

"boom!"

A dozen guards were knocked away like rags. The heavy power axes and roaring chainsaw hammers set off a storm of death between them, and scarlet blood mist exploded in the arena.

The silver vines of the Royal Guards coiled around them like poisonous snakes, but were broken bit by bit by the Beastman's violent muscle expansion, and the metal fibers made a sharp whine.

A torrent of steel from armed sentinels surged in from all directions, and Mira gently clenched her slender fingers.

In an instant, the joints of all mechanical creations twisted, the circuits exploded, and they turned into a pile of sparking scrap metal.

The audience was silent as the beastmen tore through the high knights.

The audience was silent as Angron chanted.

The audience was silent as the Janissaries were slaughtered by the Beastmen.