Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

"Then we can't let you live any longer, don't you think, you instigator?"

The angel smiled gently, and the sight of Casca alive again after so long eased her tense thoughts.

He even joked with Casca, which is quite unusual for him.

"Casca, where was I before? What changes did you see after that alien released that red sand-like stuff?"

The Khorne Barrier emitted by Kabanha also affected Kasgar.

Kaska, who was caught up in that red sand world, also lost the angel's whereabouts not long afterward.

Then what happened was roughly the same as what the angel had seen: in a vast place devoid of any humans, all sorts of corpses kept falling from the sky, and then the second brother of the terror did nothing but hide outside and shout trash talk.

It's pretty boring, to be honest.

The most crucial point is that they don't even dare to farm corpses; they just keep dropping Forgrim's corpses into the sky.

This practice disgusted and displeased Casca.

I originally thought that Khorne was an open and honest guy who would start fighting without saying a word when he met someone.

Who knew they'd spend all their time engaging in petty tricks?

If you're so awesome, why don't you just leave a picture of an Emperor's corpse somewhere?

Really are.

Bully the soft and fear the hard.

Fortunately, Casca already had experience dealing with such lewd demons.

—I won't listen, you're just spouting nonsense.

I don't care whether you're sacrificing to a god-emperor or a blood god; all I know is the Centaur Gold Ring.

Centaur gold ring.

There's also a centaur gold ring.

Ultimately, after being thoroughly rejected by Casca's invulnerability—

No, before that, just as Kasgar was talking about the thirtieth time, a golden centaur suddenly crossed the Red Sand Land, reached him, broke through the Red Sand Mist, and brought him back to the real world.

"It sounds very similar to what happened to me."

Saint Gilles nodded: "It was that same mysterious golden creation that saved me from the red sand and the rage."

"But what's the situation outside? Where is Angron? Where have he and all his gladiators gone?"

“They,” Kasgar answered with a somber expression, “during the time we were imprisoned in the warp barrier, they were all captured again by the slave owners of Nukelia.”

"Only one of them was able to conceal himself and hide deep in the forest, and he found me again just as I landed."

As he spoke, Casca shifted his body slightly to the side, revealing the trembling young gladiator slave standing behind him.

This person was the same little guy Angron had previously demonstrated by absorbing the negative emotions of others.

"Brother Angron and Father Onomamus have both been captured by them!"

“I originally wanted to fight them, but Brother Anglong told me that I must wait here until those two heavenly beings return, and they will uphold justice for us.”

"Then I waited and waited, and waited. When I was hungry, I would look for fruit in this jungle, and when I woke up, I would hide in the cave I had left behind not long ago, until you arrived."

What is he saying?

Kasgar looked at the angel with some confusion.

I can't understand Nukaria.

Although he could understand the other person's body language, he still couldn't fully grasp their meaning at some crucial points.

Given the Primarch's super memory, once Angron explains the meaning of all the commonly used words to her, she will never forget them.

This is the Primarch's power.

Through the young gladiator's account, the two gained some understanding of the ins and outs of the matter.

In short—Angron has been captured by monsters again!

Unfortunately, in the dense forest, although Angron and his many gladiators set up various traps and obstacles, they successfully delayed the slave-hunting team's progress in searching the interior by relying on guerrilla tactics.

Unfortunately, even the strongest fists can't fight against a large number of hands. Despite Angron's best efforts, he couldn't defeat Nanukeria's specially made anesthetic needles.

(Nukeria's Anesthetic Needle: How delightful! Angron, I'll probably never forget you for the rest of my life.)

Angron, who was shot again and rendered unconscious, and the other gladiators were thus recaptured by the slave team.

Ugh.

Angron's combat strength is so disappointing.

"In other words, we have to go to Nanukeria again and save Angron once more."

"However, I still have a question—since you said that 'Angron successfully held off the slave hunters in the jungle for many days through guerrilla tactics,' what time are we now?"

In the minds of Kasgar and the angels, it seemed as if the battle with Caban had just happened, and they were soon rescued by the golden centaur.

"What? Eight days and eight nights!?"

In that instant, Kaska and the angel were trapped in the Red Sands for eight days and eight nights.

That's no small number.

A day in Nukelia has thirty-one Terra standard hours, and a day and night here are longer than anywhere else.

The thirty-one Terran Standards also marked the final deadline set by Angron, who would later be branded with the Butcher's Nail, for all the World Eaters to conquer a planet.

No matter what methods the Devourer uses, it must conquer a planet within thirty-one hours.

If you can't take it down, then go for an eleven-draw kill!

"Eight days and eight nights, when exactly were Angron and the other gladiators captured?"

"The early morning of the sixth day."

"Two days have already passed. It seems we need to hurry."

"Lord Sanguinius—"

“Why call me ‘sir’?” Saint Gilles smiled at his brother-in-law. “If you prefer, just call me Saint Gilles or Angel.”

"Alright, Sanguielles, it's time for us to set off again."

Nukaria.

The Desia Arena.

Everything here is set up just as it always has, from the bloodthirsty spectators in the stands to the maggot-like eyes floating around the gladiators.

Even though Kasgar and the angels captured and killed that high-ranking knight when they came last time, and even though Kabanha sacrificed almost all the spectators without their knowledge.

But in a series of fierce struggles, one of the nobles of Desia emerged victorious and became Desia's new high knight amidst the chaotic power struggle.

The new high knight naturally maintained the practices of his predecessor, while dispatching a large number of slave-catching teams to capture the escaped slave Angron, and assassinating all those who spread the rumor that "a demon has appeared in the arena!" in the secluded alleys of Desia.

To the outside world, they simply announced that those people had been brutally murdered by Angron.

They then reorganized the arena's personnel and soon reopened the event, which was loved by almost everyone in Nukelia!

It seems that Nukelia is never short of people, some wild people, a group of people who need to vent.

Driven by them, progress seemed to be happening at an unusually fast pace.

Everything returned to normal, as if nothing had ever happened.

Apart from gladiators.

Dozens of gladiators, including Angron, who had escaped but were later captured, were staring blankly at the dozens of towering crosses in the arena.

Those crosses were not crude creations made of simple wood and nails, but rather painful crosses made of steel and numerous nerve cables, using advanced technology from the dark ages.

Every man nailed into it will suffer a long and agonizing death, a slow but inevitable one.

Technology may have indeed advanced, but the way humans treat their fellow human beings has never been more advanced.

What viewers love to gamble on most is how long a person will last before they die, and how loud their screams can reach – these are "interesting" bets.

As a slave who dared to escape and harm a noble slave hunter, Angron and his followers would be severely punished—to face a slow and excruciating death on a painful cross.

As for the most skilled warrior, the "undefeated" Angron...

He won't die; instead, he'll be nailed with the butcher's nail according to the audience's fervent demands.

From then on, he became even more loyal as an obedient and bloodthirsty gladiator slave, dedicating his last bit of value and joy to the audience and high-ranking knights and nobles.

This is the sole purpose of Angron's life.

The gladiatorial arena is still filled with performances by newly captured slaves, accompanied by deafening cheers that echo from afar—in this field where talent is extremely scarce, it is common for a new generation to replace the old.

Kids kidnapped by gangsters and members who lost fights, unable to repay high-interest loans, were forced to mortgage their families and their belongings.

There was also the plundering of people from other city-states during the Nukelian Wars—Nukeria was never short of slaves, nor was it short of spectators to watch slave gladiatorial games.

After the battles of the new gladiators ended, it was time for these foolish slaves who dared to escape to be executed.

The cross of suffering is already waiting quietly on the other side.

Death was right before their eyes.

It's about to start.

Faced with this unchangeable fact, the gladiators around Angron reacted in various ways.

Most of them lay numbly and sprawled out, enjoying their last bit of peace.

"Great God! Please save us again, just like last time!"

"We are your most loyal followers!"

"We will offer everything! We only beg you to show some mercy and save us from our suffering!"

Many gladiators chose to kneel on the ground, facing the direction of the otherworldly being who had descended, a being comparable to a god.

They tried everything around them, using any means and methods that could demonstrate their piety, to pray that the gods who had saved them in the previous gladiatorial contest would once again descend from the heavens like shooting stars.

Then save them all.

A powerful and beautiful angel, and a purple-gold warrior wearing a red helmet?

The second person didn't seem to have any special characteristics?

Never mind, they're all very powerful.

"Get up, my friend. There is no God in this world, so this will not help."

Seeing his brothers and sisters kneeling down, Anglong, feeling rather uncomfortable, tried to persuade them.

In his heart, although no one had ever mentioned this, he firmly believed that there were no gods in this world.

Only Imperial Truth, etc., what are these things?

It seems that some confusion has arisen in his memory again.

"No, no, that's absolutely not true."

"God, God will definitely come back to save us! They will come and save us all!"

Looking at his gladiator brothers and sisters still prostrate on the ground, Angron felt a pang of sadness.

He didn't want to see this happen.

Everyone knelt before a great being called "Emperor" or "God," living as eternal slaves, filled with fear and despair every day.

He wanted to break all of this and give the world freedom.

But he didn't do it.

Angron looked at the chains binding him and the magic-suppressing devices on his body (even though he didn't know magic).

His uprising failed again.

Angron recalled his conversation with the demigod in the purple-gold armor in that rainforest.

He was just a slave, while the other was a powerful demigod.

"Unleash your potential! Angron! Believe in your own power!"

You can do it!