Warhammer: I don't want to be a stinky can! ! !

Chapter 105 95. Nuthria Massacre Day

The massacre began with the first drop of blood from the butcher's hand.

The drop of blood fell with him.

Amidst the grand cheers, the guests from beyond the sky jumped off the high platform and drew an arc.

His figure hit the ground heavily, splashing red sand.

Looking at the uninvited guest, nails roaring, Angron pulled out a convulsive jeer, blood dripping.

"What are you going to do, slave master?"

His opponent, however, ignored his taunt—

Karn smashed the chain saw ax to the ground, holding the handle of the ax in one hand,
"boom!"

He knelt down.

The slick power armor smashed into the mud, blood spattering.

On the viewing platform, the cheers stopped abruptly, and people watched in disbelief at what they couldn't understand,
Quiet, absolutely quiet.

"Sorry, we're late."

"Father."

Kahn said softly, his blood was rushing, his heart was beating violently, and his soul was throbbing.

Even if he is now silent as a corpse.

Angron froze, his tall nose twitching unnaturally, he seemed to be trying hard to make sense of the situation, but the buzzing of the nails disrupted his thinking.

However, that inexplicable throbbing, which came from the binding of genes and soul, and which came from opposite him, the great sadness and anger, held back the last sliver of reason in Angron.

The Primarch spoke, and the voice was the savage wind howling over the mountains,
"I'll give you a chance, what are you?"

Karn felt himself boiling, he was choking, he was twitching.

Finally, he opened his mouth slowly, and said the sentence that every war dog once dreamed of,
"We are the war dogs that brought you glory."

Without glory, he bowed his head heavily, like a sinner.

Bitterness bloomed in his mouth,

He's the lucky one for the Warhound, but—

There is no glory.

Angron pulled out a smile that was uglier than crying, and the face studded with the Butcher's Nail was a broken demigod,
"Then help me kill them."

He was answered by the roar of Karn's chainaxe.

On the towering stands, the pig who knows that he is not good but still has difficulty accepting the reality is talking,

"It's... what's the matter, my lord?"

What responded to them was the sound of the head falling to the ground.

The slaughter begins.

No one knows how long the massacre lasted, and the enraged butcher forgot about such insignificant things as time.

Thousands of airborne pods roared and tore through the blood-red sky, light spears and macro cannons ignited the sky, the air was trembling and bleeding.

The battle ax spun, blood splashed everywhere, roared and whimpered angrily, and crimson covered everything.

Angron is like a god of war, running wildly among thousands of enemy troops. His strong muscles sculpt the body of a god of anger, his rough leather drapes his identity as a slave, and he slashes with his huge battle ax, swaying his life.

Countless war dogs were running wildly. They rushed out of the airborne pod, armed with weapons, and slaughtered towards their father.

Fearless towering figures are interspersed with the frenzied flow of war dogs, and melta and heavy explosive shells are rare long-range in this massacre.

The towering city was burning, the luxurious banners were torn to pieces, the heads were chopped off wantonly, and the mad war dogs rushed towards their enemies howling.

Discipline is obviously not necessary at this moment.

Under the huge gap in strength, they are strong winds, they are tsunami, they easily crush everything in front of them!They easily devour everything in existence!
One city after another was captured, and one head after another was chopped off!

The iron cages that held the slaves were torn apart, and they were drawn into this killing spree.

Blood and carnage pursued them.

There was blood everywhere.

The fire gradually extinguished, gunpowder smoke drifted across the sky, the broken flag hung its head, and the dead body was inserted on the flagpole.

The last large group of survivors ran to the caves in the outskirts. They were men and women, but most of them were old and weak.

They are all poor people, or peasants outside the city.

They have survived by virtue of their familiarity with the wilderness.

The roar of the ax has arrived, and Kahn, who rushed to the forefront, skillfully raised his weapon——

"enough."

The battle ax raised above his head froze.

"Enough, I said, enough."

The hoarse and low voice of the Primarch echoed in the cave, and to those commoners, it was like the sound of nature.

Even if the nails are still ringing.

Kahn didn't understand, but he stopped his behavior.

The ragged mortals before him shivered.

Kahn turned his head, as if waking up from a big dream.

Angron's tall figure was in a trance in the bright light at the entrance of the cave, leaving him only a silhouette.

"Yes, father."

He replied in a low voice.

So he turned and followed his primarch away, cauterizing a bloody pit in the soft soil with every step.

They left this small and dark cave. In the blood-red sky, black gunpowder smoke drifted. As far as they could see, blood and heads were all over the ground, and those angry war dogs were still searching for the last survivors in the ruins of the city.

Angron stood on the high slope, looking at all this, which had appeared in his dreams countless times.

The slave owner was beheaded, the tyrant was overthrown, and the ignorant lackeys of the monarch paid their price.

But
His eyes are dark, those slaves who are hiding in fear, those poor people who are fleeing in panic.
The words of his father, Onomamus, echoed in the brain where reason prevailed,
"Those people are not monsters. Don't take your anger out on them. There are still many guys who really look like monsters. They are the targets of your anger."

Some lives don't deserve the price.

His anger is only reserved for monsters.

Angron raised his hands and then let go.

"boom!"

The battle ax in his hand smashed on the hard rock, engraving a permanent brand.

He opened his hands, and the blood of the enemy flowed from them.

He looked at the warriors who claimed to be his sons, and he looked at the warriors who did not hesitate to serve him.

"enough!"

Angron yelled,
"enough!!!"

Those people stopped, they woke up, looking at all this.

The galloping frenzy stopped suddenly, and they slowly converged from all directions.

Countless people in white battle armor emerged from the red and black ruins, with pits, dust, and blood smearing their battle armor, and they walked towards their father silently.

The battles everywhere have long since ended, and most of the Warhounds had been close to their Primarch in previous wars, and now, except for the slow-running Dreadnoughts, most of the Warhounds were here.

As the water flowed, the last to arrive was a special team.

It was led by Legion Chief Roque, a team composed of technical sergeants and pharmacists.

In War Dogs, those brothers who don't want to kill will choose to become apothecaries, or tech sergeants.

In the center of the team are the brothers and sisters of the Angron Arena.

After realizing that the arrival of the war dogs is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Angron's brothers and sisters decisively asked Angron to take the war dogs to fight.

"Leave us alone, Angron, kill those slave owners."

"Angron, we know you are not like us, but they are a lot like you."

"Angron, go and kill them, we can't catch you, but we will."

"Kill the masters before they react, Angron, and don't let them escape."

Then Angron made a second request to the War Dogs,

"Help me. Please allow them to participate in this battle."

He wants to protect them, but he also wants to fight with them.

But a gap of strength separated them.

Angron, carrying the expectations of his brothers and sisters, left and rushed to another more brutal battlefield.

He wants...they're all alive, but he also doesn't want...they're protected cowards.

Nails interrupted his hesitation, and in the anticipation of his siblings, he turned to seek the kill.

But they are all standing here now.

His siblings were there, some terrified, some agitated.

What is happening now is a scene that has never appeared in their wildest dreams.

Angron looked at them. They were all there, and there were even some other strange faces, who must have been his siblings' family members, or something else.

Then he looked at the warriors protecting them, the strange devices atop their armor.

He silently remembered them.

Angron moved his gaze over the war dogs that had fallen from the sky.

There was no gleaming armor, and blood smeared thickly on them.

In previous battles, Angron roughly spelled out the stories of these warriors and his origin from the words of the war dogs.

Are they slave owners?
But the slave owner will not fight with the slave.

Are they slaves?

But slaves would not have such fine equipment.

No, neither.

They are weapons.

A crazy and bloodthirsty war machine that can devour an entire world.

But now, the authority of the weapon was given to him, and the hound voluntarily handed over the collar.

Angron looked around at all this, as if he was still in a dream.

The first offspring to kneel awakened him.

Kahn got down on one knee.

Like an order, the sound of the Power Armor hitting the ground resounded, and blood scabs mixed with dirt were thrown up.

The sun shines down, and the battle armor glistens.

His sister Kleist in the arena looked at him, smiled slyly and encouraged, and knelt down along with the giants.

The brothers and sisters knelt down.

Silence, he is the only one standing now, Angron said slowly,
He is the son of the mountain, whose voice is the boulder that falls,
"I don't know where you came from, and I don't know what your allegiance is."

"But you captured Nuthria with me and cut off the head of the slave owner,"

"You let me see your sincerity."

"If you are still determined to follow, then Angron will live up to it!"

Angron took a deep breath, and he shouted, his voice ripping through the sky,

"In the history of Nuthria, those invincible armies were called city swallowers, swallowing one city after another."

"But you, you!"

"You are so powerful that you can devour the world!"

"You are my battle ax that cuts down slave owners, you are my war machine that devours all worlds!"

"You are World Eaters!"

"You are World Eaters!!!"

No.12 Legion, World Eaters.

established since then.

"I'm guilty."

In the wreckage of the first arena, two figures hid in the shadow of the viewing platform,

Kahn, the commander of the Eighth Company, buried his head absent-mindedly, his eyes drifting away.

"You were the first to discover the Primarch's father, and you've done the best you can."

Legion Commander Roque folded his arms and stood upright, but his expression was exhausted.

"We've all done our best."

he murmured.

But no one spoke.

The expectations of the war dogs before, are now like sharp and vicious daggers, stinging the World Eater.

They are too proud, they are too vain.

arrogant.

The return of the Primarch slapped them hard.

"I used to look down"

"Shh, Kahn, don't say it."

Rock looked at him with dark eyes,

"We're well aware of that."

"I thought I was standing on that high platform, overlooking him."

This will become his eternal nightmare.

Rock patted him,

"There's nothing we can do about it."

"The first priority is to restore our Primarch."

"I've already contacted the Empire—"

The gladiatorial horn sounded, interrupting the conversation between the two.

They looked at each other, walked out of the darkness, and walked to the bright arena.

There, led by Angron, countless World Eaters stood on the red sand.

Today, they will carve their first rope of victory.

The Rope of Triumph, Nuthria tradition.

Karn stood between the fighters.

They took off their armor, with scars all over their majestic upper bodies.

Angron was at the forefront, with a winding red line climbing up his spine from his tailbone.

Every extension of the red line is a successful battle and an honor worth remembering.

The primarch stabbed along the very front end of the red line with his dagger without hesitation, and scarlet blood dripped down.

Following their father, the World Eaters also cut their skin with their blades, the point of the knife penetrating into the lowest layer of black carapace.

Angron picked up a handful of red sand and poured them into the wound, the coarse sand embedded in his flesh and blood.

In order to remember the eternal glory, Angron stretched out his hand, inserted into the freshly cut wound and pulled it to prevent the wound from healing quickly.

Blood dripped down his fingers.

Blood dripped down their fingers.

Kahn supported his wound with his fingers, his fingertips touched the slippery black carapace, the pain was burning like a flame.

He took a deep breath, but he didn't pick up the fiery red sand.

He picked up the pitch-black black sand.

Black sand symbolizing shame and failure.

Shame will be the beginning of the World Eaters.

Black climbed, numb his painful heart.

Blurred vision, black and red mixed in as far as the eye can see.

Angron was delighted, and he gained another new group of brothers, and he carved the red rope of glory after him.

But what he didn't know was that not everyone in World Eaters chose red sand.

Black lines meander.

【Imperial Dream】

future.

"My lord, the No.12 Legion has discovered their Primarch."

With the words of the messenger, Angron's message was transmitted.

The emperor looked casually,

"Oh."

"Inform No.12 Corps, I want to arrange an operation for No.12."

The battle report from the front line came again, and the emperor's mind was only distracted for a moment, and he had no time to think about it again.

Although NO.12 is broken, it can still be used.

Wonderful Little Theater:
"Old Ba, why don't you stop them?"

Lao Qi muttered to himself, pushed Lao Ba,

"His anchor is no longer here."

Old Ba laughed loudly,

"Besides, I don't care about these, as long as there are heads and blood!"

"Stop staring at a canister, man, I love them all!"

With a dark expression on Lao Qi's face, he murmured words incomprehensible, such as fate, perseverance, and kindness.

[Extra episode has been sent]
　Hmm... The tangled point here is the emperor's attitude. In the original book, the emperor's attitude towards Angron is extremely indifferent, which leads to the saying that "the emperor is deliberately giving up the primarch he dislikes".

　　But in the latest book, the Emperor himself values ​​the Primarch and hopes that everyone will retire happily in the end. The image of autistic beings is completely inconsistent with the one in Angron's biographies.

　　In the part about Angron in this book, the image of the Emperor will be more in line with Angron's biography.

　　The author will make a transition for the other emperor parts.

　　
　　
　
(End of this chapter)