40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 793 14. The Limit of Hatred (End)
Angron raised his head and stared at the sky.

It was noon, and the blazing sun of Nuceria should have arrived as promised, scorching the earth, but now it could only hide behind the clouds, barely emitting some light. Large patches of darkness had taken away the original clarity of the sky, and upon closer inspection, they did not even look like clouds.
He was familiar with this scene, but the other person next to him was seeing it for the first time. He stood there dumbfounded, having completely lost his usual self-control and calmness.

Even without using his own talents, Angron could easily discern the complex thoughts of Iskandar Khayon at this moment.

However, he didn't intend to explain it for him.

In fact, these things cannot be explained clearly in a few words.

The one-armed man sat cross-legged calmly, slightly bent over, with his left hand completely pressed against the ground, exerting force gently and gently.

His palms were far rougher than the Gobi Desert. The sand and gravel that had taken who knows how many years to form gradually turned into fine dust and were eventually pressed into the gaps between the stones, filling up some of the grooves.

Angron closed his eyes.

The perception spread softly, deep into the ground. The talent that had been invincible in the past gave him back only pure nothingness a few seconds later. He felt nothing, as if there was nothing in the cave.

Angron sighed, not surprised.

He understood that for a broken and tortured soul, death was probably the thing he desired most.

But he still expected another development.

Ten minutes passed in a flash, and the dark clouds slowly dissipated. They appeared without warning, but now it was as if they had never existed. The sky remained blue, the breeze blew gently, the humidity slowly rose, and the dry heat was replaced by sultry heat. A few minutes later, the first drop of rain fell from the sky, landing on the palm of Angron's left hand, which was already spread out on his knees.

He lowered his head, looked at the palm of his hand, then put his five fingers together and slowly clenched his fist.

Heavy rain followed closely behind, hitting the earth and washing away everything.

He closed his eyes again and listened quietly.

The sound of rain was as loud as thousands of bullets hitting the ground. Hundreds of meters away, plants in a patch of sand stretched out their well-developed root systems and drank heartily. The subtle sounds that seemed somewhat inconsistent with the vigorous vitality spread out like ripples.

Rainy seasons like this are rare in Nuceria, which is mostly a dry world, which is why there is a developed water trade.

A large number of caravans from the ten nearby star systems come here every year to sell various water resources - for irrigation, semi-purified, and high-end ones specifically for the rich or powerful. Nuceria provides them with spices, well-trained and superior hunting beasts or war dogs, and peripherals for the gladiator troops.

The last type is very popular throughout the empire, and in most cases it is ranked among the top five best-selling products of the season. The developed trade has allowed Nuceria to develop very well, but it has also gradually placed its focus on commerce.

But this was the price - when it returned to the Imperium, there was no political system on it, only a floor tile carefully laid by the Ultramarines.
At that time, all the High Horsemen who had oppressed the Nucerians were killed, and none of their prosperous families survived, but the oppression still existed. After all, it was the homeworld of a Primarch, and according to the laws and traditions of the Empire, it was required to provide various things for the Primarch and his Legions.

It is true that Angron and the War Dogs took almost no resources from Nuceria except for humans during the Great Crusade. They basically only received supplies from the Ministry of Military Affairs or purchased them along the way, but Nuceria still became increasingly barren. This situation did not gradually change until many years after the end of the Heresy.

The rain was still falling, and the wind mixed with it made a whistling sound. It had changed from a breeze to a gale, blowing the raindrops sideways and stabbing at everything on the ground like scimitars.

The roots deep underground tightened up with a creaking sound. They could not adapt to such a generous rainy season and their water storage capacity had almost reached its limit.
But they would get through this, Angron knew that.

This water will help them survive in future prolonged droughts. No matter how much they suffer now, in the near future, the pain will eventually turn into food and shield.

how about you?

The one-armed man hung his head as if he was sleeping soundly, but his eyes were quietly open. His gaze was focused and sad, and memories from many years ago surfaced.

Does he like Luo Jia? This question is difficult to answer. After all, only the relationship of "brothers" needs to consider whether to like or not.

Besides this, one does not need to like others to participate in either the ruler or the general - politics and war have nothing to do with personal feelings. The former is essentially an exchange of interests, while the latter is nothing but blood and soil.

But, back to the question, does he like Luo Jia?

After careful consideration, his answer was affirmative.

Luo Jia is a warm and kind person. When meeting his brothers, he is always the happiest one.

He will take good care of you, ask if you need any help, remember all your likes and dislikes, and do everything he can to make the interaction pleasant.
Moreover, he did this not for any reward or to be liked by others, but simply out of a natural passion.

If someone offended him, unless it touched on religious issues, he would not take it to heart and would just laugh it off.

The most important thing is that he treats everyone like this. He never bullies the weak or flatters the strong. Even with the emperor, he dares to debate with him openly.

If there was one thing Angron didn't like about him, it would probably be the way he completed his mission.

Lorca hates unnecessary bloodshed and sacrifice, and he seems to have a huge psychological shadow in this regard. For this reason, he forces his legion to use the backward method of missionary work to convert people in order to achieve the goal of regaining lost territory.

This was not only due to his religious beliefs, but also had a lot to do with his experience in Colchis.

Angron did not know this at the time. He had not really understood Lorca at that time and had only heard about him from others.

What he heard made him think that Lorgar was actually letting the Word Bearers run the Inquisition, and he didn't like that very much.

So he took some time to find Robert Guilliman and asked him what he thought about the matter and wanted to get some advice.

The latter had already had many public quarrels with Lorgar by then, the former believing that the latter was moving too slowly, while the latter believed that the former was completely destroying the uniqueness of each world and its people by leaving the mark of the Ultramarines on every world he arrived at.

In other words, he felt that the actions of Guilliman and his son would make those people weak, because the Ultramarines were obviously too good at infrastructure.
Before the conversation began, Angron thought he would hear a lot of negative comments about Lorgar, but he was wrong. After learning of his purpose, Guilliman very seriously took out hundreds of documents that had been prepared in advance.

They are meticulous analyses of the worlds reclaimed by Lorgar and the Word Bearers, drawn from official statistics provided annually by the Munitions Department and from field visits to local populations.

Guilliman picked them up one by one, and explained to Angron in detail the advantages of the method chosen by Lorgar. The first is unshakable loyalty. The worlds that returned to the Imperium through the hands of the Word Bearers are often incredibly loyal and responsive. This fanatical attitude may become a mistake in the future, but during the Great Crusade, it is an absolute advantage.

Secondly, they minimized casualties, and the 17th Legion adhered to a policy of not wanting to shed blood. Unless things reached a point where they could not be reversed, even if the locals took the initiative to attack them, the Word Bearers would choose to persuade them to surrender by force after giving them three warnings.

The last and most crucial point lies in Luojia himself.

Angron still remembered what Robouti Guilliman had said.

"You have a lot of misunderstandings about him, brother. Luo Jia is not the stereotyped charlatan or religious lunatic who cannot tolerate any dissidents. On the contrary, he welcomes science and technology, supports and promotes education, and attaches importance to people's livelihood and trade development."

"In those wild and primitive places, his way is far better than the Imperial Truth. Moreover, I have read the doctrine he wrote himself, and there is no broad sense of 'bad' or 'evil' in it. The whole text only teaches people to be good and requires them to find their own power."

"To be frank, I think he's a good man, Angron. This is rare in our world, so I believe in the possibility of seeking common ground while reserving differences. In the final analysis, we all just want people to live better and with more dignity - on this point, we have no conflict. What's more, we are brothers."

"So, when the war is over, I will go to him and apologize for the quarrel. Do you think he will accept it?"

Maybe, the man in the rain thought.

Time passed, and the rain never stopped. Angron sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and waited quietly.

He didn't know what was going on in the cave, or when and how it would all end, but he always had a unique peace in his heart - even if they returned empty-handed, he would wish his brother to find the peace in the world of the dead that he had never found in his life.

For Lorgar Aurelion, death is the best ending.

He thought, pondered, and recalled. He looked at the people and things in his memory again and again, as carefully as if he was wiping a set of tables and chairs that had been passed down for a hundred years. He soaked the surface of his memory with sadness and nostalgia, and then wiped away these two emotions one by one, leaving only a unique firmness, which was called belief.

Ten thousand years ago, he was covered in blood and penniless, huddled in a cave underground in the Colosseum, waiting to die.

Ten thousand years later, his brother was in the same situation, covered in wounds, waiting in the darkness for it all to end.

Both have one thing in common – someone reached out to them.

Save him, or free him, Khalil.
He was thinking about these things with a lot of thoughts but in an unusually calm manner. However, he didn't know when someone stood quietly beside him, shielding him from some of the wind and rain.

Angron initially thought it was Iskandar Khayon, but he soon realized that this was unlikely - the Thousand Son had already walked away in despair. What he read from the book was just words after all. After personally experiencing one percent of the residual power of the battlefield that year, what he got was too heavy, so he had to calm down for a while.

So, who is this person?

Angron opened his eyes and saw Angor Tai in off-white armor.

He was surprised, but didn't seem that shocked.

“Greetings.” The son of Aurelion bowed deeply. “It has been a long time, my lord.”

The one-armed man stared at him deeply and slowly stood up.

"Yeah, long time no see." He said. "Why are you here?"

"I have to be here." Angel Tay laughed. "Actually, we are all here, but you can only see me."

Angron took an uncontrollable step forward and asked hoarsely, "Who else is there?"

"All of us," said the First Chapter Master of the Last Son. "Everyone who has ever been a vessel is here, my lord. We were born for him, and died for him, so how can we be absent at this moment?"

"Where are they?"

"I am right beside you, but I no longer have the power to show myself." Anger Tai said. "Actually, I should have done the same, but I once had a connection with a demon named Lalhe. This small connection allows me to stand in front of you with the help of the power of this rain, so that I can say thank you in person."

Angron was silent for a moment, then extended his left hand. It was a handshake gesture, but the posture seemed a little inappropriate for a simple handshake.

Anger Tai quickly understood what he meant and laughed. He stretched out his right hand and grasped the forearm of the hand, which also closed its five fingers.

"Goodbye, my lord," said Angel Tai softly.

As soon as he finished speaking, his figure began to dissipate. Illusory golden light spots, so pale that they were almost white, escaped from his body and were washed away cleanly in the rain.

Angron silently withdrew his left hand. His face suddenly twitched hideously, the nails creaked, and hot blood gushed out of his nose, staining half of his face red.

The cold rain collided with the hot blood, the steam screamed, he looked around, and finally saw those people with his own talent.

What Angel Tay had said was true; they were all here.

After tens of thousands of years, the descendants who carried the last drop of their father's blood, the fifty chapter masters of the Sons of the End Chapter, are all standing here at this time.

Angron bowed his head and beat his chest in salute, expressing his respect and blessing as a warrior.

The rain continued, and it didn't stop until ten minutes later. The sun, which was not as hot as usual, was now hanging gently in the sky, and the golden glow shone through the light gray clouds, illuminating the world, the earth, and everything.

Angron looked up at the light, and then he heard footsteps behind him.

two.

He smiled but didn't turn away.

(End of this chapter)