Warhammer: Don't Call Me the God of All Machines

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 Master delivered a ferocious blow, causing Angron's axe arm to tremble violently. The disparity in power armor between the two men had narrowed the gap in strength, and Angron's condition was even worse. From the clash of weapons, Guilliman sensed that the Lord of the Red Sands was running low on stamina and was weakening.

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."

(End of this chapter)