Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Angron's rage paused for a very brief moment.

0.1 second.

The Butcher's Nail robbed him of most of his ability to think complexly, but the word "Nukeria" still pierced his remaining self like a red-hot iron hook.

He gripped the black sword tightly.

"who are you?"

Lawson smiled.

"you see me."

He spread his arms, silver wings unfurled behind him, and golden flames seeped from between his fingers.

Doesn't he look like your father?

boom!

The Imperial Golden Flame erupted from Lawson's body.

pure.

overbearing.

A sense of order, like an invisible hammer, slammed heavily onto the plain soaked in chaotic blood mist.

The quality, density, and purity of that golden light far exceeded the combined total of the four living saints on the outskirts of the battlefield.

The moment the blood-red subspace clouds churning in the sky touched it, they were forcibly vaporized, like oil meeting flames.

A golden beam of light shot into the troposphere.

The night sky, spanning tens of kilometers, was dyed gold.

Lawson was bathed in golden light, and thin streaks of fire ignited along the edges of his silver wings.

That was not a holy and gentle halo, but an imperial fire carrying absolute oppression.

To mortals, it is a miracle.

For a demon, it is a pain that burns to the very marrow.

Angron was stunned.

The Butcher's Nail experienced an unprecedented overload in the next instant.

The alien artifact deeply embedded in the brain, upon sensing the emperor's aura, reacted like a swarm of venomous insects scorched by fire, frantically sending electrical signals to the central nervous system.

The mountains of Nukelia.

The abandoned gladiator brothers.

The emperor's cold gaze.

Horus's Rebellion.

betray.

massacre.

The humiliation of being forced to admit that one is forever a slave.

All of this was precisely detonated by Lawson using Imperial Gold Flame.

He not only insulted Angron.

He also used the power of the person Angron hated most to pierce the last shred of dignity of this demonic Primarch.

"die!!"

Angron roared.

That was no longer a sound, but a shockwave visible to the naked eye.

Below, a large area of ​​ruins was crushed into dust, and several half-destroyed armored vehicles rolled and disintegrated amidst the roar of the engines.

The fifty-meter-tall Primarch suddenly bent his knees.

The next instant, he was like a red spring released after being compressed to its limit, breaking free from gravity and soaring straight into the sky above Lawson.

Lawson did not take the hit head-on.

The living metal biplane instantly changes the wing surface angle, adjusting simultaneously with the aerodynamic structure.

His body left a golden afterimage in the air, veering to the upper left at an initial speed close to Mach 3.

Anglong missed his target.

The black sword Samny Ares swept across the battlefield.

The blade did not strike Lawson, but the extreme negative pressure and subspace turbulence it generated tore out a black crescent-shaped vacuum belt a kilometer long.

The vacuum belt cuts diagonally into the ground, splitting an abandoned cooling tower and its foundation in two.

The tower tilted sluggishly, and the internal coolant sprayed out, instantly turning into white mist due to the high temperature.

Lawson steadied himself.

Angron was forcefully twisting his massive body in mid-air, preparing for a second attack.

The movements were rough, yet terrifyingly fast.

"The sheer destructive power and speed have already approached the physical limits that the current universe can withstand."

Lawson's gaze passed over the torn muscles in Angron's shoulder and landed on the rapidly healing wounds.

The strenuous exercise tore Angron's muscles apart layer by layer, but as soon as he touched the surrounding blood mist, the wounds were immediately repaired by warp energy.

Lawson's auxiliary neural cable processes five tactical links simultaneously.

Angron's speed.

Muscle exertion angle.

Weapon trajectory.

Subspace energy return efficiency.

And the upper limit of the suppression of his demonic body by the laws of reality.

The conclusion quickly emerged.

Angron is not immune to injury.

He just recovered too quickly.

"Your real problem isn't brute force at all."

"Lossen said in a low voice."

"It's that umbilical cord leading to the subspace."

He looked up.

"Then let's unplug your network cable first."

A year ago, his psionic shielding range was only 24 kilometers.

Now, it's 200 kilometers.

Lawson lowered his fingers.

"Psionic Silence Across the Spheres".

An invisible wave emanated from his body.

Within a radius of 180 kilometers, the physical laws of the real universe are forcibly anchored.

The massive bioelectric field resonance is like a giant transparent dome, inverted on the red plain.

The penetration of subspace energy was abruptly cut off.

The boiling lake of blood lost its power and congealed into ordinary, foul-smelling blood.

The chaotic whispers in the air came to an abrupt halt.

The most fatal thing is...

Angron's wounds have stopped healing.

The muscles in his shoulder, torn apart by the forced twisting, were exposed to the air, their edges twitching slightly, but no new granulation tissue emerged.

Angron immediately noticed the change in the environment.

But he didn't stop.

Even without warp resupply, a fifty-meter-tall demonic primeform is still a physical hazard capable of destroying the Legion.

"So what if we cut it off!"

He landed, shattered the rock, and then used the recoil to propel himself back into the air.

"I can crush you into mud with one sword strike!"

This time, he didn't change his tactics.

Nothing fancy.

He locked onto Lawson's coordinates, channeled all his kinetic energy into his right arm, and used the black sword "Samniares" as a spear, aiming straight for Lawson's heart.

Before the sword tip even arrived, the wind pressure already caused a slight stinging sensation on Lawson's cheek.

If it were just now, he would have avoided it.

But this time, Lawson hovered in place.

His hands hung naturally at his sides, and he didn't even draw the power sword from his waist.

The tip of the black sword, several meters wide, was less than five meters from his chest.

A cruel smile was already showing between Angron's fangs.

The last 0.1 nanoseconds.

Lawson raised his left hand, fingers together, and pulled downwards.

Space collapses.