Warhammer: Empire Reboot

Lawson walked among the metal wreckage.

The trajectory, mass, rotation angle, and wind resistance deviation of every piece of debris are calculated in advance using swarm intelligence.

He felt as if he had walked through a downpour, only the raindrops had been replaced by hundreds of tons of dead metal.

Not a single piece of clothing was touched.

Lawson looked down at the demonic Primarch below, who was frantically throwing scrap metal like a beast, and his voice was projected directly into Angron's mind.

"Anger? Humiliation? Feeling that it's unfair?"

Angron grabbed a piece of armor plate and roared as he threw it.

Lawson stepped aside, his tone flat.

"You always feel like you're the victim."

“You hate the Emperor for taking you away from Nukelia, and you hate that he didn’t let you die with those slave brothers. You’ve held onto this resentment for ten thousand years, using it as a get-out-of-jail-free card for your depravity.”

Anglo roared incoherently from his throat.

Lawson's voice suddenly turned cold.

"But you're just a coward."

Anglong paused.

"I'll do the math for you, old man."

Lawson held up one finger.

"First, they betrayed the foundation of humanity and became puppets of the Asia-Pacific space parasites."

"You keep saying you hate the High Riders of Nukelia, you hate those high and mighty slave owners. And what's the result?"

“You turn around and kneel before the Eye of Fear, selling your soul, your body, and the fate of your legion to a warp tumor that only feeds on emotions.”

"You haven't gotten rid of your slave owners."

"You just changed to a thicker chain."

Angron slammed his fists into the ground, sending up a shower of rubble.

Lawson extended his second finger.

"Secondly, as the Primarch of the Empire, he knelt before Chaos."

"Of the twenty Primarchs, who is without flaws? Coz foresaw his own death, so did he become a dog for the evil god? Perturabo was used as a tool by the Empire his whole life, but at least he knew how to prove himself with mathematics and fortresses."

"What about you?"

"With a few rusty nails stuck in his brain, he packages all his weakness as tragedy."

"You do not overcome, you do not seek, you do not resist."

"You numb yourself by indulging in killing, and then tell the whole universe: Look, I'm in pain, so I can rot to the very end."

Angron opened his mouth to refute.

The Butcher's Nail only made him utter a series of broken roars.

Lawson extended his third finger.

"Third, destroy the Twelfth Legion."

"The World Eater, one of the sharpest blades of the Great Crusade."

"What have you turned me into?"

"Don't worry about formations, supplies, logistics, or even friend or foe. Once you land, just kill anything that moves in your line of sight, including your own people."

"You have reduced tens of thousands of Astartes' elite troops to cannon fodder who can only wield chainsaw axes."

Lawson lowered his hand.

Golden flames burned intensely around him, intertwining with the silent domain of his innate spiritual energy to form a golden boundary.

"As commander-in-chief, you are a failure."

"As the Primarch, you are trash."

Angron is completely out of control.

Instead of throwing debris, he suddenly bent his knees, preparing to leap into the air one last time and tear Lawson apart.

Lawson did not move.

He slowly raised his right hand, his five fingers spread, aiming at the Khorne Primal below.

The surrounding physical environment began to distort.

The light bends as it approaches Rosen.

Gravel, blood residue, and metal dust slowly detached from the ground.

The gravitational constant in the Agrippina region was forcibly distorted by the resonance of his massive bioelectric field.

Lawson's voice fell from the sky.

"Ancient laws granted exceptional generals three exemptions from execution..."

"The sky is not visible."

"Unseen."

"No ordinary iron is found."

He looked at Angron with a cold gaze.

"You are not worthy."

"But considering the old man put a lot of effort into making you, I'm giving you this honor."

Lawson clenched his fists abruptly.

Around Angron’s massive body, five extremely compressed miniature black holes silently bloomed.

This time, they weren't used to devour weapons.

Their event horizons are precisely locked by Lawson, and only apply to specific coordinate points.

"The sky is not visible."

The first black hole appeared above Angron.

Darkness expanded downwards, instantly enveloping his entire head.

The light was taken away.

The sound was pulled back.

The crimson vision plunged into absolute nothingness.

This is not blindfolding.

This means that photons have stopped transmitting, information has been cut off, and the act of "seeing" has been physically deprived.

Angron roars.

But the sound was torn apart by the black hole's gravity as soon as it left the throat, unable to create even a slight vibration in the air.

Even more terrifying is that the butcher's nails on the back of his head, which were always flashing red and constantly injecting pain, also lost their external stimulation.

There is no light.

No sound.

There is no air movement.

There is no sense of space.

Angron's brain felt as if it had been ripped from his body in an instant.

He instinctively swung his arms, trying to tear through the darkness above him.

"Unseen."

Lawson's voice resonated in the gravitational field.

Two black holes formed beneath Angron's feet.

Agrippina, with its hard crust composed of adamantite cinders and cooled mantle, collapsed like a shortbread in the face of a black hole.

The ground, with a diameter of thirty meters, along with the underlying rock layers, vanished instantly, leaving behind a bottomless vacuum crater.

Angron lost his footing.

Even more fatally, Lawson manipulated the gravitational lensing around the black hole in reverse.

Two opposing gravitational currents erupted from the edge of the crater, forcefully pulling Angron's fifty-meter-tall mutated body off the horizon.

Both feet are dangling in the air.

Unable to leverage any resources.

Unable to step on the ground.

A gladiator who relies on physical leverage, the support of the ground, and close-quarters combat to generate power will have half of his strength drained once he loses the ground.

Angron waved its limbs in mid-air, like an ugly insect suspended by silk threads.

The last two black holes precisely trapped the remnants of Angron's left and right arms.

All five singularities are in place.

Lawson paused slightly with his outstretched fingers, completing the final calculation.

Five black holes exerted their power simultaneously.

The black hole overhead pulls upwards.

Two black holes beneath their feet exert downward pressure.

The two black holes on the left and right are stretched to their extremes.

Five tearing forces, each in a different direction and far stronger than planetary gravity, acted simultaneously on Angron's demonic body.

crunch...