Warhammer, I'm a nanny, not your father!

Silence, silence, silence.

No cheers, no response, only silence.

The working people have been oppressed for too long. It’s not that they don’t know how to resist, but that no one can lead them in the resistance.

The masses are weak, so they will help whoever wins.

The masses are powerful because whoever they help wins.

So they sat there, not fleeing in panic because of the uncontrolled killing, nor worrying at all that the beastmen's massacre would fall on their heads.

At this moment, they are still spectators from a high position, sitting in the stands and observing the sparks of revolution.

But the balance in their hearts has already tilted, otherwise they would not sit idly by and watch the sparks spread.

So they are waiting, waiting for someone.

They still need someone to give them a boost, but as long as someone leads, they will follow blindly.

This man was not Angron, for Angron was not one of them.

Angron ignited the Spark. Angron united the gladiators and slew the high knights who oppressed them, but he was still not one of them.

He is too powerful and too great, so great that it seems unreal.

People were afraid that this was a dream.

What they need now is not a great man, but an ordinary mortal like them.

Wherever there is one, there are thousands and millions.

A thin figure suddenly broke free from his father's arms and climbed over the grandstand railing like a nimble squirrel. He stood on the blood-soaked fence, his tattered clothes rustling in the hot wind, and his childish voice pierced the silence like a sword:

"Angron! For freedom!"

The shout echoed for a long time under the dome of the arena, as if igniting some long-suppressed emotions.

The childish cry was like a spark at first, weak but stubbornly leaping in the silence.

Then, a second response came from a corner of the stands, followed by a third, a fourth... The sound spread like ripples, and finally converged into an overwhelming wave of sound.

"For freedom!" Millions of hoarse throats burst out with cries that had been suppressed for years.

A long-lost smile appeared on Angron's lips, but he still did not use his innate power.

He must use blood and sweat to prove the purity of this path, and must use scars to win the qualification to lead the people.

Only when the people follow him from the bottom of their hearts, rather than succumbing to supernatural forces, will he be qualified to truly unleash that cursed power.

Angron slowly raised his fist amidst the shouts, like a battle banner reflecting brilliant light.

"For freedom! Rise up, fellow citizens!"

Chapter 93: The True Revolutionary (5.5K)

Outside the arena, the gilded armor of the high-ranking knights shone with an ominous cold light in the twilight.

Following a series of hurried military orders, fully armed soldiers rushed in like a tide, surrounding the ancient arena like an iron barrel.

The royal guards were on full alert, their dancing silver vine tentacles forming a giant shield and forming a square formation at the entrance.

The pampered high-ranking knights were in an extremely depressed mood. Didn't they want to continue hiding in the gilded palace, enjoying fine wine and flattery?

But the situation was like a wild horse that had broken free from its reins, and every second of hesitation was fanning the flames of rebellion.

They had to extinguish the riot before the fire spread, otherwise when sparks splashed into the thatched roofs of the slums and ignited the silk curtains of the aristocratic district, the entire city would be plunged into an uncontrollable purgatory.

"boom!"

The beastmen smashed the heavy bronze gate of the arena, and the earth-shaking roar seemed to announce the collapse of the old order.

Their tangled muscles were stained with the scraps of flesh and viscera of the Royal Guards, and broken silver vines were embedded in their flesh like medals of honor, oozing blood with every breath.

But these scars instead aroused an even more violent desire to kill. Their cloudy pupils suddenly contracted, and their thick hooves crushed the debris on the ground, launching a death charge towards the well-prepared phalanx of the Royal Guards with the force of a landslide.

……

“Claudia!” A roar echoed through the magnificent palace. “Do you realize how big a mess you’ve made? A high-ranking knight is dead, and you bear full responsibility!”

"Ainol." Claudia's lazy voice fell as lightly as a feather. She didn't even look up. The wreckage of the drone fell to the ground with a loud bang, splashing a string of tiny electric lights on the floor.

"Master." Enol lowered his head.

Claudia let out a soft laugh. "I'm not your master. Don't you have a new little master?"

Ainol shuddered, "No matter what, you will always be my master."

Claudia's red lips curled up in a seductive arc, "Don't worry, I won't break my promise. Before you die, you will belong to Mira for the rest of your life."

"Yes, Master." Aenol's slender fingers unconsciously tightened the hem of her skirt. "My soul belongs to you."

"Come closer, Enol." Claudia's voice was as sweet as poisoned honey. "Enol, would you consider being my daughter in your next life?"

Aenol's drooping eyelashes cast a trembling shadow on her pale cheeks. "It's my pleasure."

"I'm serious." The hostess's fingertips gently stroked Ainol's chin. "My dear likes to raise sons for others. He doesn't like me, perhaps because I have no experience as a mother. So, are any of you willing to become my daughter? After all, I am your mother."

"Master." Ainol's voice was very soft, as if she was afraid to disturb a dream. "But I am afraid that my sisters and I cannot bear your grace."

“Don’t be afraid.” Claudia leaned lazily in her throne-like armchair. “We are just normal mortal mother and daughter, just like Dear and Angron. I love your purity. Otherwise, why would I choose you from the billions of billions of billions of billions of souls in the Ocean of Souls?”

She dragged out the ending sound on billion, but Ainol lowered her head and her body trembled violently, because she knew that was not the ending sound.

"Okay, I won't tease you anymore." Claudia suddenly smiled a mischievous childlike smile and flicked the tip of Enol's nose with her fingertips. "Go to work, and make sure that fool who dared to break into the palace pays the price. My dear and the child have other work to do, so go and help them finish it and get rid of all those guys hiding in the palace."

"Yes, Master."

Aenol retreated silently, her skirt brushing against the marble floor without making the slightest sound.

When her figure completely melted into the shadow of the gilded porch, several slender figures gathered towards her like ghosts in the moonlight.

The maids walked with cat-like grace, their pale faces flickering in the candlelight, their slender fingertips holding delicate and elegant weapons.

"Sister Enol." A maid called softly.

"Go." Enol shook his head gently, "Cherish our second life and don't let the master's gift go to waste."

The palace of Octavia's family was inhabited only by women.

Claudia's personal guard is female, as are her maids, but these experienced souls are far more deadly than any male warrior.

The high-ranking knights were obviously unaware of the truth. They were eager to bring their most elite guards to bring the "culprit" Claudia to justice, as if the revolution was her fault alone.

The sharp blade kissed the high-ranking knight's throat like a lover, and his silver vines didn't even have time to emit a warning buzzing sound.

The maid gently caught the man's limp body, as if she was hugging a sleeping lover.

She lightly picked up the satin rag beside her with her bare toes, and spun her toes gracefully, wiping the blood-red roses blooming on the floor clean. The whole process was so silent that not a single sound was made.

The maids performed this death ballet with terrifying precision, their blades always kissing the target's throat before they could make a sound, and the bloodstained silk always absorbed the blood before it seeped into the floor.

The entire palace still maintained the calm before the storm, with no startled birds, no overturned candlesticks, and even the reflections on the marble floor were intact.

They are as graceful as the night and as deadly as a blade.

Barefoot maids danced silently into the shadows, shuttling between the magnificent palaces.

Their figures emerged like ghosts, with gentle smiles and precise movements. In the silent killing, they reaped the lives of those high-ranking knights who thought they were safe.

……

Every Nuceria noble is unique, each one showcasing that individuality with a morbid extravagance.

Some were circling at low altitude on mechanical silver wings similar to Claudia's, some were lifted into the air by anti-gravity gauntlets and boots, and some were lazily reclining on floating sofas woven from soft silk.

The animal-shaped masks they wore on their faces were truly astonishing. The lion's mane, cast from molten gold, was studded with star-shaped gems, and the eagle's beak, inlaid with peacock feathers, was enough to buy an entire city. It was so gorgeous that it was breathtaking.

They all stood high in the clouds, as if deliberately trying to show off their superiority.

High-level knights have an overwhelming advantage both in numbers and technology.

The tens of thousands of mortals in the arena were completely incapable of combat. They didn't even have decent weapons, and Angron wouldn't let them die in vain.

"Pariah, your hands are stained with the sacred blood of high-ranking knights!" A high-ranking knight's gilded throat gorget burst out with a hysterical scream, "You must pay the price for this! Royal Guards, attack!"

The Royal Guards were soon caught in a bloody battle with the beastmen.

The silver vines of the Royal Guards are an extension of their flesh and blood, serving as both a blade for killing and a protective armor.

If Beastmen are unarmed, they will be quickly overwhelmed even if they have been given the Butcher's Nails.

But in order to kill Angron, the announcer equipped the two beastmen with powerful weapons.

The sheer violence of the chainsaw hammer was enough to knock down a large number of guards with every swing.

The silver vines of the Royal Guard, which had rendered countless enemy blades ineffective, could only whine before the disintegration field of the Power Axe, crumbling layer by layer like butter under a hot knife.

The chainsaw hammer embodies a more primitive aesthetic of violence. Every time it is swung horizontally, the serrated and spinning hammer head will plow furrows of flesh and blood in the formation of the Royal Guards. The chain with broken bones and internal organs will tear the entire row of Royal Guards in half like straw.

But they outnumbered the beastmen by a wide margin, and dozens of metal tentacles simultaneously entwined the beastmen's limbs. Although these ferocious warriors could tear three or five silver vines apart with their bare hands, more tentacles kept coming.

Like wild beasts trapped in a spider web, the more they struggled, the deeper the cold metal fibers cut into their muscles.

The guards finally found the rhythm. They stepped on the corpses of their companions and wove a noose of death with silver vines, which was slowly tightening.

"For freedom!" The rebels led by Onomamos rushed to meet Angron. These gladiators tempered the torture they had suffered throughout their lives into killing skills, turning them into burning javelins that pierced directly into the heart of the guards.

Oenomamos led the best warriors to form the spearhead. The power swords in their hands burst out with dazzling blue flames. Wherever the swords passed, the silver vine tentacles of the Royal Guards melted like hot wax.

The high-ranking knights were furious upon seeing this, and some were even so angry that they cursed, "Claudia, that stinking bitch! Did she give the entire arsenal to these despicable maggots?"

"for freedom!"

Crest also mounted her beloved anti-gravity spear and carried Mira towards the high-ranking knights.

Their cooperation was seamless, and Mira's psychic shield emitted a light blue rainbow in the air, keeping out all the expensive toys of the nobles.

The infrasound waves from the sonic jammer stirred up ripples on the surface of the shield like water ripples; the plasma fireballs from the microwave blaster splashed like waves hitting reefs; the most deadly thing was the matter conversion beam, a torrent of energy that was enough to turn steel into cotton wool, but it decomposed into fragments of phosphorescent light the moment it touched the shield.

Mira clearly caught the fear in those eyes behind the gilded visors. It was the panic of a high-ranking knight who had been pampered for thousands of years when he suddenly realized that he could bleed.

Crest hummed a tune as she atop her bladed mount, chopping off the heads of a pair of high-ranking riders.

But casualties still occurred.

The beastman with the power axe fell down, and the high knight's sonic jammer turned its flesh and bones into smoke.

The second beastman didn't hold out for long either. Silver vines drilled into his body, destroying his organs and grinding his bones into powder.

Angron's fists clenched at his sides. He only had to speak to Wop to save them.

But he just watched silently as their lives slipped away from their tortured bodies, because letting them continue to live would be crueler than death.

He had no way of removing their nails, nor could he permanently relieve their pain. All they longed for was to die on the road to revenge against the High Knight.

Angron raised his hand and pointed at the high-ranking knights in the air, inviting them to a duel.

The high-ranking knight ignored him and pulled the trigger, intending to shoot him.

But Nuceria's guards are like a microcosm of this twisted civilization. The silver vines they use are terrifyingly powerful, but they are rarely equipped with other weapons.

This was because their own reaction speed could not keep up with Silver Vine, and using weapons would only hinder Silver Vine. It was also because high-ranking knights did not allow anyone other than themselves to wield long-range weapons, as this would eliminate the gap in force between mortals and themselves, and anyone could be killed with just a single bullet.

Therefore, high-ranking knights would rather lock all their weapons in the armory and let them gather dust than give them to anyone to use.

As infrasound ripples through the air, sending ripples of death powerful enough to reduce mortals to dust, Angron smiled.

Who are you to fight against me who has a father?

Just like when attacking Mira, the infrasound waves stirred up ripples like water on the surface of the dark blue shield.

The next moment, the high-ranking knight who fired the gun was grabbed by an invisible giant hand and thrown in front of Angron like a rag.

"Draw your sword." Angron pointed the axe blade at his head. "Fight me."

The high-ranking knight gritted his teeth and climbed up. The sonic weapon fell three meters away, and he could only draw the golden sword inlaid with gems at his waist.

Although he had indeed practiced swordsmanship seriously in his childhood, his skills had long been neglected due to years of pampering, and this sword was purely for decoration.

It took him two seconds to draw his sword and find the switch to decompose the force field among the decorative carvings.

But Angron's battle axe had already turned into a shadow. The moment the axe blade fell, the power sword whose decomposition field had not yet been activated flew out of his hand, and the high-level knight's last vision was spinning.

He saw his headless body still in a blocking posture, the gushing blood dyeing the gilded armor purple-red.

"Blood for blood!" Angron twirled his axe, pointing it at the high-ranking rider caught in the invisible hand. "Challenge us. Victory in combat, and you will live!"