Warhammer 40: My Fiancée Fulgrim

But when Nakabanha's body was hit, it vanished as if it didn't exist in the world.

"Jiejiejiejiejie"

Only a harsh, hoarse laugh remained, still echoing in the wind.

"The cunning alien"

I'm in the open while the enemy is in the shadows. Angels and Casca, currently in the enemy's home turf, aren't having an easy time.

Even time is manipulated by the enemy.

And Kabanha is indeed one of those rather sleazy Khorne archdemons.

He either breaks the opponent's legs by sneaking up on them, or he completes the Blood God's KPIs by picking up the heads of Holy Blood Angels on the battlefield without fighting. He is dark and doesn't seem like a bloodthirsty maniac at all.

"We don't have a way to deal with them for the time being, so we can only take it one step at a time."

Kasgar stepped forward to comfort him, saying, "Now is not the time to be sullen. Judging from what he said, something has probably happened to Angron again."

"Quick, we have to get back!"

Angron has indeed run into trouble again.

After Casca told the angels that they were going to the place where their captives had found them, they never returned.

During this time, Angron gradually learned to lead his gladiators to complete their tasks, establish and expand their strongholds, and attract rebels from other city-states to join the counterattack.

Under Angron's construction, the outposts deep in the forest were well-managed, and the various underground infrastructures and cultivated land were basically able to ensure self-sufficiency.

They even repelled several search parties from slave-trapping groups of the city-states.

Compared to a brute who only harbors anger and hatred towards high-ranking knights and can only feed himself when hungry, Angron can now be considered a wise, charismatic, and resourceful rebel leader who knows how to resist.

Even though Angron poured his heart and soul into establishing bases for the gladiators, trying bit by bit to wrest the hope of survival back from the nobles.

But under the power of Dark Age technology, Angron's resistance, though poetic, was still futile.

After the rebel army had gradually grown in size, seven slave-hunting teams from various city-states of Nukelia joined together to carry out a large-scale cleanup of the mountainous region where Angron was located.

Trees were felled, and the land was plowed.

No detail, however small, will be overlooked.

Even the land beneath the northern mountains, which the Nukelians consider sacred, was destroyed without hesitation.

As a high-ranking knight, what troubled him even more was the rebellious slave gladiator Angron.

He must die!

Under the siege of seven well-equipped and numerous Nukelian armies, no matter how brave and skilled Angron was, or how united his gladiators were, he could not escape his fate of destruction.

This time, however, no emperor sent a teleportation spell from the sky to save him.

"Failed again."

Angron, who had fought to the last moment and fainted, awoke in a prison wagon filled with shackles and chains belonging to the slave-catching team.

For some reason, the high-ranking knight did not kill Angron in the final battle, but instead kept him alive as a prisoner.

At this moment, the only one captured along with Angron was the old gladiator Onomamus, who had always been by his side. They looked at each other helplessly on the shaky prison cart.

"Onomamus, you're still alive?"

"Yes, but that won't happen for long."

Faced with Anglong's surprised question, he smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Stop talking, it's all because of my poor command—"

"No, Angron, you have done enough. It is not your fault that you lost the inevitable war."

This time, perhaps Angron has lost.

But his loss was by no means shameful.

"But what's the point of saying all this now?"

"Onomamus, where are we going?"

"Desia, the capital of Nukelia."

"They said they wanted to crucify us all."

The carriage continued to creak and groan as it traveled along the country lanes.

High-ranking knights have their own ways of traveling, so these poor little paths are not maintained by them.

Finally, the enormous city gate, the gate through which Angron had charged out countless times, appeared before his eyes once more.

"arrive."

"If I'm not mistaken, the only thing capable of breaking through the crimson mist for us can be Angron."

Kaska, who was taken to the sky by the angels, analyzed it this way.

After coming down from the snow-capped mountain, they also felt a significant difference in the flow of time.

That's another kind of day in heaven, a year on earth.

“Kabanhar was afraid that we would change the fate of Angron, so he dragged us into the world of red sand.”

"Now they've changed the flow of our time. This shows that they really don't want us to interfere with Angron's fate."

Khorne seemed quite afraid of Kasgar and the angels interfering with Angron's fate.

Perhaps this is the key to their escape.

Casca analyzed.

"As for this, I have a bold guess."

Chapter 146 The Man Who Makes God Bleed

"To be precise, our current situation is no different from that in the Red Sand World."

"Although everything that the action encounters seems to be logical and can be considered as real behavior that happens around us."

But in reality, Nukelia is a demonic lair capable of being arbitrarily altered by warp gods.

Is everything that happens on this planet really as real as we perceive it to be?

The angel continued to listen attentively.

In the thirtieth millennium, almost everyone's knowledge of the subspace is still quite limited.

The words of Kasgar will largely inspire future Primarchs in their strategies for dealing with these bizarre warp aliens.

"It's not just the humans on Nukelia who have problems."

"Even the weakness of Angron's true strength. All of this seems to be confined to a certain range, with everything developing according to the demands of that damned alien false god."

Nukelia, the city of Desia.

The blazing sun shines high in the sky.

The notoriously harsh red sand was filled with billowing heat, distorting the scenery before everyone's eyes.

The creaking carriage finally came to a stop. As the capital and largest port city of Nukaria, it is famous for its endless red sand beaches.

Even before these men brought Angron and the other gladiators here, several crosses of agony had already been erected high, and the cables prepared for these rebellious gladiators swayed in the midday sun.

“Angron, Angron.”

"Look at yourself! In your rebellion against the great high knight, what have you gained besides death?"

The silver metal [Eye of the Maggot] reappeared around him, just as it had when he was first pushed into the arena, filled with a tone of ostentation and disdain.

For their own safety, high-ranking knights would not even face a ferocious beast like Angron directly.

Even if the other party is currently bound hand and foot in a prison van, there is no need for this.

"Coward, either show me your true colors or get out!"

Angron struggled against his restraints and spat at the disgusting and evil creature in the sky.

Disgusting stuff.

No matter how many times Angron killed high-ranking knights in previous uprisings, there would always be those who desperately wanted to become high-ranking knights and take that position.

Every single one of them was disgusting.

It's like a giant monster spawner has been installed here. Whenever Angron kills a high-ranking knight, another almost identical guy takes his place, and the slave-catching teams continue to search for gladiator slaves.

Nothing has changed.

While Angron's forces achieved several victories against Nukelia's encirclement and attracted a large number of escaped slave gladiators with their powerful appeal.

But as the ranks grew, more and more divisions arose within the ranks—some gladiators wanted to settle for whatever came their way, some wanted to make peace with the city-state rulers, while those who wanted to fight the high knights to the bitter end each had their own targets of hatred to conquer first.

The countless voices and differing opinions tore them apart, ultimately leading to the defeat of Angron and his gladiators.

"Don't worry, someone will come to see you."

The Eye of the Maggot seemed to be mocking Angron's plight, yet its tone carried a hint of envy: "We will soon be able to welcome the arrival of that great leader."

"What commander?" Angron shouted in dissatisfaction. "What kind of bullshit commander is there above high-ranking knights?"

The maggot's eye did not answer, but simply stared silently into his eyes, which were filled with rage.

"Who is this governor? Why have I never heard of such a thing before?"

Angron asked Onomamus, who was also locked in a prison cart, with a puzzled look.

"Hasn't the governor always existed, Angron?"

The other party seemed quite surprised as well.

"It's just that he was leading his army to conquer other regions before, and wasn't in Desia."

"Don't you know who the consul is?"

I don't know, or to be precise, I've never heard of it.

But Anglo, as the Primarch, was certain of his memory and had never heard of any Archon existing in Nukelia.

But Onomamus, who was standing next to him, seemed to believe it without a doubt.

How weird.

The scorching sun was still baking the earth from the sky.

For a planet with thirty-one standard Terra hours in a day, the scorching sun of Nukelia seems particularly unbearable.

"The Grand Consul is coming soon, Angron."

"If you could even look at Him with a second glance, your dog-like life would be worthwhile."

In the distance, amidst the bustling crowds, on the almost indistinct red sand coast, one—no, eight—steel warships laden with cannons were sailing toward the red sand coast of Desia.

That is

As the warship gradually approached the shore, Angron was able to see the face of the governor standing atop the warship, as the Eye of the Maggot had described—

He wasn't particularly tall, but he had a deep nose, high eyes, and sharp gaze.

He wore a brass crown on his head, and his brass plate armor outlined his muscular physique. As he stepped off the warship, his scarlet battle robe fluttered in the wind.

Although they may not be visually appealing, they inspire a genuine and heartfelt desire to follow them.

It felt as if one could entrust their entire life and fortune to him and fight alongside him to conquer the world.

"Sir, he's right here, please—"

The maggot's eye greeted it in an extremely obsequious manner.

This was the first time Angron had ever seen a high-ranking knight display such a subservient attitude.

Guided by the Eye of the Maggot, the governor walked to the bottom of the prison cart where Angron was located.

"Hello, Anglong."

His voice was somewhat hoarse, as if he hadn't used his vocal cords in a long time.

But it also seems to possess some kind of magic, making people willingly follow it, conquering east and west.

His gaze swept over Angron without any attempt to conceal it, as if he were inspecting some gratifying trophy.