Warhammer, how did I become Butcher's Nail!

Kolga did not say this aloud.

"Since I've chosen to cooperate, I will wholeheartedly help you, if you truly succeed..."

Inzar Thales paused at this point.

Colga knew this was a demand.

"what do you want."

"It's simple, I want Kahn dead!"

Inzar Thales' eyes were bloodshot as he said viciously, "I've done so much government work, and this bastard Kahn still wants to kill me?"

“I’ll drag him to appear in front of you, then you can do whatever you want with him.”

"Very well, if you want to embark on the path to the eighth level, then you will need blood, heads, lots and lots of them!"

"Inzar Thales said in a sinister tone."

P.S.: Second update. Starting today, I'm paying off my debts. That's eleven chapters for today. I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight everyone.

Godfathers, please vote!

Volume 1: Chapter 168 - Angels and Hounds!

The Primarchs stood in the command center inside the Lower Nest, excluding Mortarion, who was bound like a dumpling; only Angron and Sangeles were present.

As night falls, the poisonous gas that the Death Guard has poured into the hive merges with the darkness, creating a deathly silence that resembles a shadowy graveyard.

Ger respectfully handed the breathing mask he had snatched from Death's face to Angron, who accepted it as a matter of course.

"You are ∶○;々〗〉｝￡□∏＊Extraction group'%: How did you do that?"

Saint Jeremy was quite surprised; it was simply unbelievable how Ger had managed to remove that thing from Mortalian's face.

"Those sons of death can't beat me."

"Ger said proudly," he said, then had the war dogs bring over two hot drinks. After placing the drinks on the table, Ger turned and left.

Angron sat in the chair that the warhounds had brought for him. The room was quiet, and he hid himself in the shadows, which gave Saint Jeles a strange sense of familiarity.

The familiar sound of breathing filled the air, along with that gaze.

This gave Sangeles the feeling that he was now facing three Primarchs: Conrad Coz, Mortarion, and finally Angron.

"Cough cough! Want a bite, bro?"

Angron generously offered a mask, but Saint Jeles politely declined, showing no interest in the air of Barbarus.

"That's harmful to your health."

Saint Geres offered words of comfort.

"It's okay, I'm fine after detoxing."

The Butcher's Nail on Angron's head was still functioning. The operation of the Guilliman and Conrad Coz dual modules made Angron feel quite good, but the absence of the nail's nagging made him feel somewhat sad.

"It will take us eight days to wipe out all the aliens in the world."

Angron spoke, pointing his finger at the holographic image and looking at Saint Jeles.

"Three legions of soldiers, I think that's a bit too much time."

Saint Jeremy was somewhat agitated by the number eight, and as soon as he finished speaking, he saw Angron stand up.

8. "We need to find those humans who have not yet been parasitized by the Xenomorphs. Not everyone has been parasitized by the Xenomorphs. We are here to liberate them, not to become another tyrant."

Angron looked at Saint Jereth, wanting to know if this benevolent archangel was as benevolent as the Empire claimed.

Si said, "You are different from Mortarian."

Sanjeres smiled and looked at Angron, making Angron very uncomfortable.

"Motalian believed that liberation was simply the destruction of the oppressor."

Saint Geres sighed, recalling the atrocities he and Horus had witnessed at Galaspa, a place filled with nothing but poison gas and corpses, which Mortarion had refused to accept even when the supervisors of the Knights and the Galaspa civilization chose to surrender.

That's where the divide between them began.

He didn't want Angron to be another Mortarion, but for now, this seemingly rugged brother had a delicate heart.

"But I want to know what you intend to do to me and Mortarion's legions?"

Saint Geres looked at Anglon with a start. Upon hearing Saint Geres' words, Anglon abruptly raised his head. Conrad Coz's module was slowly operating, his brain constantly analyzing the meaning of Saint Geres' words. After analyzing countless possibilities, Anglon finally confirmed one thing.

That is like Saint Geres and Conrad Coz.

He can also see the future.

"So what did you see?"

Angron lowered his eyes, trying to discern the angel's thoughts.

“Your people were dragging the body of my offspring. It was only a fleeting moment, but I saw it.”

"It seems I am not alone."

Angron frowned. What did that mean?

"Sometimes these fantasies are quite distressing for me."

Saint Geres blinked.

“Conrad Coates was the same, only he was even more insane. It seems our father bestowed his abilities upon us, but you seem to be the most perfect one.”

Angron stood up. He did not answer Saint Jeles's question directly. Even if he had seen it, so what?

"I am searching for the truth, Saint Geres."

"What truth?" Hedgehog

Saint Geres was very curious.

"The truth hidden by the Emperor—we are not fledglings in a greenhouse. I just want to know what our true enemy is." (Zhe)

Angron raised the War Cry from his waist, smiling as he looked at the most perfect man in the galaxy. He was now somewhat curious about Forgrim.

"I felt that from our very first meeting."

Angron raised his eyes and changed the subject. His eyes gleamed like those of an ancient sage, and for a moment, Saint Geres seemed to see an emperor in him. Angron stepped forward and placed his hand on the angel's wings.

"That bloodthirsty mind."

"The yearning within your warriors, and what they restrain." Nine

Saint Geres trembled, his wings fluttering. He couldn't understand how his brother had discovered their legion's secret. Bloodthirst was a secret Saint Geres had kept hidden for so long, and he didn't know how the Empire would view them if it found out!

Will Angron betray us? The future of the Legion...?

Just as Saint Jerace was worrying about the future of his legion.

"You possess the secret of the War Hounds, and I've revealed a secret of the Holy Blood Angels. It seems we're even." (Part Three)

Angron patted the wings of the Holy Blood Angel.

"By the way, don't you shed?" (Tumor)

Angron abruptly changed the subject, and Saint Jeles knew that Angron was signaling him not to press the matter further. This was not a barbarian. Saint Jeles recalled his brothers' assessment of Angron: Angron was a man of great wisdom.

Saint Geres took a deep breath.

"Your brothers' opinion of you should be on a higher level."

Saint Geres said with a smile.

"No way! I already have a lot of people paying attention to me, and I don't want any more attention to come my way!"

Angron sighed.

"I have no interest in power whatsoever. I just want to protect what belongs to me. By the way, shouldn't you be acting as an older brother and teach me something?"

Angron looked at Saint Geres; they had been talking for far too long.

"Azkelon! Summon the officers! Form battle groups and show your valor to your cousins!"

The angel called out to the door.

As the gates slowly opened, officers of the Holy Blood Angels and War Hounds walked in side by side.

"Ger, study hard. I'm authorizing you to command and assist the Holy Blood Angels from now on. Don't cause any trouble!"

Angron looked at the Butcher's Nail on Ge's head as he finished speaking.

Hypnos flickered!

P.S.: First update! I took a nap this afternoon, how awful.

So sleepy, godfathers, do you have any tickets?! Do you have any tickets?!

I'm short 10 ~ Where's my counter?

Volume 1: Chapter 169 (Chapter 161) What exactly is wrong?

The moment Korga and the rest of the Ghost squad stepped off the Stormbird, the Death Guards were already waiting there. Leading the way to greet them was none other than Karas Typhon.

As the current company commander of the First Company of the Eighth Company, Karas Typhon's influence within the legion is not much less than that of Death. As a former comrade-in-arms of Death, Typhon is deeply respected by the Barbarus warriors.

When Kolga disembarked from the ship, Typhon initially thought that the soldiers of the Eighth Legion had arrived.

“We have come to assist you on the orders of His Highness Anglon.”

Korga looked at his cousin Typhon, who was sitting on the rock, and began to speak.

Typhon looked at Kolga suspiciously, wondering if the War Hound had disturbed the Midnight Lord. A cold, electronic voice came from Kolga's mouth. He moved his lips, but in the end, he didn't say anything else.

He nodded slightly, acknowledging Kolga's arrival.

Korga shook the ornaments on his body, which were not objects of fear; his dark blue cloak fluttered behind him.

"The angels have entrusted us with the task of conquering the upper hive cities. The Holy Blood Angels will liberate the other hive cities in this world. Cousin Typhon, what are your plans?"

"The Death Guard will bring victory to the Empire."

Korga's lips twitched beneath his mask. These guys had absolutely no plan. This was absolutely terrible. What was the difference between them and ordinary mortal auxiliary troops?

"You plan to enter the upper levels of the hive city? On your own two feet?"

Kolga sounded somewhat puzzled.

"Always like this."

Typhon's tone was full of pride, while Korga began to calculate how to defeat the Death Guard on the ground.

"The hounds will assist you in the shadows."

Korgar intended to hand over the Nine Frontal Battles to Typhon, and to show his friendship, Korgar also gave Typhon a book by Inzal Tyrus. A warhound giving a Death Guard a book by a cousin of the Word Bearers. Although Typhon was indifferent to it, he accepted it out of the friendship between the legions.

"By the way, what's your relationship with the Midnight Lord?"

After a long pause, Typhon finally asked the question.

"They are the teachers of the ghosts."

"Kolga said, bowing his head."

......

Holy Terra Palace.

The Emperor was writing a letter to Horus as usual when, just as he was about to finish the last stroke, he suddenly opened his eyes. He looked into the distance, beyond the stained glass, towards Angron.

Fate began to lament, and the Emperor's expression turned grim. He saw a blood-red warp storm being born within the warp, a storm that hindered travel in the real universe. It was both a curse and an ascension.

But regardless, it was just a deception in form, a lie woven by the Father of Slaughter and the Lord of War. Sacrifice and bloodshed. The Emperor began to ponder. He had considered the gods taking action, but he never imagined that the first to suffer would be the God of Blood.

No, He didn't actually make a move. He was just showing off his power and incidentally smearing himself. The emperor looked at the parchment in his hand, where ink droplets had formed the shape of two wings, one messy and the other holy.

As the ink spread upwards, the enormous, cable-like ink enveloped the wings.

The emperor closed his eyes.

He didn't know if this was too early for the Butcher's Nail.

However, the veil of the physical world is now indestructible, and the Emperor believes that the Butcher's Nail can resolve this crisis.

The emperor was gambling; he was gambling that the Butcher's Nail could perfectly resolve this matter, and he was gambling with the will of his sons!

The emperor knew exactly what the gods wanted, and he recalled the words that Butcher's Nail had uttered during the meeting.