Warhammer, how did I become Butcher's Nail!

Anglong choked up as he listened to every word the emperor said. He suddenly realized that Lu Heng was absolutely right about something he had said.

The Emperor is a bastard! (This appears to be a string of characters and symbols, possibly a corrupted or incomplete message.)

[I suggest I possess your body and then give him an axe blow; now's a perfect opportunity!]

Lu Heng kept talking incessantly in Anglong's ear.

P.S.: Much better!!! Oh ho! Will there be any tickets today?

Volume 1: Chapter 18 - The False Emperor!

Anglong did not take Lu Heng's advice. After assessing the strength of both sides, Anglong was certain that if he really did that, he couldn't guarantee anything else, but just based on the Emperor's use of psionic energy, Anglong felt that he would be taken down as soon as he picked up the axe!

"Emperor."

Angron looked directly at the Lord of Humanity, his golden eyes utterly calm.

The Lord of Mankind looked at the silent Twelve. He knew that Twelve might be throwing a tantrum, but it was nothing to him. In the eyes of all mankind, the Primarch was perhaps a product that led the current era. After the Great Crusade succeeded, both the Primarch and he would come to an end. But for now, both he and the Primarch were just the most useful tools in the great cause of reviving mankind.

The Lord of Humanity firmly believes that his ideals and path are the only way out for humanity's future, at least for now.

The Lord of Man was too busy. His time was limited. In the early years, he could spend time with Number Sixteen, but the increasingly tense situation left him breathless. If it weren't for Macado and the Primarchs, the Emperor might have already...

"I need a speaker." (>>) ← [中↓∞转qUn:)

After a long pause, Anglong spoke.

The Emperor naturally granted Angron's request.

When the Imperial Guards handed a megaphone to Anglon, Anglon shook his head.

"I need one with a data interface."

The Emperor scrutinized Angron, and the thing on his head seemed about to speak—the older, immature soul, that higher-dimensional but foolish thing.

The Emperor nodded slightly, gesturing for Angron to have a speaker with a data interface. Just as Angron was about to plug in one of the wires of the Butcher's Sting, a heavy hand gripped his.

The emperor looked at Anglon.

"Find a room, I need to talk to them."

The moment the Emperor grasped Angron's hands, he froze, overwhelmed by the Emperor's immense emotions. Angron felt like a fragile sailboat adrift in a storm. Only when the Emperor withdrew his hands did Angron regain his senses.

"Alright! Let's go. It seems we can talk about the problem on your head."

The Emperor's tone remained unquestionable, but this time Angron sensed that the Lord of Man was not as relaxed as he sounded.

"it is good."

Angron nodded.

......

This is a study containing a large collection of Terran artworks from thousands of years ago, as well as imperial spoils.

Every item in the Seven Kingdoms has its origin and value; there are too many stories to tell. Even if the Emperor and Anglon were to discuss them, it would take several days and nights. Therefore, the Emperor did not intend to tell Anglon about these things.

"All right!"

The emperor sat in his chair and gestured for his commander of the Imperial Guard to come out of his room. He was not driving him away, but rather trying to avoid a conflict between the commander and Anglon.

Angron watched as the Emperor then inserted the Butcher's Nail into the horn.

"Ripples of Fate, if you want to swear, you can start now!"

The Emperor stared at the loudspeaker as if he already knew what Butcher's Nail was going to say.

"Your Majesty, do you know me?"

"Of course... I don't know."

"Imperial joked," Butcher's Nail remained silent for a long time, feeling his electronic circuits begin to burn. Angron touched his head; it was burning hot.

"Huangpizi!"

"Shut up!"

When Butcher's Nail uttered those words, the Emperor slammed his fist on the table and stood up. It was the first time Angron had ever seen the Emperor angry. The Emperor exuded a sense of oppression, making Angron feel slightly suffocated, but Butcher's Nail couldn't sense it.

What kind of psionic pressure could a mere machine spirit possibly sense!

Angron fears him! Butcher's Spike, on the other hand, is not!

"Was it you who arrested me?! I knew it! You love recruiting soldiers!"

"..."

The Emperor looked at the words spoken through the golden megaphone. If he had that ability, he would have strangled all the gods of the Warp long ago! A hint of disdain appeared in his golden eyes. The moment that gaze shot towards Angron, Angron felt extremely uncomfortable, as if the Emperor was looking down on him.

Although he knew it wasn't directed at him.

Do you think your plan will succeed?

The Butcher's Nail's mocking voice rang out.

"Human achievements cannot be accomplished by me alone."

"Please take a breath of oxygen before you say that."

Angron II clearly saw the veins bulging on his father's face. He felt the fluctuating spiritual energy. At this moment, Angron II could only mutter a few words.

"Nail, don't talk nonsense!"

Angron wanted to stop Butcher's Nail from spouting nonsense; he didn't want his second meeting with the Lord of Man to turn into a tense standoff or result in him being hung up and beaten.

"Look, exhale, inhale, I can do it, how about you?"

The Emperor sat back in his chair, calming himself down. Under the influence of psychic energy, Angron saw the Emperor acting like a child, sulking over the Butcher's Nail on his head.

"Huangpizi!"

"Metal creations!"

At this moment, Angron felt that the image of the Lord of Mankind in his heart had completely collapsed.

The emperor's lips curled up slightly as he savored this hard-won banter, like old friends. But it was only for a moment before the emperor turned his gaze back to the golden megaphone, his expression serious.

"Ripple, what did you and Angron say to each other?"

"What do you think I should say? How about we start with chaos?"

"This is too early for Angron!"

"That's exactly right! Your Majesty, you always think you're absolutely right. If only there were fewer of these awkward situations..."

Lu Heng started rambling on.

"It seems you know a lot."

The Emperor's golden eyes gazed at the massive golden megaphone, psionic energy flickering around it. Before the Butcher's Nail appeared, the River of Fate was blurred, but now...

The emperor saw it.

Inside the stench-filled cabin of the ship, directly in front of countless twisted warriors, on the battlefield where the Forbidden Army and the Silent Sisters were fighting to the death, as far as the eye could see, a huge door gushed out the dirty rainbow light of the subspace. A black body emerged from the light, and the Emperor saw that familiar figure, his proudest masterpiece.

This was perhaps like a nightmare; the emperor frowned, wanting to see more.

The figure raised its head, its bright eyes flashing with an eerie light.

He opened his mouth, and flames erupted behind him.

When a crisp sound rang out, the Lord of Humanity's heart trembled for a long time.

"The False Emperor!!!"

The emperor suddenly opened his eyes.

This time, his expression was unusually serious.

"It seems we have a lot to talk about."

The emperor pursed his lips and looked at number twelve.

P.S.: Two updates a day? Much better today! Hehe~

Book 1: Chapter 19 - Heading to Terra!

Shouts, curses, and Angron's cowardly attempts to dissuade him.

Waldo, the commander of the Imperial Guard, stood outside the golden gate, gripping his power halberd. He listened to the frenzied crowd inside and the sounds of things being smashed.

He had never seen the Lord of Man so enraged. Since the return of all the Primarchs, Waldo had never seen the Lord of Man so out of control, so furious.

The entire conversation lasted for three days and three nights.

At first, Angron tried his best to stay awake. The loudspeaker of Butcher's Sting and the Emperor's psychic energy almost shattered his eardrums, leaving Angron completely dazed. In the end, it was as if the two were competing to see who could shout the loudest and who had the highest volume. Finally, the Lord of Man got off his chair, came to Angron, and turned down the volume of Butcher's Sting.

Butcher's Nail felt utterly aggrieved by this kind of mechanically adjustable speaker; he cursed the Emperor. si△÷si…/er!

The words "false emperor" appeared one after another. Angron tried to focus his eyes wearily, but the Lord of Man continued to torment him with his psionic-powered booming voice.

In the end, Angron was dragged out by the Emperor using psionic powers, and under the watchful eye of Waldor, this great Primarch was kicked in the butt by the Emperor.

"...Is it finally over?"

Ignoring Waldon's surprised gaze, Angron stood up and asked Butcher's Nail.

[Of course, do you expect me to be all lovey-dovey with the Emperor?! You dare turn up my volume! I'll remember this grudge!!!]

"But... what did you talk about?"

Angron tried to recall the entire conversation, but he soon discovered that he had no recollection of it at all; the memories were like a fog that Angron could not pierce.

[Something about you and your brother, yeah! What did we talk about... He tampered with my data! False Emperor...]

"Alright! Butcher's Nail, that's enough!"

Angron felt that Butcher's Nail should be mindful of the occasion. These repeated references to the "false emperor" made Angron slightly uneasy; if his other brothers heard this, the scene would be...

"But we must set off, Angron, to Terra... My friend, are you ready to assume your princely status?"

[But before that, we need to do a lot of things, like how to build a good relationship with your brothers.]

brother.......

Angron has his own understanding of brotherhood. Having fought alongside Oynormouth for so long, he already knows how to get along with his brothers.

So many twisted people, lunatics, overgrown babies... oh! Just thinking about it gives me a headache.

Twisted? Giant baby?

What is Butcher's Nail saying?

Could it be... my brothers?

When Angron once again treads the earth, in the city of Deshia, in the Deshia Arena.

He accepted the blood-red brocade cloak that Ger had given him and draped it over himself. Although Angron did not like the color, it was a gift from his offspring.

"Plain red is a bit too eye-catching. I think your paint job looks much better."

Angron explained his thoughts, and just when Gol thought the Primarchs didn't like their gifts, he saw Angron simply drape them over his back.

To Gale and the Warhounds, this was a symbol of the Primarch's acceptance of them, representing the bond between the Primarch and them!

Angron scratched the silver-gray Butcher's Nail, and accompanied by his brothers, sisters, and all of Gol's offspring, Angron arrived at the spot in the Desh'a Arena where the former slave master had once stood, his yellow eyes looking down.

When the microphone was brought to him by Oedipus.

Looking at the group of mortals to the left of Anglon, Ger7, to be honest, felt a pang of envy.

"We once brandished our weapons here. My hands are stained not only with the blood of the enemy, but also with... the blood of my brothers and sisters. Is this our destiny?"

"Angron spoke up."

"We are slaves? In this Deshia Arena, we are playthings of those in power. We should have been forgotten in the sewers, dying without glory or honor. But this is not our destiny! This is not the future of Nukelia! My brothers and sisters! We have succeeded!"

"We have overthrown the slave owners! I am with you! We are the victors! We breathe the air of freedom! But we must also remember what those damned slave owners did to us! We must remember the fallen warriors!"

"Rejoice, my friends! Rejoice for freedom! Rejoice for victory! Rejoice for Nukelia!"

Angron looked down at the restless crowd and a smile appeared on his lips.

"German...aren't there many slave owners who publicly execute people here?"

Angron's question put Ger in a very awkward position. The war hounds had killed so ruthlessly that they hadn't even considered leaving a single survivor.

After all, the humiliation suffered by the Primarch of Genesis angered them.