Warhammer, how did I become Butcher's Nail!

During Fugrim's second attack, he was filled with pride and joy, with his roars.

Guilliman kicked Fogrem in the chest, sending him crashing to the golden floor of the stage like a rag doll. Fogrem then flailed his arms.

"Is that all? Guilliman? Is that all you've got?"

Snapped!

As soon as Fugrim stood up from the ground, a slap landed squarely on his face.

"Go out and see me, my brother."

"Guilliman said coldly."

That wasn't his true intention; it was just a part of his inner darkness.

Lu Heng spoke up to defend Fugrim.

"I know, but I just can't control myself from hitting him!"

Guilliman returned the nail, and thinking about it, he instantly felt relieved. Not everyone was like Angron. Just as Forgrim was very jealous of him and feared him, weren't his other brothers the same?

But so what? As long as I am loyal to the Emperor and to humanity.

so what.

[A commendable level of awareness.]

Lu Heng praised.

"You taught me well."

Guilliman smiled and looked at the green figure. For some reason, Guilliman saw a resemblance to the Emperor in Lu Siheng.

Do not!

That's something their father didn't have!

When Guilliman opened his eyes again, he saw the data synapse leave his face, and he looked at Mortalian, who was watching him from a distance.

"Alright, Mortarian."

"I know what you're worried about."

Guilliman began.

"I will not betray you."

Upon hearing Guilliman's words, Mortalian turned deathly pale. His worry wasn't about the thing itself, but rather about the ultimate consequences of this Abomination Intelligence...

Wait, what did you say, Guilliman? You won't betray us?

Mortarian remained silent for a long time.

Have you ever thought about it?

"no!"

Guilliman noticed the fear on Motalian's face and quickly denied it.

Just as Guilliman thought Mortalian was going to continue misunderstanding and he was about to tell Mortalian his thoughts, he saw Mortalian muttering numbers to himself.

After a while.

"You definitely don't."

"......"

Guilliman is now certain that his brother is somewhat abnormal as well.

"Is that numerology?"

"That's right? You want to learn too? Give me the same things you gave Angron, and I'll teach you..."

"I think you should be fleecing the War Council, not me."

Guilliman politely declined.

"I can?"

Motalian seemed to suddenly realize something and asked.

"You really didn't ask the Empire for any other supplies?"

Guilliman was shocked when he heard Motalian's name. Could it be that he'd accept anything the Empire offered? Could someone really be that stupid...?

"Besides the construction of Barbarus by the Cult of Mechanism, the remaining resources are the supplies that the War Council allocated to me for the expedition."

Lu said, “You have such a kind heart. Come here, my brother, I’ll teach you how to ask for supplies.”

Lugielman extended his hand and placed it in front of Mortalian.

After much deliberation, Mortarian finally took his hand.

"However, you'll need to help me beat up Forgrim then."

Guilliman put forward his conditions.

Second update!

Volume 1: Chapter 216 (Chapter 205) You Get Everything!

He won.

Fugrim rose from the ground, having successfully won the illusion. Just as he had thought, the illusion was not perfect, but even ugly; he was the truly perfect one!

"Fulgrim."

A gentle voice rang out, and Fugrim, his white hair falling loose, looked at the figure that appeared. Was it an angel after Guilliman?

Fugrim laughed, his laughter extremely hoarse.

Throughout the human empire, Forgrim was always compared to this archangel of the empire, whether by the people of the empire or by himself. Forgrim stood up and silently gazed at the golden figure before him.

Golden wings shimmered and shone behind the angel, so dazzling that it made Fugrim feel ashamed!

Are your offspring also plagued by illness?

The angel stepped forward, his tone unusually gentle. Saint Jeremy looked at his brother, a slight smile playing on his lips. He seemed to have found common ground between the Third Legion and the Ninth Legion.

He had heard some things about the Third Legion's gene seeds, but those clever rumors were often distorted and altered in the universe, and Saint Jeles never believed them.

"Birdman!"

The angel's smile vanished abruptly. He stared at the now insane Forgrim, his face stiff as he witnessed Forgrim's true nature.

"They're comparing me to you!"

"But what else do you have besides your wings?"

"You damned fantasy! Your legion's infamy has spread far and wide! My offspring once told me that you cruelly dismembered the corpses of aliens. What filth lies beneath your glamorous facade!"

"I am the most perfect!"

"I am the purple-robed phoenix! I am Fugrim! I am the truly perfect one!"

Saint Jeremy watched his brother, who was babbling incoherently, in silence. He had now completely given up hope of continuing the conversation with Forgrim. (The three...)

Just like in Byzantines, when talking to the Byzantines Brotherhood, Fugrim would always use his own language, which would immediately break the conversation.

"You're quite the negotiation expert." Liu

Saint Jeremy no longer felt any affection for the brother in front of him.

"You're better than that birdman!"

Fugrim, disheveled and resembling a madwoman, roared as he unleashed his power, setting the entire stage ablaze. Only the two main characters remained on stage.

One is Saint Geres.

The other one is definitely the main character!

That's him!

Fogrem!

I am the only one who is in the spotlight.

I am the truly perfect one!

With a smile, Fugrim raised his head and, as if from a heroic novel, raised his flaming sword, pointing the tip directly at Saint Jereth in front of him.

"Come and challenge me!"

As Saint Jeremy listened to Fugrim's words, a bright smile suddenly appeared on his face. Anyone who knew Saint Jeremy knew that he was extremely angry at the moment, and all his anger had turned into blood-red flames.

In an instant.

The golden flames seemed to have changed, with crimson waves of flames illuminating the surrounding area.

Saint Geres raised his head high.

"Challenge you?"

"Saint-Jesus said coldly."

"You challenged me!"

Golden hair swayed in the spiritual world as Saint Jereth took a step forward, and Fugrim shouted.

"Good day! You windmill!"

"You're just impersonating my brother!"

I will... kill you!

Fugrim stepped forward, blocking Sanjeres's heavy blow. As a master swordsman, he took a step back to give himself more room to wield his flaming sword as the short sword began to swing.

Fogrem only saw the afterimage of Saint Geres, whose golden wings arrived in an instant. Fogrem smiled; here, he was the master!

He.......粑〓舞□⊙；liu陆-弎'●≡∠￡■耳QｑuN：

Saintess's spear met Fugrim's short sword, and a violent explosion occurred around them due to the energy of both sides. Mentally, Saintess's intense fighting spirit made Fugrim look terrified, simply because he saw Saintess's hand gripping his flaming sword tightly.

"This is impossible!"

Fugrim exclaimed in amazement, "This is clearly a fantasy, but how could it be possible?"

"bird......"

Before Fogrem could finish speaking, Saint Geres's fist, which had completely woken Fogrem up, swung out. The two collided, and Fogrem felt as if he had just had a nightmare!

His head remained in place, but his entire body flew through the air and then landed on the stage like a large sandbag.

Fugrim felt the bones in his face shatter, but it was an illusion, and such an intense feeling couldn't be real!

"Birdman?"

Saint Jeremy coldly pressed the spear against Forgrim's neck.

"You fancy and flashy thing."

The angel mocked, using his spear to knock the flaming sword from Fogrem's hand, and gestured for Fogrem to stand up.

"Impossible, you couldn't be that fast."

Saint Jeremy walked around Fugrim.

"Yes, I shouldn't have been this fast, but you shouldn't have been this slow either."

"Master of swordsmanship."

The moment Saint Jeremy arrived at the side of Fugrim.

"I'm the fastest!"

Fugrim suddenly sprang to his feet, pouncing on Saint Geres like a wild beast. (Three-zero: ◆-⊙)

"I am the most perfect!!!!"

Fugrim couldn't believe it—how could a mere fantasy have defeated him!

So easy!

Your pride is worthless!

Saint Geres grabbed Forgrim's arm, feathers brushing against Forgrim's face. He shrieked, trying to wake himself from the nightmare. He saw fangs growing on Saint Geres's face, like a vampire!

There is never absolute perfection in this world!