Warhammer: This Galen's Heart of Steel

Chapter 124: Angron is no longer angry

".The first time I met my sister, the eldest princess of the Empire and the future heir to the Holy Emperor, was at the Horn Slope in Nuthria.

Childish and cute, just like the cotton in the old cotton-padded jacket that Oenomaus gave me, a small white ball, curled up only the size of my palm.

However, Galen Mianwei kept warning me that Laxana was the eldest daughter of the Mianwei family, not your sister, and pushed me to stay away from her.

This will not work. I like that child, she is simple, kind, and a little dark. Most importantly, after using psychic energy to absorb her negative emotions, I saw the heart of that child, who was experiencing similar sufferings as me, but always faced the world with a smile.

Perhaps, this is the reason why she cannot grow up. When people grow up, they will lose something, something important.

To be honest, there is no lack of comparison in the mind. I, Angron, the King of Red Sand, the leader of the World Eaters, the most powerful warrior in the empire, can't be inferior to a little girl?
I began to resist the butcher's nails buzzing in my head. How could the great king of red sand be controlled by such tricky tools!
I did it, and I broke free of some kind of shackle, and instead of the pointless anger, I began to feel another emotion - peace."

——Excerpt from "My Nuserian Times"

Author: Angron

The raging red sand covered the sky, the King of Red Sand roared angrily, the butcher's nails in his skull clanged, and the battle axe hung high. He could not absorb the negative emotions, which made him painful.

The slave of Nuseria chose to end this disaster in the simplest and most brutal way by cutting off the little girl's head.

The psychic Dabu hit him one after another, and slapped him with thorny palms. The rocky skin of the Son of the Mountain was eroded into a naked Danxia landform.

Even if the Emperor had done this, he could not change the will of the Son of the Mountain. Tears of blood flowed from his pupils, and the sharp blade of the battle axe bit the air, pointing directly at the goose neck as white as blood fat.

"No! Angron, the voice is right, you can do it!"

"Yes, Angron. We believe you."

"Just like you promised, you would lead us to chop off the heads of slave owners, and we did it! Now what? Lead us to do it."

"We're with you! What's there to be afraid of?"

A pair of arms suddenly stretched out to hold up the falling elbows, followed by the second pair, the third pair, and the fourth pair.
His brothers and sisters, not knowing how to break free from the control of the blood-colored psychic energy, stopped crying, and came to Angron's side.

"you."

Angron looked at them and his throat tightened. His brothers and sisters stood beside him, as he had seen so many times in his dreams.

Resistance, struggling resistance.

Ever since that nail pierced my head!

Ever since his adoptive father Onomamus was torn to pieces by his own hands!
He resisted standing shoulder to shoulder with his brothers and sisters, and the constant, crazy rage like the endless gale of Heather Canyon would hurt them.

How long?
How much time has passed?
It feels like a century has passed.

Angron's tense right arm muscles relaxed, and he let go.

boom!
The battle axe in his hand smashed into the hard rock, leaving a permanent mark.

He opened his hands and blood flowed down his arms.

He looked at his brothers and sisters, and his heart, which had been restless for centuries, suddenly felt calm, as if it were still water.

It's back again.

All are back.

Angron's left arm felt cool, as if it was touched by something light.

The closed eyes slowly opened, then suddenly widened, and the slow heartbeat trembled for a moment.

It was a face, one of countless faces, all familiar. Each one was imprinted in Angron's tightened heart and treasured deep in his distant memory.

"My child, I am proud of you. You have overcome the nightmare in your heart."

The spirit of Onomamus reached out and gently stroked his son's weathered face.

"What I want to tell you is, kid, I never blame you."

"We don't blame you, Angron."

"You did it. I knew you could do it!" One after another, hazy spirits appeared behind Onomamus. They were all Angron's brothers and sisters. Some died at the hands of slave owners, some died in bloody fights, and some died in his hands.

"call--"

Angron kept his arms raised, his neck tilted back, his face toward the sky, two lines of hot tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

Once again, decades passed, seeming like centuries.

The Lord of Red Sand began to feel emotions other than anger.

A special psychic light extends outward from the solid chest muscles and the vigorously beating heart.

Like a layer of dreamy colorful film, it wrapped around the crying Lux.

Those sorrows that tear at your heart and flesh, those pains that tear and gnaw at your soul.

Lux broke the cracked soil of her heart, and a pool of clean spring water watered the dry soil.

New buds sprout from green branches, and all things are reborn.

The blood-red light that permeated the entire Nuseria brought with it a renewed sacred and noble aura, as warm as a rising sun.

The earth, the ocean, and the sky returned to peace in an instant.

Angron lay on his back, panting, looking at the clear blue sky and the dazzling sunlight. It seemed unreal.

"What's going on here?"

Khârn stared in confusion at the rock ahead, where his Primarch was supposed to have stood, accepting the loyalty of his scion.

Where is my Primarch?
How could I be such a big Primarch?

panic.

His heart almost stopped beating and he hurriedly turned his head to look around.

relieved.

The original body had walked down the hillside at some point and was now lying on the hillside basking in the sun.

His brothers and sisters lay beside him.

It’s good to be here!

Um?what is that?
Kahn keenly noticed that on the primarch's chest, there was a white round object lying on his solid pectoral muscles like granite.

Looking closely, it is a pair of curled white wings.

It's the wings of Her Royal Highness the Princess!

However, it seems to be much longer than before.

Before, it was so tiny in size. Every time he saw it trying to fly, Kahn wondered if it could take off and if its little wings would break due to the effort it put into flapping its wings.

Now, the wings are much wider and can be woven into a white cocoon, and Lux ​​curls up in the cocoon to sleep.

If she were to release the spiritual energy that blinded the entire planet in a short period of time, her vast sea of ​​spiritual energy would be drained and she would feel tired.

"What should I do now?"

A War Dog, oh no, World Eater asked in a low voice.

Kahn glanced at the Primarch lying quietly, then at the World Eaters that lined the hillside, all looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to make a decision.

After thinking for a moment, Kahn conveyed this message with tactical gestures.

Lie down! Get some sun!

(End of this chapter)