Warhammer, about my years with the Wolfpack

"We follow you, Primarch," said a man with a Butcher's Nail on his head. "Because, for those of us who have actively approached you, there's no turning back." Meanwhile, many Warhound officers and soldiers hesitated, avoiding Angron's gaze. Clearly, Perturabo's words were more convincing. Just look at what Angron did after his return. Anyone with a reasonable mind realized that their Primarch's return was not a blessing, but a curse.

In the distance, with the arrival of the Lord of Radiance's fleet, the powerful military force and public opinion offensive have made many officers and soldiers of the War Dog Legion make a choice. They sent a signal of willingness to accept, and then sailed their warships towards the Fourth Legion. The warships turned off the void shield, quietly arrived at the designated position, and accepted the supervision of friendly forces.

"My lord, you must make a decision. We either surrender or stop the traitors and give it a try!" Looking at the dwindling fleet, Rotara Salin said anxiously.

"I will never surrender! I will end this war in my own way!" Angron shook his head frantically when he heard the word "surrender", then he picked up the communicator.

"Perturabo! If you are here to kill me, then you may do so. If you are here to defeat me, then we can choose a fair way of fighting. You say I am hypocritical, you say I am cruel, then I will let you see the perseverance and bravery of a gladiator! You and I, your descendants and my brothers, we will land on this planet and have a showdown. No tanks and heavy artillery, let us solve all problems with battle axes and blades. Do you dare?" Angron issued a challenge.

"Haha, use battle axes and sharp blades? Our father gave you artillery, tanks and fleets, but in the end you used these things to fight. The reason you use battle axes and sharp blades is definitely not because you are brave, but because you are good at it. What you call bravery is to make the other party accept your conditions?" Perturabo laughed.

"However, for a coward and slave like you, I don't mind what conditions you put forward. I will duel with you personally. We will all wear armor and not use any long-range weapons. We will engage in close combat. But my descendants will not waste their lives in vain. I will bring my descendants, my masterpiece, to this planet. As long as you deploy infantry, I will not carry tanks and heavy artillery. Your descendants can use the weapons they think they should use. Then we will have a battle and let me see how much strength the War Dog Legion, branded with the Butcher's Nails, has in the past!" Perturabo said.

"What if I win?" Angron said with a fighting spirit.

"If you win, I will leave immediately with my legion," Perturabo said. "And if I win?"

"I, my legion, all my descendants and subordinates are at your disposal!" said Angron.

"Very good. We will meet in one Terran Day. I hope you can behave better." Perturabo said with a smile. In Perturabo's opinion, the current situation is the best outcome, a solution that can solve the problem at the lowest cost!

The Warhounds must be preserved as best they can, but at the same time, the remaining poison left by Angron must also be eradicated. This poison, on the one hand, refers to those who closely follow Angron, their minds consumed with murder. On the other hand, it stems from the Primarch's influence over the Scions. Regarding the former, there's no need to hesitate; eliminate them if possible. Regarding the latter, the goal is naturally to weaken Angron's influence and make the Warhounds see for themselves what they truly are: a mad, bloodthirsty butcher, a thug who only seeks to inflict his own misfortunes on the Scions and other innocents.

Based on this idea, Perturabo first engaged Angron in a verbal battle, attempting to divide and weaken his opponent. Then, he agreed to Angron's terms: both sides would bring their followers, with Angron bringing the diehards of the Legion, for a limited engagement. Perturabo would defeat his opponent with both words and fists!

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"Perturabo, will Angron keep his promise?" The Lord of Radiance came to Perturabo's cabin. At this time, the Lord of Steel had already arranged the battle plan and was making final preparations before the battle.

"He will definitely keep his promise. If he doesn't, I will kill him. I already feel greatly insulted to have such a so-called brother. He is an unreasonable beast. If he doesn't even have the last bit of vanity and shame, then he has no value in existence." Perturabo said indifferently.

"I've looked at the information of the troops participating in the battle, and it seems that my subordinates and I are not included in it?" The Lord of Radiance said after thinking for a moment. Just now, when checking the battle sequence, the Lord of Radiance unexpectedly discovered that all those participating were Perturabo's descendants and iron ring robots.

"You don't need to participate in this battle." Perturabo looked at the Lord of Radiance.

"Why? With me and my subordinates here, the battle will go very smoothly. We can return home in an hour at most." asked the Lord of Glory.

"I will defeat him with my own might. I will lead my finest brood, my creations, to defeat the butchers of Angron. I will break his spine with my hammer. He is my brother after all, and those traitorous warhounds have served the Great Crusade well. I will give them an honorable death," said Perturabo.

"That's a bit of a stretch," said the Lord of Radiance. "It doesn't align with your past actions. You've always been a staunch efficiency advocate."

"I really want to give Angron some respect. Of course, this is just one of the reasons." Perturabo waved his hand, and all the attendants and servants left the room.

"You are very powerful, more powerful than I am now, but I think that you are willing to follow me because you value not only the present me and my legion, but also my potential. If I want to develop my potential, I must face some things on my own. I need to grow, I need to be honed and forged. I can't always rely on your strength and knowledge. If I do, I will only become more and more dependent on you, and limit my own potential. From your point of view, what you need is a partner who can make progress together, not a baby who is always inferior to you and needs your care." Perturabo said meaningfully.

"Well, that's a good reason," the Lord of Radiance said with a look of satisfaction. "You're right. I need a companion with whom I can move forward together. Not someone I need to constantly look after. Perturabo, there will come a day when you will need to face the deepest darkness in the galaxy alone."

"What do you mean?" Perturabo frowned.

"You're in good shape now. Keep going. In time, you'll understand what I mean," the Lord of Radiance said, patting Perturabo on the shoulder. As the saying goes, everything has a price. If the Traveler wants to become a god, he can't reside in the real universe permanently. And what about the Lord of Radiance? His status is far inferior to the Traveler's. If the Traveler has transcended the realm of chess pieces and become the one playing the chess, then the Lord of Radiance is at best a larger chess piece. Right now, humanity's luck is with me, so it's nothing. But a hundred years from now, when luck reverses, the Chaos Gods will surely deal with the Lord of Radiance. While the Emperor and the Traveler may protect his true form, the same cannot be said for this clone. Some price must be paid.

"We will be together forever," Perturabo said. He recalled the rumors, things Jonson had accidentally or deliberately leaked. Something about ancient beings, even predecessors said to rival the Emperor. Perturabo had heard stories of their power, their dedication and sacrifice. Somehow, Perturabo felt that the Lord of Radiance had something in common with certain people.

"I'm ready for action," Perturabo said after putting on his helmet.

"Then I wish you immediate success!" The Lord of Radiance said with a smile, waving his hand. Meanwhile, in a higher dimension, the Traveler and the Emperor were also watching this duel, the outcome of which was already predetermined.

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"Trust me, Traveler, this is not the outcome I intended." A trace of sadness etched itself in the Emperor's words. "Angron was not like this before the Butcher's Nails struck him. Was it the Butcher's Nails, or the Khorne curse that afflicted them, that caused him to become what he is now?"

"Khorne doesn't need to think; He simply wants to slaughter," the Traveler sighed. Before being struck with the Butcher's Nails, Angron could truly be called a good brother. But alas, when fate forced him to make the decision, whether to kill his adoptive father or be struck with the Butcher's Nails, he ultimately fell into darkness. Khorne's reputation as the strongest evil god was well-earned. His methods were direct and brutal, devoid of temptation or subterfuge, simply crude and brutal. Yet, this was precisely what made him the most difficult to deal with.

Of course, Khorne's brutal, direct approach did have its problems. After all, many things in the world require careful consideration, and Angron, driven by an excessive bloodlust, had several counterproductive effects during the Heresy. For example, during the Isstvan III Massacre, Horus's original plan was to lure the loyalists to the planet's surface and then destroy them with his fleet. However, Angron led the charge, and Horus clearly couldn't stand Angron's presence. Thus, the originally simple battle turned into a bloody engagement. It's fair to say that loyalty was a form of detour.

"If..." the Emperor began.

"I know what you mean. Horus cannot be saved. His fate is sealed. His rebellion will mark the beginning of his destiny, and his death will mark the end of it. Lorgar is equally difficult to save. He was chosen by the four gods, and he himself is extremely opposed to it. If there is a chance to destroy him in the future, it would be a very good outcome. There are only four left, and we can try to save some of them. From easiest to hardest, they are Fulgrim, Magnus, Mortarion, and finally Angron."

"If nothing unexpected happens, we can finally get a part of Fulgrim, and there is also hope for Magnus. As for Mortarion? His resistance to you is almost impossible to eliminate. Not to mention Angron." The traveler sighed.

"I understand," said the Emperor.

Chapter 299 Your Rage Is Not Worth a Thing! (6K)

"Perturabo, I have brought 999 of my brothers here, willing to fight for me and challenge our hypocritical father! I will slaughter all your descendants. Of course, as my brother, I will spare you this time." Angron walked at the head of the column, followed by his descendants who were willing to stand by him. Among them were ordinary Legion officers and soldiers, as well as Dreadnoughts. The entire force formed a huge crescent.

Perturabo's rhetoric proved effective. Ultimately, only a handful of Warhounds were willing to follow Angron into this showdown. These were largely those whose minds were pierced by a nail, consumed by their bloodlust. After all, Angron's return had been relatively recent, and his influence was limited. Within the Legion, there was still considerable resistance to this bloodthirsty butcher. Furthermore, the Emperor had clearly stated his stance. The vast majority of the Legion chose to submit.

Originally, Angron had planned to lead 2000 men to a decisive battle, but fewer than half of them were willing to obey. It was clear that Angron and his followers were a tiny minority. If Angron dared to threaten his scions with his battle axe, he and his loyalists would likely be eliminated by other scions loyal to the Emperor before Perturabo could even make a move. Furthermore, given Angron's current pride, he was unwilling to use violence to force his scions into battle.

Angron wasn't stupid. When the two sides agreed to fight, they had already agreed on the number and specifications of personnel each side could bring. They could bring deployers and some Dreadnoughts. Each side would have around 2000 men. Then, they would fight with equal numbers. However, Perturabo arrived with 2000 Legionnaires and hoop droids, while Angron only brought half that number...

"Angron, you are unpopular! Your descendants agree with me more. You intimidate them with violence and control them with blasphemous thoughts, but everything you do is as illusory as a puff of smoke in the face of the justice of the Emperor and the righteousness of mankind. If you are willing to surrender at this time and let me bring you back to your father, I can guarantee the safety of your descendants." Perturabo said magnanimously.

Perturabo knew that Angron would not surrender, but he still gave him one last chance. After all, as the Emperor's messenger, he needed to use both kindness and force. Everything he did was for the silent officers and soldiers of the War Dog Legion to see.

"Stop trying to deceive others with your vicious words." Angron raised his axe and was about to swing it when Perturabo made a gesture to stop him.

"I won't take advantage of you, Angron. Give me some time. I need to withdraw some of my scions from this battle. I don't want anyone to describe this battle in the future as using numbers to bully the weak." Perturabo made a point of it. He removed the vast majority of the legion's officers and soldiers from the battle line, leaving the front line entirely composed of various iron-ring robots. This was not only a clear statement of Perturabo's attitude, but also to reduce casualties among his scions. After all, robots could be easily replaced after being destroyed.

"You are a warrior, a true warrior." Angron fell silent as he watched the Iron Warriors being divided. He saluted Perturabo. Despite the resentment and anger he harbored, he had to admit that, at this moment, his brother Perturabo was truly honorable. He had forsaken what could have been an easy victory. Of course, with Angron's skill, he couldn't fathom the terrifying power of the iron ring robots accompanying Perturabo. While they were far inferior to the Lord of Radiance's Extinction Relics, these powerful four-meter-tall battle robots were actually more powerful than ordinary Dreadnoughts.

"Form a formation!" As Perturabo raised the war hammer in his hand, the Iron Ring robots began to move quickly. The defensive Iron Ring robots carrying power hammers and heavy stand shields walked to the first row first. They held up a huge explosion-proof shield in one hand and a heavy composite weapon in the other hand. Unlike the Iron Ring robots in the background that used gravity hammers as melee weapons, the standard equipment of the Iron Ring robots now is a power spear that combines heavy bolter cannons and stand blades.

Their shoulders and backs were loaded with a vast array of equipment, including lasers, plasma, and gravity-assisted weapons. With the command given, gears and hydraulics shifted gears, and the cannons and lasers once carried on their backs were thrust onto their shoulders, their thick muzzles trained on the charging Warhounds in the distance. Behind the Iron Ring robots formed several solid rows of fortifications, followed by the Iron Hands legionnaires, who provided auxiliary command of these battle robots and long-range firepower.

As the Iron Ring robots and Iron Warriors deployed, a distinct atmosphere of murderous intent spread. These towering killing machines formed a steel wall. Dense arrays of guns and cannons jutted out from behind thick blast shields, pointing into the distance like the horns of a behemoth. Behind these robots, scores of Iron Warriors unleashed their Legion's unique weaponry: multi-purpose missile launchers, mobile weapon platforms, and other equipment unseen by ordinary Legions. The entire formation resembled an ancient beast gradually awakening, stretching its body and claws, gazing at its prey in the distance.

"Well, not bad at all, my sons. Do not disappoint me! Do not disappoint the Emperor! They are rebels! I gave them a chance, and in the end, the moment they took up arms and stood before us, they should not be forgiven! No mercy, no forgiveness!" Perturabo's words were as cold as steel. In today's battle, Perturabo intended only to take Angron with him!

"Armored and steely!" This is how the sons of Perturabo responded to their Primarch!

Then, Perturabo swung his hammer once more, and the massive army began to slowly move forward. With a chilling and indescribable sense of oppression, they pressed forward towards Angron and his loyalists!

Meanwhile, a flurry of activity inevitably erupted on the opposing front. An inexplicable atmosphere spread among the self-proclaimed World Eaters, many of them battle-hardened veterans. The moment they saw the Iron Warriors' formations unfold, they knew they couldn't win. The battlefield instincts cultivated through hundreds of battles imbued them with an immediate sense of impending danger. They glanced at the distant forest of guns and artillery, then at their power weapons and bolters, and their hopes immediately faded.

"Prepare for the attack! I will lead the charge! Don't be afraid of them! When I faced those high-ranking knights in Nukaia, they were even more ferocious and brutal than the enemy. But we killed them with courage and sharp blades. In just over ten hours, we defeated them." Although Angron was tortured by the Butcher's Nails at this time, he still had reason and judgment. He had already sensed the enemy's strength and his own hesitation. He had to launch an attack before morale dropped.

Meanwhile, on a higher plane, a certain crimson evil god also gazed upon the battlefield. He couldn't wait to flood the earth with blood—his own and his enemies'! He roared, a bloodthirsty aura spreading from the heavens. A phantom approached the battlefield, subtly affecting the already adrenaline-fueled World Eaters.

"Gladiators! Attack!" Angron roared, a heart-shaking roar. Then, as if influenced by some unknown force, all his followers howled, weapons raised, and charged at the distant enemy. At that moment, their minds were empty, filled only with bloodlust and the desire for slaughter.

"Charge! Bloody battle! Skulls!" Khorne's projection cried out excitedly as he watched Angron bravely charge into the enemy lines. He could already sense Angron's surging fighting spirit and bloodlust. He desperately wanted to tear open the veil between reality and the Warp, seeking to bestow his attention and blessings. However, at this moment, the Khorne projection failed to notice that a golden figure holding a great sword suddenly appeared behind him.

"What is that?" Khorne, the God of War, was the first to spot the attacker behind him. However, he was still a step too slow to react. As he turned furiously, gathering the blood-red axe in his hand, a golden object slammed into Khorne's clone! The golden divine power, emitting a cold and vengeful aura, smashed the phantom into pieces!

"Abomination! You villain!" As his figure disappeared, Khorne's roar echoed in the warp.

"Get lost! You bastard! Don't you know what's happening?" The Emperor sneered. "Fortune is with me now, and humanity will prosper." Protected by luck and destiny, the Emperor successfully outwitted Khorne this time.

"Ah..." The Emperor, having completed the backstab, looked at the battle below and shook his head helplessly. Meanwhile, although the influence from the Warp had dissipated, the two sides had already engaged in battle.

"Fire! Crush them!" Perturabo commanded, and countless shells and missiles flew from the Iron Warriors' ranks, far beyond the range of the World Eaters' weapons. They traced graceful yet deadly arcs through the air, careening towards the distant World Eaters. Seconds later, walls of flame rose from the World Eaters' ranks, illuminating the earth with brilliant light. Amidst explosions and wailing cries, hordes of World Eaters were blasted to smithereens, some even cremated, leaving nothing behind, soul or flesh.

Fragments of ceramite, shattered weapons, and limbs were scattered through the air by the seething blast, raining down in a shower of rain. This time, the Iron Warriors slaughtered their foes with their usual efficiency. The ferocious fire ripped through the World Eaters' formation, leaving them shattered. Yet, driven by fear, rage, and the instinct for survival, they fought on. In the rear, World Eaters, armed with heavy weapons, and ranged Dreadnoughts, fought back with difficulty amidst the hail of steel, providing cover for their comrades charging forward. A flurry of lasers and explosive rounds pierced the thick blast shields of the Iron Ring Robots, creating tiny ripples in their shields. The immense impact didn't even cause the Iron Guardians to retreat.

Perturabo stood at the front, his eyes fixed on Angron, who was charging in the distance. He didn't devote even a fraction of his energy to Angron's descendants, believing his own creations and descendants could easily handle them. He also didn't direct the Iron Ring Robots to focus their fire on Angron, because that was his target, and he wanted to deal with his brothers personally.

"A monster." Perturabo's eyes narrowed slightly as he saw a twisted figure behind Angron. It was a blood-red shadow, emitting an ominous and bloody smell. The evil within it made Perturabo sick. He tightened his grip on his warhammer, his fighting spirit growing stronger.

Facing Angron, charging like a giant beast, Perturabo didn't flinch. He stood firm, waiting for his target to enter the range of his hammer. With a fury of wind and bloodlust, Angron rushed forward, Widowmaker raised high in his hand, slashing fiercely at Perturabo's shoulder. The latter didn't try to dodge, but adjusted his stance to best meet the blow!

Bang! With a fierce blow from the chainsaw axe, the spinning gears and disassembled parts smashed into Perturabo's thick shoulder armor. The sharp axe blade sliced ​​through the outer armor and severed the wiring inside. The huge impact caused Perturabo, who was covered in heavy armor, to stagger slightly. The huge impact was transmitted to the ground, smashing countless cracks in the originally dry and hard earth.

"Well, my brother, a gladiator's axe is just that sharp." Angron grinned as he continued to push harder, driving the axe into the blade. (In this article, Angron uses a two-handed battle axe. Angron has many weapons; Blood Father and Blood Son are just two of his more famous ones.)

"It's just necessary tempering." Perturabo watched calmly as steel as the axe bit into his shoulder armor. Then, with his right hand, he swung the Hammer of Olympia fiercely. With Angron already exhausted and unable to dodge, Perturabo's hammer smashed into Angron's body like a meteorite.

At this moment, Angron unexpectedly found that he had stepped into the opponent's trap. Perturabo used his tough body and heavy armor to block his attack and blocked his weapon. Now, unless he let go of the weapon, he could only take the blow. Angron tried his best to dodge and avoid the hammer that was originally flying towards his head, but in the end, Perturabo's counterattack successfully hit half of his body!

Like a meteorite striking the ground, accompanied by a sonic boom from the hammer's swing, Angron and his axe were sent flying, thrown like a sack by his opponent. Even after he landed, the immense impact still caused him to slide several meters along the ground.

Angron, smitten with blows, struggled to his feet. His upper left side was a bloody mess, and the excruciating pain ravaged him. His ribs and internal organs were undoubtedly damaged, and his modified gladiator armor offered insufficient protection. He gasped, struggling, and once again raised his axe. Just then, Perturabo charged forward like a charging Titan, swinging his hammer once more. A moment later, the Widowmaker and the Olympian Hammer collided in mid-air, a powerful decomposition field erupting with a roar, and bolts of lightning twisted and swirled through the air. The combined force caused both to pause briefly. After adjusting themselves, the two Primarchs attacked again.

"Angron, you are a slave, from the beginning. Before, you were dominated by your slave masters, but now you are dominated by rage and the darkness within you." As the attacks continued, Perturabo never forgot to vent his anger. He was furious that Angron, his brother, had succumbed to his own rage. He was furious that Angron had been possessed by some entity. He swung his hammer continuously, colliding with the opponent's weapons or bodies. He cared little for the wounds Angron's axe inflicted on him. Perturabo believed himself to be the Iron Warrior's battle cry: Strong within and without!

At this time, in the battle with Perturabo, Angron was already at a disadvantage. His armor was naturally no match for the armor that Perturabo had built himself, with the technical support provided by the Lord of Radiance. The weapon he mentioned was also too simple compared to the Hammer of Olympia. The courage that Angron advocated was nothing more than that in the eyes of Perturabo, because the latter was also full of anger. Angron was dominated by anger, while Perturabo controlled anger.

"I am a man who fights against fate. The rest of you were born to be imprisoned and beaten. You are kings, generals, and people in high positions of power, but I am not. I am a gladiator! A humble man in your eyes, I fight and struggle all the time." Angron panted as he struggled to resist Perturabo's attack.

"Our father gave you a chance, a powerful Legion, to rescue others who suffered like you from the abyss of pain. But you have failed him, bringing them unnecessary suffering. You have transformed your pain into slaughter, spreading across the other planets of the galaxy. You have become dominated by your own misfortune. The Warhounds are tainted by your actions!" Perturabo once again blocked the opponent's axe with his hammer, and with a thrust upward, he opened the gap. Seizing this opportunity, Perturabo raised his left hand, and the power fist bearing the symbol of the Salamander crackled!

"Wake up, Angron!" Perturabo strode forward and delivered a powerful uppercut, catching Angron squarely in the chin. The impact was like a heavy tank slamming into Angron, already battered and bruised. This blow worsened the already wounded Angron, becoming the straw that broke the camel's back! Angron was once again sent flying, then slammed hard to the ground. The dizziness from the repeated blows nearly robbed Angron of control. The Butcher's Nail bit by bit into his brain, trying to force him to stand up and fight again, but the result was only a helpless struggle and twisting of his body.

"It's over, Angron, it's all over." Perturabo's body was also covered in wounds, and the long battle had left him equally exhausted. After a pause, confirming that the other party could not fight back, he walked over, kicked the battle axe away from Angron's hand, and then reached out and took out an object.

"Stay here, calm down, and think about whether you are wrong." Then, a stasis field imprisoned Angron. Perturabo would bring him back to the Iron Blood, treat his injuries, and then imprison him.

By this time, the great battle between the two scions had concluded. All the World Eaters had been annihilated, with Perturabo's army suffering some losses of Iron Ring droids and minimal losses of Legionnaires.

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"Are you busy? Aren't you tired? You can take a rest first." The Lord of Radiance was summoned as soon as Perturabo returned to the flagship.

"Because this matter is very important. I sensed a certain stench of the Warp within Angron. He was affected, tainted." Perturabo then informed the Lord of Radiance of what he had seen and heard. Although the Lord of Steel was deeply resistant to psychic powers, under the influence of the Lord of Radiance and higher powers, Perturabo was actually awakening his own essence. Although it was slow, it was beginning to show results. He could already keenly detect the presence of the evil god.

"You have existed for too long and have witnessed the glory and subsequent decline of mankind. You should know what this is, right?" The Lord of Steel looked at the Lord of Glory.

"Huh... They are indescribable existences in the warp, the echo of brutality, blood, corruption and conspiracy in history, the embodiment of all evil, our greatest enemy and the enemy of civilization." The Lord of Glory said carefully.

"Can't we destroy it?" Perturabo asked.

"They are beings from a higher dimension. Your father and his companions have been fighting against this unspeakable force. In the mortal world, even mentioning their names could cause severe pollution. If you wish to know more, you can ask your father. He will selectively share some information with you. Do not overestimate your own power and will, Perturabo. Too many beings have been defeated by the great enemy of the void due to excessive optimism."

"That's all I can say. Forgive me, my friend." The Lord of Radiance said sincerely.

"Well, it seems that you didn't live very comfortably back then. Is that why you returned to human civilization?" Perturabo scolded with a smile.

"I guess so. Although I don't want to admit it, this is indeed an important reason." The Lord of Glory sighed and said.

"Haha, you're still not strong enough." Perturabo laughed and stopped dwelling on these issues.

Chapter 300: Russ, the cheat has expired, you should work hard on your own

"My lord, the Eldar messenger has delivered the weapons." The Endless Journey appeared beside the traveler and bowed.

"Haha, it's time," the Traveler said with a complex mood. At this moment, He was finally about to take the final step. The Spear of Dawn had been delivered to Him by the Eldar gods. This meant He was about to engage in a final battle with the Randan Overlord, slaying him with this Eldar artifact, and then elevating it into a true weapon capable of killing gods. After accomplishing this, the Traveler would soar high into the heavens, holding the Kingdom of God aloft. He would gaze upon the world for the long years to come. This was His destiny, a reward for tens of thousands of years of hardship and suffering, a responsibility, or perhaps even a curse.

"Okay, you go down first. I'll take care of some things." said the traveler.

"I will follow your orders, my lord." Endless Journey bowed and saluted.

--------

"The time is a bit rushed." The traveler said with some regret. For His reincarnation this time, it was only a few decades. It can be said that it was the shortest time among His reincarnations. Before becoming a true god, He actually still had a lot of things to do. He wanted to remind Ferrus that the armor around his neck must be thicker and not to associate with the purple show-off. He wanted to remind Guilliman not to go to the battlefield if he could avoid it, and not to write a bunch of self-righteous charters when he had nothing to do. He wanted to remind Jonson to have a better temper and treat Caliban well. However, the reality was that He did not have that much time to stay here. His essence and body had to leave the real universe, and the remaining time could only be measured in days.

Of course, the most important thing was that the Traveler had to make some arrangements for Russ. He was still somewhat concerned about his ally. Furthermore, he had some plans for his brother's future. The Primarch was naturally powerful, but he could be even stronger. Given Russ's conditions, becoming a true god was difficult, but becoming a true demigod was certainly possible. And some things could be communicated to him now.

"Russ, your friend is calling you," the traveler whispered, and a wave of divine power spread. A moment later, Russ, who was resting, suddenly felt his mind enter a strange dimension. Then, he saw his long-lost ally. The other's voice seemed remarkably similar to Balder's, but in Rus's perception, it was a giant blue being radiating a dazzling brilliance.

--------

"Your voice and some of your aura are very similar to my ally," Russ said, looking at the blue giant before him. In this ancient yet imposing hall, Russ was somewhat surprised to find that he did not feel the slightest sense of unease or danger in such an unfamiliar place, as if a part of his spirit and perception had been stripped away.

"Balder? I am him. He is a part of me, a part of my humanity," the traveler's projection looked at Rus. The traveler did not pull Rus's soul in front of him. Perhaps the archangel with godhood could look directly at him, but Rus could not, at least not now.

"Gods?" Rus's tone was a little vague. As someone born in Fenris, Rus wasn't particularly opposed to gods. After all, Fenris was full of clutter, and Rus's spirit had already grown somewhat sluggish. Furthermore, Fenris was not short of myths and legends.

"I guess so." The traveler sighed inwardly after saying this. He had sensed that Russ had realized many things, and the relationship between them was different from before. Before, there were two people on both sides, but now, one was a human and the other was a god... The latter was an existence that the former could hardly understand.

"You can still call me Balder. My brother," said the traveler.

"Hahaha, I knew it. Even though we're no longer the same, we're still friends." Ruth laughed heartily, and the sadness in her heart was relieved a lot.

"My powerful ally, can you tell me something about the future? During my expedition, I've discovered many inexplicable horrors. That terrifying artificial planet that once hovered high above Fenris was like this. The malice emanating from the Sea of ​​Souls and the strange worship I'm experiencing make me even more uneasy," Russ said. Russ knew that Balder, or perhaps a certain current deity, hadn't sought him out simply to chat, and he needed to use this opportunity to learn more. After all, during the Great Crusade, Russ in this dimension had already discerned a hidden evil.

In reality, the Chaos Four Gods' infiltration of the real universe never ceased, and some civilizations indeed worshipped evil gods. These traces were evident, and Russ, after undergoing numerous baptisms and receiving the blessings of travelers, had indeed made progress. He had vaguely sensed some of these shadows and recognized the dangers, so he eagerly sought answers.

"The future is not set yet, but we can see some of its branches." The Traveler pondered for a moment, and even used this time to call the Emperor. Afterwards, the Traveler decided to tell Rus some truths. About Magnus's folly in another timeline, about the Burning of Pronspero, and about some of his grievances with Horus.

"This is a timeline." The traveler waved his hand, and the majestic divine power completely blocked the perception of all outer gods. Then he sent some information into Rus's mind.

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"Impossible!" Russ's eyes fluttered open after a moment, and red soul flames emanated from his seven orifices. "My brother was bewitched, and I was exploited! I made a grave mistake. I even destroyed my own legion because of my excessive ego..." Russ collapsed to the ground, unable to stand due to overwhelming panic, loss, and regret.

Honestly, Rus's performance was practically the worst of the Loyalists in the background... Ferrus, Klax, and Vulkan had no choice; they were outmaneuvered and lost nearly their entire Legion, with Ferrus even losing his own life. But Rus's performance was even worse. Originally, after Magnus's folly, there was still room for maneuver: simply take the pony back and leave it alone. But in the end, Rus's actions destroyed the entire Thousand Sons Legion and dashed the Emperor's last hopes. And then, boarding Horus's flagship, he lost an entire Legion. If Rus had listened to Dorn and stayed on Terra, the defense of Terra would have included four Legions, tens of thousands of SMs, and a Primarch. In the end, even if he had boarded Horus's flagship, it would have been the Emperor himself with three Primarchs, and Rus's Spear of Dionysus had special attacks against Chaos...

"I'm really worried about you. There are so many cases where good intentions lead to the wrong outcome, only to compound the problem," the traveler thought. Of course, Magnus and Russ were also rivals. Even if Magnus had watched the entire rebellion without intervening, the outcome wouldn't have been worse than what's depicted in the background... Yet, Pony chose to help...