Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

+This is simply too bad: the battlefield is right in front of you, but you stay here. +

+Like a wild dog. +

+Like a coward. +

+ I long for blood, but I don’t get it. +

+ Listen to the war, but hesitate to move forward. +

"..."

Angron gasped for breath, and every breath he took was accompanied by a difficult cough and weak breath. Fortunately, in the crowd of saliva and bloody sputum, he could barely contain the stinking air that could keep him alive.

He gasped, he struggled: that was all he could do now.

Weakness, confusion, confusion, pain...

And maybe madness.

From the moment of his birth, the Primarch has never been more vulnerable than now. His face is covered with blood, from his eye sockets and nostrils, from the top of his head that he tore into bloody flesh: almost every inch His scalp was torn off by Angron in a beast-like wail of pain, but he still couldn't stop the Butcher's Nail from causing unprecedented pain in his head.

Nail thirsted for blood, and Nail scolded Angron to kill on the battlefield: he was so close to the endless blood, but he was always struggling to stay away from them, which was enough to make Nail and the owner of Nail furious.

That was enough to deserve Angron's punishment: hellish punishment.

The endless rage came from the Brass Throne, and was amplified a hundred times by the vicious Butcher's Nails. This invincible pain was enough to turn the former Son of the Mountain into a piece of rotten flesh struggling and twisting on the red sand.

Like a wild beast at the end of its rope.

Angron knelt on the ground. He was so weak that he couldn't even grab a handful of hot sand, or even moan. Thousands of nerves in his body were ruthlessly held in the palm of his hand by the Butcher's Nail. With every sting and every whipping, the words of the god of torture echoed in the primarch's mind for a long time, one sound louder than the other.

+ Pick it up. +

it scolded.

+ Pick up that axe. +

"..."

Angron could see the ax, it was not far away from the Primarch, he could reach it and pick it up with just a move of his fingers: he could feel the generosity of the Butcher's Nail in this regard, but whenever his body was If he moved in order to reach the battle axe, the Butcher's Nail wouldn't mind [mercifully] temporarily taking away the pain.

Such [mercy] may have lasted for a long time, but the creation of slavery is destined to be disappointed: no matter how it conveys the will of the Blood God, no matter how much it promises a future holding the battle axe, the original body can respond There is only silence for it and its god.

And... move forward.

Angron knelt on the ground, even though he was tortured to the point where he could hardly move: but he was still moving forward, painful, struggling, and extremely difficult. Every step had to pass through the blade of hell. To fight against rising anger.

But the Primarch was silent.

He said nothing.

He just moved on in silence.

Silently, he passed by the battle ax falling from the sky; silently, he gradually moved away from the gradually subdued war; silently, he looked at the mountain peak in the distance, and looked at what he felt, his battle Where brothers are: there they are.

They must be there.

Angron could feel: This is the bond between battle brothers, a chain that neither the Butcher's Nail nor the gods can break, and what is needed most to support the brutal will of the Primarch and the Butcher's Nail. is the only weapon he needs.

His brother...is still alive...

He must...go to them...

"..."

The blood dripped from the corner of Angron's mouth that was almost bitten into two parts. It was more dazzling than the red sand land in the shadow. In the howling wind, it dripped out an eye-catching path.

The original body panted. He coughed up bloody phlegm, wiped his saliva, and dug out the accumulated blood from his teeth, so that he could breathe as much fresh air as possible: every breath was building up strength for him. , every breath he took had to slightly relieve his painful muscles and prepare him for the next step forward.

He looked at the mountain range, his pupils shining with hope.

That was a color that made the Blood God angry.

"What are you waiting for? What are you still hesitating about? Can't you hear the call of the battlefield! Have you forgotten the courage of your brothers before they died! Didn't you swear to live and die with your fighting brothers? Die!"

"Don't hesitate any longer, pick up your battle ax: turn your fingers and bathe in the blood. The battlefield never rejects anyone, it is there waiting for you!"

"Remember, remember you were born to fight!"

"Listen, hear the roar of the Butcher's Nail! Reject it no more!"

Unprecedented pain, accompanied by the gnashing of the Blood God's last words, exploded in Angron's mind: Even the resolute Son of the Mountain had to roar in pain at this moment, and Angron's face twisted into A mask of madness, tears originating from biological instincts gushed out from his pupils that had long been blocked by blood scabs, leaving dry traces on the red sand under his knees.

But the Blood God has no mercy: it doesn't even bother to change its methods.

The Lord of the Brass Throne is the most vicious slave master in the stars. He whips the slaves he holds tightly in his hands, and personally pierces the sharpness of the Butcher's Nail deeply into the core of the original body's nervous system. It was a pain that even the descendants of the famous Emperor could not bear.

The Lord of Skull's fanatical violence was not without reason: even though Angron was already kneeling on the ground, he still gritted his teeth and crawled almost side by side, slowly moving his body on the sand.

The original body's head was drooped, as silent as a dead man, because he had been unable to say anything for a long time. He slowly, hard but stubbornly ignored the battle ax and allowed his arm to pass by. The sharp edge of the battle ax did not care about the open wounds.

Blood is flowing, but the wrath of the God of War continues unabated.

Because the Blood God knows that as long as Angron does not pick up this battle ax, he will never look at this bloodthirsty weapon again: as long as the slaves in the dungeon breathe the free air for a moment, they will never forget it again. Lost.

And time is not on the side of the Lord of the Brass Fortress: on the battlefield behind Angron, the Spider Queen is calculating every step of the killing so coldly and ruthlessly. She remotely controls the power of the three legions. Within an hour, all the suspense in the war had been settled.

The fortress has been breached, the streets have been cleared, and all the captured high-level riders are being thrown into the fire one after another. Their rich bodies and shrill wails only make this nameless fire burn more and more fiercely. It just swept the whole city: except for the war dogs who were still looking around in the ruins, no one cared about anything in this city.

Only those civilians who once cheered with bloodthirsty in the gladiatorial arena can hide in their simple shelters, rejoicing that the massacre is finally over, and those with active minds have even begun to covet the high-level knights. The wealth and status left behind.

They completely ignored the sarcasm in the eyes of the Dawnbreakers as they walked past their shabby hiding place: Morgan's descendants did not shoot at these civilians because there was no need to.

Long before the empire's troops carried out landing operations, the extermination orders on various battleships had been deployed: the Spider Queen did intend to limit the war to a certain range, but she never said that she would let the world go. any one.

After everything is over, the Extermination Order will be the only ending for this world.

The Lord of Avalon doesn't care whether there will be innocent souls under this extermination order.

Even if there is, so what?

Although Morgan's pupils are cold, she never lacks wantonness and violence: in the final analysis, she is not the same type of person as Guilliman or Vulkan. She is not afraid of massacre, nor is she afraid of creating the death knell of destruction with her own hands.

But this belated massacre is destined to not make the Blood God feel relieved: on the contrary, the anger on the Brass Throne is being burned more and more by the worries in the Blood God's heart.

It knew that if the Butcher's Nail did not bring the Children of the Mountain back to the battlefield, the war would cease: the Primarch of the Dawnbreaker was so good at coordinating different legions, even those with whom she had no tacit understanding. , can also be used skillfully by her, hiding behind the famous Horus, Ferus and Jonson, Morgan is also the master of war among the original bodies, if not the only one.

After all, in some aspects, even the Wolf Shepherd of the Lunar Wolf Legion does not have the [experience] of the Lord of Avalon: this is a little secret that few people know.

And now, Morgan has revealed this little secret. She directed a clean war. During the entire operation, the Spider Queen did not even miss a single loophole that was enough for the God of War to take advantage of. The exquisite spider web was like this Expelling the anger of disorder from the veil of subspace.

Therefore, on the throne built by the skulls of countless victims, the anger of the Blood God was entangled in a different kind of entanglement: maybe in the last second, it would involuntarily praise the Lord of Avalon for his war The strategy in his mind, admiring the beautiful cruel work of art she presented, but in the next second, its anger will rise again, resenting the coming of peace, and the fact that the things in his bag are getting smaller and smaller. to escape his grasp.

It could feel that the tiny Queen of Avalon was slowly prying open the fingers that were holding Angron until there was a gap enough for the Son of the Mountain to escape: and at this moment, the Blood God, Unexpectedly, he couldn't hold his five fingers again.

Because in the void, the vicious brothers and sisters of the Blood God are hiding in their respective kingdoms, sarcastically laughing at their brother's predicament, and each using their strength to make this predicament go to the next level.

Not to mention the Prince of Pleasure and the Lord of All Changes, even the God of Corruption in the garden is looking at the situation in Nuceria with great interest: Although there is no interest involved in this incident , but this does not mean that the loving father will honestly miss this opportunity to attack the Brass Throne.

And across the turbulent high sky, at the outermost level of the real universe, the blasphemer is standing on his flagship, while guarding the two directions of subspace and Nuceria: his army is ready to attack. , and he himself can appear anywhere on the Red Sand Star with just a thought.

Under his gaze, two original bodies and three legions were running on the Red Sand Star, especially the two descendants of the Emperor. The role they could play now, in a sense, even exceeded that of blood. god.

Behind this complex group of protectors with various reasons is the figure of Angron: after the power of the Skull God has been resisted, the only thing the Son of the Mountain of Nuceria needs to fight against is the Butcher. The endless pain caused by the nails.

But if you rely solely on pain, you will never be able to convince a primarch: even the Blood God must admit this.

Therefore, when Angron finally gathered enough strength, struggled to stand up, and headed towards the mountain, the Lord of the Skull finally let go of his useless restraint: with a wave of his hand, it slapped it away with unprecedented powerful energy and laughed wildly. The brothers and sisters pierced the curtain of subspace, turned countless illusions that were fake and real into sharp blades, and inserted them into the minds of Nucerians.

So, it listened to Angron's beast-like roar with satisfaction.

beast.

The Blood God only wants beasts.

…

Angron roared.

Because the thing he feared most happened in front of him.

This may be an illusion, or it may be another form of torture inflicted on him by the Butcher's Nail, but it is so real that it is hard to tell, but it is so close that it is happening right in front of Angron's eyes.

He saw it.

He saw Cromazi fall, he was hit by a matter conversion beamer, the roaring brass broadsword rolled out of his hand, and there was blood and internal organs flying everywhere, he saw Kleist disappear in In the battle formation, while humming her little tune, she rode her mount and crashed into the cold shield wall.

He saw his comrades, who were ruthlessly slaughtered on the snowy mountains, in the wasteland, and in the sand of the duel field. They were sentenced to death by the bloodthirsty villains, and were forced to chop off their brothers' heads. .

He saw the high horsemen who forced him to kill his adopted father, he saw the miserable paupers who cheered him to be driven into the nails: they were all murderers, they made him kill his Adoptive father! Right in that city! His screams and the blood of his adoptive father flowed for ten whole days and nights!

All because of them...

His battle brothers can't come back, and neither can his adoptive father. It's all their fault, it's all the Nucerians' fault, they are all sinners, and they all have to die...

everyone...

Everyone deserves to die...

He's going to kill them...

He's going to kill them all...

Return to the battlefield.

Raise the butcher knife. .

Blood...blood...

+Speak up+

The Blood God's voice sounded again.

+Speak out, say what is on your mind: only for blood! speak out! +

"...Uh ah..."

Once again, Angron knelt on the ground weakly. He covered his head in pain, and frantically picked off the flesh, even revealing the dense white bones inside, as well as the butcher's nails that had spread to the entire scalp.

He struggled, twisted, and felt extremely happy, but in the end he had no more words.

In the void, the Blood God was displeased.

It urged.

+ Give up! Give in! +

"……No……"

+ Stop resisting, stop thinking, go to the battlefield, that's what you really want: don't resist your instincts! You are a born killer! You were born to cut off more skulls! +

"……No, I am not……"

"...your...blood..."

+Say it! +

+Say! Talk about blood! +

+Only for blood! +

"……Blood……"

+Who is the god of blood sacrifice? +

"...blood...blood sacrifice..."

+Who? Blood sacrifice to whom? +

+You just have to say it...speak quickly! +

"Blood sacrifice...blood sacrifice..."

In the end, the Nukerian's whole body was trembling, and the Butcher's Nail in his head almost forcibly manipulated the Son of the Mountain's facial nerves, causing the already broken teeth to collide with each other to say the last words: But if you want the Primarch to surrender, it's far from that simple.

Violence and resistance, pain and confrontation, time passed like this minute by minute, Angron was still struggling: but for the Blood God, time was no longer enough.

Because, just when Angron raised his head, gritted his teeth, and faced the Butcher's Nail with a ferocious face, just behind him, only the last gunshot was heard, indicating that the smoke on the battlefield had gradually dissipated. .

The action was originally scheduled to take more than eighty minutes, but Morgan ended up taking only sixty-nine minutes: The Blood God didn't even have time to lament the swift killing, and the void began to echo with the angry roar of the Brass Throne no longer concealed.

The next moment, the most realistic fantasy was directly pressed against Angron's forehead, forcing the Son of the Mountain to look at it: the bloody gladiator's head was covered with broken pieces of flesh and hideous... The scar is clearly a hideous face that refuses to rest in peace.

screamed the Primarch.

That was none other than Angron's adoptive father. It was Angron's first victim who was torn to pieces by his own hands during his endless madness after being equipped with the Butcher's Nails: Otto Mamos.

"...Oh...Oh..."

The admonishment of the Butcher's Nail has even numbed Angron's tongue. He could only widen his eyes in vain, looking at his adoptive father, watching the last bit of weakness in his heart turn into something in front of him. An extremely ferocious dead face: the madness from the depths of memory spurted out, and at this moment, it almost swallowed the brain of the original gene.

In this illusion descended by the Blood God himself, Angron followed his adoptive father's words and slowly opened his mouth.

+ said... +

+What a blood sacrifice! +

"Blood...blood sacrifice...sacrifice..."

+Say it! +

+You will do this! +

+This is what you were born to do! +

——————

"No."

"He will not."

"Never, never."

"..."

"Remember, Angron."

"What is lost is lost, and what is done is what is done."

"You can miss it, you can regret it, you can spit on your past disgustingness and your timid and paranoid self when no one knows about it: but never forget..."

"What did they die for?"

"Why are you fighting?"

"You were not born to fight, Angron: you were born to fight for them."

"Don't forget them."

"And don't forget: yourself."

"..."

"Go ahead."

"He's right there."

"The mountain is right there."

——————

The iron crown stood on Angron's head.

It was as if the whole world became clear at that moment.

His flesh-and-blood adoptive father disappeared in front of him, and the various phantoms that followed reluctantly retreated until they disappeared completely: the blood god's anger was still roaring, but under the obstruction of the real universe and various forces, it All he could do was to be simply annoyed and scold the Butcher's Nail, inflicting more pleasure on the Primarch's mind.

But even the Blood God knows.

Pain cannot subdue a primarch.

Slowly, Angron climbed up from the ground. He supported his body with his sore arms. Blood was still dripping, but he could not stop the original figure from advancing on the sand. The Butcher's Nail was still on him. Punishment and pain roared wantonly in his mind, but just like countless days and nights before, when the Son of the Mountain gritted his teeth, he was always able to fight against this unimaginable fate.

In a daze, he seemed to hear certain voices, which seemed to come from midnight, seemed to be exhortations, and seemed to be advice: he did not hear clearly what they were saying, just like he did not care about the roars from the void, the mountains The son allowed them to symphony in his mind, weaving together with the roar of the Butcher's Nails into a chaotic symphony. None of this could stop him from moving towards the distant mountain range.

Advance, help, even climb, even squirm.

He never stopped.

In the roar of the Blood God, in the roar of the Butcher's Nail, when the last wisp of gunpowder smoke ignited by the distant war was blown away by the long storm of red sand: Angron's figure finally disappeared in every corner. In front of the individual.

And behind him, there was only the extremely shameful roar in the void, and the battle ax that was ruthlessly abandoned on the spot: so sharp, so powerful, yet so ridiculous.

It stood there alone until the dark blue iron boots appeared along with the slender ghost, and stepped on it, trampling the blood god's battle ax to pieces.

In the shadow of the battle axe, Midnight Ghost looked at the direction where his brother disappeared, then faced the void again, showing a contemptuous smile: at the next moment, he even stretched out his slender arms, full of mockery Slowly, he raised his middle finger.

Conrad did not hear the Blood God's more roars about this, because before that, all kinds of wild laughter in the subspace had already drowned the anger of the Brass Throne: in the Changing Labyrinth, in the Tower of Pleasure , even in the Father's Garden, all the monsters and monsters were laughing loudly.

But Conrad didn't feel good either: just after sending a mocking blow to the Blood God, the original body staggered up. After crushing the battle ax, he stepped in the air and almost made the Midnight Ghost fall down. When he got to the ground, fortunately, his descendants had already rushed up before that.

"Father!"

There was a hint of doubt in Savita's voice.

"What's wrong with you?"

"...No, it's nothing."

Conrad was silent for a moment, then quickly shook his head, and patted Zisi's shoulder comfortingly, leaving the bitter smile on his face to himself: Midnight Ghost realized that he was being too trusting, and in After taking off the iron crown that Morgan originally prepared for him and giving it to Angron, Conrad realized that his resistance was still somewhat insufficient in the face of the ever-present chaos of predictions in his mind.

Tsk…

I'll have to go back to Morgan and ask for another one: or find time to get that one back.

The original body muttered secretly: Anyway, the iron crown can only be used to crush the illusion, and it has no way to deal with the pain of the Butcher's Nail. Angron will not have any use after leaving Nuceria.

Conrad was lost in thought, and behind him, Sevita, who was taken by his side, was recalling the scene just now, recalling that when Angron was struggling in pain, his father first looked on with cold eyes. After a long time, the iron crown was finally put on the brother's head.

"Father, why did you..."

"Why do you have to sit back and watch, Sai?"

Midnight Ghost rubbed his forehead, having already guessed the Crow Prince's confusion: Conrad didn't have much explanation for this, he just threw a sentence to his Savita.

"Because when he faces those illusions in the void, I have to take action: that is a force that Angron cannot resist yet, and it is also the reason why I stand here, and it is my responsibility."

"But if it's just the Butcher's Nail: that's his own business."

"Is there a difference between the two? Until the guy in the subspace can't afford it, Angron can only solve his own problems. I have no right to intervene, and my unauthorized intervention will only bring him consequences. harm."

"On this point, I support the view of that guy from Dorn."

"So: do you understand?"

"..."

The Crow Prince nodded silently. But Conrad knew very well that his descendants did not actually understand his words now, but only agreed out of the inertia of obedience: But this is not important, he believes that as time goes by, his Sevetta will understand himself Figure it out.

not to mention……

Now, there are more important things than answering Sevatar's questions.

"Hurry up, Cy, we have to catch up: where's the stuff I asked you to keep?"

After resting for a while and feeling slightly better, the leader of the Eighth Legion waved his hand towards his heir.

"it's here."

Sevatar patted the box in his hand.

Conrad grinned.

"Hold it carefully, Sai: there's something in here that could knock us both down."

"...?"

"Okay, let's go."

No longer caring about Sevita's doubts, Conrad strode forward. He rubbed the back of his head in distress, hoping that his Nucerian brother wouldn't like the feeling of wearing an iron crown: Otherwise, he might have to endure the chaos in his mind for a while longer.

These miscellaneous things are really a headache.

But after walking a few steps, Savita's voice came from behind again.

"But, Father: Do we really not need to worry about that voice in the void?"

"..."

Conrad's footsteps paused.

He didn't even need to look back to feel the worry on Sevita's face: What reason did he have not to worry? After all, now in the subspace, the roar from the Blood God is so crazy. Although no psyker, including the Prince of Crows, knows what kind of creature is releasing its anger, they Everyone will feel a great threat from the trembling of their souls.

The blood god is angry.

That was real anger, no longer the petty fights before: this anger was enough for the Brass Throne to break all rules, drive back its covetous brothers, and arbitrarily and unreasonably insert its power on the surface of this planet.

In response to this, Conrad could only respond with one sentence.

"don’t worry."

"Do your own thing."

"As for that guy?"

"..."

The original body was silent for a moment, then curled his lips reluctantly.

"Leave it to that old bastard."

"After all, only he can fight..."

——————

[The anger of the blood god...]

Standing on the high cliff, Morgan, the instigator and terminator of the war, was finally able to concentrate all his attention and look at the already turbulent high sky: but now, what the original body can do , there was only a helpless sigh.

At her sigh, the Warp had never been so mad: the Blood God no longer sat slumped on his skull throne, but straightened up and glared, its fury no longer emotional. The wanton venting is instead the calmness and madness that evolve after being so angry that it breaks through reason.

At this moment, even the brothers and sisters of the Blood God couldn't help but become serious: when the Blood God waved his giant sword, the entire subspace was shaking, and he drove back his brothers and sisters with silent anger. After them. With countless sharp blades condensed by the screams of the victims, a crack was opened in the deepest part of the supreme sky in the blink of an eye. An endless army of blood spurted out from this crack.

This is a legion that was specially dispatched from the great game. Every demon warrior among them is a prominent elite under the Skull Throne. No document in the real world has ever been lucky or unlucky enough to record them. Name: Just the first row of the legion's array spread out horizontally is wider than the entire brass fortress. Every demon in the array boasts of being the champion of the Blood God.

And above their heads, the flying bloodthirsty demons spread their wings, which is enough to completely cover the sky of the entire world. There are many leaders among them who can fight against the original body, greedily thirsting for them as loyal servants of the Blood God. , the greatest skull you can get.

Such an army, freed from its boundless duties, was dispatched to a new battlefield: in the fanatical cheers for war, the master on the throne had issued an order, and their only goal was that Nuceria.

So, they set off.

So, they walked into the pupils of the Lord of Avalon.

So, the Primarch of the Dawnbreaker raised her hand, closed her eyes, and touched her lips lightly. The perception of her soul suddenly came to the deepest part of the warp: she looked down at the army indifferently, and then Look into the void.

Almost at the next moment, the bright silver door appeared naturally in front of Morgan. The tall and thick door was almost ajar. With a little concentration, you could hear the restless sound inside: pleasure. The army of hunters has been waiting for too long. They are shouting feverishly, going crazy, eager to continue the eternal cycle of killing with their mortal enemy in the great game.

But Morgan didn't push the door immediately, she just stood there and started counting down.

She counted down.

Ten...nine...eight...seven...

Six...five...four...

+What are you doing? +

【……】

Seconds faster than she thought.

Morgan opened her eyes, and she felt the ruthless sun standing behind her, and the radiant claws were already on her shoulders: along with it came pleasure The prince's low complaint made the owner of the Silver Palace reluctantly retreat, but the six hundred and sixty-six forked snake kisses kept slandering the blasphemer. What an incomprehensible style. .

It obviously doesn't mind the three people...

…

With her back turned to her father, the Emperor's daughter smiled.

【I'm waiting for you, father. 】

Morgan replied, and with the tacit consent of the Lord of Mankind, the primordial's psychic body used a little power to push away the blood god's demonic army. Despite thousands of years of efforts, they could not touch it. Encountered the Silver Pagoda Palace Gate.

There, millions, tens of millions or even more pairs of sharp eyes projected countless emotions onto Morgan: arrogance and greed, desire and laziness. This unimaginable temptation was enough to tear the whole world apart in an instant. The most elite think tank group in the empire, but when they faced the Queen of Avalon, Morgan just squinted his eyes slightly and glanced around. With his greedy eyes, he lowered them fearlessly. respective heads.

No one wants to go tit-for-tat with the Prince of Darkness's darling. Even if arrogance is one of the six links of the Prince of Pleasure, or even the most important link among them, these demonic soldiers who have tempered their self-arrogance in the great game will also In the face of incomparable power, they silently broke the flawless scepter in their hearts.

More Slaanesh elites, after taking another look at Morgan's first glance, burned in their pupils the same fanaticism as the Prince of Pleasure: the unabashed contempt in the Lord of Avalon's pupils not only did not extinguish this kind of The fanaticism made them burn even more crazily.

In this way, the entire army of demons remained silent. Although the breath of the old enemy was almost in front of them, these elite Slaanesh demons with endless desire for war still maintained a deathly silence. Everyone They are all waiting for the favor from the Spider Queen.

They wait.

Until, Morgan laughed.

Until, Morgan's two lips touched lightly.

[Make them disappear. 】

She smiled, and her voice was so soft that it would be blown away by the crazy storm on Nuceria in the next second, but it was loud enough to make the entire Silver Palace shake.

【I allowed it. 】

The Queen waved her hand.

That's all.

The next moment, the endless army rushed out of the Silver Palace of the Lord of Pleasure. The sound of their iron hooves shook the entire subspace. The shadow of their sharp blades was enough to cover the arrogant army of the Blood God: Although the Brazen Throne An entire legion was dispatched from the Great Game to demonstrate its wrath, but facing his ancient enemy and his only favorite, the Dark Prince was looking for answers...

More.

The moment the army set out, the twenty-six Great Secret Keepers appeared in front of the endless blades like delicate dancers. They waved their own sharp weapons, and their dancing postures seemed like great artists, not on the battlefield. A demon that feeds on pain.

The leader of these great secret keepers is the most prominent subordinate of the Dark Prince, a powerful secret keeper named Demonic Disaster. Its side exudes charming charm and indescribable fragrance. Its skin is as delicate, smooth and perfect as a statue, and its majestic figure The muscles are covered with jewels, which are all its most precious trophies: Demon Calamity walks arrogantly at the front of the entire legion, with its neck covered with the heads of the blood god demons it killed.

But even for such a prominent figure, when its figure passed by the gradually dissipating Morgan psychic body, it still walked away from it all the way, lowering its head respectfully, not daring to touch the pair of green and blue eyes. Looking at each other with lustful pupils: This is undoubtedly the right decision, because even among the most elite demon army, those demons who are so arrogant that they long to peek into the depths of Morgan's pupils will unknowingly be caught in the surging demonic tide. Lost his identity.

No one cares about them.

Morgan didn't care, and neither did the Emperor.

But, maybe Slaanesh would care.

Or maybe: This is why these demons suddenly disappear.

——————

+Morgan. +

The rumbling war drums in the subspace finally blocked the roar of the God of War. At this time, the Lord of Humanity glanced at the charming eyes that were not far away, still staring at this place, and then turned to look at his daughter.

he asked.

+If I don’t come, will you continue to wait here? +

【of course not. 】

The Primarch stalled and made a vicious reversal.

【I'm not afraid of them. 】

+...+

This could be called arrogant self-confidence, and the Lord of Humanity couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.

Then, he was silent for a while, as if he wanted to say something more: but at this moment. The most filial daughter of the Lord of Humanity had already turned her head, showed a silent smile to her genetic father, and then quickly turned away again.

This smile is the answer to everything.

This smile made the Emperor's brow relax: at this moment, the Lord of Mankind even wanted to laugh out loud.

Because he saw...

Saw it...

Um……

——————

Full of arrogance.

A cowardly look on his face.

——————

+...+

Um.

She is indeed his biological precious daughter.

The Lord of Humanity nodded with satisfaction.

In the wind and sand, only the contempt and low complaints of the Prince of Darkness echoed for a long time.