Warhammer: In the Name of Nirvana

"Unrecognized ceiling."

"..."

"ceiling?"

Angron woke up.

He felt as if he had crawled out of an infinite hell, escaped from a billion twisted and hungry bones: to a strange place he knew nothing about.

When he finally escaped, his whole body curled up subconsciously, the muscles on his back bulged, and his fists were clenched until the veins burst out, ready to face the next battle in the despicable reality. .

But there was no battle waiting for him. Instead, what greeted the Primarch was the long-lost peace and tranquility, as well as the sense of satisfaction released by his brain: this sense of satisfaction came from adequate rest and the air was no longer full of the smell of blood.

The Primarch knew that he had slept for a long time.

He has not had such a long sleep for a long time. It was as if he had been unconscious for several months. Before the other senses of the body could wake up, Angron's muscles all over his body had already felt the pain after adequate rest. , that overflowing sense of power.

But none of this made Angron relax his vigilance. Like a brown bear driven by hunger, he jumped up suddenly, feeling the coldness of steel under his body, and what lingered on the tip of his nose was the long-lost civilization. breath.

The original body's dark eyes quickly glanced around, and he found that he was in a wide hall, surrounded by blazing braziers or candlesticks, burning the ancient stone walls, and battle flags, weapons and parchment piled everywhere as far as the eye could see: Angron could see a proud scarlet hound with a collar around its neck among the crossed battle flags of cream and dark blue.

He instinctively hated this symbol. Whether it was the hound itself or the chain around the hound's neck that symbolized restraint, it reminded the Primarch of some bad past.

So was the room he was in: it was obvious that someone was trying to please the Primarch with its decoration, for every element here reminded Angron of his days and nights in the dueling arena, but Such flattery only had a huge backlash.

Almost instantly, hatred and memory pushed anger into the original body's mind, but just before he wanted to roar, Angron's eyes captured the last unexplored corner of the room.

So, he calmed down instantly.

Because, someone is sitting there.

With a silver-white long ponytail, cyan-blue pupils, a height of just over three meters, the iconic long skirt and riding boots, he was holding a piece of rough parchment, writing and drawing on it: Isn't it the leader of the Dawnbreaker Legion? Lord?

【woke up? 】

Morgan glanced at her brother, looking unconcerned.

Angron didn't speak, he just nodded silently. Then, the Shanzi suddenly realized something belatedly: a look of astonishment flashed across his rough face, and one of the Primarch's The big hand quickly raised, grabbed the back of his head, and touched the place where the Butcher's Nail was placed.

The original body frowned, instinctively wanting to welcome the heartbreaking pain, but after being in a daze for a while, all he could feel was a long-lost peace, which had been separated from his brain for several months. Long lasting peace.

In an instant, the original body's pupils were as wide as the bright moon, and the dazed expression on his face gradually changed into shock and disbelief, as well as a trace of irrepressible joy.

But behind the joy, there is great confusion and loneliness.

He sat there, at a loss, for about a few minutes. During this period, he did not forget to stroke the butcher's nail on the back of his head over and over again, like a child confirming a brand-new toy. After the pain that hadn't arrived finally confirmed some of Angron's crazy conjectures, the original body's disbelieving pupils moved towards Morgan.

【solved. 】

Before he spoke, Morgan replied while writing furiously.

[During the period when you were sleeping, we: specifically me, the Emperor and a member of the Mechanicum named Arkan Land, used various methods to solve the problem of the Butcher's Nail for you. Although it is still impossible to pull it out, we have found a way to erase the pain it brings to you. 】

After saying this, Morgan did not forget to glance at Angron quietly. She longed to see the shock on this blood relative's face, but what greeted her was only deathly silence: the Butcher's Nail grinded Angron ruthlessly. Almost all emotions except anger, no matter how turbulent the original body's pupils and heart were, he could never express these emotions completely.

The Lord of Avalon watched the light bloom again in Angron's pupils, watched every muscle on his face squeeze and support each other, watched the corners of his mouth slowly rise, and it was so difficult. It was as if a huge burden was hanging on him: In the end, Angron could only reluctantly show an almost non-existent smile and nodded to his blood relatives.

This is already the most intuitive expression he can make.

"Thanks."

The Primarch's voice was as cold as his face.

【It doesn't matter. 】

Morgan waved.

[This is not just my credit, you also need to thank our brother Conrad, and our father... Even if I didn't say it, you still didn't seem to want to mention that guy. 】

The Lord of Avalon was keenly aware of the anger in Angron's brows. It seemed that the crime committed by a certain human lord against his descendants in five seconds would result in Angron not being punished at all. Long's forgiveness.

"How long have I been asleep?"

After another quiet moment, the Primarch seemed to have completely woken up from the mental confusion caused by his long sleep. He patted his head, protecting his brain that had not been used for a long time. When his giant palms could cover his face, When he finally put it down, Angron's eyes almost instinctively began to look in all directions, exploring the world with a new attitude.

[Five months and fifteen days. 】

Morgan's fingers quickly wrote the number in mid-air.

[According to Nuceria time, you slept for a little more than one hundred and twenty-seven days. 】

"...Nukeria..."

This name made Angron's originally shining pupils dim again. The original body licked his dry lips, lowered his head, and remained silent for a long time: The Lord of Avalon on the side was not surprised by this, she I understand that after the ups and downs and resurrection, it takes a long time for anyone to accept it all.

For example, the Dawnbreakers and the mortal auxiliary troops under her command must also have a period of recuperation after experiencing a life-and-death battle: if combined with paid vacation and a psychologist, the recuperation effect will often be more effective. a little better.

But it is a pity that Angron does not have these benefits: Morgan is not a regular psychiatrist, and the Emperor obviously does not intend to give Angron any paid holidays. He does not even give the Nucerian mountain The Emperor's son arranged for corresponding educators. This was made easy by the Emperor directly pulling the War Dog Legion to the skies over Nuceria, instead of hiding the news of Angron's return for a few years like most of the Primarchs. can see it.

Although before this, it is not that there were no originals who took charge of the Legion directly without having experienced education: for example, Perturabo, Leman Russ, or Morgan himself...

Thinking of this, the Lord of Avalon was distracted for a moment. Before she could react, Angron had already raised his head. He got out of bed, stood up straight again, and scanned the words on the battle flags. Passed: Son of the Mountain obviously doesn’t know these words yet, but he is learning them automatically at an extremely fast speed.

"How is Nuceria? How did you... do it?"

Angron didn't look at Morgan. He seemed to be avoiding the answers to some questions.

【This is a big problem. 】

Morgan smiled. She first put the parchment in her hand aside. Angron took the opportunity to glance at the papers: through the new knowledge constantly pouring out of his brain, the Son of the Mountain was able to determine that those were some information about management. The simple secret of the Legion, and papers like this have piled up into a small mountain around Morgan.

The Lord of Avalon stretched, and she stood up as well, snapping her fingers toward the wooden table with water glasses in the distance, and a full glass of water floated in front of Angron. The Son of the Mountain looked a little serious. Look at this glass of water: In the past few months, this ordinary material has been an elusive treasure for Angron and his battle brothers.

[I will talk for a long time, please drink a glass of water to moisten your throat first. 】

In front of Morgan's smile, Angron realized that his throat was very thirsty. He picked up the water glass and drank heavily, but was surprised to find that the glass of water seemed to be endless: during this period, The Lord of Avalon, with her hands behind her back, slowly circled around her brother while recounting everything that had happened in the past five months.

She told the origin of Nuceria, the war that took place in that world, and how they used various methods to pull Angron back from the grasp of the Blood God and the Butcher's Nail: Of course, In the part about the Blood God, the Lord of Avalon did not go into detail. She knew that Angron, who had experienced all this, actually had a vague concept of the Blood God in his heart, and the consequences that followed. great disgust.

This disgust even surpassed Angron's hatred for the Emperor.

The Son of the Mountain just listened to everything Morgan said in silence and solemnity. Only when the Lord of Avalon mentioned his battle brothers who were destined to disappear, did the Son of the Mountain's pupils flash with a trace of real sadness. This trace of The grief stayed for a long time, and Angron did not notice that there were actually some loopholes in Morgan's words: she did not tell where the pain from the Butcher's Nail went.

However, Angron didn't care about this problem anymore: the Primarch was at a loss, even after Morgan explained everything surrounding him one by one in a dramatic manner, he was still at a loss.

In fact, Angron did not react much to the warning that he would be in danger again after more than a hundred years: in his opinion, no matter how dangerous the situation was, it was no more hopeless than his time on Nuceria. , compared with what the Butcher's Nail once took away from him, what is mere reason or thinking ability?

All this could not prevent the Primarch from falling into confusion again.

This was not his problem: when the first half of his crazy and persistent life proved to be nothing but a hateful drama; when everything he missed and hated had completely disappeared from the galaxy; when he looked around , but all he saw was the strangeness, and anyone would be as confused as Angron.

This former embodiment of anger doesn't even have the strength to feel angry anymore.

To whom should he be angry? That invisible and intangible blood god? Or is it the Emperor who just remains indifferent? Or anyone innocent in this incident?

Perhaps the only ones worthy of his resentment were those high-level riders who really existed: but they had already been completely turned into ashes along with Nuceria. Angron didn't even think about going back to destroy their bones. In fact, He didn't want to go back to Nuceria at all. There was nothing worth remembering there.

Once again, the emptiness caused by confusion struck the original body's heart. When Morgan's story came to an end, Angron had slowly sat on the ground, leaning against the iron bed where he once slept. In his hoarse throat, he could only let out a long sigh.

"I don't think it's a good thing for you to revive me: for me."

The voice of the Son of the Mountain was bitter, and Morgan did not say any words of comfort. She just walked slowly to her brother, squatted down, and used a brisk tone to try to disperse the depressed atmosphere surrounding Angron.

[Don’t say that, brother. 】

Morgan waved.

[Believe me, at least for you now, living in this world is definitely more cost-effective than dying immediately: you don’t want to know what will happen to your soul when you die. 】

"Can it get any worse than now?"

Angron raised his head and asked his blood relative in a hoarse voice: He knew that this was the person he most trusted now.

"Now I have just changed from a slave on Nuceria to a slave of the so-called Human Empire: He gave me a legion and freedom that is better than nothing, but it is different from the armor and armor given to me by those high-level knights. What is the essential difference between weapons?"

【There are still differences. 】

Morgan put an arm on her bent knees and leaned on her face. Her voice became a little lazy, but it still contained an authority that attracted Angron's attention.

[First of all, although we are all just slaves of the old bastard of the Emperor, as long as we complete the tasks he gave us, he actually doesn't care too much about our private time: the situation here is definitely better than Nuceria. 】

【and……】

The Lord of Avalon narrowed his eyes.

[Angron, do you know what fate your soul will suffer if you die now? 】

"Abducted by that blood god?"

【This is just one of them. 】

Morgan held up one finger, then three more.

[Besides this, there are three different situations. 】

【listen to me. 】

Morgan's other hand corrected Angron's face so that his pupils could look into his own eyes: the Lord of Avalon used this method to ensure that every word he said next would be able to It was deeply engraved in Angron's mind.

[Either we assist our genetic father to complete his grand plan at the end of the Great Crusade to ensure that he will no longer interfere with our future: Of course, this is the most ideal situation, the Emperor The old bastard is very likely to default on his debt. He may have done the trick many times. 】

"So: What if not?"

Angron seemed to have no interest in the option Morgan mentioned.

Morgan was not surprised. She just explained to him in detail the existence of the Cursed Legion under the Emperor's command, as well as its operating principles and detailed admission criteria under the Son of the Mountain's increasingly clear gaze: Ange Long's soul is a high-quality candidate that cannot escape.

[If you die now, you will only have two endings: the worse one, being kidnapped by the being called the Blood God, and the slightly less bad one, appearing among the emperor's shining golden cursed legions. middle. 】

Morgan looked at Angron's gradually solidified expression with satisfaction.

[Believe me, brother, these two choices will not give you much freedom, or even leave you time to think and rest. What they ask you to do is only against your will, endless Conquest: Compared with the reality you are in now, the Cursed Legion or the Blood God's Fortress are more like slaves. 】

[You don’t want to experience life on Nuceria again, right? 】

"...Is this a threat?"

Angron frowned slightly, while Morgan spread his hands calmly.

[This is reality: that old bastard told me the same thing. 】

"..."

[Don’t look at me like that, brother, do you think there is any fundamental difference between you and me in the eyes of the Emperor? We are all just tools he uses to conquer the galaxy, just breathing blades in his hands. It’s just that he When using me, be more comfortable and choose to put your knife aside. 】

【That's all. 】

Angron was silent for a moment: he had to admit that what Morgan said was correct. Compared with a clean death, the only thing that can scare today's Sons of the Mountain is probably returning to the slave life again, regardless of whether it is a curse. The warriors in the Binding Legion or the roaring demons under the Blood God, in Angron's view, are just slaves in a different way.

Compared with these things, the confusion in reality is not unbearable.

"...Then, what about the fourth type?"

The question made Morgan laugh.

【As for the fourth type...】

The primarch licked the corner of his mouth.

[You and I, for the time being, will complete our respective tasks in the Great Crusade as that old bastard expected, until after the Great Crusade is over, until that old bastard wants to do something to us after completing his grand plan. A man kills a donkey by taking advantage of him: given his character, this is an event with a high probability. 】

"I'm not surprised."

Angron nodded: he did not refute the matter of fighting for the emperor, although this sentence still made him feel very uncomfortable, so he could only accept it with his nose pinched.

[Then, we will unite with brothers who have the same ideas. Let's overthrow his damned slaver's throne together, and you'll be free, and I'll get what I want: let's see this as a situation, Angron, as the best for us. Condition. 】

"..."

Angron was silent.

Then, the Son of the Mountain stared at his blood relative very seriously. After a moment, a difficult smile appeared from the corners of Angron's lips.

"Are you serious, Morgan?"

【Well...】

The Lord of Avalon curled his lips.

[Who knows: but if the situation really allows...]

【……】

【I really want to do this. 】

【What do you think? 】

"..."

"I'm not interested."

Angron smiled hoarsely.

"But, if I can have a chance to use my ax to hit that damn golden mask hard, I think I will be happy to do it: even if the result of doing so will be my death, I And definitely laughing and hugging it.”

"..."

"If that's really possible."

"When the time comes, don't forget to notify me."