40k: Midnight Blade

Chapter 105 8. Raging Flame (4)

People will bleed, people will die. What else?

And the manner in which they bleed.

Roaring, Angron swooped forward from the darkness and grabbed one of the slavers' personal guards. The man didn't panic. The silver tentacles instantly straightened and turned into some kind of flexible blade, stabbing Angron's abdomen.

The pain was fleeting, but Angron remained unmoved. He laughed ferociously, ignoring the resistance of the guard in his hand, and held him down forcefully, then raised his fist and hit him in the head.

The guard's expression quickly became panicked, and the tentacle that was hurting Angron also retracted, turning into a shield, blocking his head.

But Angron didn't need to do anything more, he had succeeded. It was a little trick, one of countless he had learned from Oinomouth. When the latter was still alive, he once told him that it was necessary to distract the enemy.

And now, he uses it.

His left hand slammed into the guard's chest. The metallic touch disappeared briefly, followed by a crisp sound, and then the familiar sticky touch, and the smell of blood became more pungent.

He laughed wildly, his face twitching - their emotions filled his heart: fear, resentment, contempt, some people were cursing him as a monster in their hearts, but Angron didn't care at all.

He howled and stood up, the pain in his mind causing everything in front of him to be covered with a scarlet curtain. The guards roared and whipped him, ordering him to get away, but Angron only laughed.

Oinomouth - So it is with all gladiators, they sneer in the face of pain and in the face of their enemies. They may be bruised and bruised, and they may bleed to death, but they will not bow their heads.

He smiled sarcastically, ignoring the biting pain in his head, and threw himself at a personal guard with all his strength.

He failed as Silver Vine rushed out of the shadows and grabbed his arm. The sharp surface cut his skin and made him bleed, but he didn't care at all.

Angron rushed forward like crazy. The tentacles could trap him briefly and restrain him, but they couldn't really make him surrender.

They had never made him surrender. They could numb him with drugs, threaten the lives of the gladiators to force him to compete for them again and again, and even make him wear these damn nails, but they could not make him surrender.

He would never kneel to them.

"Get away, you crazy beast! Do you think you are still a treasure of the Talco family?! The Butcher's Nail will kill you within a few months, and we don't mind speeding up the process! Get out of here!"

Angron didn't answer, just howled, a broken howl. He was in so much pain that his voice became terrifying.

He wanted to respond, and in between the pain, he wanted to sneer and rant like before about how despicable these things that were used as dogs for slave owners were.

He wanted to refute them, saying that he was not a 'treasure' at all. He, like other gladiators, was a human being, not their slave. However, when the words came to his lips, he could only let out broken roars and roars.

The nails cut into his sanity, wanting him to bring more violence to them. Under the scarlet curtain, everything changed and turned into an overwhelming amount of ghosts rushing towards him.

The guard's face was twisted into a monster, and he was mumbling about making him look good. The silver vines that trapped him became their rotting limbs, and the faces of their victims appeared upon them.

Angron was in so much pain that he could hardly breathe, but he roared again because of these familiar faces.

He remembered every dead gladiator, even if he didn't know their names.

Roaring, he broke away from the silver vine, and several of his guards roared, thinking that he would attack.

Their voices stretched into some kind of terrifying roar in his ears, but Angron's first reaction was not to attack them, but to use his thick fingers to penetrate deeply into the back of his head. Among the braids made of iron and steel, and stirred deeply.

He wanted to rip them off.

He roared, and the nails resented, dissatisfied with his resistance, and they poured more misery into him. These things almost turned his blood to boiling lava, and the words of the bodyguards continued to add fuel to the fire.

"He's gone crazy! Come on, we're going to kill those intruders!"

"I'm going to kill you!"

Angron laughed crazily, his face twisted into a terrifying whirlpool, his nose was bleeding, so were his eyes, and the saliva overflowing from his mouth was also scarlet.

He rushed over, laughed wildly, grabbed a person, and ripped off his head at a speed several times faster than before. The spine was quickly pulled out along the body, and the feeling of bone against bone colliding was so slow and wonderful in his hands.

He exercised violence once, and he killed a person because of the force of nails - blood and tears flowed from Angron's eyes. He shouted loudly for no reason, threw the head aside, and started a killing.

The guards could resist a little at first, but after all, they were a small group of people, and Silver Vine could not restrain Angron for too long. What's more, this place is still deep in the cave, not as wide as the ground, leaving them with room to fight.

Only minutes later, Angron killed them all with his own hands. He shivered in pain, the nails not satisfied, not even for a second.

He had just killed these people, and his hands had just been stained with blood. The feeling of smashing the head with a hammer or tearing the person in half was still there, but the nail was not satisfied. They screamed and writhed in his mind, torturing him with their sharp spikes, bringing false hallucinations and stinging pain.

In the end, it all blended together into a pain that made him feel like his head was going to split in two.

He knelt on the ground, kneeling in the pool of blood he had created with his own hands. His incomplete mind was praying that no gladiators would approach him at this moment, but the nail was yelling at him, asking him to kill them all together.

Angron resisted with all his strength. He used his knees to bring himself to the rock wall, and then hit it with his forehead, harder and harder each time - he would rather die than let his hands be stained by any corners again. The blood of a fighter is no longer wanted.

The blood of Oinomouth is still fresh in his mind. He killed him because of the pain. Will he kill more? But the nails kept urging, still gnawing at his skull and brain.

Angron howled unconsciously, his body covered in blood, his wounds burst open, his veins bulged, and his face was full of anger. He began to bang his head against the wall, desperately fighting against the nail, trying to make everything end here - but at this moment, a voice came into his chaotic heart.

"Calm down, Angron," the voice said in a soft voice. "I'm here to help you."

The bloody giant turned around suddenly and saw a pale man standing in the darkness, staring quietly at him. His thinking ability was completely broken, but at this moment he suddenly felt some kind of disharmony.

Angron opened his mouth blankly, and blood rolled over his face, covering his face with scarlet. He discovered that the man was very tall - and his eyes were shining.

Blue light, a light different from scarlet. This light was tiny, even faint compared to the scarlet surrounding it. Looking at it, Angron suddenly felt a calm chill.

He knelt there and watched the man approach him slowly, and then he realized that he was actually taller than him. Most people were as tall as him even when they were sitting down, but this man was different.

this person.

"Who are you?" Angron roared.

He wanted to speak properly, not wanting his voice to sound so close to a threat before committing violence, but he had no choice.

Although the pain has subsided a lot, the nails are still gnawing at it. As long as they existed, he would have to endure pain. And this roar is just part of the side effects it brings, and it can even be considered mild among them.

"My name is Khalil Lohars." The man said, his voice was extremely gentle, and there was even an emotion in it that Angron couldn't understand. "I'm here to help you."

"help me?"

Angron stared back blankly, unable to understand, he was broken.

Totally broken.

Khalil slowly tightened the lines on his face, waiting for Angron's answer.

The Emperor's sons were scattered across the galaxy, and he knew it. Under such circumstances, each of them will have their own experiences, which is normal.

He has met five of them. If you count Conrad and Angron in front of him, there are seven, and everyone has different experiences. Take Lorgar Aurelion and Robert Key. Let's talk about Liman.

A poor man who believed in religion but was not actually that religious, and a son of a noble who tried to view the world rationally and had a beautiful family - their life experiences were completely different, but at least they were both complete.

They were not broken, not like the man before him. He stared into Angron's eyes, trying to find some trace in them that could help him now, but he could see nothing.

There is nothing left but pain. This person seems to have been hollowed out, leaving only a twisted mind and a powerful body that belongs to the original body, and what is beyond this? He was even a suicidal person who was tortured by pain. Even if he used the smallest unit of psychic energy to comfort him, he couldn't even feel anything other than numbness.

Khalil looked at the things on the back of his head that were as deep as steel cables implanted in his scalp, and his eyes became a little dangerous at a certain moment.

He was still waiting for an answer, but Angron couldn't give one. His face changes back and forth between calm and distorted, terrifying and elusive. Blood and tears flowed down, leaving traces of winding traces on his face, and then merged into the ocean of blood, making his whole body look as horrifying as if he was soaked in a river of blood.

Khalil pursed his lips, preparing to use his spiritual energy to touch Angron's mind, intending to find more traces in it.

He had informed the Second Captain about the situation in the Arena, and the possible presence of a Primarch in Nuceria had also been reported to Robert Guilliman. At this moment, the Lord of Macragge is coming here with his people.

But before that, he had to comfort the man who was obviously tormented by the implant in his scalp.

He had seen Angron in his mad state.

However, just when he used his spiritual energy to touch the chaotic mind, Angron let out a howl. His eyes turned pure scarlet in an instant, and Khalil could clearly see that the implants rooted under his scalp were gradually deepening.

The next second, Angron rushed towards him, his face was furious, but his eyes were bleeding.

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