Horus and Angron's First Meeting

The sun was setting, and the sky was growing dark.

The normally dim sky was stained crimson by the flames.

The City of Daeshia was the territory of House Tarka.

Now, it was submerged in flames and blood.

The sounds of fighting and screams echoed throughout the city.

Angron, like a fearsome beast, rampaged through the city.

He unleashed his savage and brutal nature without restraint.

Anyone who tried to stop him was brutally torn to shreds.

Angron was followed by numerous slave gladiators.

They wielded looted weapons and, alongside Angron, were purging the slave owners.

"A debt of blood must be paid in blood."

Yochuka, who still looked like a child, raised his arm and shouted after slitting an enemy's throat.

He had just turned sixteen two days ago.

It was an age that should have been filled with mischief, but due to House Tarka, he had become a slave in a bloody arena.

Every life-or-death struggle was only to please the scum sitting in the audience.

Klyster, a huntress with a ferocious scar across her face, pierced a guard's body with her spear, lifting him up.

She let the blood splash, bathing her scarred face.

She was twenty-three years old and had been fighting in the arena for seven years.

It was an age when she should have been wearing dresses to show off her beauty, but she had long been accustomed to blood and slaughter.

Among the crowd purging the slave owners was Angron's most respected and beloved, Onomamastos.

He rejoiced that Angron had escaped from the clutches of those slave owners.

He was even more excited about the uprising Angron had brought them.

He had planned for this day countless times.

And now, his dream had come true.

Even if he were to die at this very moment, Onomamastos would have no regrets.

At least, they would die as free souls.

The slaves fought together, using the skills and fury learned in the arena to tear apart those who were high and mighty.

Those distinguished nobles or knights were killed like wild dogs.

"Angron, no, please, I know I was wrong..."

A high-ranking knight, about Yochuka's age, desperately pleaded with the enraged Angron.

He had a Silvervine implant.

Silvervine was a silvery-white mechanical tentacle implant that could transform at will, becoming armor, weapons, vehicles, and so on.

It was precisely because of the Silvervine that these people were called high-ranking knights.

Angron had suffered many times from this mechanical implant.

But that was because there were too many enemies, and he was alone and unarmed.

Now, he was no longer fighting alone, nor was he unarmed.

The battle axe given to him by the Adeptus Custodes was augmented with a power field, capable of easily cleaving through anything.

The shield formed by Silvervine was no exception.

"You don't know you were wrong, you only know you're going to die."

Angron punched the high-ranking knight in the chest, then grabbed his head and smashed it violently against the ground.

He vented his anger to his heart's content.

"Isn't this what you've always wanted me to do? Slaughter, brutal slaughter, only then can you be pleased."

"Now that the target of pleasure has become us, you're unwilling? You are truly too selfish."

The high-ranking knight cried out in pain.

He begged incessantly until Angron crushed his throat, silencing him.

"I will kill every one of you, including your children."

After speaking, Angron twisted the man's neck.

House Tarka's estate had powerful defenses, but they were eventually breached.

The enraged slaves did not spare a single person.

The suffering that House Tarka had inflicted upon them was too profound.

"Father."

A child cried out.

"No!"

The Tarka lord, protected by his personal guards as he retreated, watched his young child being lifted high by slaves, then violently slammed to the ground.

The child's limbs twitched for a moment before going completely still.

"You damned executioners, he was only four years old, how could you do this?"

The Tarka lord's body trembled with grief and rage.

Hearing this, the slaves felt no guilt. Instead, they impaled the child's corpse on a spear and desecrated it to their heart's content.

Seeing the Tarka lord's pained expression, they laughed even harder.

So even noble slave owners can feel pain!!

Angron did not stop their actions.

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," was humanity's most ancient oath.

No member of House Tarka was spared; they were all slaughtered by the enraged slaves.

They were thrown into acid, pierced by sharp steel spikes, and torn apart in the beast pens.

The Tarka lord himself was dismembered alive by the slaves.

The war raged from dusk until the following dusk.

Blood stained the city, now reduced to ruins.

Black smoke choked the sky.

As the commander of the Adeptus Custodes squad, La was decisive. He would not allow the fact that Number Twelve had once been a slave to be revealed to the public.

Doing so would affect the Emperor's sublime image.

The nobles of Nukeria had to die.

Everything related to this place would be covered by crimson blood.

History would be erased and reshaped.

When the war finally ended, the surviving nobles and slave owners were forced to kneel in a line, awaiting their fate.

They trembled, and some even wet themselves.

Their former arrogance and haughtiness were gone.

"Their fate is in your hands, Number Twelve."

La walked up to Angron.

"As the Emperor's beloved son, you have the right to judge these people."

The nobles and slave owners looked at Angron with hopeful eyes, wishing for his mercy.

"Send them to the gladiatorial arena. Hold the final games of Nukeria."

"One of them will survive, to bear witness to the end of Nukeria's era of slavery."

Despair washed over the faces of the nobles and slave owners.

But the slaves behind Angron erupted in cheers.

They rushed forward, dragging the nobles and slave owners away.

Ready to return the pain they had suffered, one by one.

La said to Angron, "Number Twelve, it's over here. We should leave."

"Where to?" Angron looked around, a hint of reluctance in his eyes.

"Return to the stars, to meet your father and your brothers," La replied.

"Go with them, Angron," Onomamastos stepped forward. "From the moment I saw you, I knew your destiny was not meant to be in Nukeria."

"But?" Angron showed a trace of reluctance, not wanting to part with his adoptive father and his brothers and sisters from the arena.

"Nukeria will be rebuilt with the Imperium's help," La assured him. "You don't need to worry about anything."

Angron was finally persuaded.

Bidden farewell by his adoptive father and many gladiator companions, he left Nukeria with the Adeptus Custodes.

An auxiliary force remained behind to assist Onomamastos and the others in rebuilding a new world without slaves.

"My father and my brothers, what kind of people are they?"

On the journey back, Angron's heart was filled with both apprehension and anticipation.

The Emperor's Grand Plan.

A cheer erupted in the training grounds.

Horus, his upper body bare, had just flipped over an Astartes warrior who had not yet activated his Gene Engine.

After completing his daily studies, Horus would train with the warriors on the training grounds.

His combat skills advanced by leaps and bounds, and he gained considerable fame among the warriors.

"You're getting better and better."

"We look forward to fighting alongside you."

The warriors of the Sixteenth Legion stepped forward one after another to congratulate Horus.

Warriors from other Legions watched the scene with envy, lamenting the good fortune of the Sixteenth Legion.

Their Primarch was still lost somewhere in the galaxy!!

And they didn't know when he would return.

Hearing the warriors' praise, Horus smiled.

He hoped that today's events would reach the Emperor's ears.

"I look forward to the day you become the leader of the Legion, Horus."

A new recruit from the Sixteenth Legion pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

The recruit's words made Horus very happy, so he asked for the recruit's name.

"My name is Ezekiel Abaddon, and I'm from Kossonia, just like you."

Horus wanted to chat with Abaddon for a few more sentences, but the Adeptus Custodes suddenly arrived, bringing a verbal message from the Emperor, ordering Horus to see him.

Horus could only bid Abaddon farewell with a sense of helplessness and left with the Adeptus Custodes.

He was led to a magnificent hall.

A strong gladiator was standing in the hall, curiously observing everything around him.

The moment Horus saw him, he realized that the other person was of the same kind as himself.

Also, a child of their father.

Thinking of this, Horus felt inexplicably angry and looked at the other person with hostility.

"You are very unfriendly," the gladiator stared intently at Horus. "Are you looking for a duel with me?"

Another chapter, thank you all for your continued reading.

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Warhammer is still too niche; even at 100,000 characters, the collection count hasn't surpassed 5,000.

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