The sun sank westward, and evening drew near.
The sky, which should have been dim, was stained crimson by the flames.
The City of Daeshia was House Tarka's territory.
Now, it was submerged in fire and blood.
The sounds of slaughter and screams echoed throughout the city.
Angron was like a terrifying beast, rampaging through the city.
He unleashed his savage and brutal nature without restraint.
Anyone who tried to stop him was viciously torn to pieces.
A multitude of slave gladiators followed behind Angron.
Armed with weapons they had seized, they followed Angron in settling accounts with the slave masters.
"Blood for blood."
Yochuka, who still looked like a child, slit an enemy's throat and raised his arm in a shout.
He had only turned sixteen two days ago.
He should have been at the most mischievous age, yet House Tarka had turned him into a slave in a bloody gladiatorial arena.
Every fight to the death had been solely to entertain the scum seated in the stands.
Klyster, a female hunter with a hideous scar across her face, pierced a guard's body with her spear and lifted him into the air.
Blood splashed over her as she bathed in it, covering her scarred face.
She was twenty-three this year and had already spent seven years fighting in the arena.
At an age when she should have been wearing dresses and showing off her beauty, she had long since grown accustomed to bloodshed and killing.
Among those settling accounts with the slave masters was Oenomaus, whom Angron respected and loved most.
He rejoiced that Angron had escaped the slave masters' grasp.
He was even more thrilled by the uprising Angron had brought them.
He had plotted for this day countless times.
And now, the dream had come true.
Even if he died at this moment, Oenomaus would have no regrets.
At the very least, they would die as free souls.
The slaves fought together, using the skills and fury they had learned in the arena to tear apart those lofty figures.
Those highborn nobles and knights were slaughtered like stray dogs.
"Angron, don't! Please, I know I was wrong..."
A High Knight about Yochuka's age desperately begged the enraged Angron.
Silver vines had been implanted in his body.
Silver vines were silver-white mechanical tentacle implants that could shift at will into armor, weapons, vehicles, and more.
It was because of silver vines that these people were called High Knights.
Angron had suffered at the hands of this mechanical implant many times.
But that had only been because there were too many enemies, while he had been alone and unarmed.
Now, he was no longer fighting alone, nor was he unarmed.
The battle-axe the Adeptus Custodes had given him was enhanced by a Power Field and could cleave through anything with ease.
The shields formed by silver vines were no exception.
"You don't know you were wrong. You only know you're about to die."
Angron punched the High Knight, then grabbed his head and smashed it viciously into the ground.
He vented the fury in his heart without restraint.
"Isn't this what you've always wanted me to do? Kill. Kill brutally. Only then could I entertain you."
"Now that we're the ones being entertained, you don't like it? You're all far too selfish."
The High Knight cried out in pain.
He kept begging until Angron crushed his throat, leaving him unable to make another sound.
"I'll kill every last one of you, including your children."
After saying that, Angron snapped the man's neck.
House Tarka's estate possessed formidable defenses, but it was ultimately breached.
The enraged slaves spared no one.
The pain House Tarka had inflicted on them ran too deep.
"Father!"
A child cried out.
"No!"
The Lord of House Tarka, retreating under the protection of his guards, watched with his own eyes as his young child was lifted high by the slaves and then hurled violently to the ground.
The child's limbs twitched for a moment before going completely still.
"You damned butchers! He's only four years old! How could you do this?"
The Lord of House Tarka trembled with grief and fury.
Rather than feel even the slightest guilt at his words, the slaves impaled the child's corpse on spears and desecrated it to their hearts' content.
Seeing the Lord of House Tarka's agony only made them laugh more happily.
So even noble slave masters could feel pain!!
Angron did not stop them.
Blood for blood, tooth for tooth—this was humanity's oldest oath.
Not a single member of House Tarka escaped. The enraged slaves tortured them all to death.
They were thrown into acid, impaled on sharp steel spikes, and cast into beast pens to be torn apart.
The Lord of House Tarka himself was dismembered alive by the slaves.
The war continued from dusk until dusk the following day.
Blood dyed the ruined city red.
Black smoke from the signal fires blanketed the sky.
As the commander of an Adeptus Custodes squad, La was decisive. He would not allow it to become public that Number Twelve had once been a slave.
That would damage the Emperor's exalted image.
Nukeria's nobles had to die.
Everything that had happened here would be buried beneath crimson blood.
History would be erased and reshaped.
When the war came to an end, the surviving nobles and slave masters were forced to kneel together, awaiting judgment from fate.
They trembled violently, and some had even wet themselves.
They no longer possessed their former arrogance or lofty airs.
"Their fate is yours to decide, Number Twelve."
La walked over to Angron's side.
"As the Emperor's son, you have the right to pass judgment on these people."
The nobles and slave masters looked at Angron expectantly, hoping he would show mercy.
"Send them into the arena for Nukeria's final gladiatorial contest."
"One of them will survive, as a witness to the end of Nukeria's age of slavery."
The nobles and slave masters revealed despairing expressions.
Behind Angron, the slaves erupted into cheers.
They rushed forward and dragged the nobles and slave masters away.
They intended to return, one by one, all the pain those people had inflicted upon them.
La said to Angron, "Number Twelve, matters here are finished. We should leave."
"Where are we going?" Angron looked around, reluctant to leave.
"Back to the stars, to meet your father and your brothers," La said.
"Go with them, Angron." Oenomaus stepped forward. "From the moment I first saw you, I knew your destiny did not belong on Nukeria."
"But..." Angron showed a trace of reluctance. He did not want to part with his adoptive father and his brothers and sisters from the arena.
"Nukeria will be rebuilt with the Empire's help," La said. "You have nothing to worry about."
Angron was eventually persuaded.
Escorted by his adoptive father and countless gladiator companions, he left Nukeria with the Adeptus Custodes.
An auxiliary force remained behind to help Oenomaus and the others rebuild a new world without slaves.
What kind of people are my father and brothers?
On the journey back, Angron's heart was filled with unease and anticipation.
The Emperor's Grand Plan.
Cheers rang out across the training grounds.
Bare-chested, Horus threw an Astartes warrior whose Gene Engine had not yet been activated to the ground.
After completing his daily studies, Horus would train with the warriors on the training grounds.
His combat skills had improved by leaps and bounds, earning him quite a reputation among the warriors.
"You're getting better and better."
"We look forward to fighting at your side."
The warriors of the Sixteenth Legion stepped forward one after another to congratulate Horus.
Warriors from the other legions watched enviously, lamenting the Sixteenth Legion's good fortune.
Their Primarchs were still lost somewhere in the galaxy!!
Who knew when they would return.
Hearing the warriors' praise, Horus smiled.
He hoped word of what had happened today would reach the Emperor's ears.
"I look forward to the day you become the Legion's leader, Horus."
A recruit from the Sixteenth Legion squeezed to the front of the crowd.
The recruit's words delighted Horus, so he asked for his name.
"My name is Ezekyle Abaddon. Like you, I come from Kossonia."
Horus wanted to speak with Abaddon a little longer, but the Adeptus Custodes suddenly arrived with an imperial decree from the Emperor, ordering Horus to see him.
Horus could only bid Abaddon farewell reluctantly and leave with the Adeptus Custodes.
He was taken to a grand hall.
A powerfully built gladiator stood in the hall, curiously examining everything around him.
The moment Horus saw him, he realized they were alike.
He too was his father's son.
At that thought, Horus inexplicably became angry and looked at the other man with hostility.
"You are unfriendly." The gladiator stared intently at Horus. "Do you want to duel me?"
Another chapter. Thank you, everyone, for continuing to read.
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