Nimrod's Instruction: Stop Angron's Decimation

Mago, captain of the World Eaters' 18th Company, walked into the Conqueror's Hall of Triumph and scrutinized the tattered banners hanging from the walls.

They were the enemy's battle standards. They were the glory of the War Hounds.

Ever since its construction had been completed, this place had been a hall of glory.

From the Legion Master down to the newest recruit, all could walk here and look back on the brilliant victories they had won.

Mago clenched his fist. This ship had long since ceased to be called Fidelity's Resolve, and he was no longer a War Hound.

Now, he had not come here for glory.

They had gathered for failure.

The hall was terrifyingly quiet. The World Eaters' armor was cracked and smeared with the oily amber blood of the Gennans.

Everyone was waiting for their Primarch's wrath.

Angron gripped his long-hafted Chainaxe—Widowmaker—and came striding over like a beast searching for prey.

Everyone felt the contempt and displeasure in his gaze, felt that terror of a Primarch striking straight into the soul.

"Failure," Angron said mockingly. "Failure again."

"Kharn, I told you." His bloodshot eyes fixed on the captain of the 8th Assault Company.

"I told you to kill them all."

"I gave only one simple order. Everything had to die."

"Men, women, the old, children, even a dog—everything! It had to be wiped out completely."

Angron's gaze turned to the entire Legion. "You so-called World Eaters. You actually failed to conquer a single world. There are more than ten thousand of you. How pathetic."

He lifted his head and looked into the distance, toward Nuceria.

"My brothers and sisters, what do you think?"

The Butcher's Nails hummed and spun. Angron laughed loudly.

"Look at these pathetic imitators."

"We were nothing but a band of runaway slaves, starving