Khorne, why did you betray me!
Revelry, joy, excitement, bloodlust--·
Two similar yet completely opposite emotions surged in his mind. Angron didn't know why he felt this way, nor did he know where these emotions came from.
"Daydreaming again!"
Opened Eyes, all I could see was a cold, high mountain range, its dark slopes blending seamlessly with the pristine white snow, resembling a delicious frosted cake.
This was Angron's favorite food, and his only hope after becoming a slave. Only when he tasted that delicious dessert could he forget his pain and the fact that he was a slave.
This is where it all began, the first scene seen by a life named Angron after its birth, and of course, the beginning of painful memories.
Those strangely shaped figures chased after him, attacking him with special devices that could launch sharp darts. Every time the darts whizzed through the air, his body would be filled with intense pain.
Angron had experienced this feeling many times, so much so that he knew the trajectory of every dart by heart. Years of gladiator experience had taught him to fight back. He picked up a handful of stones and, while dodging the darts, threw them behind him.
This time, he didn't shed tears like he did when he was a child. After all, he had experienced far too much. Whether it was the two Butcher's Nail piercing his brain or witnessing his friends die one by one before his eyes, the pain was far more despairing than any physical injury.
The pursuers were dwindling in number, and each throw was reducing the number of those damned Aeldari, while their attacks couldn't hit the Primarch, who had become a master of mechanics.
Yes, Aeldari! The first people Angron encountered were not humans, but these Pointy-eared sprouts who hunted him because of the prophecy.
The power of the Primarch is truly amazing; he smashed the opponent's helmet with a stone he picked up at random, Angron witnessed firsthand those damned long ears.
After defeating the group of hunters, the surrounding scenery suddenly changed. Angron arrived at the foot of the mountain, the place where the nightmare had begun. Driven by his innate curiosity, he desperately wanted to make contact with humans, but all he was met with was anesthetic.
Even now, Angron doesn't understand why he was drugged. He could destroy a steel speedboat with a stone and survive in the wilderness of the mountains right after he was born, but he just couldn't resist that damned anesthetic.
I hate anesthetics!
The memories that followed were all painful. Even without the threat of the Aeldari that randomly spawned in the mountains, or the hunger of the barren hills, Angron witnessed true malice here.
He became a slave, a pathetic slave whose entertainment was to kill each other.
Angron Tark, that is his name, and also proof of his status as property of the Tarq Family.
In that colossal arena, 100 gladiators were thrown in to fight. As sulfuric acid was poured in, everyone could only run towards the pyramid platform, and in the end, only one survivor was chosen. Angron was one of them.
That feeling was unpleasant, and the young Angron would never forget that experience, nor would he forget all the jubilant, wicked souls in the stands.
As time went by, thanks to the Primarch's superior physical abilities, Angron earned the title of "The Unbeaten" and gained some friends known as "Companions".
Young but optimistic Yochuka, lively and energetic Theseus, steady and silent Chromach, and Kleist, who only has one leg but is incredibly strong and extremely foul-mouthed.
The person who had the greatest influence on him was the old gladiator named Onomamus.
Angron doesn't know who his father is, but if he does, Ono is definitely the most like the father figure in his mind, even though Ono has never admitted it.
Sometimes, Angron would fantasize about what kind of person his father was, whether he would love him like Ono did, impart his experience and knowledge to him as much as possible, and give him an experience called family affection in the midst of pain.
Angron hoped it was true, after all, Ono was already dead, and had been brutally murdered after he was implanted with nails.
One nail represents pleasure, the other represents death.
But compared to the red Butcher's Nail, Angron feared the purple, filthy creature even more. It was this damned thing that showed him what true blasphemy was.
Even though he was prepared, Angron was disgusted by the sudden, uninhibited gathering of 100,000 people; every time he watched it, it left him with a psychological trauma.
This sudden burst of pleasure drove the entire High-Riders of Nuceria into a frenzy of excitement, Angron was used repeatedly like a little purple toy.
No matter how enormous he was, Angron was still a naive child, not to mention that he was capable of sensing the hearts of others and becoming an amplifier of desire.
Perhaps driven by the desire for ultimate pleasure, Angron, which has become a must-eat in Nuceria, has become a highly sought-after commodity. In fact, the High Lord launched a war that swept across the entire world in order to win this beauty.
The phrases "femme fatale" and "captivating beauty" might not be entirely accurate when applied to Angron, but that's the reality of his madness and derangement.
So much so that when another pure bloodthirsty lunatic appeared, brutally slaughtered the perverted lunatic and took him away, Angron actually felt a sense of comfort and peace, even though he was once again nailed with a red Butcher's Nail.
Through the Butcher's Nail, Angron regained his senses and learned of the existence of the Blood God. Guided by the Blood God, he escaped and found his surviving companions.
"Blood for the Blood God, Offer Skulls to the Throne!"
Angron was silently reciting prayers, knew that this Blood God was no good either, but compared to eating shit to his heart's content, shit-flavored chocolate was a rare treat, at least it wouldn't make him act like a pervert when he went berserk.
But as he continued chanting, Angron suddenly realized that the spell, which had always worked in the past, was ineffective today. He was still trapped in this illusion, and he vaguely heard several thunderous, arrogant laughs.
"Mordred, you are my pride! I'll do anything for you if you agree to serve me."
"That won't do. You already have Angron. If I take my good brother's place, how will I face people in the future?"
"Angron? I have no connection to him! I've never met him."
Angron was filled with hatred. He seemed to suddenly realize something, something burning wildly in his chest. Even though he was in an illusion, he still cursed at the half-red, half-purple sky:
"You damn bastard, you kept saying you loved me, that I was your sweetheart, but now that you have someone new, you don't even recognize me anymore."
An unparalleled rage burned within his soul, so much so that even the Butcher's Nail could not control it, and could only transfer its fury to the Nail of Ecstasy that lived with him, utterly shattering this illusion.
"You bastard—how dare you betray me! I'll fight your mother!"
Suddenly awakened, Angron instinctively threw a punch, sending Guilliman, who had come over to check on the situation, flying. Immediately afterward, countless gun barrels were pointed at his head.
Looking at the unfriendly Ultramarines around him, who seemed ready to pull the trigger at any moment, the muscular man with twin ponytails in the center of the cockpit couldn't help but swallow hard, raising his hands in surrender:
"Xi Yiyi, can we reconcile?"