Preparing for a Rainy Day

In the infirmary.

"Once the Adeptus Custodes arrive, you can leave. I'm fine, don't worry."

Francis patted the shoulders of the Soul Drinkers.

He had seen it just now; since he didn't have time to notify them, they really thought something had happened to Francis.

They were so anxious on the spot that they almost killed all the apothecaries who couldn't find anything wrong.

Now their eyes were red like a rabbit's from crying, and the dignified Soul Drinkers had become crying messes.

"Repeat what I just told you," Francis had given them a mission earlier.

"Okay, the mission is to notify Primarch Magnus to contact Angron and tell him that you have a way to heal him."

"If you want healing, come to Terra to find you."

Salpador repeated word for word.

"Very good, prepare yourselves. They'll be back soon." Francis nodded.

"Primarch, why don't we help you heal? We can learn!"

Ever since Salpador started learning the "Francis-style" healing method, he had actually grown to like helping others.

Seeing their concerned eyes, Francis's mouth twitched, and he quickly refused.

"No! Don't touch me with those big rough hands of yours, it makes me uncomfortable."

The Soul Drinkers were a bit dejected upon hearing this, but they soon heard footsteps outside.

They nodded, it was more important to complete the mission first.

Screech~

The infirmary door opened, and they saw Valoris enter with several Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence.

Valoris personally carried a large basin of hot water. Upon seeing Francis curled up on the bed clutching his stomach, he understood that he couldn't wait any longer!

Salpador nodded to the other party, then led the other Soul Drinkers out.

"Primarch Francis, tell us. What do you need us to do?" Valoris asked anxiously.

Francis then pretended to open his eyes and look at everyone. Seeing that Valoris hadn't left, he said, "You don't need to watch. You can wait outside for me."

"Let me do it! After all, it was I who didn't know about your old injury." Valoris insisted.

Francis: "..."

"Really, you don't need to. Just those two are enough. More won't help."

"This ritual emphasizes the concept of fate, which you don't possess."

Hearing Francis say this, Valoris had no choice but to retreat dejectedly.

Leaving behind only one Adeptus Custodes and one Sister of Silence, Francis then told them with utmost seriousness.

"What I'm about to teach you is a very powerful ritual."

"Once learned, you can even help the Emperor alleviate his pain in the future. It's a lost technology."

Upon hearing this, the eyes of the two immediately flashed with light.

Everything for the Emperor!

When Francis removed the Power Armour from his feet and placed them into the basin of water, a warm current flowed from the soles of his feet into his body.

Adeptus Custodes: ???

Sister of Silence: ???

"This is ancient human meridian technology. By pressing different parts of the body, you can achieve physical relaxation."

"Come! Which Adeptus Custodes will come over, I'll teach you the authentic foot massage technique."

"And you, you have less strength, come and massage my shoulders."

Under Francis's careful guidance, the two gradually became familiar with the techniques.

However, they still voiced their doubts. "Does this really work? Primarch, you're not lying to us, are you?"

"Don't worry, the gene-tech I possess tells me this is very effective. The Emperor also needs you to do this!"

Hearing Francis's answer, the two immediately became more diligent.

The Adeptus Custodes learned techniques such as the single-finger knuckle fist, thumb pressure method, finger/palm kneading, finger pushing, and tapping – all immensely powerful foot massage techniques.

And the Sister of Silence, due to her natural characteristic as an untouchable, possessed rare talent in massaging the back, shoulders, and head!

Francis, who was originally exhausted, felt completely relaxed.

After an unknown amount of time spent massaging, Francis lazily turned over.

"Your techniques are already proficient. The important task of helping the Emperor relieve his fatigue will fall upon you!"

Upon hearing Francis say that they could share the Emperor's burdens, the two immediately jumped for joy.

"Rub my feet for the Emperor's health!"

"Rub my back for the Emperor's health!"

The smooth touch was as expected from the Adeptus Custodes and Sisters of Silence; they could handle even these tasks with ease.

Soon, he could infer and apply the techniques. Each massage was perfectly executed, and the Adeptus Custodes would often ask kindly, "How does that feel?"

Francis's reply was, of course, "Excellent! Just like that!"

Francis would have a very comfortable time before reaching Terra.

However, the only thing Francis worried about was whether he would be locked up again upon returning to Terra!

Therefore, it would be best if he could contact Angron.

At this time, it should be their ceasefire period. If nothing unexpected happened, the Emperor would send Leman Russ to deal with Angron.

He didn't want to miss this spectacular scene!

Angron, the Primarch of the World Eaters Legion.

Due to the initial loss of his Primarch, he was raised on the brutal planet of Nuceria, constantly fighting as a slave gladiator. The slave owners implanted the "Butcher's Nails" into him to enhance his aggression.

This implant was similar to a lobotomy. It was constantly eroding Angron's mind; an ordinary person would have died long ago.

Furthermore, it was a relic technology, astonishingly complex. Even the best Tech-Priests, including the Emperor, could not remove these devices without killing Angron.

The original Angron could only escape this damned thing by falling to Chaos.

Although Francis wasn't sure if it could be completely cured, he had to try.

So, when Magnus heard this news, he immediately jumped up with joy. "Excellent! I'll notify him right away!"

Just as Magnus was about to send the message, he suddenly remembered what Francis had said earlier.

His own psychic powers would be affected and changed by Chaos.

At the same time, Salpador saw the other's concerns and continued, "The Primarch said you just can't use your psychic powers on Terra."

"Even if its power is altered, Angron is still a Primarch; he won't die."

"That makes sense! Then I'll notify him now."

Francis knew very well that he couldn't give Magnus two choices. If there was more than one option, Magnus would agonize over it for a long time.

Even though it might harm other World Eaters, the urgent situation left Francis no time to consider every detail.

After all, as long as Angron existed, the World Eaters Legion would not disappear.

And all Magnus could think about was his brother suffering and needing to be saved.

He arrived on the deck.

Unlike a Chief Librarian who needed many people to gather psychic energy simultaneously, Magnus, as the most powerful psyker besides the Emperor, could transmit psychic communications over extremely long distances by himself.

He slowly raised his hands, took a deep breath, and began to chant an ancient and complex incantation. Each syllable echoed in space like a musical note, weaving a psychic path to Mal Koya.

As the incantation deepened, the energy fluctuations around him grew stronger, as if the entire space was trembling for it.

"Angron, you are saved. Francis is waiting for you on Terra."

A dazzling light burst from Magnus's hands, transforming into a thin beam that shot into the Warp.

Obviously.

In the Warp, an inexplicable force passed through the beam.

The beam, originally as thick as a thumb, suddenly became as thick as a wrist.

It seemed that the force was not satisfied with this result.

As the beam traveled, that force continuously modified and altered it, only letting go after amplifying it more than tenfold, seemingly content.

The beam flew out of the Warp and arrived on the planet Mal Koya. It seemed to have found its target and dived straight down.

In the center of a crowd, a man with a large amount of dreadlock-like ornaments stood there. His golden Power Armour was stained with the blood of his enemies.

The ground around him was littered with enemy skulls. They seemed to be participating in some peculiar competition.