First Experience (Seeking Follow-up Reads)

A piece of fibrous muscle tissue, tough as oversized beef tendon, seemed to carry the anxiety of its host's long-term brutality even in its taste.

Accompanying it was a massive amount of genetic information.

"Primarch, Angron."

"Likes flowers."

"Born on Nuceria, a gladiator."

"Psykers sense and absorb surrounding negative emotions."

"..."

It was clear that this genetic information was immense, and Angron's entire life flashed before Francis's eyes.

From being abandoned as an infant on Nuceria, immediately encountering the loneliness and grievance of a Dark Eldar attack.

To being captured by slavers and forced into gladiatorial combat, then to the unwillingness and rage of being forced by his slave master to fight his own adoptive father to the death.

Finally, in his rebellion, he was fitted with the Butcher's Nails, and his adoptive father's death finally led him to lead his gladiator friends to slaughter the slavers.

It was a pity that, at the crucial moment, the Emperor took him away...

Unconsciously, a clear tear traced a path down Francis's stern face. He looked at his tear-stained palm and murmured, "What's wrong with me?"

"Francis, what's wrong? How is Angron?" Lysander, seeing that something was amiss, asked urgently.

Francis turned to look at the unconscious Angron. The constant frown on the latter's brow had eased considerably, as if unconsciousness was more comfortable for Angron than being awake.

Immediately after, Francis felt his six senses become even sharper; he could even see the emotions of others.

Lysander's anxiety, the vast amount of anxiety outside, impatience, pain, confusion.

Of course, the most obvious was Angron's anger and pain. If others' emotional light clusters were only fist-sized, then Angron's would be the size of a football field.

Then, Francis said, "The structure of a Primarch is far more complex than that of an Astartes, and it contains substances I can't understand."

"It doesn't seem like something from the material world. It's more like something from the Warp."

Hearing this, Lysander lowered his head.

Indeed, if even the Emperor couldn't solve the problem, how could it be solved so easily?

"However, there is a way to make him more comfortable. I need to try it first."

Hearing this, Lysander's eyes lit up again.

"More comfortable is fine too!"

Francis took a deep breath, then reached out to grasp the emotional light cluster on Angron.

As their hands made slight contact, it was like an electric shock, connecting their emotions.

Then, the pool filled with anger and pain, as if a floodgate had opened, surged madly into Francis's body.

Francis's eyes bloodshot, veins bulging on his forehead, his body trembling violently, sweat pouring down like rain.

The pain continued to rise, and finally, unable to bear it, he screamed, "Ahhhhhhh!"

Extreme pain!

It was a tearing sensation, as if electronic maggots were gnawing from his brain into his spinal cord.

It was a sense of fear, as if an alien entity was constantly devouring him from his mind to his body!

Francis could feel his body constantly rejecting this thing, damaged tissues regenerating rapidly.

It was as if two things were fighting for control of his body, constantly entwined, eventually mixing together, still consuming and destroying each other.

It was like a long nail embedded in his body, constantly stirring. Every time the wound was about to heal, the nail would tear apart the newly grown flesh again.

Until you're shredded into a pulp!

"Ahhhhhhh~"

Francis roared in agony, tearing at his hair and back. The ferocity on his face reminded Lysander of Angron.

"Francis! How are you! Stop it! Stop it!" Lysander was somewhat at a loss, only able to tightly embrace Francis to prevent him from tearing himself apart further.

"I can't stop!"

"Ahhh! Kill me! Kill me!"

"Ahhhhhhh!"

Blood seeped from Francis's seven orifices, and he wailed in pain, trying to tear apart everything in front of him.

Including himself, it seemed he could only feel pleasure when he saw blood!

Squeak squeak~

The armor on their bodies rubbed against each other, the sharp sound of twisting metal, the crisp sound of breaking bones, becoming incredibly pleasant at this moment.

The screams of agony even pierced through the med-bay and spread throughout the entire warship.

The Soul Drinkers, who were resting, immediately felt the Primarch's pain and rushed out.

They arrived outside the med-bay.

Bang bang bang!

"Primarch! What's wrong with you!"

"Primarch, open the door quickly! What in the world happened?"

"All of you, get out of the way, I'm breaking down the door!"

Saying that, Salpador prepared to attack the large door in front of him with his staff.

However, at this moment, Angron's roar echoed from inside the room again.

"Go! All of you, get out!"

"But..."

Before they could finish speaking, they heard Angron continue to roar.

"Scram! All of you, scram!!"

"Ahhh!"

Angron continued to roar in pain, and the Soul Drinkers waiting outside stood motionless by the outer door.

Thus, Angron's painful roars continued for a full month.

No one knew what was happening inside, only that the sounds of things being smashed constantly came from within.

Even the entire battleship was continuously vibrating.

Until, one month later.

Screech~

As the door opened, countless blood mist flew out from the medical bay.

It was an incomparably foul and nauseating smell of rotting blood.

As the blood mist gradually dissipated, the interior was in ruins, with metal fragments scattered everywhere, stained with blood.

And in the center of the room.

A bloodied figure sat there, clad in armor made of countless blood clots. Compared to a month ago, he had become incredibly emaciated.

His weight was estimated to be less than a quarter of what it was before.

The Soul Drinkers walked over in disbelief, their hearts aching fiercely.

"How could this be? Primarch, what exactly did you..."

Before Salpador could finish, the pile of debris beneath Angron began to scatter, and Angron seemed to have lost consciousness.

His body, carried by inertia, fell down.

Fortunately, Salpador caught him in time, and all the Soul Drinkers rushed to another medical bay.

Meanwhile, Leman Russ was also in bad shape. Countless deep, bone-revealing wounds were filled with blood clots, but his consciousness remained clear.

His eyes were still fixed on the unconscious Angron, whose face showed a rare calmness.

"So, you've been in so much pain all this time?" Leman Russ said with some sadness.

"Angron is truly a remarkable person. Perhaps some things were indeed done wrong?!"

At this moment, Angron had also fallen into a coma, his consciousness sinking into deeper memory fragments.

He was like a third party, overlooking a vast land.

He saw countless Astartes, like zombies, fighting against another group of flesh-and-blood twisted creatures.

Innumerable Warlords stood in the center of the battlefield. These behemoths, each like a moving mountain, their bodies forged from sturdy metal, their surfaces inscribed with ancient runes that shimmered with mysterious light.

Giant muzzles pointed forward, unleashing devastating energy beams that turned swarms of monsters into nothingness.

However, facing them were even more indescribable enemies—monsters that crawled out of abyssal rifts, their flesh and bones twisted and intertwined.

They had no fixed form; some were like giant tentacle monsters, while others resembled terrifying hybrids combining features of multiple creatures. Their eyes burned with a craving for life and a fervor for destruction.

They would even devour and fuse everything they could touch, including Titans!

Just as Angron wondered where this was, he heard the call of the Soul Drinkers.

The Soul Drinkers carefully peeled away the blood clots from Angron's body, revealing his true form.

Angron's entire body was covered in shocking, massive cracks, as if torn apart by something.

Fortunately, Primarchs possessed extremely strong recovery abilities; otherwise, anyone else would have likely died.

In just one month, Angron had shriveled up like jerky. How much bleeding must he have endured to become like this?

"Librarian, what should we do? Why isn't the Primarch awake yet?"

"Yeah, what do we do!"

"Librarian, give us some advice..."

Everyone anxiously asked Salpador.

"Quiet! The Primarch is still alive! As long as the Primarch is alive, he will be alright!"

"He'll wake up from his coma sooner or later!"

"What we need most right now is to help the Primarch recover his body. The Primarch needs a major boost!"

Salpador stepped forward and roared.

Meanwhile.

Next door, Angron's eyelids twitched slightly, as if he were about to wake up.