The Eldest Brother is Like a Father

Kharn stood up. He hadn't fought for a long time, his duty being to guard Angron. The dried blood on his Power Armour made him incredibly thirsty.

He decided he would drink his fill of Ork blood!

Vroom vroom~

The chainsword roared. Kharn seemed to hear the whispers of slaughter, and he felt filled with power.

"Orks, die!" Kharn raised his chainsword and charged at Francis, seeing him as just another head to take.

However.

Bang!

Francis punched the chainsword. With the sound of twisting metal, the chainsword smashed fiercely into the Power Armour on Kharn's chest, shattering it like tiles.

The fist continued its momentum, leaving a massive imprint directly on Kharn's chest. He was sent flying backward, crashing straight through the wall.

"Sigh~ Is this what it feels like to abuse someone?"

"It certainly feels good!"

Francis looked at his fist, then kicked open the large door.

A rotten smell wafted from inside, accompanied by a buzzing vibration and Angron's mumbling. "Father, did you come to pick me up?"

Angron's hazy eyes gazed at the light from the doorway. At this moment, his adoptive father's figure was so immense that he seemed to need to tear down the wall just to enter.

He could feel his body growing weaker and weaker!

"Huh? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Faced with Angron's ambiguous gaze, Francis felt goosebumps rise all over his body. He quickly tore open a gap and walked in.

"Father, yesterday someone told me in my mind that if I believed in him, I would gain eternal life. My comrades are all waiting for me there," Angron said, becoming somewhat agitated. He grasped Francis's large hand, which was clearly rougher and stronger than he remembered.

"So, you believed him?" Francis frowned. How had Angron attracted so much attention?

"Of course not! I still remember the gladiator's creed you told me: Death is honor, it is freedom, it is a new beginning. I..."

Angron muttered on, finding the moment incredibly heartwarming.

But to Francis, it looked like: "Oh no, this is a life review!"

Francis pondered for a moment. If he pulled it out now, it should be fine. In fact, Angron should feel great.

As his hand rested on Angron's head, Angron smiled warmly. "Father, give up. This thing can't be removed. Francis is my brother, and he's already made me feel so comfortable."

"Perhaps dying comfortably like this wouldn't be so bad~"

Francis: ...

With a bang, like pulling a wine cork, a long Butcher's Nail was extracted. It even trembled, struggling to adapt to the current environment, and seemed to want to burrow into Francis's hand.

Angron, who should have lost consciousness, looked at the scene in front of him with confusion and mumbled, "That's not right! Didn't the Emperor say I would die if it was removed? How can I still be conscious with only half a head? Why am I not dead?"

"Who says you can't live with half a brain? Don't you still have the other half?"

"Legend has it that in the distant 1k era, there were even people who could fight after having their heads cut off!"

"You're just making a fuss over nothing!"

Francis's words were like the whispers of Chaos, constantly assaulting Angron's understanding.

"That's right! I still have half a brain. I can live even without a head!"

At the same time, Angron's brain, marrow, and spine continued to regenerate, frantically restoring themselves to their original state.

As the flesh and blood regenerated, Angron's consciousness also gradually returned to normal.

However, his adoptive father, as seen through his eyes, had increasingly rough skin. His originally brown skin had turned green, and his face was now adorned with the massive fangs unique to Orks.

"Father, why do you look more and more like an Ork? Did you reincarnate as an Ork?"

Angron's mind was still hazy. Once his brain had completely grown back, his eyes widened like saucers, and he leaped up, screaming, "Holy crap! An Ork!!"

Performing seven consecutive backflips, Angron grabbed the Blood Father and Blood Son from the wall.

"Sigh~ Just now you were calling me 'Daddy,' and now that you're better, you don't recognize your old man."

"Should I leave then?"

Francis put on a heartbroken expression. Angron, through his former empathic abilities, sensed that his adoptive father was genuinely heartbroken!

"You... you... don't talk nonsense! Wait, how can you talk?" Angron's new brain was still adapting, processing things a bit slowly.

Francis sat down on the ground, idly playing with the metal rod he had made earlier.

"I am Francis. If I hadn't turned into an Ork, do you think that thing on your head could have been removed?"

"I remember having a blast with this metal rod back then, crying and laughing. I'll extract the memories and make them into a meme video to send to everyone in the Imperium."

"No! I'll print more, and even throw some into the Warp."

Angron's head spun the more he listened. Although the pain was gone, he couldn't shake this unprecedented sense of shame.

He was even feeling a little excited!

Francis watched the other party remain silent, a faint blush appearing on his face.

"Something's wrong with you! I'm just telling you, I really am Francis. What's with that expression!"

Unexpectedly, Angron nodded obediently and said, "I believe you. Indeed, only you know that."

???

Francis was full of questions.

Meanwhile, outside the Conqueror.

Kharn slammed heavily onto the ground and passed out. As a Gretchin was scavenging around, it spotted Kharn.

Especially the nails on the top of his head. The Gretchin could feel that the Orks it followed loved to pull out nails. If it could pull one out too, it would surely be praised by them.

Just as the Gretchin gleefully grabbed Kharn's head, a large hand instantly crushed it.

Kharn slowly opened his eyes, then sat up.

He saw Orks everywhere pulling out their nails, while the World Eaters were also using chainaxes to slaughter the Orks.

Some World Eaters whose nails had been pulled out were in a daze, like zombies, numbly swinging their weapons and fighting back and forth with the Orks opposite them.

Kharn shot up, rage consuming his reason. He grabbed a weapon from the ground and charged at them.

A sword pierced through a World Eater's body from behind, then he was directly flung away, and Kharn continued charging towards the Orks.

"Die! All of you die! Leave none alive!"

"No cowards are tolerated here! Kill, kill, kill!!!"

"I want to become stronger! I want to become even stronger! No one can send me flying!"

He was shouting madly, his eyes stained red with blood. Two chainaxes carved a path through the chaos where no one else could tread!

He shredded everything living in front of him!

Even when an Ork reached out to grab him in mid-air, Kharn would raise his chainsword, leap high, and tear the Ork in half.

But he was eventually drowned in the tide of Orks, constantly slaughtering Orks, only to be knocked down by them. Every time they tried to pull out the nails on his head, he would awaken again.

Constant slaughter, then injury and unconsciousness. Then awakened by nail-pulling, then continue killing.

Countless heads piled up behind him. Kharn heard praise!

Every time he severed a head, he could hear the roaring praise: Kharn would be the manliest among the World Eaters!

Brass horns appeared on either side of him. This would be his coronation ceremony.

At the end of the red carpet, a massive brass throne stood tall, upon which sat a god who saw blood and fire through to the end.

But Kharn just stood there, a hand clad in black armor supporting him on his shoulder.