I couldn't talk him out of it! There was just no talking him out of it!
With the Nails removed, Angron had completely given up. Even with Francis's blade at his throat, he merely changed position and lay down.
"Don't say another word. I'm planning to rot away right here."
"I'm never serving the Emperor again. You can forget about it."
"I'm exhausted. I just want to rest."
"If you're not going to kill me, then do me a favor and close the door on your way out."
With that, Angron scratched his butt and closed his eyes, ready to rest.
Francis: ...
"Come with me. I can bring your father and your comrades back to life. No one else can do that for you."
"I can also let you slaughter everyone on Nuceria. If anything goes wrong, we can just run."
"If even that doesn't..."
Before Francis could finish, Angron sat up in an instant. "Deal!"
A short while later, he had put on his Power Armour and stood before Francis, saying excitedly, "Let's go. I'm ready!"
Francis: ...
As they went, Francis kept reflecting. So Angron's weakness was really this simple?
He'd said he would bring them back to life, but he never said he'd restore their original bodies. He could just clone a fake dad from their genes.
A fake dad was still a dad, wasn't he?
He hadn't even noticed the changes around them.
The battle had reached its boiling point. Swarms of Reaver-class Titans were trading fire with Ork Titans, while Ork Boyz piloted Gargants and repeatedly rammed into the Cadians' tanks.
The entire sky had turned black. Countless broken parts littered the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of roasted mushrooms and meat.
When the two of them appeared outside the battleship, all the World Eaters turned to look at them. Had they really just seen their Primarch smile?
And his head was completely bare, without a single Butcher's Nail on it.
The sight sent chills through the World Eaters. One of them, his arm severed and his head soaked with blood, asked in a trembling voice,
"What did you do to our Primarch? What did you do to him?!"
The other World Eaters looked over. Francis snapped out of his daze and, on an impulse, said, "Your Primarch, huh? He's a real treat~"
Angron: ...
The other World Eaters clearly had no idea Francis was teasing them. Instead, they were absolutely certain the Ork before them had done something terrible to their Primarch!
Their eyes all turned bloodshot as they roared, "You bastard!!!"
"Kill him!!!"
Seeing the tin cans charging toward their boss, the Ork Boyz threw up their hands and cheered. "Boss! Boss! Waaaaaagh~"
Francis's mouth twitched. He knew these Boyz couldn't be trusted. He nudged Angron beside him and said, "Say something! You don't want me to beat your sons to death, do you?"
Angron knew he wasn't joking. He hurriedly stepped forward and shouted, "I'm fine! And he's not an Ork. He's Francis, the Eleventh Primarch. There's no need for us to fight them."
The World Eaters looked bewildered. What was their Primarch saying?
These Ork Xenos were the Primarch's followers, and that Ork Warboss was the Primarch?
They couldn't believe any of it. Even though they had turned against the Imperium, they still loathed all Xenos.
Fight alongside Xenos—and Xenos they had already fought, no less?
Could a Primarch of a Legion really say something like that?
As everyone stood there, baffled, a figure burst out of a distant mound of corpses with a bang. Kharn dragged his wounded body forward, one step at a time, toward Angron.
Half his Power Armour was gone. From head to toe, he was covered in blood—whose blood, no one could say. Beneath his blood-soaked face, a pair of grim eyes glinted.
"Are you serious, Primarch?"
"Have you abandoned the Butcher's Nails too? What are we supposed to do?"
"If you insist on doing this, I'll obey."
As he spoke, Kharn took out a Butcher's Nail he had found and looked at Angron. If the Primarch said he wanted one installed, Kharn would put it in him at once.
Unfortunately, Angron didn't say that. Instead, he said, "Soon, we'll return to Nuceria. Then we'll be a real family."
The two passed Kharn by. He remained where he was, still holding the Butcher's Nail in both hands.
Crack!
Kharn crushed the Butcher's Nail. His expression was so calm it revealed nothing. He turned to the still-bewildered World Eaters and said, "I'll continue following the Primarch."
Then he turned and followed the two of them. The other World Eaters who were still wavering had no choice but to follow as well.
Meanwhile, over by Francis—
"I figured we'd have to fight, no matter what. Boss really is the best! Hehehe~"
"Boss, look! I've got Nails in my head too. They even move around—it feels great!" An Ork Boy had stuck a headful of Butcher's Nails into his skull. The Gretchin on the ground wanted some too.
The Ork Boy indulgently stuck one into the Gretchin's head, and the Gretchin wailed in pain.
"Boss, look! I made a Nailgun. It's dead powerful with these Nails loaded in!"
"And me! And me! I made a Nail-rake~"
A crowd of Ork Boyz surrounded Francis, chattering away and praising him nonstop.
Angron couldn't understand Orkish, but he could tell they liked Francis a lot. "Looks like they really like you. Being an Ork doesn't seem so bad."
"Heh, it's not bad. Maybe you can give it a try sometime."
Francis gave an awkward laugh. Good thing Angron couldn't understand what the Orks were saying.
Ork corpses covered the ground, but even more spores were constantly spreading from the bodies. The ground around them had already turned into a swamp.
Starting with the tiniest Gretchin, new Ork Boyz were continually growing!
Right by Francis's feet, a delicious Squig had just sprouted. It squirmed like a slice of toast.
Francis scooped it up and held it to Angron's mouth. "Want a taste? These freshly grown ones are delicious. Their bones are still soft, so you can just gulp it down."
"Mm! You know those crispy beef cartilage sausages? It tastes just like that!"
The World Eaters: ...
The Ork Boyz: !!!
Angron: ???
Seeing Angron quickly wave him off, Francis could only reluctantly toss the delicious Squig away, leaving the Ork Boyz to fight over it.
But he hadn't expected that their fight over one delicious Squig would escalate from a few of them brawling with warhammers to a thousand of them driving Gargants into each other.
Francis's face flushed. "Uh... they just like fighting over their food. Don't get the wrong idea."
At last—
They saw Horus standing atop a mountain of corpses, clad in specially made, enormous Terminator Armour. As he crushed an Ork Titan in front of him, he spotted them too.
A blazing fire rose in Horus's heart. At a time like this, Angron had joined the Xenos?
Humiliation! Utter humiliation!
He even wanted to strip Angron and the World Eaters of their status as rebels!
The angrier Horus got, the more fiercely he raged. He suddenly hurled the Titan's arm at them and roared, "Angron! Have you sunk so low that you've joined forces with Orks?!"
Francis swung a punch in turn and smashed the Titan's arm to pieces. Falling metal shards sent the Gretchin on the ground scurrying in every direction.
"Waaaaaagh~"
The Orks watching from the sidelines thought they were dancing and clapped!
The once murderous atmosphere turned bizarre in an instant.
Angron took a deep breath and stepped forward, wearing what he thought was an expression of deep brotherly affection.
"Horus, he's not a Xenos! He's Francis!"
"He's your brother too!"
Angron pointed at the Ork Warboss, who stood more than ten meters tall. His voice echoed through the air. In that moment, all fighting stopped, and the Astartes stared at the scene in shock.
"Shut up!!!"
"You traitor, siding with the Xenos!"
"Don't call me your brother!"
Horus's eyes bulged like bells. His face turned purple as he howled in fury.
Horus felt as if his entire head were swelling. It seemed all his blood had rushed to his head, and even his feet were starting to go cold!
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