Daemon Primarch Angron (Part Two)!

Wreathed in thick smoke and sulfur, the daemon took one step after another, each footfall making the Blood Palace tremble. The shadow cast by its profane wings covered the entire shrine altar.

At that moment, the hundreds of kneeling Blood-colored World Eaters frenziedly raised their axes and Chainswords, shouting the "titles" of this blood-colored figure!

Red Angel!

Blood Father!

Lord of the Nails!

Fuck, I almost didn't recognize him—veins bulged at Alvin's temples. Those familiar titles finally made him realize that the daemon summoned by the "Chaos Ritual" before him was none other than the Daemon Primarch, Khorne's Living Engine of War—the World Eater, Angron!

Because Khorne Daemons all looked nearly identical, Alvin hadn't noticed the glittering nails embedded in the other party's head.

But now, he was truly dumbfounded.

Was this some kind of joke? The summoned daemon was actually the Daemon Primarch—Angron?!

Angron's background was rather tragic.

His madness all stemmed from the "Butcher's Nails" embedded in his forehead. Even the Emperor had been helpless against that miraculous device, and it ultimately led to his fall.

The device suppressed fear and compassion, leaving anyone implanted with the Butcher's Nails forever subjected to pain and rage until they became complete lunatics. Its unending agony had utterly twisted Angron's soul, turning him into what he was now.

As for what happened afterward—whether the Emperor's forced conscription extinguished the last trace of Angron's humanity, or whether dragging his entire legion into the abyss had been right or wrong—none of it mattered anymore.

The one standing before them now was merely a slave completely reduced to rage and the desire to kill!

If one had to choose the most intelligent among the twenty Primarchs, many people would have different answers. But if they had to choose the least intelligent—there was no doubt