The Power of Khorne (Part 2)

Boom!

The Power Fist, encased in Disintegration field, struck the Daemon Primarch's armor, leaving only a shallow dent.

But Belial wasn't so lucky.

The heavy Power Armor collapsed inward instantly, emitting a terrifying cracking sound. Belial spat out a mouthful of hot blood, as if he had been hit head-on by a main cannon, plowing a trench tens of meters long into the ground. His fate was unknown.

Samuel seized the opportunity when Angron paused, and unleashed the Melta beams without stopping.

A barrage of scorching beams wove together a dense web of fire, precisely targeting Angron's vulnerable points such as the Butcher's Nails, armor, and joints.

However, most of these beams of light were blocked by a blood-red current of air before they even got close, deflecting their direction and landing elsewhere.

Of course.

How could Daemon Primarch blessed by Khorne possibly be killed by "guns"?

These ranged attacks wouldn't even get a chance to hit him; they would be "blessed" and deflected.

Even if a few attacks manage to land on him, they are instantly swallowed up by his writhing flesh, leaving a shallow indentation, as if it were tickling him.

Samuel bit open the pin of a Melt Bomb; although he had lost his left arm, at least he still had his legs!

Holding the Melt Bomb with its pin deactivated, he disregarded the danger to his own life and forced his way into the Daemon Primarch's attack range, slamming the Melt Bomb directly into Angron's wings.

Angron, noticing the person behind him, didn't even bother to turn around completely. He simply swung his thick arm, which was several sizes larger than Samuel himself and covered in thick keratin and bone spurs, with a casual, impatient air, as if crushing an ant.

!!!

The deafening explosion was the sound of air being compressed to its limit and then suddenly bursting open.

That thick, Daemon arm, like a siege hammer, slammed heavily into Samuel's fast-moving trajectory.

Even though Samuel sensed danger and threw out the Melt Bomb in advance, and with his superhuman reflexes he made an emergency evasive maneuver, he was still no match for Angron's speed and was struck in the waist and abdomen by that thick arm.

Click!

His armor shattered inch by inch, like a volleyball, crashing heavily to the ground, bouncing high into the air for several meters before falling silent.

But his desperate strike was not without significance.

The Melt Bomb, after being flung away, landed precisely on the back of Angron's head.

Boom!

The intense heat of the Melta explosion forced even the Daemon Primarch to its knees several steps. Its obsidian-like body, flowing with Chaos blood, was melted by Melta extreme heat, revealing its bright red, pulsating internal organs.

"Ahhh--"

The pain stimulated the Daemon Primarch, its ferocious face twisting even more, roaring as it tried to chop up the ant that dared to harm it.

Just as he turned his head, the Supreme Grand Master Azrael, the commander of the Dark Angels and the inheritor of the Lion King's will, finally found a flaw!

That ancient, Secret Sword, burning with extremely pure Psychic Power flames, was like the only ray of dawn in the pitch-black night, becoming the day that pierced through the darkness!

Seizing the moment when Angron changed his target, he unleashed a sword strike, the culmination of his life's martial arts skills, with a resolute intent, aimed straight for Angron's "heart"!

The Daemon's heart is its only weakness!

As long as this "artifact," the Secret Sword, can pierce the heart of the Daemon Primarch, no matter how powerful Angron is, he can only be banished back to the Warp.

With unwavering faith, the Supreme Grand Master's sword, trailing a streak of light, sliced through the air!

However, as the Daemon Primarch, Angron's senses had long surpassed the biological level, and he perceived this only opportunity.

"Coward!!!" He roared furiously, forcefully twisting his upper body to avoid the sword's trajectory.

The sword, brimming with hope, merely touched that filthy, flowing chest, as the Psychic Power flames suddenly scorched the profaned flesh.

But that's all.

Angron's movements were faster than the limits of physics, and his massive body displayed incredible agility. With just a slight turn of his body, the muscles covered by his heavy armor writhed, twisted, and taut like a living creature.

The muscles seemed to be alive, biting into his sword blade and clamping down on the tip, preventing it from advancing even an inch or penetrating even a fraction!

The Psychic Power flames wrapped around the blade scorched Angron's flesh relentlessly, producing a sizzling sound.

Angron gripped the blade, a more ferocious smile spreading across his face. Pain only added to his pleasure. "Coward, son of Ryan!"

Angron roared, his giant hand tearing through the air with a shrill screech, slapping at Azrael like swatting flies, creating a massive wave!

If that slap lands squarely, even if he's wearing a helmet, Azrael will have to go see the "Emperor" on the spot!

"Repent, heretic!!!" A deep, metallic roar rang out. It was Asmodeus, who had been lurking in the shadows, like Angel of Death returning from Hell. His skull helmet looked particularly chilling in the blood-red light.

The Power hammer, at full power, slammed into Angron's arm, giving Azrael a chance to survive.

Oh!

Enveloped in the Power hammer of the punitive stance, it bent Angron's strong arms.

Azrael seized the opportunity to pull out the blade that was stuck in Angron's chest and ducked to dodge.

But for Angron, the two of them, who had put all their strength into their attack, only caused him to freeze for a moment before he threw another punch.

Azrael didn't have time to dodge this time, and could only barely avoid the vital points. His Ceramite shoulder armor was shattered by a punch, and his shoulder bone was also broken. However, Azrael only groaned and suddenly exerted his strength. He turned his Secret Sword and slashed at Angron, cutting a bloody gash in front of him.

All of this happened extremely quickly.

The Dark Angels' most powerful hero, Chief Librarian, Lord of Deathwing, Ravenwing Blade, commander of the Legion, and spurr of faith, is now staggering and critically injured.

Their pride—strength, speed, defense, Psychic Power, and faith—was embodied in the pure, ferocious power of the Daemon Primarch, Angron.

Faced with overwhelming destructive power, it is as fragile as a child's toy.

The air was thick with the stench of blood, the acrid smell of burning metal, and a despair that seeped into the very marrow of one's bones.

Like a cat playing with a mouse, Angron moved with cruel and mocking gait, his slow, heavy steps dragging the Soul Hunter's golden blade across the ground. Amidst the howls of countless soul fragments within its serrated edges, it carved a chasm of churning blood and lava, emitting a pungent stench of burnt sulfur. "You are the Blood God, join me in embracing Chaos —Atropos!"