10. Containment

Roboute Guilliman gripped his anger tightly, remaining silent.

His reason was being slowly devoured by his emotions, and finally, in the long tug-of-war, anger prevailed. Reason sighed and retreated to a corner, leaving only anger behind.

He stood behind the bulletproof glass, gazing at the giant lying on the medical table, saying nothing, only remaining silent. Marius Gage stood beside his Primarch, feeling a chilling solemnity.

He knew his Primarch was angry at that moment, and Gage deeply regretted that he couldn't fully empathize with him.

He knew that there was no true empathy in the world, not even between Astartes and their Primarch, but that did not stop him from trying to go further.

He wanted to get as close as possible to his Primarch, in every way.

So Marius Gage spoke up, beginning to probe in a way permitted by his Primarch: "The physicians say he refuses to use anesthetics."

"I can see that," Roboute Guilliman responded in a very soft voice. "Pain is something we cannot escape, Marius, so I can see why he's trembling."

Gage was silent for a moment, a question swirling in his mind. Questions are like arrows nocked on a bow; it's impossible to expect them not to be released.

Half a minute later, he shot the arrow.

Are you angry?

"Of course." Roboute Guilliman didn't hide his emotions. "Second Company Miro reported to me about the laboratory in Desh'ea, and combined with some texts within it, translated by the Cogitator, I can roughly guess what kind of misfortune my brother suffered."

He turned his head, and an emotion that Gage couldn't understand was brewing in his blue eyes.

"That thing is called the Butcher's Nails," Roboute Guilliman said calmly. "A psionic surgical implant that goes through the skull, reaches the brain, and replaces some of the functions provided by the nerves and cerebral cortex."

"It amplifies the victim's negative emotions, such as anger or madness. Ordinary people who undergo this surgery quickly become bloodthirsty lunatics, eventually dying in battle or from the damage the nails inflict on their brains, a process that takes anywhere from three to five months. My brother, however, is different; he is a Primarch. Primarch have far greater regenerative abilities than ordinary people. His brain is being damaged by those nails every second, but he is also healing."

Roboute Guilliman lowered his head and let out something that didn't quite sound like laughter from deep in his throat. Then he asked, "Do you know what that means?"

Gage felt a dryness in his throat. After a dozen seconds, he replied, "Does this mean he's gradually merging with that thing?"

"No, it means that the nail is gradually eating away at and replacing him," Roboute Guilliman said seriously. "Those things will drill deeper and deeper; they will crave more. They will have irreversible effects on his brain in the process."

"I don't have a deep understanding of medicine, Gage, but I know what the brain means to humans."

Gage turned to look at the giant who was on the operating table, growling as he received stitches. Medical personnel moved around him, their mortal hands trembling. They couldn't help but be terrified.

But

"But he seems to be able to control himself, sir," Gage said. "At least he doesn't seem to crave killing like the people in those files."

Roboute Guilliman did not answer the question. He had a vague idea of who was responsible, but it would be difficult to explain to his Chapter Master what Karyl Lohars had done to his brother in that cave.

In fact, even Roboute Guilliman himself didn't quite understand it.

When he arrived there, he saw two giants covered in wounds.

His brother Angron growled, shielding the instructors Roboute Guilliman had brought behind him, warily refusing any approach from anyone, and even temporarily incapacitating four Ultramarines in the process.

If it weren't for the gladiators arriving a dozen minutes later and calling out Angron's name...

"Sir, Instructor Karyl has woken up."

A voice came from behind him. Roboute Guilliman didn't need to turn around to know whose voice it was; the Macragge's Honour had three medical halls, and only one person was in charge of them.

He turned and greeted him, maintaining the most basic courtesy. "Thank you for informing me, Dolores."

"It's my duty," Valentius Dollo nodded calmly. "Also, he'd like to ask you to come over; he has something important to tell you."

--

Roboute Guilliman entered the ward, where the occupant had already stood up, shirtless, and was now thoughtfully examining the new wounds on his body in a mirror.

"How is he?" Karyl asked, looking at Roboute Guilliman's face through the reflection in the mirror.

"He's relatively calm," Roboute Guilliman said. "But he refused anesthesia and other injectable medications that would be beneficial to his health. My medical team had to bring in a Cogitator to provide him with on-site translation."

"Are you still relatively calm?"

Karyl smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I acted without permission, Roboute."

"No." Roboute Guilliman denied his apology, refusing to accept it. "You saved four Ultramarines, and Sergeant Tampafus and the other three survivors of his squad wish to express their gratitude to you in person."

"I just did what any normal person would do."

"I'll arrange a meeting."

Karyl smiled helplessly; Roboute Guilliman now knew how to deal with him.

"Then what about the six victims?"

"They have been buried," Roboute Guilliman said solemnly. "The Gene-seed has also been extracted by the Apothecary; once they return to Macragge, their will will continue."

Karyl sighed slowly.

"That explosion." He squinted. "It came very suddenly, Roboute. It didn't even take two minutes from the explosion to the fire of that magnitude starting up."

"My legion is already investigating this matter. However, according to Sergeant Tampafus, he felt a chilling energy unique to psionic forces a minute before the explosion. I sent the Librarian to investigate, and their report clearly states that there were traces of psionic magic at the scene, which the caster intentionally concealed, but his skill was not enough to completely cover up the evidence."

Karyl nodded thoughtfully, turned around, and slowly put on the white shirt provided by the Ultramarines. Looking at his relaxed demeanor, Roboute Guilliman found it hard to connect the blood-soaked man leaning against the rock wall with him now.

"What exactly happened?" Roboute Guilliman asked.

His tone was so resolute and obvious that he clearly expected Karyl to continue telling him riddle after riddle, and he wanted to use this attitude to demonstrate his desire for the truth.

However, Karyl didn't beat around the bush with him, at least not this time.

"Your brother has gone mad," Karyl said calmly. "He's trying to fight that thing, and I tried to help him, but it backfired."

"But you're injured." Roboute Guilliman frowned. "Besides him, there were only his bodyguards present. I don't think they could have hurt you."

"You're subtly accusing your brother," Karyl chuckled. "Indeed, but these wounds weren't entirely his fault."

"What's the meaning?"

Karyl pondered in silence for a while.

His behavior gave Roboute Guilliman a brief moment of unease—what could possibly make Karyl Lohars so cautious?

His brows began to furrow more and more, as did the emotions in his heart, churning endlessly until they became a torrent so powerful that it almost overwhelmed his reason once again.

"People sometimes lose control," Karyl said softly after a moment. "In the cave, your brother had a moment of complete loss of control. But not like a normal person, temporarily losing his ability to think due to surging emotions. In fact, I think..."

He paused for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

"In that moment, he became anger itself," he said in a low voice. "Not controlled, but replaced. In that respect, I'm lucky."

"Good luck?" Roboute Guilliman felt a surge of absurdity. "You were almost killed by him."

Karyl shook his head.

"It was it," he said. "He wouldn't do such a thing. Didn't you see him try to kill himself because he refused to hurt others? Roboute, never mind, let's not talk about that anymore. I'll write you a report on the details later."

He smiled slightly.

Roboute Guilliman looked at him seriously—or rather, stared at him.

"A report won't solve my problem, and besides, how do you even write a report about something like this?" He crossed his arms and shook his head.

"Let's leave that aside. Since you, as one of the parties involved, have no objections, as for that thing on the back of his head, I've already investigated it. It's called the Butcher's Nails, a psionic surgical implant specifically used by slave owners to torture their slave gladiators. Angron's model is a special one, far more brutal than the standard version."

"Can it be removed surgically?" Karyl asked briefly.

"It's almost impossible to save his life." Roboute Guilliman shook his head painfully, which was one of the reasons why he had been so angry earlier.

"According to a gladiator named Karelian, the nail had been in his body for seven months. Scans confirmed his account; Angron's entire cerebral cortex had been pierced by sharp cables extending from the nail, with some even reaching into his spine."

Karyl nodded slowly, seemingly lost in thought.

"I understand," he said. "Then let's go see him together, Roboute. Besides, I can be your translator."

He chuckled lightly, appearing quite relaxed, which puzzled Roboute Guilliman, but he agreed to his suggestion.

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