The truth of the matter

In the Warp, Slaanesh instantly forgot his pain, leaped up, waved his arms, and shouted:

"That's right! Together! Together! This is the most beautiful feeling!"

In the golden light, a faint, gratified smile appeared on the Emperor's lips.

With a flick of his fingertips, he brushed past the turbulent currents of Warp, protecting this small world completely.

The girl's gaze fell on Krieg's gas mask, her cheeks flushed red like ripe apples, and she repeated:

"I want to be with you forever, right here, guarding this field and this river."

Krieg froze for a moment, and after a long while, he slowly spoke.

The previous rigidity was gone from her voice; instead, it carried a genuine gentleness and a hint of apology.

"I thank you for your kindness, commoner lady."

"But please forgive me, I cannot grant your request."

He raised his hand, his fingertips landing on the buckle of the gas mask:

"First and foremost, I am a warrior of the Emperor, and my life is meant to be dedicated to the battlefield."

Even if this world is so peaceful, even if there is no gunfire here, my duty has never changed.

"Secondly, and most fundamentally."

The soft click of the buckle popping open was particularly clear in the wind, and Krieg slowly removed his gas mask.

A slender face was exposed to the sunlight, and the skin was a pale white that had not seen the sun for a long time, like the finest mutton fat jade, which made the eyes particularly eye-catching.

The beautiful violet color, like the sunset glow on the riverbank, her long eyelashes blinked twice, like butterflies fluttering their wings.

Her lips parted slightly, and her voice, no longer muffled by the gas mask, was as clear and crisp as a mountain stream—a truly girlish voice.

"It seems that women can't fall in love with each other."

"!!!"

The farm girl froze, her pupils widening slightly, and the blush on her face instantly intensified, spreading from her cheeks to her ears and even her neck.

She stood there helplessly, twisting the hem of her clothes with her fingers. After a long while, she slowly squatted down and sat next to Krieg, gently resting her head on her shoulder.

Krieg's shoulder armor was cold, but the girl felt warm. She considerately shifted her body slightly to make the girl more comfortable leaning against her.

A gentle breeze rustled the wheat fields, and the river babbled softly. The two of them closed their eyes, and time seemed to stand still by the riverbank.

On the opposite bank of the river, in the shadows, Angron crouched on the ground, his arms wrapped around his knees, his massive body curled up in a ball.

The usual ferocity had faded from his scarlet eyes, which were now fixed on the gentle scenery of the riverbank before him.

Quietly feel the gentle breeze caressing your face, and the indescribable sweet fragrance in the air, a blend of wheat and youthful scent.

Is this hell?

He murmured to himself, the tranquility of this place felt so unfamiliar.

So unfamiliar that even his tense muscles felt a slight, helpless soreness, and even the anger deep within him seemed to have been softened by the gentle breeze.

He spoke softly to the wind brushing his cheek, his voice hoarse, as if confiding in someone, or perhaps mocking himself. "Perhaps, I really do look manic."

"But deep inside, in that place burned by anger for ten thousand years, there is also something hidden."

He raised his rough palm, his fingertips touching the bloodstained armor on his chest, the cold metal digging into his palm.

Through the layers of armor plates, he could almost feel the heart that was always pounding wildly, but was now slowing down slightly, and the faint softness hidden beneath the layers of anger.

"My socks slipped down and got stuck on the balls of my feet, and because I was wearing this armor, I didn't even have a chance to bend down and straighten them."

"The sock on the other side was intact, but there was a pebble stuck inside the shoe."

Perhaps it has been stuck for hundreds or thousands of years, pressing against the soles of my feet and causing pain for tens of thousands of years, but I can no longer distinguish whether that pain is from the stones grinding against it or from the burning anger in my bones."

"My underwear is the same; it's already halfway down and caught in my butt crack, which makes me very uncomfortable."

But from birth to death, I was always fighting, always killing; I never even had time to pull down my underwear.

His voice grew softer and softer, carrying a weariness he himself was unaware of, and a plea so humble it seemed it could be blown away by the wind:

So, God!

Angron abruptly looked up, his scarlet eyes gazing at the clear, cloudless sky. His voice suddenly rose, like the roar of a trapped beast, yet filled with endless grievance and resentment:

"Can't you just give me one day of peace, even if it's just one day?"

The moment the words left his lips, a barely perceptible shadow fell across the sky, as if the sky itself had responded.

But it's better not to respond at all.

The power of the four gods was like murky mud, or a clump of bird droppings suddenly falling from the sky, pouring into him without warning.

That familiar force, brimming with violence and madness, instantly gripped his limbs and bones, seeping into his very marrow.

Countless urging roars exploded in his mind—Go to war! Go to kill! Go to destroy! This is not a place for you!

Angron's body tensed abruptly, and a terrifying ferocity instantly reignited in his crimson eyes. His clenched fists made his knuckles crack.

The sound of bones grinding together was particularly jarring in the gentle breeze, igniting the anger deep within and burning away any remaining tenderness.

After a long while, he let out a furious roar filled with extreme resentment, a roar that shook the river and caused the wheat fields on the banks to collapse.

Even the two girls on this side of the river couldn't help but open their eyes; the slight tremor in their shoulders shattered the tranquility of the riverbank.

The roar contained anger, resentment, and an overwhelming despair.

Angron suddenly stood up, his massive body leaving a deep crater in the ground, the metallic clanging of his armor sounding cold and harsh.

He took one last look at the golden hue and the cold white figure on the opposite bank of the river, and at the tranquility he longed for but could never attain.

Turning around, I walked step by step towards the end of the field. The shadows behind me grew thicker and thicker, completely shutting out the gentle breeze and sweet fragrance.