Xiang Bang
He surveyed his fellow soldiers around him, his gaze sharp as lightning.
"Still hesitating, still wavering because of that long-corrupted and decaying bloodline source..."
How can we possibly repay the immense trust that the great Guilliman has placed in us?!
How can I be worthy of this brand-new armor and the glory of serving humanity once again?!
His words struck like war drums, reverberating in the hearts of every World Eaters Devourer warrior.
"Our Gene-Father, Angron, has betrayed us! This is irrefutable proof that has stood for millennia!"
"The great Lord Guilliman, with a heart as vast as the starry sky, has granted him this final chance in the arena; this is the height of benevolence and kindness, a tolerance that transcends the mundane!"
His voice suddenly became more impassioned, filled with determination.
"If he cannot seize this last chance for redemption, and cannot demonstrate the courage and responsibility expected of a warrior and a Primarch..."
Then let us, his bloodline and descendants, take charge for him! Let us absolve him of this sin that has lasted for ten thousand years, and sever this corrupt chain!
"My name is Xiang Bang!"
He announced his name in a strong, resonant voice, with an ancient and proud rhythm.
"They are the true descendants of the Chinese bloodline in Terra!"
If you still harbor old shadows in your hearts, and are unwilling to inherit the new life bestowed by Lord Guilliman, unwilling to bear the eternal glory of this ' Pure World Eaters ' who fought for the Imperium...
He paused, turned his helmet towards the center of the arena, and spoke with unwavering resolve.
"Then I shall go and inherit it!"
"You?!"
Another World Eaters warrior nearby suddenly stood up, seemingly wanting to question this sudden "leader's declaration" and the proposal to kill his father.
However, before he could finish speaking, Xiang Bang simply waved his hand casually.
A gentle yet irresistible force came from afar.
The soldier cried out in alarm as he was flung through the air and crashed into the gaps between several rows behind him.
Although not seriously injured, he was in a sorry state and unable to get up for a while.
This move instantly silenced all those who still had doubts.
Xiang Bang didn't even look over there; his voice was like cold iron, resounding and forceful.
"The actions of a coward are not those of a warrior!"
To this day, our existence is defined by the burning of everything for the Emperor!
Dedicate everything to the continuation of humanity!
He turned his gaze back to the center of the field, to the crimson figure that was struggling to get up, his words devoid of any warmth.
"A mere Gene-Father, if he becomes an obstacle to the Imperium, an enemy of humanity..."
"He can certainly be executed!"
Having said that, he said no more, and sat down cross-legged on the edge of the stands, with his huge cleaver resting on his lap.
His demeanor was eerily calm.
Like the meditating swordsman in the legends of Old Terra.
But everyone could sense that beneath that calm lay a sharp edge, ready to erupt at any moment and tear everything apart.
His meaning was crystal clear.
If Guilliman Lord Regent ultimately is unwilling or unable to carry out the act.
Then he will carry out the execution on behalf of the king, personally beheading Angron to fulfill the World Eaters's loyalty to the Imperium!
The atmosphere in the stands became even more eerie and tense due to Xiang Bang's words and actions.
The World Eaters ' hesitation was completely shattered.
A tragic and resolute determination—"willing to kill one's father if necessary to prove loyalty"—spread silently and solidified among them like a plague.
In the center of the arena, Angron struggled to his feet, half-kneeling.
All of this— Guilliman's coercion, the silence of his offspring and their sudden burst of murderous intent, and the cold words of the warrior who called himself "Xiang Bang"—was present.
Everything was heard and seen.
An indescribable madness, a mixture of extreme anger, boundless sorrow, and utter despair, and...
A distorted longing for the "ending" that even he himself was unaware of.
Like a wildfire spreading across the land, it suddenly erupted from the deepest part of his heart!
Is this my fate?!
A voice howled within his soul, like a pathetic wretch lying there, waiting to be "given" death by his own brother.
Or worse, waiting to be disposed of like garbage by the "pure" offspring they've just met?!
No--!!
"Red Sand Angel"
That title that once belonged to him, but was twisted and usurped by Khorne.
That primal desire for battle and conquest etched deep in their blood, that pride and dignity belonging to the gladiator king of Nuceria.
I absolutely cannot accept this ending!
In the instant that flame, a mixture of destruction and pride, burned the soul—
"Buzz...!!"
Angron's body jolted violently!
A terrifying energy that was unfamiliar yet incredibly powerful and pure, completely different from the power of the Warp Chaos Gods.
It was as if they had been lying in wait all along, and were now completely stirred by his resolute will.
Like a dormant volcano, it erupted from the depths of every cell in his body!
"Crack! Crack! Snap--!"
A sickeningly loud sound, the sound of bones and muscles rapidly growing, reconstructing, and strengthening, emanated intensely from within his body!
His body visibly swelled up!
It's not about being obese; it's about muscle fibers proliferating, compressing, and undergoing a qualitative change like a supernova explosion!
The blood vessels beneath the skin bulged like coiled dragons, flowing with a fiery light as hot as molten lava!
The broken ribs healed instantly and became even stronger and more resilient!
A pure and surging physical power that he had felt in Baal, even more so after Guilliman's blood had enhanced it.
Like a vast ocean, it surged and roared within him!
This power... is more than ten times stronger than when he was at his peak ten thousand years ago!
Moreover, it is incredibly "clean," filled with the solidity of the Material Universe and the vigor of life itself!
It was as if some higher being had already buried this "gift" into the very essence of his life, waiting only for the right opportunity to activate it!
Angron raised his hands somewhat blankly.
Looking at those hands, which had become even larger, with sharp knuckles, as if they could crush stars.
Feel the power contained within, enough to tear apart the void.
He slowly raised his head and looked at Guilliman, who was still holding his sword and watching him quietly not far away.
Suddenly, Angron laughed.
The smile was no longer filled with pain and despair, but carried a hint of realization, a hint of bitterness, and... a hint of the true, soaring fighting spirit of a warrior.
"You really are... a staunch advocate of 'fairness,' bro."
Angron's voice was still hoarse, but it had gained strength and clarity.
Guilliman smiled back at him, a bright and open smile, even with a touch of childlike smugness.
"As the 'strongest slave owner,' I certainly wouldn't respect a weak and feeble 'slave' who can't even stand up."
He said it as if it were a universal truth.
Even if it's a duel with a 'slave,' I'll make sure the 'slave' is in top condition, enough to give me the satisfaction.
Otherwise, wouldn't it be too boring?
His words were still full of the harshness of a character he was playing, but only Angron could understand the look in his eyes.
That's encouragement, expectation, and recognition that "this is how you should be."
Angron looked at Guilliman's smile, the last trace of gloomy suspicion and self-pity in his heart melted away quietly, like the remaining snow under the sun.
He gripped the ancient battle axe tightly in his hand, the handle giving him a solid and reliable feel.
He slowly and steadily rose completely from the ruins.
The power of new life sings in my veins, and the weariness and pain of millennia seem to be temporarily suppressed.
All that remains is the purest form of focus and excitement a gladiator displays when facing a formidable foe.
He looked at Guilliman, at his brother who had arranged the "stage," the "audience," the "opponent," and even the "condition" for him.
A thousand words stuck in my chest, but in the end they all turned into a Whisper that was barely audible, yet heavier than the stars.