How did it feel?
Amid the rolling lava, Angron wiped the mixture of blood and sweat from his brow. The primarch looked toward his son, Karn, who stood expressionlessly atop a rock as he pulled his chainaxe free from the enemy's bones.
"Thank you for your concern. I'm fine."
Karn spoke, and Angron's words reminded him of Karras on Terra, his face ringed with dark circles. The gladiator could not help but shudder. Now, more than ever, he appreciated that his primarch was Angron—the Lord of the Red Sands was the finest among the primarchs, at least because he would never abandon his sons.
As for those Space Marines sacrificed to Roboute Guilliman... Karn fell silent for a moment and decided to skip that subject.
Angron did not seem to care about Karn's reply. The primarch gazed into the distance, his crimson eyes fixed upon the stars.
It seemed they should return—I can sense Mortarion's army setting sail again.
"The Legion will forever follow in your footsteps."
Karn shook the blood from his battleaxe and walked to the primarch's side. Angron tilted his head and glanced at him.
After more than half a year of hacking away at Khorne's armies and Greenskins, the Lord of the Red Sands had successfully calmed down. At the very least, he would no longer randomly associate things with certain unpleasant images.
The World Eaters had also fought several battles with the remnants of the Hydra. Even Angron, who could read minds, could not figure out whether the Hydra's forces were loyal or treacherous now.
He could sense Khorne's intense rejection of the Alpha Legion, yet the Alpha Legion remained under Khorne's command—their auras did not mesh at all. Angron did not understand why Khorne had chosen the Alpha Legion.
*Karn, tell me... how do