I'll Mount You on a Flagpole

"Look after him here. I'll be right back." Lorgar's calm voice rang out slowly.

He gave Angron beside him a brief instruction, but his gaze had already passed over the chaotic crowd in the Gladiatorial Arena and locked firmly onto the luxurious viewing chamber high above, enclosed in one-way glass.

That was the director's seat for this cruel farce.

The instant he finished speaking, an indescribable pressure quietly spread outward from Lorgar.

A faint golden light, gentle as dawn yet imbued with supreme majesty, began to flow and gather over his towering frame, finally forming a thin shield of psychic energy that clung to his plain robes.

The shield looked flimsy, yet radiated an indestructible resonance, isolating his presence from the outside world.

At the same time, heavier, more closely packed footsteps sounded from the passage entrances around the Gladiatorial Arena.

The impacts of metal boot soles against the ground merged into a continuous roar as more Nucerian soldiers, clad in archaic yet powerful Dark Age Power Armour, poured into the arena from every entrance like a tide.

Their Gun muzzles immediately trained on Angron, who had just shaken off the anaesthetic's effects and was roaring as he retrieved his battleaxes from the ground. Clearly, they intended to overwhelm him with sheer numbers while he was weakened.

Although Angron's body was still somewhat numb, his warrior's instincts and towering fury instantly drove him into battle readiness.

His eyes were blood-red, and a beastlike growl rumbled in his throat. Gripping both axes, his muscles bulging, he prepared for the coming fight.

But Lorgar moved faster than anyone could react!

He did not go to help Angron break free. His objective was clear and singular: decapitation!

"Get out of my way!"

His low, cold bark was not loud, yet it exploded like