Emperor's Daughter of the Red Sands

Chapter 44 Chaos Expedition ([-])

Pain, madness, pain.

The dull agitation awakened Angron's consciousness again, and the Butcher's Nail began viciously beating on the daemon Primarch's regained brain.

In the millennium of massacres with hazy consciousness, the pain of the Butcher's Nails was the only thing he was most familiar with.

When the blood angel's pupils filled with violence slowly opened, brimstone and raging fire burst out from his panting.

And the scene before his eyes was not the chorus engine exuding fiery psionic energy in the Battle of Malakbel, but the extremely familiar but somewhat different Khorne Demon Realm in some places.

On the land full of corpses, there are no hideous giant factories of the Dark Mechanicus, nor the garrisons of the Chaos Astartes, only the brass fortress that has not changed for 1 years.

Angron felt a little puzzled, but this doubt was instantly torn apart by the sharp pain of the Butcher's Nails.

The thick wings blew a bloody storm, and the stalwart Demon Primitive instantly reached the top of the corpse hill.

This endless hill of corpses symbolizes the power of Khorne's domain and the terrifying will on the skull throne.

Looking at the scarlet sky and the shattered earth in front of him, although Angron didn't understand what happened in the Demon Realm of Khorne, his fragmented thoughts were unknowingly filled with bloodlust again.

He just wanted to use more massacres to calm the exhaustion of thousands of years.

However, Angron's still clear will was able to distinguish the hill of corpses in front of him from the city of Malakbel that was covered with dirty marks.

In his surviving memory, Malakbel was destroyed by a blow under the wrath of the blood god, and any carrion believers who resisted were wiped out under the will of the destructive power, and his own body was also destroyed by the lord of the skull. Weili remodeled.

Under Butcher's Nails' thirst for blood and carnage, Angron's eyes kept showing countless illusions about this war: he trampled those filthy believers from the human empire into countless powders, and killed the One by one, the rotting corpse's loyal followers were torn apart, until consciousness and pain were completely wiped out under the blessing of the blood god, until the psychic beacon that shone with abominable light gradually dimmed.

Then, the expedition of the Ark of Doom should be over.

Nevertheless, Angron still remembered the pain of the blood god's blessing just now, the insignificance of the fragmented soul rising in the fire storm, the madness of endless killing curses being poured into his mind, the murder and violence that spread throughout the galaxy. The mutilation came into view in an instant—even the consciousness was torn apart under the unbearable rage.

'Self' was torn apart.

Yes, Angron could feel that his own existence was incomplete, and his will, which had gradually regained consciousness after thousands of years of constant fighting, was fragmented at this moment, and the Butcher's Nails were also viciously tearing apart the remaining sanity of the demon primarch.

Maybe it was crushed by the mighty power of the golden shadow, or wiped out by the wrath of the blood god.

In any case, even if he knew the cruel truth, the blood angel didn't care.

In this regard, the anger gushing out from the ferocious figure became more and more intense, and the hatred engraved on the blade became more and more clear.

The pain from the Butcher's Nail urged Angron like whipping a hound, telling the Red Angel that more blood is needed to appease this madness and pain, although the road paved by the skull has no end .

The buzz of the Butcher's Nails replaced most of Angron's thinking abilities, and the pain that grinds his soul at all times represents an insatiable appetite for killing.

Angron looked up at the dim sky, and saw that the majestic fleet that tore through the warp veil was slowly entering the realm of Khorne.

He saw the flagship of the No.12 Legion - the Conqueror.However, instead of the sacred brass rune of Khorne and the symbol of the Lord of the Skull, it is replaced by the foul aquila of the Imperium of Man.

This made Angron furious.

In an instant, crazy roars exploded from the hill of corpses like thunder, and the vampires with a radius of hundreds of miles were infected by this unparalleled madness and fury, forming one after another angry roars—at the same time, several The bloodthirsty madman also came to the side of the red angel under the will of the blood god. They represent the fiery desire for war of the skull lord.

In the scarlet and turbid pupils of the red angel, there are countless souls that are in desperate need of bleeding.

Angron saw the Astartes wearing ancient power armor, also saw countless long-lost armed technologies, and even saw the Titan magic machine of the ember wolves.

They should not have appeared in this era.

But Angron didn't care.

He knows that the concepts of past and future do not exist in the warp, and he doesn't care whose internal organs and skulls he will pick with his sharp knife.

Numerous demon engines, vampires, and even bloodhounds slowly assembled under the stalwart back of the red angel. A total of eight Khorne demons were sent to the battlefield, and the brass fortress roared with the horn of war.

The demon's blasphemous roar is echoing in the boundless plain of corpses, and the continuous iron rain thrown from the sky is also a symbol of the madness of the invaders.

In the past countless epochs, no force has ever truly waged a war in the domain of Khorne.

However, ancient legends reveal what happened on the scorched land where the past and the future meet.

—When the war horns of the brass fortress sound, the eternal holy war that the blood god watches will bring redemption to all the carnage.

Several figures, whether familiar or unfamiliar, gradually solidified his thinking. He wanted to try hard to think about what some of them meant in his past, but the crazy knocking from the Butcher's Nail But it told Angron its anger, forcing Angron to squeeze the black sword in his hand more and more.

The nails were constantly eating away at Angron's sanity, and his anger was constantly accumulating.

Boom, boom.

The great brass heart beat thunderously, pumping the blood of madness into the Red Angel's mind.

The ten-thousand-year rule from the blood god has already made Angron forget everything, and his broken soul with only endless anger has become an irreparable Ship of Theseus.

Things that were already dilapidated were torn apart again, so that they are nothing at all now.

Angron doesn't care about anything.

He doesn't care where he came from, and he doesn't care why he went.

The past originating from the land of red sand has long been recklessly altered and distorted like a dilapidated curtain, and the scarlet scars engraved on the rope of glory have dimmed.

No one remembers the gladiator who tenderly cared for his siblings.

No one remembers the spirit that haunts the mountains of Nuceria.

No one remembers.

Including Angron himself.

……

……

　Second update~
　　The cover monster is here!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)