He hadn't completely broken apart yet, and his blood was still flowing.
————————
Rock, former commander of the World Eaters and current captain of the First Company, thought that he no longer had the ability to cry after being transformed into a Space Marine.
But now the scarlet liquid was running down his cheeks.
"Rock, you are our last chance. Take our father out... or... kill him. Don't make him suffer so much."
The last surviving Librarian, Chief Reciter Volias, spoke softly, his words were so soft as if he was afraid of disturbing the unconscious beast resting on his shoulder.
The spikes in the beast's head hummed, blood trickled from its high nose, and its bulk pressed senselessly upon Volias's shoulders, while the Chief Chanter held their Primarch as tightly as he could.
A hazy and pure white spiritual light enveloped Volyas. It was the last glimmer of light of the Chief Chanter, faint but inviolable.
Rock opened his mouth, his voice was hoarse, and blood and voice flowed out of his throat together.
"… good."
Rock heard a faint laugh, perhaps Volyas smiled, but the chief reciter had his back to Rock, and Rock could only see the blood flowing down their father's face.
A soft and firm white light flashed before his eyes. Rock squinted his eyes. It was the same scene he had seen countless times. His wounds healed, his nightmares were gone, and the frequency of the original body's eyelid twitching began to ease.
Volyas just stood there quietly. Beside them, countless corpses of World Eaters were already lying on the ground. Among them were ordinary warriors and think tanks. Their blood soaked the ground.
Slowly, everything became dark.
Volyas stretched out his hand with difficulty, and he tried comically to wipe the blood off the Primarch's face, but his hand finally dropped.
There was a faint scraping sound, and Volyas slowly knelt down. The Primarch slid off his shoulders and lay steadily on the red sand.
Volyas lowered his head, blood dripping from the Chief Chanter's face and then slashing across the Primarch's knife-like features.
Rok was silent. He walked over, carrying the Primarch with difficulty, and dragged Angron to the next room - full of enemies and monsters, with the silently rising magma chasing them. They could not stay in the same area for too long.
Vorias knelt there and watched them go away.
——————
How many battles had they fought since then? More than seven hundred, or more than eight hundred, Rock could no longer remember.
Sometimes he dragged Angron, who had been knocked unconscious by the nail, away from the rising magma, and sometimes he woke from a despairing fainting to find that the Primarch was running with him, and seeing that he was not dead, Angron grinned at him.
They fought against countless scarlet and violent monsters, and the timing was often just right. When they chopped off head after head with their chainsaw axes and their legs were just able to continue running, the roar of magma would sound from behind them, and they had to run for their lives to the next room.
The rest time was very short. At the beginning, Angron would eat the flesh and blood of those scarlet monsters to replenish his strength, but those flesh and blood were highly poisonous to the Space Marines, so Angron asked Rock to drink his blood to replenish his strength.
The chainsaw cut through the skin, and blood dripped from the palm of the hand.
The Primarch's blood gave him strength, which might be why Rock was still standing here swaying.
Rock nailed his life here, nailed it to the other side of life. In a trance, Rock knew that his tenacious life was the last thin rope holding the original body's sanity.
If he died, the last World Eater to accompany the Primarch, what would become of Angron? Would he be consumed by rage and despair, becoming the scarlet monster that fought them
Rock already had the answer in his heart. As he coughed and vomited blood, he thought that death might be a relief for him, but he couldn't die now.
The huge being that was toying with them seemed to be aware that Rock was in the way. During the battle, he was on the verge of death again and again, but he pulled himself back again and again with his willpower.
He had thought about killing Angron and bringing peace to their father, just as Vorias had asked him to do, but Rok gradually realized that death in this realm would not seem to bring the Primarch true rest.
On the contrary, something of his essence would be taken away. Death meant defeat, compromise, and the winner would naturally have the right to execute the loser, both in soul and body.
The living can only choose to fight.
But Angron was in more and more pain. Rock could not detect the psychic energy in the environment, but he could detect some truth from the increasingly violent sound of nails.
Broken brain tissue flowed out of Angron's nose instead of blood. The Primarch wiped them away carelessly, but after the first flow of brain tissue, Angron stopped eating the monster corpses.
Rock remained silent on this.
Faced with the Butcher's Nail on the Primarch's head, only the Librarians among the World Eaters conducted in-depth research on this. They used psychic energy to knock out Angron's gradually out-of-control will, allowing Angron to gain a moment's spiritual respite.
But it meant driving the nail deeper, a move the Librarians had never used before coming here, even if Angron had asked them to.
After they were trapped here, compared with the violent psychic environment here, the psychic power of the think tank can be considered mild. They can even slow down the stimulation of the surrounding environment on the Butcher's Nails.
Before his death, Volias unleashed the Librarians' moves on the Primarch. The oldest Librarian of the World Eaters left behind his psychic energy to protect Angron and alleviate his pain as much as possible.
But as the blood flowed and dried up again and again, Volyas was getting farther and farther away from them.
Angron was dying, and even if the battle and the bloodshed had not taken him, the buzzing nails in his head would have ended his life.
But now it was too late, all options were erased, and they could only fight.
—————
For the last time.
He is going to die.
Rock struggled and tried to pull himself aboard the living ship, but all he could hear was the desperate sound of his nails scratching on the hull.
[Rock! Rock!]
He heard the Primarch's voice calling him from the water. Rock tried hard to open his eyes, but everything in front of him was still dark.
He seemed to be dead, or his consciousness would remain in his body for a while before death, but he must have behaved like he was dead.
Because Rok felt Angron put him down, and the Primarch stood up, roaring and raging, blood and saliva splattered on the ground,
[Every time! Every time!!]
Angron screamed in despair, swinging his axe in the air angrily, as if he was fighting an invisible monster.
[Damn damn nail!!! The person it should kill the most is me! Not my teacher! My offspring! My comrade!!!]
[Fuck! ! Why? ! Why! ! ! !]
Incredibly, for the first time, the Son of the Mountain took the initiative to throw down his axe, and the bloody axe hit the ground with two dull sounds.
Angron roared in agony, thrust his hands into the thicket of nails that grew like a braid on his head, and—
pull!
[Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!]
The Primarch let out a high-pitched scream. The intense pain caused Angron to kneel on the ground. The nails struggled between Angron's fingers like living worms, and blood and bone fragments splashed from the Primarch's head.
Angron's entire body was twitching uncontrollably, like a corpse being electrocuted, but his hands showed no sign of releasing the strength. He held on tightly to his unfair fate and wrestled with it.
No...no...Father...no...
Rock half opened his eyes, and he heard the buzzing sound of the nails almost exploding. No... Don't do this to yourself, Angron.
We volunteer...
His mouth moved slightly twice, but apart from faint exhalations, Rock made no other sound.
Angron's blood spattered around him like a sacrifice, and flames suddenly ignited. They heard words, the language of demons.
Roque began to struggle, cursing his own broken willpower. He was furious, realizing that this was all a scam, and their father was the one who was hurt the most. No, how dare they? How dare they fool the World Eaters, fool Angron? !
But he still lay on the ground, unable to utter even the faintest cry.
The ground in front of Angron began to melt, and a hot bloody axe emerged from hell, and the eye sockets of eight skulls were staring at Angron.
+Hold me.+
It says.
+I give you liberation, head, and blood. +
But does the Primarch, whose brain has been pierced by the nails, still have any sustenance that can be communicated? Angron ignored the axe, roaring and struggling with the nails on his head.
As if aware of Angron's condition, the ground began to tremble, and a scarlet beast stepped out, aiming its huge horns at Rock, eager to attack.
+Hold me, Angron, or your offspring will be dishonored.+
Angron gasped for air, and the Primarch looked up suddenly, seeing the blasphemous creature eager to take action.
[No… No!!!]
Angron trembled as he lowered his hand from his head. He stood up slowly, saliva and flesh dripping from his mouth. No! No! Never! He stared at the monster and reached for the nearest axe in front of him—
Angron looked down sharply; the touch on his hand did not feel right.
He saw a pair of hands, a pair of hands in white helmets, grasping the axe - no, rather than grasping it, it was more like an attempt to stop Angron from picking up the axe.
[Ro... Roque?]
Angron whimpered in pain, and in response he saw his offspring surrounded by blood and flames.
Maybe, maybe not; don't wait
Recommend books, recommend books!
Lao Fugen, the author said that if you think the first chapter is too slow, you can go directly to the second chapter (><)
(End of this chapter)