"Lord Angron, you've returned." The Mistress' voice was full of vigor and joy.
Servitors, power furnaces rumbled, and the mutated crew cheered wildly. It seemed as if the entire Conqueror was exulting with her.
Because the master of the Conqueror, or rather, the entire World Eaters Legion, had returned.
Blazing fire openly spilled into reality, burning a scorching hole.
Kossolax's four excellent subordinates screamed in terror.
They had all heard it with Kossolax: the hot, thick breathing sound, like a volcanic eruption.
The smell of sulfur permeated the air, and a fear from ten thousand years ago rose in their hearts.
"No!" Kossolax roared in terror, "No! No! No!"
Why? Why would he return?! Why was he here?! Why now?
That woman actually managed to summon Angron?!
Fury, fire, rage, slaughter, blood, sulfur, roars, war, burning, burning, and burning stepped from the Warp into reality.
The veil groaned, the material universe wailed in agony, and one foot of the hideous, terrifying behemoth had already stepped into reality. Its dark wings spread, and sulfurous fire swept across the entire bridge.
Kossolax let out a mournful cry.
He felt it: the ambition he had spent ten thousand years to achieve was being incinerated in this sulfurous fire. Everything was about to end.
The Nails in Kossolax's head buzzed, Damning and roaring, awakening the fury in his brain.
Everything was in chaos, everything was gone.
He turned in a rage, facing his father, and raised his bolter at the furious, glowing face of the crimson beast.
"Angron!!" Kossolax roared, spurred by the Butcher's Nails.
Angron smiled, whether in praise or mockery of Kossolax, it was unclear.
But the beast did smile.
Even ten thousand years ago, when he was still in human form, Kossolax had never seen him smile.
Was this smile for Kossolax? Or for the Mistress behind him?
Kossolax pulled the trigger of his bolter, and a thunderous burst roared from the gun.
Fire erupted on the face of the monster that was once his father, roaring and consuming his features.
But the behemoth was unharmed.
How could a bolter harm him?
He was the Lord of the Red Sands, a Primarch, the Emperor's son, the Blood God's most powerful daemon Prince, he was... he was the embodiment of war, rage, and slaughter.
The Butcher's Nails in Kossolax's head buzzed and roared, Damning like vipers, urging him to make a desperate charge, to unleash his fury upon this crimson beast.
He let out a war cry and hurled his chainaxe at the crimson beast.
The axe struck the beast's Brass breastplate, bounced off sharply, and fell by the bridge door.
Then, Kossolax Damned, let out a sharp roar, and charged.
The Butcher's Nails, the Butcher's Nails were screaming, his brain trembling—
The crimson behemoth also roared, tearing at reality, trying to enter the material universe, as if eager to kill his son.
Then, then...
Then Kossolax bypassed Angron, who had not yet fully entered reality, aimed for the open bridge door, picked up his axe from the ground, and scurried out, vanishing from sight.
".."
A deathly silence fell over the bridge.
Kossolax's four subordinates huddled in a corner, staring at the scene in confusion and bewilderment.
Even Angron couldn't help but extend a crimson claw and scratch the Butcher's Nails on his head.
The Mistress, seated on the command throne, also fell silent.
Angron's appearance would undoubtedly awaken the fury within the World Eaters, awakening the Butcher's Nails in their minds.
And Kossolax, enduring the Butcher's Nails running at full power, had unhesitatingly fled...
For a moment, the Mistress actually felt that her recent contempt for Kossolax had been wrong.
To be able to resist the Butcher's Nails and Angron's influence, flee without hesitation, and even pick up his axe before running out the door...
This... this was simply an exceptional talent!!!
The Mistress was momentarily dazed, but she didn't focus any more energy on Kossolax.
She looked at the crimson behemoth, who had already stepped into reality, the true master of the World Eaters Legion, the true master of the Conqueror.
"My Lord, I have been waiting."
The woman spoke softly, her body gently tugging at the cables beneath her.
The behemoth's soul was responding to him, the woman could feel it; even though he was covered in chains, he was still responding to her.
He was here to protect her.
Was it because of her loyalty? Or because of the friendship that might exist between them?
The woman's thoughts were muddled, many things were forgotten, but she instinctively asked:
"My Lord, you have returned. He, Khârn, where is he?"
"What are we going to do? Go find Khârn? Another war? Or pursue the freedom your soul deeply desires?"
The behemoth's only response was a roar. He roared and took another step towards reality—
But he failed. A force stopped him, blocked him.
That force was not resistance from reality itself, but from within the Warp.
"No."
A low growl emanated from behind the behemoth, from the Warp domain filled with blood mist.
"This is not the war I left for you."
"Come back!!!!"
The behemoth let out a furious roar. Chains were placed around the beast's neck. He struggled, he resisted, he was helpless.
He was dragged towards the deep, blood-mist-filled, arena-strewn Brass domain.
Like a gladiator trying to escape being dragged back into his cage.
"No!! You bastard! You fiend! You... you slave driver!!!"
The Mistress shrieked, tugging at the steel cables beneath her, at her body, which was already fused with the command throne, trying to touch the master of the World Eaters.
"How dare you!? You have already enslaved his soul, why must you also restrain his body?!"
The Mistress' body tilted forward as much as possible, and blood continuously flowed from her body connected to the command throne.
But she was still so far from the crimson behemoth.
"Release his chains! You crimson hound!"
"Are you not the God of Blood? Are you not the God of War? Why do you lock him in your cage?! Let him out! Let him unleash his fury! You bastard!"
The Mistress laughed maniacally. She seemed to perceive something:
"I know, you are afraid, you are afraid of losing Angron, you only have him left as a sharp blade!"
"Then do you even deserve to be called the God of War? Coward! Coward! Coward!!!"
The Warp rift vanished from the Conqueror, and Angron was dragged back into the Brass Fortress. Darkness once again enveloped the bridge.
Kossolax's four subordinates remained terrified and silent, leaving only the Mistress roaring, cursing, wailing, and swearing.
But what was the point?
She was cursing a god, an invincible Blood God.
Her curses would have no effect, her struggle was so weak.
Just as a slave has never defeated his slave master.
Kossolax tried his best to suppress the fury in his mind, maintaining the most basic sanity possible.
Maintaining sanity amidst fury, that was his only advantage.
Why was this happening?
Kossolax angrily questioned himself, why did glory, right before his eyes, refuse to bow to him?
Why was there no glory for him? Why did brilliance slip through his fingers?
Too many people had warned him not to be overly ambitious, not to be presumptuous, to be content with the status quo.
He had no exceptional talent, no peerless martial arts, no resilient mind, no Primarch's trust, no loyalty to the Emperor, no blessings from the gods.
He had nothing, just an ordinary Astartes, destined to leave no name in this galaxy.
He didn't even deserve the honor of a regular Astartes. The glory of the War Hounds had long been forgotten, and blood had long drowned them, turning them into World Eaters.
Bow down, Solaq, bend your spine, Solaq, besides that, you are useless.
The foolish you should not resist, the fragile you should not resist, just be a slave.
Submit to power, be obscure, weak, nameless; this is your destiny.
Or perhaps dying isn't bad either, dying at Angron's hands...
No, no, no.
He would never die like this without having achieved honor.
He could not be a guest in this world; he wanted to be its master, he wanted to be a true World Eater.
But short-lived passion could not compensate for the humbleness of reality.
The entire Conqueror was trembling, the entire Conqueror was roaring.
Rivets flew, steam spewed, the crew was mad and bloodthirsty, everything was roaring and raging.
Kossolax seemed incredibly fragile amidst it all.
But just then, a gloomy, cold, yet somehow comforting prayer echoed in the darkness.
A woman's curses and roars came from the ship's hold, but they were quickly restrained.
A hideous, multi-limbed crimson beast emerged from the darkness, writhing and filling the entire corridor.
A bald man with runes carved on his head chanted as he walked towards Kossolax.
With his chanting, the entire Conqueror seemed to be tamed, like a wild dog placed in shackles.
"Who are you?" Kossolax asked, panting.
The bald man revealed a gentle, approachable smile.
"My friend, I have come here following the guidance of the Blood God."
"This ship must be the help the Blood God promised me."
"As for me? I... I am a kind, benevolent good person."