"The head I intend to sever is Angron's." Khârn slowly raised the bloodson in his hand, pointing it at Angron in the sky.
Through the long years, under the torment of the Butcher's Nails, only two things remained in Khârn's heart besides rage:
Hatred and love.
Hatred for Angron's death, and love for his Primarch.
How could an Astartes not care for his gene-father?
Even if his gene-father destroyed his Legion. Khârn couldn't even condemn his Primarch on this point, as he also bore responsibility. It was out of love for his Primarch that he implanted the Butcher's Nails into his own head and into the heads of his brothers, simply to understand his gene-father.
Ten thousand years. The Butcher's Nails tormented Khârn for ten thousand years.
Khârn finally understood.
Angron had long since died. He died in the final battle of the slaves' rebellion against their masters. He died the moment the Emperor teleported him onto the ship. He died on the crimson sands of Nuceria.
After that, what remained in the world was merely an enslaved corpse—enslaved by the Butcher's Nails, enslaved by the Emperor, enslaved by the Blood God.
So, when the Blood God liberated Khârn and demanded that Khârn sever a Primarch's head,
Khârn made his choice.
Angron. He would challenge his own gene-father.
If he died in this battle, then he deserved it; it would be an execution for the sins he committed against the Legion.
If he... if by chance he won, then he could free his gene-father. What could be more worthy of wielding his axe for than that?
Thus, Khârn raised the keen axe in his hand, pointed it at the Blood God, and challenged the Blood God for Angron.
Of course, besides the reasons above, Khârn also remembered the words Erebus spoke upon his death:
The Blood God, he was also one of those who murdered Angron.
The Blood God couldn't help but laugh aloud.
It had been a long time since he felt this way.
He felt his blood surging, he felt immense excitement.
Perhaps, deep down, after stripping away all schemes, calculations, and strategies, he had been hoping Khârn would make such a choice.
Khârn clearly knew that by doing so, he would lose the Blood God's blessing and face an Angron blessed by the Blood God.
This was almost equivalent to directly challenging the Blood God himself.
What could stir the Blood God's emotions more than this?
But the Blood God calmed down slightly.
This was the effect of the domain the Blood God had plundered from Tzeentch, that part of the domain concerning tactics and strategy.
Let Khârn and Angron fight.
If Khârn lost, then the Blood God could seize the opportunity to reclaim Khârn's soul, a break-even scenario.
If Khârn won, then Angron's essence would merge with Khârn. This was a more perfect fit than Khârn merging with other Primarchs. Although the Blood God would lose Angron, he would gain an incomparably powerful daemon Primarch—a huge profit!
But the Blood God had just been deceived by the Emperor; he wouldn't fall for it twice in such a short time.
He didn't trust the Emperor, he didn't trust the Emperor. In the Blood God's eyes, He was a liar no less cunning than Tzeentch.
Perhaps Khârn's choice at this moment was actually His will, His trajectory?
Once the Blood God released Angron, Leman Russ, Khârn, and Nobita would act together to subdue Angron and stuff him into Doraemon's pocket.
This neither aligned with the Blood God's desires nor his interests.
As if sensing the Blood God's doubts, at this moment, a reddish-pink wooden door appeared from the bridge of the Blessed Lady, opening with a bang.
Alexander, with a semi-circular white pocket on his belly, walked out of the door.
Alexander walked out of the door, but his gaze was not directed at the Blood God who was staring intently at him, nor at Khârn, but at Leman Russ, who was half-closing his eyes, his face a mask of seriousness and killing intent.
Why was Leman Russ constantly squinting, showing such a thoughtful, threatening, and murderous expression?
Because he was truly tired.
That inexplicable weariness was constantly invading Leman Russ' superhuman brain, urging him back to sleep.
The dense forest shrouded in shadows flickered in and out of view before his half-closed eyes, calling to him, waiting for him, and had even begun to enter reality to take him away.
Leaves sprouted from Leman Russ' head, his feet were stained with muddy clay, and the roar of giant beasts faintly echoed in his ears.
But Leman Russ still keenly noticed Alexander's gaze.
In that gaze... was there a hint of salivation?
It felt as if he wanted to eat Leman Russ.
Leman Russ immediately grew wary, slightly tightening his grip on the Sword of Loyalty, and, suppressing his sleepiness, watched Alexander vigilantly.
His superhuman brain rapidly processed all previously known information, concluding that this person was by no means a mere mortal as he appeared.
He was probably... the incarnation of that new Chaos God mentioned by Luther.
Luther also seemed to mention that he corrupted two Primarchs. Who could they be?
Sanguinius was dead, and Guilliman was as good as dead; those two were absolutely impossible.
Leman Russ should be fine, Dorn was even more stubborn than a rock.
For a moment, Leman Russ truly couldn't think of an answer.
As long as it wasn't Guilliman, that would be too dangerous if Guilliman fell.
Leman Russ had witnessed Guilliman's abilities during the Second Imperium.
Alexander noticed Leman Russ' murderous gaze.
This gaze was so terrifying that for a moment, Alexander had the illusion that his head was about to be punched off.
This was thanks to Leman Russ' face being softened by time.
When Alexander was in Ashford, he often ran around with Leman Russ' youthful face.
No other reason, it was just effective; that face could almost scare several mortals, traitors, and Xenos to death with just one glance.
"Big Brother… oh no, little friend Leman Russ."
Alexander smiled and wiggled the pocket on his belly:
"I see you are gravely wounded and about to enter a long slumber. I fear you might suffer misfortune during your slumber."
"How about you come into my pocket for a chat, and we can forge some destiny?"
Although Guilliman and Sanguinius had determined that Leman Russ' return was not a good thing, Alexander had now seen the capabilities of this Big Brother.
Luther was, to some extent, one of the strongest below the Primarchs, yet without the teleportation ability granted by Be'lakor, he was swiftly cut down by an unhealed and aged Leman Russ.
Alexander had the bacteria that could awaken a slumbering person for an hour each day. Having Leman Russ in his pocket and waking him when needed would be quite good.
Thinking about it, didn't the Emperor use Leman Russ in the same way? A sharp blade when needed, but when not needed... You say Warmaster? That was for my first son, Horus.
Facing Alexander's proposal, Leman Russ' expression grew even more wary, and he even aimed the sword in his hand at Alexander.