Blood spread across the red sands. Alexander slightly turned the winding key inserted into Khârn's back, and slipped several pills of different colors and styles into Khârn's hand.
Khârn took them and immediately popped a few into his mouth, but didn't chew them. Only one pill, resembling a white glutinous rice ball, was subtly hidden in his hand.
Then, Alexander handed Khârn a series of tools and nodded slightly to him.
This was in line with the Blood God's and Alexander's agreement: they had agreed to only use blessings to empower Angron and Khârn, and no other methods.
Alexander understood the Blood God's thinking.
At the most crucial moment of destiny, one can only rely on oneself, and not become overly reliant on external objects.
Just like Alexander, no matter how dangerous the situation, he always relied on himself to use tools.
These tools, of course, were a part of Alexander. Giving tools to Khârn was equivalent to blessing Khârn, wasn't it?
This was very much in line with the rules!
Khârn knew that the miraculous effects of these tools far exceeded imagination; the Blood God's blessings simply couldn't compare.
He was only grateful for this, but he was still the inarticulate Khârn he always was, and could only nod to Alexander in thanks.
Alexander didn't say anything either, just patted Khârn's shoulder.
The task Khârn had to undertake was extremely difficult. He was challenging his own Primarch.
Even in the Emperor's plan, there wasn't much hope for this. The Emperor didn't even think there was a need for Khârn to challenge Angron, no need to waste time on Khârn and Angron, but Alexander believed it was worth a try. Even if it failed, they still had Plan B.
Khârn took a deep breath, took a small step forward, and set foot on the warm sandy ground. The hot sand was scorching, as if warmed by freshly spilled blood, causing a slight burning sensation in Khârn's mutated foot that protruded from his power armor.
He looked at his Primarch, one hand gripping bloodson, the other gripping a small, firework-like tool.
"Father," Khârn growled.
Once again, Khârn stood before his bloodfather.
He knew his bloodfather was mocked by many.
But Khârn only wanted to say that most of those who mocked Angron had never personally stood before Angron.
He, he was like the embodiment of the concept of terror. Dense blood energy coalesced into him, killing intent was his fuel, rage was his furnace, hatred was the energy flowing in his blood, and slaughter was the only output of this machine.
Listening to his heavy breathing like a predatory dragon, smelling the sulfurous stench in the air that could burn a mortal's lungs, feeling his skin prickled by the rage emanating from Angron, even Khârn's soul trembled.
But should it be like this?
Was Angron meant to be like this from his very creation?
Khârn suddenly began to ponder this question, a bitter smile involuntarily appearing at the corner of his mouth.
How could fate be so malicious and bitter, twisting his bloodfather into this form?
"Father!" Khârn raised his voice slightly in a call, this time with some emotion mixed in.
His bloodfather slowly lifted his beast-like head. In his bloodshot yellow eyes, there was only killing intent and rage.
The Butcher's Nails rattled menacingly. The beast roared, the beast howled, the beast responded to Khârn's call with slaughter.
"Kill!!!!!" Angron roared, his head thrown back, the crimson sun disc hanging behind him, turning him into a dark-red blur in the blink of an eye.
The great axe tore through the air, and only then did Khârn realize with a start that Angron was not using his usual sword and axe, but was wielding two axes, just as he had done ten thousand years ago when he was still human.
One of them was widowmaker, a weapon Angron had obtained by slaughtering an entire Dark Adeptus Mechanicus world, capable of cleaving Titans and crushing fortresses.
The daemon greatsword Zandiares, which had once been wielded by Angron alongside him and was formed from a Slaanesh daemon, had been taken by Sanguinius and offered to Saint Doraemon, becoming a small snack for the latter.
And now, Angron was wielding bloodfather alongside widowmaker.
That was the paired weapon to the bloodson in Khârn's hand, both forged from the jawbone teeth of a mica dragon, fierce and deadly.
During the Great Heresy, Khârn inherited the bloodson, while the bloodfather circulated, was contested, and worshipped among countless warbands.
But now, Angron had clearly taken up the bloodfather again, to replace Zandiares, which had been eaten by Doraemon.
bloodson and bloodfather collided.
The two weapons, separated for many years, reunited and let out a sharp roar together.
"Father, this bloodfather still suits you," Khârn said involuntarily.
Angron's only response was roaring muscles and a foul sulfurous breath.
The Lord of the Red Sands' power was still so terrifying, even more so now due to the Blood God's full blessing.
Even though Khârn was now integrated with Raum, almost transformed into a bloody daemon, he still couldn't match the Primarch's power.
In just an instant of collision, the crimson muscles on Khârn's arm snapped one by one like overloaded ropes, splattering blood.
Khârn grunted, dropped to one knee, and struggled to support himself with his axe raised.
It had been a long time since he had seen Angron's face at such close range.
He still remembered his bloodfather's former face.
Those coppery, curly red hairs, the pale eyes hidden behind deep, axe-hewn cheekbones, the aquiline nose and wide, thin lips.
That was indeed the face of a Primarch. When Khârn first saw that face, the first thing he perceived was not anger, but sadness.
An indescribable sadness, like a dead man mourning the truly deceased, like a king with infinite empathy for others being crushed by a bitter fate.
Perhaps it was because Khârn perceived this that he survived Angron's axe, becoming one of the few World Eaters who could communicate with his Primarch.
But now Khârn only saw a beast. Rage had completely twisted Angron, making every piece of flesh on his body like a tumor hanging on his bones and soul. Those pale eyes that once held sadness were now burning, sulfurous holes. The lines that were once proud as flint had disappeared, and the lips that once resembled a sage were stripped away, leaving only a set of menacing teeth.
Khârn felt sadness, felt pain, felt anger. His father had been twisted into such a form.
Slowly, Khârn actually stood up, the bloodson gradually rising, little by little pressing back against the bloodfather.
This was certainly not because Khârn had suddenly comprehended some notion of love, justice, or friendship; it was entirely because…
[Tool Name: Powerful Super Deluxe Ingot (Trial Version)]
[Origin: 22nd Century Earth — Future Department Store]
[Production Time: 231.M3]
[Function: A pill-shaped tool. After consumption, it grants some superhuman strength, allowing for high-speed flight and the ability to easily lift a truck, or even topple the Tokyo Tower with full effort. The effect lasts for approximately three minutes.]
Khârn didn't know what the Tokyo Tower was, but he felt that at this moment, his strength was enough to bring down a Titan.
He violently swung the axe in his hand, instantly forcing Angron back several steps.
At the same time, Khârn raised the small party popper, and Raum's hand seized the opportunity to pull the string behind the party popper.
Khârn remembered the name of this tool.
"Miniature Sun."