The TARDIS telephone box had traveled through the flow of time formed from countless historical fragments, emitting an indescribable mysterious radiance.
Thanks to precise coordinates, the TARDIS telephone box easily moved along the flow of time and arrived at Nuceria of the new timeline.
The telephone box quietly slid out of the flow of time into the real universe and floated above Nuceria.
Through the observation system, Datch beheld a prosperous Nuceria.
The outline of the mainland had not changed, yet the former city-states had vanished into the dust of history and completely disappeared.
On the contrary, they had been transformed into magnificent, technologically advanced cities.
The buildings of this city are not high-rise; there is none of the oppressive feeling peculiar to densely populated metropolises.
Countless aircraft flew among the clusters of high-rises like fish.
The vacant lots between streets and buildings are covered in rich greenery.
In planetary orbit, a row of unimaginably large orbital space stations, maintained in extremely good condition, was lined up.
They floated quietly above Nuceria's synchronous orbit and served as hubs for the transport of supplies and people.
Streamlined silver-white spaceships entered and exited with elegant flight postures like a swarm of bees, creating a scene of rich prosperity.
Under Angron's regime, Nuceria had entered a new age of development.
People no longer sought thrills in bloody arenas as they once had; they actively explored the outside world and built connections with fellow humans scattered throughout the galaxy.
The Emperor, having just returned from Terra to the Dream, learned that a new civilization led by a Primarch had arisen and immediately rushed over to claim that civilization as his son.
Learning of the Emperor's arrival, Angron immediately held a grand welcome ceremony that greatly pleased the Emperor.
The only thing that bothered him was that Nuceria contained numerous nameless sculptures.
Datch arrived just as the welcome ceremony was ending.
On the faces of people everywhere, the excitement brought by the festival still remained vividly.
Meanwhile, the protagonists Angron and the Emperor had long since escaped the public's attention and returned to a lavishly decorated reception room to converse alone.
That reception room had been specially designed for the primordial existences to meet envoys from other planets.
The view was magnificent; one could look out over the entire capital and the distant Ritsa Mountains. It allowed the embassy not only to feel Nuceria's development and national power but also functioned as a calling card for external propaganda.
Angron sat at a low table carved from a single slab of red coarse stone.
The Emperor sat opposite him, looking at the image of Nuceria projected overhead, and wore a satisfied smile.
"You are my finest son, Angron."
"Once you return to the Imperium, you will surely accomplish great deeds and be respected and loved by people throughout the world."
"Your Majesty, thank you for your evaluation," Angron said without either humility or arrogance. "All of this is thanks to the guidance and help of the nameless one. Without him, Your Majesty would not be speaking with me here; you would have been searching for me in the dungeon of an arena."
These words startled the Emperor.
Damn it, the nameless person again.
Furthermore, Angron called me "Your Majesty" and did not even call me "Father."
The more Primarchs he recovered, the more the Emperor felt he was an incompetent father.
His son had become someone like a different person, and I cannot even win against him. The more he thought that, the more the sense of despair mounted.
In the past, the Emperor might have uttered harsh words.
However, ever since he had been buried in the ground doing a ginseng-root cosplay, he had become better behaved.
He never said things like "Let us make the nameless ones witness the power of Terra's number-one swords, guns, and cannons."
Just as the Emperor was secretly complaining that the Nameless One was inhumane and always targeted his sons,
the spatial structure of the room suddenly distorted and a visible crack appeared.
Dazzling light burst from the crack and shone brightly.
In the end, the crack shattered completely like glass.
A TARDIS-type telephone box flew out along the crack and landed inside the room.
Datch opened the door of the telephone box and went outside.
How on earth did that Nameless One get here?
The Emperor had not seen the other party since their last meeting on Terra.
Who would have imagined that when she found a new son, the other party would appear again?
Damn it, is he going to pull something again?!
Waaaaah!!
No, nameless oppa, please don't treat me like that.
Angron was especially looking forward to meeting Datch.
He leapt up from his chair, advanced three steps at a time at a run, passed beside the Emperor, and ran toward Datch.
"Nameless lord, it has been a long time since we last met."
Emperor: ...
Your elderly father is still here!
Is this really not a problem for you?
Datch did not exchange a single word with Angron; he seized him and took him into the telephone box.
"Come, Angron. I'll take you somewhere."
The Emperor walked over; his voice echoed in Datch's mind. It lacked the usual majesty and mystery and instead had a rather gentle ring.
"Nameless one, Angron has things he must do and cannot go with you. The War Hounds Legion has already been convened on Nuceria. If you take the Primarch away now, what will become of the Legion?"
At first Datch ignored the Emperor.
The moment he heard the other party's voice, a certain thought floated into his head.
In the original timeline, what reaction did Lorgar and Angron show when they saw the Emperor?
So he turned around, seized the Emperor, and tried to shove him into the telephone box as well.
The Emperor initially intended to refuse with righteous anger, but remembered that he was no match for the other party at all.
If I refuse, the other party will resort to force.
Wouldn't that become even more embarrassing?
Fine — I can't endure it, so I'll lie down and enjoy it.
The Emperor was also interested in where the nameless one intended to take him.
In response, the Emperor exchanged only a few polite words and allowed himself to be shoved into the telephone box by the Nameless One.
Of course, before departing, he sent Valdor a very short message.
After telling the other party that he intended to meet the Nameless One, Angron first headed elsewhere and left the entire situation to the other party before departing.
By the time Valdor received the message and led the Imperial Guard into the room, Datch had already set the destination and pressed the start button.
The Imperial Guards helplessly watched the TARDIS telephone box tear through the structure of spacetime and vanish into the flow of time.
After leaving Nuceria on the new timeline, Datch headed for Colchis on the new-reality timeline.
This strongly religious planet is also prosperous.
Datch and his group arrived in the early morning.
A golden sun cast clear, warm light upon the ground.
Clusters of silver-white city buildings stretched toward the sky in spiral curves.
The top floor of each building is an observation deck from which one can look in all four directions.
Gigantic libraries and museums hang above the rails.
Lorgar had gathered, organized, and made available to everyone all the knowledge of ancient Colchis that had once been sealed and altered.
Numerous exploration ships set out into space; their contrails left silver trajectories in the starry sky as they stretched toward planets the Colchisians had not yet reached.
Like Nuceria, Colchis was overflowing with statues of nameless people; the sight brought deep sorrow to the Emperor's heart.
Who is humanity's true savior?
Why is the anonymous person more popular than I am?!
At that time, Lorgar was delivering a speech to numerous envoys from other planets.
He hoped to persuade people to join his great cause and to spread the ideals of the nameless ones.
The speech was held in a circular hall; he stood on a white podium only a little higher than the ground.
She wore a simple white robe with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and was barefoot.
He held in his hand a thick book titled The Sacred Words of the Nameless One.
It was written by him himself and concerned how Colchis had been saved from religious fanaticism by the Nameless One and how he had built a new civilization with reason and knowledge as its skeleton and religion as its flesh and blood.
"God does not need ignorant believers. Those who incite that God needs faith are either false gods or parasites."
"A true god needs companions who share the same ideals…"
Lorgar's voice was not loud, yet it was clear and resolute and reached deep into everyone's ears.
He spoke of the long years on old Colchis wrapped in religious fanaticism.
He spoke of his first meeting with that nameless person and the inspiration he received from that person.
The audience listened eagerly and occasionally turned the pages of the books they held.
After the speech, many people seemed to be deep in thought.
Religious faith is not evil in essence.
If used properly, it can contribute to the development of civilization and make people's lives happier.
When Lorgar returned to the lounge and tried to take a sip of water, he noticed that the spatial structure before his eyes was distorting.
A TARDIS-type telephone box suddenly appeared before his eyes.
When the door of the telephone box opened, the person he had not expected to meet yet, whom he had always been concerned about, came out.
"Nameless one!" Lorgar's voice was hoarse and burning with excitement.
He quickly ran up; the hem of his simple white robe billowed greatly in front. He suddenly stopped, then slowly settled back into his original position.
It was rare for Lorgar to lose his composure like this. He only acted this way when he met the nameless one.
What he feared most was that if his movements were even a little slow, the other party would suddenly leave.
Datch was delighted to see the NPC running toward him and immediately pulled him into the TARDIS telephone box.
"Ah... nameless lord, what are you doing?"
Lorgar was half dragged and half shoved into the telephone box by the stranger.
A sense of helpless powerlessness seeped into her voice.
He had also wanted to take the nameless one to other worlds.
Let them too have the opportunity to bathe in the glory of the nameless ones.
Now the other side was trying to shove him into the telephone box.
Lorgar could neither refuse nor intend to go against the nameless other party, so he reluctantly entered the telephone box.
Inside the telephone box, Angron and the Emperor stood beside the control panel watching the nameless one bring Lorgar.
The moment Angron saw Lorgar, he instinctively understood one thing.
The other person was also a Primarch like him — one of his lost brothers.
Angron was a little disappointed.
He had always known that the nameless ones had not helped only him, yet the Primarch —
However, when he saw the other party interacting intimately with the other Primarchs, he could not help overthinking.
The Emperor was overjoyed to see Lorgar. He had found another son.
Furthermore, judging from the situation, he had achieved a certain success and had not wasted the effort accumulated in the past.
However, Lorgar only glanced at him and immediately returned his gaze to the Nameless One, so he quickly fell silent.
In his pupils were ecstasy, trust, helplessness, and doting affection.
As for him, he was merely subjected to severe surveillance.
The Emperor's lips twitched slightly, yet he was completely at a loss for words.
I am your father.
Why are they more interested in the unknown than in me?
Datch ignored the NPCs' gazes, returned to the control panel, and operated the TARDIS telephone box to return to Nuceria of the old timeline.
The Emperor approached Lorgar; his voice echoed in Lorgar's mind.
"My child, I am glad to meet you here again."
"You are a child I created with these hands, yet you have been left to wander outside."
The moment Lorgar looked at the Emperor, he perceived it.
Therefore, I had thoroughly prepared my heart in advance.
Because the other party admitted it directly, he bowed his head to them without hesitation.
"Father, the Nameless One once told me several stories of the past. I never imagined he would bring us together again. I praise the Nameless One. His kindness and generosity are unparalleled."
Lorgar wore a calm smile and showed none of the excitement the Emperor had expected.
If he had not met that Nameless One, he would certainly not have become this kind of person.
He would surely have knelt before the Emperor, wept and cried out, and become an obedient, submissive son.
Unfortunately, he had encountered the Nameless One first.
Even the Emperor cannot shake the Nameless One's status.
Indeed, even a Primarch cannot meet too wonderful a person first; otherwise the Primarchs who appear later will always look somewhat insufficient.
Seeing Lorgar's reaction, the Emperor felt as if his chest would split.
This Nameless One must surely be a creation of Slaanesh. His charm is off the charts.
Afterwards, the Emperor tried once more to reawaken his two sons' affection for him.
He spoke of the Great Crusade, of the War Hounds Legion, of the Word Bearers Legion.
They talked about how the descendants who inherited their genes were waiting for their return.
However, Angron and Lorgar's main attention was directed at the nameless one; they occasionally nodded "I heard" and then turned their gazes toward Datch.
Between the two Primarchs there also existed an underlying rivalry.
They all yearned for attention from the unknown existence in order to prove their own importance.
This wounded the Emperor deeply.
Where has the traditional affection between father and son gone?
I can't stop trembling from fear! How can there be a Minotaur in this world?!
Realizing that his two sons would not listen to his nagging, the Emperor had no choice but to remain silent.
As an elderly father, he quietly collapsed.
...
Amid the hum of the time rotor, the TARDIS telephone box crossed the chaotic flow of time and arrived at Nuceria of the old timeline.
At this time, Nuceria was filled with terror and unease, fearing the approaching judgment and massacre.
The rebel army thought to be dead had returned, leading an enormous host.
They easily crushed Nuceria's resistance forces and placed the entire planet under their control.
The ruling nobles of the entire planet had their luxurious robes stripped away and were forced to kneel in the empty arena.
The scorching sun beat down on their bodies without mercy.
The red gauze of the arena rubbed against their soft skin, causing pain and suffering.
Yet they did not have the courage to speak of it, fearing they would become targets of torture or murder.
At the highest place of the ruined palace, the corpses of rebels hang.
They were not hung there to be killed but hung there as an example.
Show this to every prisoner brought to the arena. This is the reward for resistance.
The nobles of Nuceria were not that formidable an opponent.
With only a little intimidation, they became servile and submissive in order to survive.
When the giant-physiqued Lorgar and Angron stepped into the arena, a deep resonating sound rang out.
That unparalleled presence instantly drew everyone's attention.
Lorgar stopped when he was still five or six meters from the captured nobles.
Angron walked straight toward them and looked down on them from a superior position.
He was wearing World Eater power armor. Dried bloodstains from countless massacres had turned the armor a dark reddish-brown.
The terrible scars on his forehead pierced by the Butcher's Nails were overgrown with deep-red tissue; the edges curled outward.
Thick metal cables protruded eerily from beneath the scalp on both sides of the cranial cavity and drilled mercilessly deep into the skull.
His entire face constantly twitched slightly; no one would think him handsome.
At such a terrifying sight, the mentally weak nobles trembled with fear; some even wet themselves.
"Then who is king now?" Angron's voice was like rock moving and roaring, sending a chill down the spine.
A boy of about eleven or twelve, supported by several elderly courtiers, staggered to his feet.
His skin had taken on an ashen-white tinge as if repeatedly soiled by the conspiracies and terror unfolded in the palace's secret rooms.
Angron approached the boy and looked down at him. "What filthy family are you from?"
"Our king is Tibarakka of House Tarka," an elderly courtier said.
The old man's voice was hoarse and dry, with a numb ring as if every emotion had been worn away.
"Tarka — does this clan still rule?" Uncontainable anger was contained in Angron's voice.
"Unshakable." The old courtier summoned his courage and stared straight into the Primarch's eyes.
"Once Tarka bound me; I was their slave," Angron recalled Nuceria's past, and fierce anger welled up.
Hearing this, many nobles opened their eyes wide in surprise.
"How can you say you are him?" The old courtier's voice trembled.
"Why not?" Angron laughed in a voice filled with hatred and anger.
The Primarch's laugh was terrifying. That sound alone made the mentally unstable nobles so afraid they felt the urge to defecate and released a strong smell of urine.
"Angron Tarka died a hundred years ago," the old courtier said. "He fled during the battle of the Ritsa Mountains."
Angron's laugh suddenly stopped. He halted and showed an expression of pain.
The name "Ritsa Mountains" was like a vile assassin.
It forcefully tore the original memories, dug up the deepest wounds, and then stabbed them again.
"He fled?"
When the Primarch's murderous gaze turned on the old courtier, the courtier's legs lost their strength; a transparent liquid flowed between his thighs. He slipped silently from the posture in which he had been supporting the boy and collapsed to the ground.
Terror robbed him of all his strength, and he flopped limply onto the ground.
"Speak," Angron said in a voice filled with hatred as he seized the other man. "Speak or die right now."
"He led the slaves in rebellion and abandoned them in the mountains…" the old courtier began speaking, his voice trembling under the weight of terror.
"This is not the truth." Angron stretched out a gigantic hand and seized the courtier's head.
With only light force, the old man quietly shattered his head in the palm as if he were ancient pottery whose inner support had been removed.
The corpse was thrown aside; the dull sound of it hitting the ground froze the spines of the nobles present.
Angron seized another noble with a blood-stained hand and glared.
"Then please tell me in detail what exactly happened in that battle."
The noble trembled so violently from terror that he kicked his legs hard in the air.
Despite the threat of death, he continued speaking while sobbing in a voice trembling with fear.
"It was a legend. Angron Tarka and his rebels were massacred in the mountains."
"Angron Tarka abandoned his brothers and sisters and fled."
"That is not the truth." Angron swung the noble and slammed him into the ground.
When the noble struck the red sand, he did not scream. It was too fast for sound.
A dull sound rang out, and the noble died instantly. The corpse was damaged beyond recognition.
"It's a lie. I didn't flee, I didn't flee!" Angron threw the pitiful corpse aside and roared in a frenzy.
"We burned many cities, forced the self-proclaimed nobles to their knees on the ground, and made them beg for their lives…"
Angron was immersed in the memory of when he and many brothers and sisters had rebelled against the nobles of Nuceria.
They burned city after city and planted terror in the people.
Unfortunately, their numbers were too few, and because Angron was dominated by the Butcher's Nails, it was difficult to formulate a long-term strategy.
In the end, they fled into the Ritsa Mountains, and there fought their last battle against the enemy.
In the final moment of the war, the Emperor appeared and saved him from unavoidable death.
Angron will not thank the Emperor for saving his life, because that tyrant did not save him.
Rather, he was a slave of Nuceria — a tool that could still be used.
If he had a choice, Angron would wish to die together with his brothers and sisters. That would be his greatest honor and happiness.
However, he had no choice. The Emperor suppressed him with absolute power, forced him to his knees on the ground, and made him watch his brothers and sisters be killed before his eyes.
Imperial officials called him a Primarch and regarded him as the Emperor's son, yet only Angron knew that he was merely a slave.
Angron turned toward his brother. "Lorgar, I need the Word Bearers to carry out the World Eaters' order."
"Those who value words will carry out your order unconditionally." Lorgar nodded in a calm tone.
"Kill everyone here. Then this city, and finally the entire world. Leave nothing living."
Absolute hatred was contained in Angron's voice.
Now there was only one thing in his head: to completely erase this world.
Just as the Word Bearers and World Eaters were about to act,
the king of Nuceria — a small boy trembling with fear — suddenly opened his mouth, clutching at straws.
"You cannot do that. Nuceria is also part of the Imperium. You cannot attack us."
The other nobles also realized this in the midst of deep despair and began to shout.
They had sworn loyalty to the Emperor and paid the tithe on time. Angron could not manipulate this world at will.
"The Emperor and his minions can die together!" Angron brought his battle-axe down.
He killed the first few nobles who had been shouting "loyalty to the Emperor."
The axe blade sliced through their cherished necks and chests and severed from their torsos fingers decorated with family-crest rings. The corpses flew through the air and fell onto the red sand.
Angron's words and actions made these nobles realize a terrible fact.
The Legion soldiers before their eyes had betrayed the Imperium. They would not be forgiven because of loyalty to the Emperor; on the contrary, they would face an even more terrible massacre.
The order from Angron was swiftly transmitted; the Word Bearers and World Eaters scattered throughout the country set out to massacre all of Nuceria.
The Word Bearers chanted ancient ritual prayers in unison, prepared to complete Angron's ascension ritual, and summoned a storm of destruction to isolate Ultramar from the rest of the Imperium.
...
The TARDIS-type telephone box floated above the arena like an observer from outside the timeline, looking down on everything.
Upon arriving at Nuceria, Datch did not allow the TARDIS telephone box to escape the flow of time.
He wanted the Lorgar and Angron of the new timeline to know what had happened.
Otherwise, sending them onto the battlefield for no reason would not be a very reliable method.
Learning the whole sequence of events, Angron looked at the Emperor — who had previously spoken to him so kindly — with a subtle expression.
I see, I see. Since you raised Nuceria so well, you can be called a good son.
On another timeline, instead of being saved by the nameless ones, he had the Butcher's Nails implanted and ended up like this.
Even in the middle of the most important war, he left the battlefield himself and let his brothers and sisters die in despair.
Lorgar stared intently at the Word Bearers clad in crimson power armor and wore a complex expression.
He had never dreamed that he would become a minion of Chaos — a madman who indiscriminately murdered innocent people solely to complete a sacrificial ritual.
The Emperor stood silently, yet his heart was by no means calm.
Damn, I shouldn't have come along.
Whatever you say now is wrong!!
Come to think of it, on another timeline I was far too inhuman and treated Angron as a defective tool like this.
Everything I have done until now was wasted. In Angron's eyes, my reputation will no longer have any value.
Even after learning the truth, Angron and Lorgar did not blame the Emperor.
They were merely surprised that my counterpart on another timeline had walked an entirely different path.
On the original timeline, the nameless one was not the most peculiar variable.
Without his help, Angron would have been unable to escape noble slavery, would have been crucified on the slayer's nails, would have murdered his foster father, and would ultimately have become a monster who knew only anger and slaughter. Lorgar too would have been influenced by Chaos devotees such as Kor Phaeron, walked an irreversible path, and become a minion and apostle of the gods.
Needless to say, without the help of the nameless ones, the Emperor would have fallen into a far more hopeless situation.
When he began the Great Crusade, human civilization had collapsed, aliens were constantly invading their living space, and all of humanity was on the brink of extinction.
Chaos watched him carefully and constantly influenced his sons.
The Webway construction plan was urgent. Even a minor mistake could lead to complete failure.
Therefore, blaming the Emperor is meaningless.
In a universe filled with such malice, even with humanity's power and wisdom, one cannot bring about great change.
After briefly explaining to the three what had happened, Datch operated the TARDIS telephone box and landed it.
Once this final plot is resolved, the historical fragment of Lost Hope will vanish.
Inside the arena, a telephone box suddenly appeared.
At this sight, the Word Bearers and World Eaters who had been killing one another stopped moving in surprise and confusion!
Under everyone's watch, the TARDIS telephone box slowly opened.
When the Emperor, Lorgar, and Angron appeared, the place fell silent.
The Word Bearers and World Eaters all stared with wide eyes and expressions of disbelief.
"Your Majesty the Emperor... I... already possess Angron."
The traitor Lorgar of the old timeline witnessed this sight and stammered from the shock. Yes,
exactly the reaction I wanted.
Datch looked at everyone's faces and almost involuntarily shouted.
The traitor Angron, seeing his own transformed appearance, was likewise shocked and seized by inexpressible fury.
"Another vile conspiracy, Father! How long do you intend to keep deceiving me!"
The handsome, perfect face of the loyal Angron of the new timeline deeply wounded the heart of the traitor Angron.
He too had once had a similar face — until the Butcher's Nails pierced his brain. And he had been forced to tear his foster father apart with his own hands.
Afterwards he transformed into a terrifying murderer.
"Go to hell."
The traitor Angron let out an ear-splitting roar and advanced with heavy footsteps.
The loyal Angron charged into the new timeline; his eyes burned with a fierce anger that could burn everything.
The strongly loyal Angron looked at himself in another timeline, quietly sighed, activated his battle-axe, and charged forward.
He bore the responsibility of ending the other self's suffering.
The two Angrons collided. Both swung battle-axes. The sound of the collision was terrifying; sparks flew everywhere.
Neither side held back at all; every attack aimed at a vital point.
There was only one thought in their heads: to completely kill each other.
Meanwhile, the two Lorgars also faced each other.
"You have lost your way," said the loyal Lorgar who had come from the new timeline. "I had always wondered what my life would have become if I had not met the nameless one. Today I found out."
"A fake." The traitor Lorgar could not understand what the other party was saying. He thought the other party was merely a copy made by the Emperor.
"I am different," the loyal Lorgar said calmly. "You betrayed me. Blinded by faith, you stepped onto a terrible path."
"I was not blind. I saw the truth of the universe." The traitor Lorgar activated the warhammer in his hand; bright electric light covered the entire haft.
"You have seen only a very superficial truth." The loyal Lorgar also activated his warhammer. "Or even a truth that was deliberately disguised."
"Have you ever set foot in the world of the Warp? Have you seen the gods? And yet you dare speak such things before me."
The traitor Lorgar began his attack; his warhammer wielded tremendous force, each blow displaying unparalleled power and exploding the air with an ear-splitting roar.
The loyal Lorgar was unafraid; he calmly responded to the attacks and continuously deflected the other party's intense blows.
The Emperor did not intervene in the battle among the four Primarchs.
He merely stood there and suppressed all the Word Bearers and World Eaters with terrifying psychic energy, preventing them from intervening in the combat.
Every gaze focused on the battle of the four Primarchs; terrible sounds echoed through the arena.
The traitor Lorgar, trying to borrow the power of the Warp, discovered something strange.
The gods who had previously readily answered his calls had now vanished without a trace.
No matter how he called, there was no response.
"They do not have the courage to oppose you." The loyal Lorgar saw through the traitor Lorgar's intention and said mockingly. "As long as the nameless one is here, they do not have the courage to intervene. Because the nameless one will surely make them pay the price."
"No one can threaten the gods!" the traitor Lorgar shouted. "What kind of scheme did you use?!"
"That is why you know nothing about this universe. What you obtained is merely packaged truth and is completely meaningless." The loyal Lorgar brought his hammer down with tremendous force.
That terrifying power forced the traitor Lorgar to retreat and deflect the force.
The loyal Lorgar continued to swing his warhammer; each blow increased in power and forced the traitor Lorgar to retreat.
Clang...
After another blow, the warhammer in the traitor Lorgar's hand was knocked away; this time it was slammed into the ground by the warhammer in the loyal Lorgar's hand.
"How can I lose to a copy?" Disbelief and despair were contained in the traitor Lorgar's tone.
He who receives the protection of the gods cannot lose to a fake self, can he?
The loyal Lorgar looked down at the traitor Lorgar, who continued to spit blood.
"I am not a copy. I am you who came from another timeline."
"Your heart is too kind. That is why you lost."
"You are the weak one! Knowing nothing, what right do you have to judge me?" the traitor Lorgar shouted.
The strongly loyal Lorgar shook his head and said in a tone filled with disappointment. "Is it not weakness to submit to the Chaos Gods and have to rely on faith in order to advance?"
"I was once the same as you, but the nameless one said this to me. A true god does not need faith. What a true god needs is companions who can put their own ideals into practice."
"My heart is stronger than yours. I do not need to rely on faith. I continue to advance with my own inner power."
"Other me, I will give you peace."
The loyal Lorgar raised his warhammer and smashed the traitor Lorgar's head.
The Word Bearers stared blankly at the sight.
This reaction is extremely strange.
They should have been furious at their Primarch's death and should have taken revenge no matter the cost.
The problem is that the murderer is another Lorgar, and that complicates the situation.
Meanwhile, the traitor Angron was also defeated by another version of himself.
It was not that his power was inferior to the opponent's; rather, the royal Angron still possessed the talent of sensing others' emotions.
This ability is extremely highly developed; the user can not only absorb others' pain and joy but also transmit his own memories and knowledge to others.
During combat, the loyal Angron continuously transmitted his own memories to the other party.
He would show the traitor Angron what Nuceria looked like on another timeline.
His foster father had not died, nor had he been nailed with the Butcher's Nails.
Those gladiator comrades had all survived and lived happy lives.
The nobles who had enslaved them were thrown into the arena, forced to fight one another, and made to taste the bitterness of their past evil deeds.
Those memories were so beautiful that the traitor Angron felt discomfort and pain, yet at the same time he was extremely captivated by them and wanted to see more.
Therefore, his movements gradually slowed.
Even though the butcher's claws continued to devour his brain and inflict intense pain, he could not wake up. In the end, he was defeated by the loyal Angron and forced to his knees on the ground.
"Are those images real?" The traitor Angron looked up at the loyal Angron. "Jochuka and Crist are not dead. They are still alive and well."
"Yes," the royal Angron said. "The nameless ones helped us."
"Then what about Oenomaus?" the traitor Angron asked, speaking a name he had until now avoided uttering.
It was the name of his foster father — the name of the person he had cherished most in his life. Yet that name had been torn to shreds by himself as if the Butcher's Nails had been driven into it.
When he regained consciousness, all that was reflected in his eyes was blood and pieces of flesh scattered across the ground.
"He is still well and very healthy. Now he enjoys teaching the children wrestling."
Hearing the words of loyalty to Angron, the scene the traitor Angron described floated into his head, and a forced smile appeared on his lips.
"That's really good."
The loyal Angron looked at the kneeling traitor Angron and felt pity.
The other me who exists on another timeline is filled with pain.
His original personality was gentle and kind, yet fate transformed him into a madman who knew only slaughter.
The loyal Angron stretched out his hand and placed it on the traitor Angron's scarred face.
Enduring the intense pain of the Butcher's Nails, she spoke quietly.
"I know you have suffered terribly until now, but it is all over now."
The traitor Angron's eyes, which had once been bloodshot and filled with madness, regained their composure; tears flowed down his blood-stained face.
"Thank you for this news. Kill me now and end everything."
Datch, standing to the side, suddenly received a system notification.
[Congratulations, players. You have unlocked the achievement quest "Confessor." By making a traitor Primarch repent, you can obtain the related fragment and acquire the achievement title "Confessor."]
The moment he saw the instruction, Datch realized something very important.
In other words, it seems my understanding of the "Warhammer Universe" game is still insufficient.
If I had eliminated the Lorgar and Angron who are part of this historical fragment from the beginning…
I would absolutely never have seen the scene of Angron repenting and begging for death, nor would the "Confessor" quest have occurred.
In fact, in this kind of open-world game, combat and slaughter are meaningless; one needs to use one's brain. To unlock all the hidden gameplay functions, one must devise many schemes.
"When I go to the Siege of Terra, I must take Horus with me."
Datch glanced at the instructions several times, then closed them and quietly planned his operation in his heart.
The most important elements supporting the Horus Heresy are the Siege of Terra and the subsequent father-and-son duel.
It is certainly possible to directly help the Emperor defeat Horus and the four gods, but if I do that, I will likely miss part of the hidden storyline.
To be honest, the game design is terrible. Why don't they make the hidden storyline public?
They insist on making the players guess!
The traitor Angron finally breathed his last in the arms of the loyal Angron.
A single dagger put an end to this gladiator-king's tragic and hopeless life.
The surviving nobles who witnessed this sight all revealed their joy at having escaped disaster.
"Those damned traitors."
"Hahaha, praise the Emperor."
"Hahaha, they wanted to take revenge on us, but now it is they who die."
The Emperor standing nearby felt a chill run down his spine.
My son's evaluation of me was originally low; from now on it will become even more negative.
Damned insects — I'll kill them all!
What? You say you swear loyalty to me?
They will die, and they will die a terrible death!