[+1 In The Comments!!
If we reach 30 I give an extra chapter!]
Such a brilliant emotion.
She had experienced it twice in her life.
The first time was when she finished unifying Nuceria, governed the planet, and led the slaves toward equality.
The second time was during her rule over the planet, when she discovered records of the Chaos Gods of the Warp.
Just as she began worrying over humanity’s future, the Emperor descended from the heavens.
Angrona recognized him as her father at a glance.
She was also utterly certain that he could lead mankind to victory over Chaos, and so her heart had been incomparably light…
But that had also been the last time.
From then on, memories of what could be called lightness had become far less clear.
Perhaps this was because, as the twelfth Primarch created by the Emperor, Angrona had been born with the ability to sense the emotions of others.
She could even absorb their pain and negative feelings.
With this, she could soothe despairing warriors and restore fighting spirit to an army sunk in low morale.
The only price was that she had to shoulder all those negative emotions alone.
But that was nothing to a Primarch.
As one of the Emperor’s demigods, she had been born with a godlike capacity to endure.
The despair of mortals was nothing to her.
Whenever she descended upon even the most hopeless battlefield, all pessimism would vanish with the Primarch’s arrival.
And amid those negative emotions, Angrona would carefully sift out positive feelings to encourage herself.
Among them, this sense of relief, as though a burden had been lifted, was the most common.
But Angrona understood that pressure did not disappear.
It merely shifted onto someone else’s shoulders.
Every time she absorbed external emotions, to her, the others were like prisoners impatient to cast off their shackles.
Within that relief was despair for the future.
Even if a Primarch arrived, that despair would not disappear.
The shackles of despair would merely be locked onto the Primarch once more.
But as a Primarch, as the Lord of the Red Sands, the master of Nuceria, and the lord of the Twelfth Legion, she had already prepared herself to shoulder all of humanity’s despair.
Only, in this moment, she did not sense even the slightest trace of despair from Lancelot.
Instead, what shone from him was hope, radiant like a miracle.
By rights, in this hopeless universe, hope was the cheapest poison.
Yet within the Imperium, very, very few people truly carried a heart full of hope.
Because this cruel world would drown idealists in ruthless reality…
After the Lion’s great rebellion, after the Emperor took His seat upon the Golden Throne, after half His brothers turned traitor, and after the ambitious Guilliman became Warmaster of Chaos, hope had already been declared dead.
Angrona had once believed that she could, at most, sense the flavor of hope from the young children of garden worlds.
But now, she had never imagined that before this immortal, who had seemingly survived since ancient times and was an old acquaintance of the Emperor, she would still be able to feel such a soaring flame of hope.
Radiant.
Passionate…
as though the Emperor’s blood in his hand was merely one insignificant link in the chain.
Even if the Emperor’s blood proved useless, he would not become discouraged.
He would still have other methods.
This feeling of relief he carried was not a shackle mixed with despair.
Instead, it was like a friendly companion lifting a great cake and handing it to you.
Only after you reached out and took it would he finally relax, telling you that if this piece was not enough, he would find something else for you, and he truly could make that happen.
And that kind of lightness…
was far too rare in this universe now.
“He may be trustworthy.”
Angrona repeatedly sensed that emotion, brilliant enough to be called dazzling, and whispered those words silently in her heart.
And at that very moment…
the thirteen golden lights within the arena began to surge.
Psychic power rolled like a tide.
Every Crimson Angel’s eyes instantly lost their light, and this segment of their memories was erased in that very instant.
The existence capable of doing such a thing was already self-evident.
Some terrifying psychic power had descended.
Lancelot felt as if he were facing a storm brought by the sun itself.
The power of that storm was so majestic and so horrifying, yet it was only the aftershock announcing the arrival of a certain existence.
He had come.
At that moment, golden light surged from Angrona’s body like a gushing spring, pouring into the Emperor’s blood in her hand.
Lancelot understood.
The Emperor had agreed to this plan.
From so close, Lancelot could see Angrona before him.
Her eyes began to burst outward with indescribable golden lightning.
“Emperor?”
Lancelot asked tentatively, but he received no response.
But before the psychic lightning faded from those golden eyes, Lancelot clearly saw Him give a faint nod.
As the light dispersed, a series of tiny spiral-shaped golden brands appeared along the wall of the quartz tube.
The crimson blood inside had completely transformed into a red-gold substance.
Its nature had also changed entirely from blood into flowing gold, almost indistinguishable from the legendary Philosopher’s Stone.
Then He tried to hand this vial of blood back to Lancelot.
An invisible thought was transmitted into Lancelot.
“Damn it…”
Lancelot could not help cursing under his breath, but he hurriedly grasped the vial with both hands, then quickly put it away inside the Secret-Keeper space.
He, whose eyes still released golden light, gave Lancelot a gentle nod.
For Lancelot, a complex emotion began to rise, like he had just eaten a piece of sour candy.
Tch…
Now this was bad.
If that weasel bastard had been scum among scum, treating him as if he had already decided Lancelot would help the Imperium, then once Lancelot found a way to run, he would have run without hesitation.
He would not have cared in the slightest whether the Imperium of Man in the Warhammer universe lived or died.
But if it was like this, then things became troublesome.
The Emperor’s attitude was practically, “Brother, you finally came.
I knew you would descend like a divine soldier.
I trust you unconditionally.
I trust that you can bring hope to the Imperium of Man.
I trust that you can support the future.
I trust that you can save this world.”
That was something Lancelot found rather hard to withstand.
Weren’t you supposed to be absolute scum in the official history?
Why are you so damn human in this reversed world?
Ah, there is really no helping you.
“I’m the backup plan!”
Lancelot sighed inwardly, then looked at Primarch Angrona as she gradually returned to normal.
While she remained in thoughtful silence, Lancelot was the first to break the quiet.
“Do you have raw steel materials?”
Lancelot said, “I will probably set out on my journey in seven days.
But before that, if I can help, I’ll help first.”