Such resplendent emotions he had only experienced twice in his life.
The first time was when he completed the unification of Nuceria, governing the planet and leading the slaves toward equality.
The second time was when, during his governance of the planet, he discovered the existence of the Chaos Gods of the Warp from ancient records.
Just as he was worrying about humanity’s future, the Emperor descended from the sky.
Angron recognized him as his father at first glance, and was incomparably certain that he could lead humanity to defeat Chaos, so his mood was incomparably relieved…
But that was also the last time.
Since then, the memory of what was called relief became not so clear.
This was perhaps because, as the twelfth Primarch created by the Emperor, Angron inherently possessed the ability to feel the emotions of others, and even to absorb the pain and negative emotions of others.
With this, he could soothe despairing warriors and allow an army with low morale to regain its fighting spirit.
The only price was that he had to shoulder all the negative emotions alone.
But this was nothing for a Primarch.
As a demigod of the Emperor, he inherently possessed a god-level capacity for endurance.
The despair of mortals was nothing to him.
Whenever he descended upon even the most despairing battlefield, all pessimism would vanish with his arrival.
And from amidst those negative emotions, Angron would carefully sift out positive emotions to encourage himself.
Among them, this sense of unburdened relief was the most common.
But Angron understood that the pressure did not disappear; it was merely transferred onto the shoulders of others.
Every time he absorbed external emotions, in his view, the others were like prisoners eagerly shedding off their shackles.
Amidst the unburdened relief, there was a mingled despair toward the future.
Even with the arrival of the Primarch, the despair would not disappear; it was just that these shackles of despair would be reattached onto the Primarch.
But as a Primarch, as the Lord of Red Sands, the Lord of Nuceria, the Lord of the Twelfth Legion, he was already prepared to shoulder all the despairing emotions of humanity.
It was just that at that moment, he did not feel a single trace of despairing emotion from Lancelot, but rather a hope shining with miraculous brilliance!
Logically speaking, in this despairing galaxy, hope is the cheapest poison.
Those who do not fear death do so to dedicate their loyalty to the Emperor, so their souls may return to the Golden Throne, but within the borders of the Imperium, there are very, very few people whose hearts are filled with hope!
Because the cruel galaxy will drown idealists in harsh reality…
After the Lion’s Heresy, with the Emperor sitting upon the Golden Throne, half of his brothers turned traitor, and the ambitious Guilliman becoming the Warmaster of Chaos, hope had already been declared dead.
Angron once thought he could at most only feel the scent of hope in the young children of Garden Worlds.
But now, he never expected that from this Perpetual elder—who seemingly survived from the ancient era and was an old acquaintance of the Emperor—he could still feel that incomparably soaring fire of hope.
Shining, passionate…
as if the Emperor’s blood in his hand was merely an insignificant link!
Even if the Emperor’s blood proved useless, he would not be discouraged, but would still have other methods.
This sense of unburdened relief from him was not a set of shackles mixed with despair.
Instead, it was like a friendly, good buddy lifting a large cake and handing it to you.
Only after you reached out and took it did he look as if relieved of a heavy burden, telling you that if this piece wasn’t enough to eat, he would find other things for you—and he could truly achieve it.
And this kind of relaxed emotion…
was far too…
rare in today’s galaxy.
“He is perhaps trustworthy,” Angron softly said in his heart as he repeatedly felt that emotion, which could only be called shining.
And right at that moment…
the thirteen golden rays of light in the arena began to surge!
A psychic power surging like an ocean tide!
All the Crimson Angels instantly lost the highlights in their pupils.
This segment of their memory was erased at that moment, and the existence capable of achieving this was self-evident.
Some terrifying psychic power had descended.
Lancelot felt as if he was directly facing a storm brought by the sun.
The power of this storm was so majestic, so terrifying, yet it merely heralded the aftermath before an existence arrived!
He had come!
At that moment, golden light surged upon Angron like a geyser, pouring into the Emperor’s blood in his hand!
Lancelot understood that the Emperor had agreed to this plan!
Getting closer, Lancelot could see Angron before him, his pupils beginning to shoot outward indescribable golden lightning!
“Emperor?” Lancelot asked tentatively, but received no response.
Those golden pupils looked at Lancelot, and Lancelot calmly met his gaze for a full thirteen minutes before the agitated golden light entirely disappeared.
But before the psychic lightning faded from those golden pupils, Lancelot clearly saw him give a slight nod.
As the light dispersed, a series of spiraling, minute golden brands appeared on the wall of the quartz tube, while the crimson blood lying within had completely transformed into a red-gold appearance.
Its properties had entirely changed from blood to flowing gold, almost indistinguishable from the legendary Philosopher’s Stone.
Subsequently, he attempted to reach out and hand this tube of blood to Lancelot.
An invisible thought was transmitted to Lancelot.
“Fuck…” Lancelot couldn’t help but curse silently, but he hurriedly grasped this tube of blood with both hands and subsequently retrieved it swiftly back into his Secret Keeper space.
The Emperor, with golden light radiating from his eyes, gave Lancelot a slight nod.
For Lancelot, an emotion as complex as eating a sour candy began to climb.
Hiss…
This is bad.
If the Emperor had been the scum among scum—treating him as if absolutely certain he would help the Imperium of Man—then once Lancelot found a way to run away, he would ultimately just run away, not caring at all about the life or death of the Imperium of Man in the Warhammer universe.
But if it was like this, then it was troublesome.
This Emperor fellow put on an attitude of “I unconditionally believe in you, believe you can bring hope to the Imperium of Man, believe you can Support the Future, believe you can save this world”…
Then Lancelot couldn’t quite bear it.
Aren’t you the scum among scum in the official history?!
Why are you so humane in this reversed world?!
Sigh, I truly can’t do anything about you.
Lancelot sighed inwardly.
Looking at the Primarch Angron before him gradually returning to normal, amidst the other party’s thoughtful silence, Lancelot was the first to speak and break the tranquility.
“Do you have raw steel materials?” Lancelot opened his mouth and said.
“I will embark on my journey in about seven days.
But before that, if I can help, I will still help out a bit first.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Thaniel_a_goodch Please remember to vote!
Thaniel_a_goodchild.