Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0069 A Fateful Moment Arrived Too Soon

The psionic blades released by Zhou Yun slashed deep gashes across his body, some of which were nearly fatal, but the slave of the Butcher's Nail continued to attack Zhou Yun relentlessly.

Pain and a sense of crisis are things that those who have received Butcher's Nails have never experienced.

Only pure killing and rage were forged into their minds.

It's hard to imagine what purpose humans in the dark ages of technology would have had in creating such machines.

What use are a bunch of completely out-of-control lunatics besides pleasing the Blood God?

In an era of dark technology, would people still covet the physical enhancements that nails bring?

Did the designer of this nail have a brain connected to the Blood God?

"Old Zhou!" Just then, Anglong roared, kicking away the pit warrior wielding two axes, and then throwing one of his battle axes, which whistled and slashed directly into Zhou Yun's opponent's shoulder.

The pit warrior could ignore the pain, but the damage was still real; the axe had severed his tendons and bones, slowing his hammer swings for a moment.

Zhou Yun's pupils contracted sharply as he reached out his fingertips toward the pit warrior's head, which was riddled with butcher's nails.

Bright Feather School. Bio-Lightning.

Guided by psychic energy, the bioelectricity between the nerves converged, and pale lightning surged from Zhou Yun's fingertips, piercing into the head of the Deep Pit Warrior.

The surging current stirred the brain, already ravaged by the Butcher's Nail, instantly turning it into charcoal.

The Deep Pit Warrior's body fell heavily in front of Zhou Yun, dying amidst the red sand.

"...No?" Zhou Yun couldn't help but mutter.

It has no soul...

He wanted to place the soul of the Pit Warrior on the Golden Throne.

But they discovered that the warrior in the deep pit had no soul.

No, it's not that it lacks a soul.

This soul did not belong to Zhou Yun, nor to the Golden Throne. It had already ascended elsewhere before Zhou Yun placed it upon the Golden Throne...

He is a cultist who worships an evil god.

At the same time, Angron raised his last remaining battle axe high and brought it down with a bang, striking his opponent's head with tremendous force.

His opponents were certainly no match for the Primarch's immense power, even though Angron was currently too weak to resist.

The Pit Warrior crashed onto the red sand, sending crimson sand flying everywhere. Angron reached out his free hand and grabbed the metal braid on the Pit Warrior's head.

In the prophecy he saw from the psychic prophet, he too would be killed in a similar manner by a golden angel in the future.

The Butcher's Nail, covered in brain tissue, was forcibly pulled out of the Deep Pit Fighter's head by Angron.

The metal cables twitched a few times in Angron's hands as if they were alive, and the pit warriors on the ground convulsed at the same frequency. After a few seconds, both of them stopped moving.

Zhou Yun watched this scene unfold.

The soul of this pit warrior was not drawn away by him either, but was instead drawn away by something else at a speed even faster than Zhou Yun's.

Or rather, long before he died, his soul was enslaved by some other warp entity.

Onomamos looked sadly at old Kress.

Old Kress treated him as he treated Angron.

Mentor, brother, senior, compatriot, comrade-in-arms, and father.

How would Angron feel if he were reduced to such a state?

What would Angron become if he died?

Onomamus then realized that he had taught Angron how to live, but had not taught him how to face death.

This was his fault as a father.

Old Kress used his shield as a hammer and smashed it down on Onomamus.

Onomamus dodged aside; he hadn't exercised so seriously in a long time.

The swordsmanship that old Kress taught him still flows in his muscles, just as blood flows in the body of his descendant.

Even old Kress himself had forgotten.

Anger and pain overwhelmed him; the old Kress would never have used his shield like this.

The shields are meant to protect them and keep them alive, not to take their lives.

"Kress, my father, you are gone. What lives on now is an empty shell with a worn-out soul, a slave wandering in agony."

"But your soul, your will, your thoughts, your existence still flow in my veins. I remember your dreams, understand your thoughts, and have mastered your skills."

"This is a bloodline not in our genes, an invisible but strong connection. Even if I die one day, this bloodline will flow in Angron's body, and then from Angron to his children."

"And so," Onomamus blocked the sword with his shield, "we will never die."

Seizing the fleeting opportunity, the blade pierced old Kress's throat.

"We will live on in a nobler way, and our bloodline will never be broken."

Old Kress collapsed onto the red sand, his cloudy eyes looking at Onomamus, as if he had a moment of clarity.

Upon recognizing Onomamus, a hint of satisfaction even appeared in his eyes...

Zhou Yun noticed this scene and seized the opportunity, his thoughts suddenly piercing into Old Kress's mind.

+Silently recite: I wish my soul could return to the Golden Throne+

Old Kress's eyes widened.

Zhou Yun could feel the Butcher's Nail roaring angrily, trying to completely destroy the old warrior's last vestiges of consciousness before his death.

But the soldier responded to Zhou Yun at the last moment.

"I... return... to... the... golden... throne..."

With his broken mind, he managed to utter those words silently.

A crack was torn open, and then old Kress saw golden fire engulf his soul, warm and peaceful.

There was no pain, no anger.

A slight smile appeared on his lips, a peaceful smile.

Just as Zhou Yun thought, the people who had nails implanted were not soulless, but their souls were marked and enslaved in advance.

Therefore, Zhou Yun was able to save Old Kress's soul only after he prayed to the Golden Throne at the last moment.

Khorne... it must have been Khorne who enslaved these souls. Simply implanting nails is tantamount to corruption. The problems with these nails themselves are probably more serious than those of the other Nuthria creations.

Looking at the smile on old Kress's lips, Onomamus seemed to realize that Zhou Yun had done something.

The old gladiator nodded slightly to Zhou Yun, then raised his blood-stained longsword and struck his shield again, bidding farewell to the deceased and celebrating the living.

Angron placed his large hand on Onomamus's shoulder, and Zhou Yun also nodded slightly to Onomamus.

but.

Killing the three Pit Warriors implanted with the Butcher's Nails did not eliminate Zhou Yun's sense of crisis.

On the contrary, that dark, blood-stained future seemed to be becoming increasingly clear before Zhou Yun...

and many more.....

Zhou Yun reached out and covered his mouth, as if a similar scene had unfolded in the original course of history.

But it shouldn't be happening now...

Too early....

How could this be...?

You're so dense! Get moving! Think of something to do!

"Incredible! The three champions killed three Pit Fighters in just eight minutes!"

"Who in this arena can rival the three of them?"

"I'm afraid it's just them alone!"

The worm's eye hovered in the air, buzzing incessantly; its sharp, grating sound sent a slight ache to one's head.

"Yes, just the two of them!"

"My dear viewers, are you curious about who among these three is the best?"

"Let them fight! Let them slaughter one another! This is a feast offered to you, to the gods, to our great and radiant light!"

Angron's fingers clenched, and he held his breath as he stared at the eight worm eyes, about to speak.

"That's it?" At that moment, Zhou Yun's voice rang out before he could finish.