40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 108 11. The Source of Anger

Gazing at the twitching face, Robert Guilliman frowned.

He glanced apprehensively at the braid-like steel cables that created ghastly bumps and mutilated fringes on his brother's scalp.Every shake of the extended steel cable was a torture to him, but Angron seemed to have gotten used to it.

He was still breathing calmly, sitting on the medical table, with his hands on the edge, trying to keep calm, but trembling uncontrollably because of the pain caused between breathing.

"Hello, Angron." Khalil spoke first.

Now, only the three of them are left in this medical room, and everyone else has left here.Lord Macragge's orders are absolute, and no one will defy him on such orders.

"."

Angron didn't answer, just breathing heavily.All his wounds have been stitched up, and they will all heal in less than an hour.However, the pain would not let him go, after all, he refused to use anesthesia.

After a while, he finally spoke, his voice still sounding like two files being rubbed against each other.

"I'm sorry." He said lowly. "I don't want to hurt you, and them"

He raised his head, glanced at Guilliman quickly, and then looked at Khalil: "Can he understand me?"

"He doesn't understand," Khalil said. "But I can translate for you."

"Please."

Before Angron could finish his sentence, his lower left eyelid began to twitch, and even half of his cheek began to tremble.As a last resort, he gritted his teeth and took a deep breath.

The Butcher's Nails at the back of his head began to squirm as if they were alive at this moment. Guilliman clenched his right fist violently, and suddenly felt an urge to tear all these things out.

He had to admit, watching his brother's life being eaten by something like this sucks.

"Please tell him that I'm sorry for hurting those people." Half a minute later, Angron finally finished his words.

But Khalil did not tell Guilliman immediately, he asked in Nucerian: "Do you know what their relationship is with him?"

"I don't know, but they all have the same emblem on their armor, like the Rope of Triumph that we gladiators all have. And he's obviously not an ordinary person. They listen to him, I can see that."

Angron answered very quickly, his voice was slurred, as if he had just bit his tongue, and a little scarlet came out from between his teeth.

Khalil turned his head and looked at Robert Guilliman: "He is apologizing to you for hurting your four fighters."

Guilliman looked at his brother, Angron sensed his gaze, and raised his head again, his eyes flicked back and forth on Robert Guilliman's face and armor, erratically, but never meeting him See.

Lord Macragge sighed softly, and said, "You don't need to do that, brother, I can see that you were deliberately keeping your hands back."

Angron looked at Khalil.

"He said, there's no need to apologize, he knew you were holding back, but I want to ask you, how did you do it, Angron?"

"What?" Angron asked vaguely, swallowing the blood in his mouth. "Do what?"

Khalil watched him patiently and gestured: "The Butcher's Nail."

He didn't say more, but that was enough.

So Angron smiled.

The way he laughed was even scarier than when he was silent, and the muscles on his face twitched, making this supposedly gentle expression look extremely grotesque.

"I've been fighting it."

The gladiator said so in his mutilated voice, which contained a quiet will that was completely opposite to his appearance at the moment. "It wants me to bend, I know. But I won't stop until I'm actually dead, it doesn't deserve to bring me to my knees."

Khalil nodded slowly.

He turned his head and relayed what Angron had just said verbatim to Guilliman, whose expression quickly changed from sullen anger to a vague shock.

Angron looked at him, taking in all his expressions, and his smile began to grow stronger and more frightening.It seemed like a threat, but Guilliman could see the underlying goodwill in it.

"Angron." The gladiator looked at his brother and introduced himself in his own language. His face twitched ferociously, but his voice was calm. "My name is Angron."

"I know, Angron." The son of the nobleman replied softly, the Gothic language was awkward and noble, but the expression contained anger born of sympathy. "My name is Robert Guilliman, and I am your brother."

Khalil shook his head.

He stretched out his hand and put it on Robert Guilliman's shoulder, a cold blue light flashed in his eyes.

Angron let out a low growl, his body bent, but he still restrained himself.Guilliman watched all this in astonishment, and wanted to speak, but a strange instinct in his body urged him to use another language.

Then he blurted out: "What did you do, Khalil?"

"I taught you the Nucerian language." The instigator stared at Angron and answered Guilliman's question softly.

"No, I'm asking—"

"—I'm fine." Angron said with his head down.He was panting, the steel cable at the back of his head was gnawing at him, Guilliman could see it, he could even hear the faint squeeze.

"That thing is psionic," Khalil said thoughtfully. "I guessed something at first, and the information you collected also proved my guess."

"Then why are you still doing this?" Guilliman asked very quickly.

Khalil didn't answer the question, he just pursed his lips, shook his head, and said softly, "Sorry, Angron."

"I'm fine." said the giant with his head down. "I'm used to the pain."

Guilliman frowned sharply. "This kind of pain?"

Angron looked up, grinning.His face was ferocious, but his eyes were calm.

"They call me Angron Tarco. But I don't like the name. Angron is my first name. I have no last name, just like all other gladiators."

"The Tarco family is the owner of the Daishea Colosseum. They own the Colosseum, and the reason why they gave me this surname is just to swear a kind of sovereignty. I hate this, so I have been resisting."

"A normal gladiatorial fight would take anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour to get the catharsis out of the damn audience. I'll only take 2 minutes."

"Gladiatorial combat requires me to kill, but I just let my opponents go all out, and one by one, take their weapons and throw them in the bunker."

"Sometimes I also fight with ferocious beasts, some were captured like us, and some were created by slave owners. I will stun the former and let the latter rest in peace."

"The Talco family was very dissatisfied with me at that time, but for the sake of the money I brought, they still didn't do anything. Until Oinomouth and I planned to unite everyone to launch a riot, in the next gladiatorial fight against them."

Angron paused for a moment, panting heavily, the nail wriggling, urging him to violence.He stared at the infirmary floor with an emotion quite different from anger.

sad.

Even though it was so out of place on his face, it was there.

"That was seven months ago, and it was also the No. 16 year when I came to the arena."

After the silence, Angron spoke again in a low voice, and he was able to tell them.When he was calm, he still had full thinking ability, but he would constantly gasp in a low voice between speeches, and the pain tortured him, and everyone could see it.

Even a blind person can recognize how painful its owner is at the moment through the terrible voice.

Guilliman could see more. For example, Angron should seldom have such a long speech. There are too many evidences to prove this. The most obvious thing is the pause between Angron's speeches.

He wasn't just resisting the Butcher's Nails, he was thinking, and that would bring more, greater pain.

Guilliman gritted his teeth angrily.Did that nail even allow him to think, he thought?

"But it got leaked." He paused again. "A traitor, Dalio. No, maybe I shouldn't call him a traitor. He was a slaveholder from the beginning, a villain who was placed between us."

A ferocious smile appeared on his ferocious face.

"He told the Tarco family about this, so the scheduled gladiatorial fight was cancelled. I sensed something was wrong and wanted to resist in advance, but the guards had already caught all of me with their silver vines. brothers and sisters."

"I still remember the day, it was a sunny day, and they asked me to fight two Ogryns with Oinomouth, and they had to kill. For the lives of my people, I did it, and then, after that "

Guilliman waited in silence, unwilling to speak a word.He just kept silent.Khalil also remained silent, only slightly differently.He squinted his eyes all the time, folded his hands, and tapped the forearm of his left hand with his right index finger.

"...They asked me and Oinomouth to fight each other, and one of them must die." Angron said calmly.

He talked about it in a tone that seemed to have nothing to do with him, as if he was talking about someone else's life.But his face didn't say so, what was present in that twitching, trembling, forced mutilated face at the moment was a kind of extreme sadness.

"I don't agree." The gladiator whispered. "But Oinomouth agreed, and wanted me to agree. Perhaps he already knew what the Tarcos would do to me then."

"We were taken back into the cave, then pulled out again and put in a cage right in the middle of the bunker. They put a knife to Oinomouth's neck to make me agree to one thing. I I asked them what it was, they didn't speak, they just took out a tube of injection. I asked them what it was again, they still didn't speak, just wiped the bloodstains on Oinomouth's neck little by little with a knife .”

"I agreed, and then, when I woke up, Oinomouth was dead."

He stopped talking, finally.

His words chilled Guilliman, wondering why the Emperor's son had been treated like this, and the story was torture to the listener as well.

And the narrator himself let out a roar slowly from his throat, not sure if it was a roar of ridicule or sadness.

Guilliman saw that his brother had already clenched his fists, and the gap between the fingers of those two hands was already full of blood.The Butcher's Nails are still wriggling and burrowing in, but their victims are bound by an inexplicable force of will.

Guilliman looked to Khalil, who knew he had the answer.Khalil turned his head and gave him a look that was so complicated that Guilliman almost couldn't understand it.

"He was killed by my own hands. After that... I wanted to kill all of them, so I tore apart the iron cage and ran out, but I only had time to pinch the neck of one of the guards before I was stopped. The pain made it impossible for me to continue."

He looked up and glanced at Khalil.

"Spiritual energy." Khalil said softly. "The Tarco family has psykers, right?"

"I don't know what it is. In short, the pain is no different from the pain caused when your eyes glow, it's just more painful."

Angron grinned, making a joke in his own way that sounded almost accusatory, but Guilliman felt eerily like his brother didn't care.

"You said you're used to it" Guilliman asked in a deep voice. "They often torture you with psykers?"

"Seven months after that," Angron said. "As long as I don't agree to play, I'm in pain. Sometimes I can resist, sometimes I can't. When I can resist, they threaten me with the lives of other gladiators."

"Gladiators don't live very long, seven months is enough to kill a few people I used to know, but I know that they shouldn't be treated like this. So I always agree, but , at this time, I can no longer control myself very well.”

Angron was silent for a while, trembling his fingers, and said a number.

"470 one." He gasped in pain. "I killed 470 people, I only remember that I killed 470 people."
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"I'm going to execute them all!"

Guilliman roared angrily, his voice echoing throughout his own study.

"If it's just to vent your anger, you can play a few more mock battles with me, Robert."

Standing in front of the porthole, Khalil turned his head and glanced at Lord Macragge with a calm expression. "As for those slave owners, this is Angron's home planet, isn't it? Arrest them and let him make a decision."

"How can he see the bloody scene with his own eyes now? That thing has had an indelible impact on him." Guilliman covered his face in despair. "I should have started earlier. If I had come earlier, he might not have."

Khalil didn't answer him, but turned his head away again.He stared at the planet below the orbit, observing every observable detail, soothing and relaxing his way of thinking.

Then he chuckled.

"Let's inform No.12 Legion first." He said softly. "As for the Butcher's Nail, it's not impossible."

"You have a solution?!" Guilliman stood up in disbelief.

"Yes." Khalil said. "But I'm going down first."

"What?"

"Judgment."

The instructor of the Eighth Army replied softly, his voice was as soft as whispers in the wind.Looking at his back, Robert Guilliman suddenly felt a chill.

　4.2K, the remaining [-] will be returned tomorrow.

　　Seeing that some readers are guessing whether Kalil will give away part of the authority, don't worry, it is too vulgar to write like this.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)