Terra. The birthplace of Humanity, the very center of the Imperium of Man.
Now they welcomed back its Master and a new Prince.
But Angron did not agree with this. As the current Master of the Twelfth Legion, he, with the help of the Butcher's Nails, reviewed all the combat history of the War Hounds, from the start of the Unification Wars on Terra to their role as a reserve force for other expeditionary fleets.
Angron and the Butcher's Nails carefully studied the role the War Hounds played when fighting alongside other Legions.
Assault troops. The War Hounds had cooperated with multiple Legions: Dark Angels, Iron Warriors, Space Wolves.
But without exception, the War Hounds were often deployed in the most dangerous areas, providing a killing advantage for armies in trouble. Even now that the War Hounds had been assembled, they were still being used by the War Council as executioners, deployed to various regions of the Imperium.
Angron felt a slight anger about this in his heart. He wanted to change the entire Legion's status quo immediately, but now was not the time.
"my father!" Someone knocked on the hatch, and Gell's voice came through the door. His tone was full of worry regarding Angron's mental state.
When Gell and the others walked in, the dark, unlit room was filled with mechanical cables, all converging densely around the giant, muscular man who was lying on the ground in the center, rolling his eyes and occasionally twitching.
"Gell?" Angron climbed up from the floor and hammered his own face.
[Wait! Wait, I haven't consumed this data yet!]
As Angron walked forward, the data-linked synapses of the Butcher's Nails disconnected one by one, and then the voice of the Butcher's Nails sounded again.
"Hurry up!" Angron said, annoyed.
"my father, are you alright?" Gell asked. Beside him stood Captain Khârn of the Eighth Company and warriors from other companies. They were so worried about Angron's current state that they had summoned all the best Apothecaries in the Legion.
"You made me worry. I am fine for now... Are we at Terra?"
Angron asked, draping his cloak over himself. Angron felt a slight sense of fatigue and even some hunger, likely due to excessive mental exertion.
[Done!] Hearing the Butcher's Nails say this, Angron immediately disconnected the last data cable and walked over to Gell.
"Yes, my father, we have arrived at Terra." Gell nodded slightly, then cleared a path for Angron.
"Also, my father, regarding the Primarch Guard." Gell suggested. Having fought alongside other Legions for a long time, they urgently needed to establish a Primarch Guard for their own Primarch. After all, what others had, their father should have too.
"Follow your own ideas."
"Khârn of the Eighth Company, Kaptera of the Thirty-seventh Company, and Mago of the Eighteenth Company, Varys... let them join the Primarch Guard. For the remaining few, I require brave warriors, valor, and good character."
Angron finalized the personnel he and the Butcher's Nails had previously decided upon.
"As you wish." Gell added his own name to the list in his heart.
"Also, new Space Marines must be quickly incorporated into the Legion." Angron added.
Having said this, Angron stretched his limbs. He was going to meet his brothers.
...Dust swirled up on the Terra Imperial Palace plaza. Beneath the magnificent splendor and countless marble columns, the opulent architecture of the Palace overshadowed several figures.
"Stop playing your tiresome tricks." A dull voice sounded. The yellow giant Rogal Dorn looked at Magnus beside him. He was trying to stop his brother from using those blasphemous sorceries to clean the Palace plaza.
"You are always so boring. What do you think the new brother will be like? A sickly lunatic or a fellow whose mouth could poison a man?"
Magnus lowered his eyes, gazing at the starship descending from the sky. Even from such a distance, Magnus could still feel the Emperor's presence.
It was a golden vehicle, followed by a blue-and-white War Hounds stormbird orbital transport. The two followed one after the other.
"It seems this brother is not favored by my father." Magnus muttered.
"Enough!" When an old man's voice sounded, the Regent of the Imperium—Malcador the Sigillite—spoke to stop them.
Several pairs of eyes looked over.
Magnus, knowing he was being tiresome, closed his mouth, but before doing so, he looked at the man beside him—Guilliman.
Guilliman had his eyes closed, seemingly lost in thought, until the two vehicles landed on the ground.
The Custodes stepped out first, followed by the Emperor.
Soon, the Princes of the Imperium saw Angron descending from the transport.
They watched Angron, who was fitted with the Butcher's Nails on his head.
Doubt, curiosity, scrutiny.
[That completely red figure is your giant baby brother.]
[Oh, that is Guilliman. I have shown him to you before. The Five Hundred Worlds is a prosperous region. When you have time, you can let the War Hounds go there to study, and preferably capture a few people to bring back.]
[That one is Perturabo, a twisted person.]
[Rogal Dorn. This fellow's mouth is very malicious!]
Angron listened to the Butcher's Nails chattering incessantly in his ear. He felt the gaze and emotions each of his brothers cast upon him.
Scrutiny, curiosity, doubt... and terror?
Angron directed his gaze toward the source of that look. It was a man with an extremely pale complexion. His eyes watched Angron with terror, an unbelievable gaze that seemed intent on seeing right through Angron.
"Who is that?" Angron asked.
[Konrad Curze, a lunatic. His life is full of sorrow and despair. I suggest you move him with love.]
The Butcher's Nails relayed this information to Angron.
"It seems this group of brothers of mine are not easy people to get along with."
Angron sighed, then his expression became resolute.
He followed behind the Emperor and walked forward... A banquet, a massive banquet.
As the guest of honor, Angron looked at the lavish food, finding it difficult to swallow for a moment. Even the Slave Masters had never tasted things like this; such food was undoubtedly a luxury to Angron.
"My brother, is this not to your liking?" When the crimson giant walked over, he asked with a smile.
"Magnus... I am Magnus."
"Angron." Angron raised his head to look at the brothers who had gathered around him.
"Alright, how do you feel, Angron? With that attire, you didn't happen to land on some savage world like Leman Russ, did you?" Magnus asked teasingly.
Angron was expressionless, but the next second, he smiled. He could sense that his brothers meant him no ill will.
"Of course, my brother! Of course, I am a savage who kills without blinking."
"I am Angron. They call me the Lord of Red Sand, a barbarian."
Angron extended his hand.
Just as he and the Butcher's Nails had agreed, he was a barbarian.
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