Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

0061 I'm here to change your destiny.

This world is... Nutheria??

Zhou Yun discovered that the world found within Angron's body completely overlapped with the current Nuseria in terms of spatial coordinates, and there was no doubt that it was Nuseria itself.

However... the two worlds are not the same in terms of timeline, which means that what was found in Angron was Nutheria at another point in time.

It was Nutheria, completely shrouded in blood, half-submerged in the warp, swirling with a raging storm of destruction.

Zhou Yun did not rush to enter Nuseria at that point in time; he withdrew his will from Angron's body.

"What is that?" Angron's voice trembled slightly as the Primarch stared blankly at his hands.

He still couldn't comprehend what he was seeing, nor did he understand what that burning colossus that had crashed into his body was.

"That was a fragment of a dead alien god, who wielded anger, murder, and war. He was forged into a curse by the Unnamed Lady and pierced into your body."

Zhou Yun looked at Angron and spoke softly to the Primarch.

He used the nameless lady, a term used by the Eldar to avoid referring to Slaanesh.

The veil of Nuseria is thinner than that of Macurag, and even thinner than that of Prospero in the arena.

He himself was not afraid, but if he uttered the name of the Abomination and left a mark in the memories of Kleist and Onomamus, it could cause the two of them to be corrupted by the warp.

"Alien deity, the unnamed lady..." Kleist listened to Zhou Yun's words in a daze.

How did this get involved with gods...?

Anglong gasped for breath, clutching his head. The memory of that time vividly surfaced in his mind, and he understood that Zhou Yun was right.

"Why?" Anglon demanded. "Why did they, those dancers, do this? Why do they hate me so much? I..."

Tears welled in Anglong's eyes. Once he asked the question, he already knew the reason.

As his memories returned, he recalled the fear and hatred of those dancers and understood why they hated him.

"Because they foresaw that I would destroy their homeland and become a bloodthirsty demon in the galaxy—"

From the emotions released by the prophet, Angron vaguely saw fragments of the prophecy.

He saw himself sprout fleshy wings burning with wildfire, his face twisted into a beastly form in rage, terrifying nails growing into his skull, and crimson fury filling his body; he had become a bloodthirsty, horrifying demon.

He saw eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight worlds burning because of his roar, and saw his body and mind enslaved by bloodthirsty divinity.

He saw countless people fall beneath his battle axe, saw life ebb away in agony, saw heavily armored warriors scorn him, saw the golden sky gaze upon him with sorrowful eyes and then kill him...

Tears welled in Angron's eyes, both because of this terrible future and because he could feel the pain of the beings he would kill in the future.

"No, because they are big fools." Just as Angron was immersed in that terrible future, Zhou Yun spoke up.

Anglong looked up at Zhou Yun, his eyes filled with clear sadness and pain.

This Primarch is not yet the future Crimson Angel of pure rage. Even though he is cursed, most of his personality remains gentle, shaped by his gladiator brothers.

"It was their fabricated prophecies that led to your capture in this arena and the way you ended up looking the way you are today."

"This world is too malicious towards you, and your fate has too many ugly and deliberate acts."

"And I'm here to change your destiny."

Anglong stared wide-eyed at Zhou Yun, sensing sincerity and... a chilling hope in Zhou Yun's words.

Kleist scratched his head, looking completely bewildered, not knowing what Zhou Yun and Anglon were talking about.

Onomamus sat cross-legged, his chin resting on his calloused hands, watching Angron and Zhou Yun.

"I think I understand," Onomamus said.

"Hmm?" Zhou Yun couldn't help but turn his gaze to Onomamus.

"Angron is important, isn't he? He's many times more important than those high-ranking riders."

Onomamus's eyes, set in his aged, brown face, gleamed with a furnace-like light. He looked at Zhou Yun and said:

"Angron was a man who could stand shoulder to shoulder with the gods, but he fell to the mortal realm by some accident."

"A group of foolish alien wizards predicted that Angron would become a demon in the future, destroying their prophecy, so they cursed Angron, making it what it is now."

"But in reality, it was precisely because they did this that Angron would later become a demon."

"And you, my brother, you came to save Angron, to change that fate, am I right?"

All correct... Zhou Yun was somewhat amazed by the old gladiator's wisdom; his future death was indeed a loss for Angron, the Twelfth Legion, and all of humanity.

If he were still alive, perhaps even with the Butcher's Nail implanted, Angron wouldn't have gone that far out of control...

When Kleist saw Zhou Yun nod at Onomamus, his mouth dropped open.

"Am I the only one who didn't understand?" Kleist said, pointing to himself.

"Crest, child," Onomamus smiled, "you only need to understand that the fate of the entire galaxy now rests on the shoulders of us lowly gladiators in the crypts."

"Damn it, such a big responsibility?" Kleist couldn't help but curse, then looked at Angron.

"Big guy, I don't understand anything about gods or wizards, or fate."

"All I know is that you are my brother, and if you ever encounter danger, I will always stand by your side."

As he spoke, Kleist raised his fist at Angron.

Angron gave Kleist a grateful look, and he reached out to bump fists with Kleist's.

Onomamus grinned, and also stretched out his hand, and the three fists collided.

"Old Zhou!" Kleist looked at Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun smiled and extended his hand as well, and the four fists clashed together.

"So, how exactly should we do it?"

Onomamus calmly stated:

Even if we know how heavy our responsibilities are, our situation will not change.

"Zhou Yun, do you have any ideas?"

"I need to figure something out first." Zhou Yun glanced at the entrance to the cave, where the intelligent guards stood watch.

According to information gathered by the gladiators, these omnics operate at low power and require several seconds to adjust to startup.

He wanted to seize that opportunity and use the archaeologist's innate spiritual gift of "the language of antiquities" to see how they came to be.