Lorgar repeated himself, watching Angron's puzzled face.
"I want to destroy the Human Imperium and the Emperor."
Angron froze at the words; then suspicion colored his expression. He regarded Lorgar with a look that said he didn't quite believe him. Lorgar watched him back and, when Angron's reaction did not change, glanced toward Angron's lieutenant nearby. The man shrugged and returned a helpless look.
Lorgar realized that if he pressed the point in the same blunt way, Angron would likely suffer another fit of the Nails and he would have to quiet him again. The thought left Lorgar embarrassed. He finally understood why the Emperor had tolerated Angron's excesses: Angron effectively carried an "isolated and uncontrollable" trait — without outside interference his capacity for organized trouble was limited. Still, Angron's hatred for the Emperor had not faded; despite memory lapses and raging episodes, Angron had never forgotten his grievance. That degree of resentment was—strangely—deep and abiding.
When impatience began to show in Angron's face, Lorgar decided to be more circuitous to avoid triggering another mental reset.
"I can cure the Butcher's Nails in you and your sons," he said.
If he could not reason with the man directly, then Lorgar thought, better to remove the Nails first.
Angron's lieutenant's eyes brightened immediately. Unlike Angron's Nails—implanted by slave-owners—Angron's sons in the World Eaters had accepted a simplified version by their own choice to better empathize with their 'father.' Though weaker, the simplified Nails still fueled their bloodlust and bound them to their leader's mood. Even when voluntary, the implant was not something they truly loved. So the promise of removing the Nails excited the lieutenant.
Angron himself was quiet for a long moment. He finally asked sceptically, "I don't believe you can do that."
When the Emperor found Angron, scientists examined him and concluded the same thing every time: the Butcher's Nails had integrated into Angron's body and had become symbiotic with vital organs—irreversible by ordinary means.
Lorgar had started to answer but then held back. He worried that any long explanation might make Angron think too hard and trigger a relapse. He kept his words short and simple instead:
"You only need to come with me to one place. I can fix what's inside you."
After hesitating, Angron replied, "…Very well. I'll trust you once."
—
Two days later.
Nuceria.
This was the world where Angron grew up—the place where his tragic life began.
Standing on the deck and staring at the familiar globe on the viewport, Angron's expression turned complex. He had not returned since the Emperor had taken him away. His comrades were dead; what was the point of returning?
After a moment of private recollection, Angron asked, "Why have we come here?"
Lorgar ordered their ship to prepare for landing and answered: "To hold a ceremony."
"?"
Lorgar paid no mind to the confusion. He remained composed. "You'll understand soon enough."
—
Minutes later, in a mid-sized city on Nuceria, Lorgar led Angron into a slightly shabby bookshop. Local residents watched in puzzlement as the two walked in. Lorgar had been guided by Orsaga's hint and knew the book he sought would be here.
Within a few minutes, Lorgar found it: a book titled Nuceria — A Modern Brief History. He flipped to the index, located the entry he wanted, and turned to that page. Without reading it himself, he handed the book to Angron, who still did not know what was happening.
Angron accepted the book with a puzzled "??" but, before he could glance at the lines, Lorgar quietly stepped back. He also signaled the lieutenant and some of Angron's warriors to pull away with them. They retreated to orbit, leaving Angron standing alone.
"???" the crowd thought.
Angron looked down at the page and read. The heading froze him:
"The Angron Tark Rebellion."
His full name—Angron Tark—was there. The name marked his shame and the history of the man he had been when a slave.
He read on.
Gamma-Nasi Calendar, Year 4774, Month 2, Day 4: At Morighi City, led by the gladiator Angron Tark, a band of base rebels betrayed their masters—the Tark family—and after a period of gathering strength launched a treacherous uprising. They fled Morighi and subsequently caused the Orisya Massacre, the Paridi Atrocity, and inflicted huge casualties among the local populace and nobility.
The farce, which endured five years, six months, and three days, ended in the Madet Mountains. When defeat became inevitable, Angron Tark proved himself a coward: abandoning his comrades like a gutless animal, he fled the encirclement and vanished forever—thus exposing the whole affair as a ridiculous comedy. All were complicit in mocking Angron Tark the pitiable clown.
(Further notes regarding the Ragleo family follow.)
A wildfire of fury erupted in Angron. His psychic blood surged like a vortex. The entire shop—the owner, the customers—was shredded to fragments in an instant. The indignity of seeing his old glory and his comrades' sacrifices reduced to mockery burned through him. Even the searing pain of the Butcher's Nails could not dampen his rage.
"Emperor!!! Emperor!!! Emperor!!!" he screamed.
Madness took him: there was no distinction between enemy and ally, noble and commoner. Angron rampaged like a crimson storm. Houses, vehicles, animals, slaves, civilians, nobles—everything in sight was torn apart by his bare hands.
Within minutes, his frenzy had become an unstoppable calamity. He slaughtered millions across the city. Creatures by the billions fell before him. He streamed outward, leaving a path of butchery across the planet—an indiscriminate bloodbath engulfing the whole world.
...
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