People bleed, people die. What else is there?

And the way it causes them to bleed.

With a roar, Angron lunged forward from the darkness and grabbed one of the slave owners' guards. The man was not alarmed, and the silver tentacles instantly straightened, turning into some kind of flexible blade, stabbing into Angelon's abdomen.

The pain was fleeting, but Angelon was indifferent. He smirked, ignored the resistance of his guards, forcibly held him down, and then raised his fist and struck him in the head.

The guard's expression quickly turned panicked, and the tentacles that were hurting Angron were withdrawn and turned into a shield against his head.

But Angron didn't need to do anything more, he had already succeeded. It was a little trick, one of the many tricks he'd learned from Oinomouth. When the latter was still alive, he had been told that it was necessary to distract the enemy.

And now, he uses it.

His left hand slammed into the guard's chest, the touch of metal flickering, followed by a crisp sound, followed by the familiar sticky touch, and the smell of blood became more and more pungent.

He laughed wildly, his face twitching—their emotions permeating him: fear, resentment, contempt, someone cursing him in his heart for being a monster, and Angrand didn't care.

He screamed and stood to his feet, the pain in his head draping everything in front of him in a scarlet veil. The guards roared and whipped him, ordering him to get out of the way, but Angron just laughed.

Oinomouth – and all gladiators, in the face of pain, in the face of the enemy, they sneered. They can be bruised all over their bodies, they can bleed to death, but they don't bow their heads.

He laughed mockingly, ignoring the pain of the bite in his head, and threw himself at one of the guards with all his strength.

He didn't do it, and the silver vine rushed from the shadows, grabbing his arm, the sharp surface cutting the skin and bleeding him, but he didn't care.

Angron lunged forward like crazy, tentacles that could trap him briefly and restrain him, but not really bring him to his knees.

They never made him succumb, they could numb him with drugs, they could threaten him with the lives of gladiators to fight for them again and again, they could even make him hit the damn nail, but they couldn't make him give in.

He will never kneel down to them.

"Get out of here, you mad beast! Do you think you're still a treasure of the Talco family?! The Butcher's Nail will kill you in a few months, and we don't mind speeding up the process! Get out of here!"

Angron didn't answer, just howled, shattered. He was in so much pain that it made his voice horrible.

He wanted to respond, and in the midst of the pain, he wanted to sneer and scold as before at how despicable these things that made dogs for slave owners were.

He wanted to refute them, he wasn't a treasure at all, he was just like the other gladiators, he was a human being, not a slave to them. However, when the words came to his lips, he could only let out a broken roar and roar.

The nails cut through his mind, trying to make him bring more violence to them. In the scarlet curtain, everything changed, turning into a sea of ghosts that came at him.

The guard's face contorted into a monster, and his mouth muttered to make him look good. The silver vines that trapped him turned into their rotting hands and feet, and the faces of their victims appeared on them.

Angron was in pain and could barely breathe, but he roared again at the familiar faces.

He remembered every gladiator who died, even if he didn't know their names.

Roaring, he broke free of the silver vine, and several of the guards roared, thinking he was going to attack.

Their voices lengthened into some kind of terrible roar in his ears, but Angrand's first reaction was not to attack them, but to plunge his thick fingers deep into the iron and steel braid at the back of his head, stirring deeply.

He wanted to rip them off.

He roared, Nails resentful, dissatisfied with his resistance

so they poured more misery into him. These things almost turned his blood into boiling magma, and the words of the guards continued to add fuel to the fire.

"He's crazy! Let's go, we're going to kill the invaders!"

"I'm going to kill you!"

Angron laughed madly, his face contorted into a terrible whirlpool, his nose bleeding, his eyes bleeding, and the saliva that overflowed from his mouth was scarlet.

He rushed over, laughed maniacally, grabbed a man, and ripped his head off several times faster than before. The spine was quickly pulled out of his body, and the feeling of bones and bones colliding was so slow and wonderful in his hands.

He had a violent act, and he had killed a man because of the force of the nails - and with tears of blood streaming from Angrand's eyes, he cried out for no apparent reason, threw his head aside, and began a killing.

The guards were able to resist a little at first, but they were a small group of people after all, and the silver vine couldn't restrain Angeland for too long. What's more, this is still the depth of the cave, not as wide as the ground, leaving room for them to fight.

Only a few minutes later, Angeland killed everyone with his own hands. He trembled in pain, the nail was not satisfied, not even for a second.

He had just killed these people, and he had just been stained with blood on his hands, and the feeling of hammering their heads or tearing them in half was still there, but the nails were just not satisfied. They screamed and churned in his head, persecuting him incessantly with their spikes, bringing false hallucinations and stinging pain.

In the end, it all mixed up and became a pain that made him feel like his head was going to split in half.

He fell to his knees, in a pool of blood of his own making, and his crippled mind prayed that no gladiator would approach him at this moment, but the nails were shouting at him, asking him to kill them together.

Angron resisted with all his might, he led himself to the rock wall on his knees, and then hit it with his forehead, heavier and heavier each time - he would rather die than have his hand stained with the blood of any gladiator again, never again.

The blood of Oinomouth is still vivid, and he killed him because of the pain...... Does he have to kill more? But the nails were still urging, gnawing at his skull and brain.

Angron howled unconsciously, covered in blood, his wounds bursting, his muscles bulging, and his face full of anger. He began to put his head against the wall, desperately fighting the nail, trying to make it all end here—and just then, a voice came into his chaotic heart.

"Calm down, Angelon." The voice said in a soft voice. "I'm here to help you."

The blood-soaked giant jerked back to see a pale man standing in the darkness casting a quiet gaze at him. His ability to think was completely shattered, but at this moment he suddenly felt some kind of dissonance.

Angron opened his mouth blankly, blood rolling through his countenance, and in the scarlet patch, he found that the man was tall—and his eyes were shining.

Blue light, a light that is different from scarlet. The light was so small that it could even be called faint compared to the scarlet around it, and looking at it, Angeland suddenly felt a calm coldness.

He knelt in place, watched the man approach him slowly, and then he realized that he was taller than him. Most people are as tall as him when he sits down, but this man is different.

This person......

"Who are you?" Angron asked with a snarl.

He wanted to speak well, he didn't want his voice to sound so similar to a threat before he used violence, but he couldn't.

Although the pain has subsided a lot, the nail is still gnawing at it. As long as they existed, he would inevitably have to endure pain. And this roar is only a part of the side effects it brings, and it is even mild.

"My name is Karil Lohals." The man said that his voice was so gentle that there was even an emotion in it that Angrand couldn't understand. "I'm here to help you

。」

"Help me?"

Angron looked back blankly, unable to understand that he was broken.

Completely shattered.

Carlil slowly tensed the lines of his face, waiting for Angron to answer.

The Emperor's sons were scattered throughout the galaxy, and he knew about it. And in such a situation, they will each have their own experiences, which is normal.

He had already met five of them, seven if you counted Conrad and Angrand in front of him, and each had different experiences, take Lorre Aurelian and Robert Killman.

A poor man who is deeply religious, but not so religious, and the son of an aristocrat who tries to see the world rationally and has a good family - their life experiences are very different, but at least they are complete.

They weren't broken, not broken like the man in front of him. He stared into Angrand's eyes, trying to find some trace in them that would help him in the moment, but he couldn't see anything.

There is nothing left but pain. This person seems to have been hollowed out, leaving only a distorted mind and a powerful body belonging to the original body, and beyond that? He was even a suicidal man tormented by pain, and even with the smallest unit of psionic energy to soothe him, he couldn't even feel anything other than numbness.

Carlil looked at the back of his head at what was embedded in his scalp like a steel cable, and for a moment his eyes became dangerous.

He was still waiting for an answer, but Angron couldn't respond. His face shifts back and forth between calm and distorted, terrifying to the point of being elusive. Tears of blood flowed down his face, leaving a sinuous mark on his face, and then he merged into a sea of blood, making his whole body look as if he had been soaked in a river of blood.

Karil pursed his lips, intending to touch Angrand's mind with his psionic powers, intending to find more traces in it.

He had already informed the second company commander of the Colosseum of the situation, and the possible existence of a primordial in Nukeria had been reported to Robert Kiliman. At this moment, the Lord of Macurag is rushing here with people.

And before that he could do so, he had to appease the man who was clearly tormented by the implant on that scalp.

He'd already seen Angron when he went berserk.

But just as he touched the chaotic mind with his psionic powers, Angron let out a howl. His eyes turned pure scarlet in an instant, and Carlil could clearly see that the implants that had taken root beneath his scalp were digging deeper.

The next second, Angeland lunged at him, his face furious, but his eyes bleeding.