Roar—the howl of a beast, the scarlet face distorted, the pupils shrunk to the size of pintips, the light blue eyes devoid of reason, pure rage and the desire to kill overwhelmed everything.

The impulse came so suddenly, Carlil frowned, jotted it down, and then prepared himself to dodge the attack that would rain like a storm.

Angron had no armor, no weapons, but he threw out a torrent of blood with his bare hands. The wounds on his body were oozing blood, the most terrible on his forearm, the flesh was flipped, and the wounds left by the silver vines of the guards were almost bone-deep. As long as he moves, he will bleed, staining him into a bloody man.

Each of his swings seemed chaotic, but there was a terrifying power in each swing, a power that belonged only to the original body. They should have been used in a better place, but now they are being used by a remnant of the old days with a broken mind to vent his pain.

Carlil tilted his head slightly, dodging attack after attack, he didn't say anything to stop or persuade, just frowned and sighed silently.

His opponent lunged at him like crazy, flailing his hands wildly through the air, trying to grab Karil, but failing - as always.

He roared, fury surging through his voice, and at that moment, Carlil saw the cables behind his head begin to squirm.

"Blood ——!" Angron roared and lunged at him again, and Carlil was out of the question, the underground cavern was too small for the two giants to fight.

His bloodied fist slammed into Carlil's palm in the next second. Carlil lifted his hands and grabbed Angrand's hand as he stared into his eyes again, trying to find some possibility in them to regain his senses, but Angrand only looked furious. It is painful to not be able to kill and violence.

His pupils were still about the size of a pinpoint, and the scarlet whites of his eyes were covered with scarlet, but there was no sane color in the light blue that remained. Carlil sighed, and he jerked his left leg, tripping Angron to the ground.

The bloodied giant fell to the ground heavily, but soon got up again. He let out a roar that was shattered to the point of almost wailing, and charged at Karil again.

There is no tactics, no skill, everything is hidden in its own power. The ground trembled with his wrath, and he himself was tormented by it.

In the midst of the terrifying howls, there were two bits of blue that flashed away.

The next second, Carlil grabbed him in a way that Angron couldn't understand, and then threw him to the ground again, this time much heavier and stronger than before. Blood gushed out from the wounds on his body at that moment, staining his entire body once again with a pure, terrifying scarlet color.

He lay on the ground, unable to get up for a moment from the great tremor, but turned his head with beastly agility and stared at Karil in the darkness, his hands dancing in the air, trying to touch him with his fingertips and make him bleed.

Carlil sighed slowly.

Wild beasts, even fierce beasts, will cautiously flee back into the jungle because they are injured. It is the instinct of all creatures to seek advantage and avoid harm, and unless it is time to really fight for their lives, few creatures will ignore everything and attack wildly.

But Angron is different, he doesn't care if he is injured or not, not because his life is threatened, and he needs to give everything up to get a chance to survive.

He did it only because he didn't even realize he was hurting. The mechanical implants in the back of his head were torturing him in a brutal way, and Carlil didn't know the mechanism, but he could glimpse why.

The reason is this rage, this untraceable rage - Angrand's anger is traceable, as incomprehensible as natural, yet so hot, like lava in the depths of a volcano.

This is not the wrath of humanity.

Carlil clenched his right fist slightly, and Angrand's blood dripped down the lines of his skin in the palm of his hand.

He walked towards Angrand, and was not surprised to see Angrand rise from the ground in an instant, as if he had never been hurt, and pounce on him with great speed. There was a sinister smile on the broken face, obviously laughing, but with a dazed and ignorant look, as if it didn't know where it was.

Bleeding from his back, he grabbed Karil by the throat without hesitation, trying to strangle him, or rip off his head, or rip off his head after strangling him.

However, his victim just looked at him calmly and raised his right fist with a sigh - and at that moment, Angron jerked his hand loose as if he had been electrocuted.

Carlil narrowed his eyes, and in that moment, there was a flash of golden flames, but it was not his handiwork.

Angelon howled.

The sound collided and shattered between the rock walls, turning into an indescribable echo.

He began to retreat, his fingers shaking—every muscle of his body trembling at the moment, to be exact. Carlil stared at him, realizing that the broken mind was resisting the kind of fury that something in his head was imposing on him.

Angron slowly fell to his knees and thrust his hands into the steel cable again. He trembled frantically, forced his muscles, gritted his teeth, and let out a low sigh afterward.

Half a minute, or a century later, he spoke.

His voice sounded like a piece of flesh oozing blood, or something that had nothing to do with blood. Hoarse, broken, and even more tragic, even when he was talking, his voice sounded like a scream.

"Get out of here," Angrand said, his head bowed and trembling as he grasped the source of his pain. "You have to leave"

Carlil didn't answer, and Angron roared—or rather, screamed, "Go! Get lost! I don't care about you! I don't need your help! ”

Carlil still didn't answer, he just stared, and time was stretched out into something he mastered. He gazed at Angron again, observing him with a vision that was unique to psionic energy. In the midst of this vision, the cables behind his head glowed.

Then he sighed.

"No, you need it." He said, and approached Angron again.

The latter roared angrily, but there was not only anger in it, but also fear.

He whimpered and screamed, grabbed the steel cables, and retreated with tears in his eyes, trying to get away from those who approached him. The name of Oinomouth kept flashing through his mind, and was associated with some broken imagery.

Oinomouth, father.

Oinomouth, Love.

Oinomouth, teacher.

Oinomouth, kill.

Oinomouth, dead.

Then, a picture flashed before his eyes, one that he had long tried to forget, but was now forced to remember by the Butcher's Nail.

It was Oinomouth—the tattered corpse of the man he regarded as his father, and he heard his own weeping, and the maniacal laughter of the slave owners.

"No ——!" He howled, and his hands sprinted out of the wire cable in resentment, causing a burst of pain that swelled his skull.

He's endured to the limit. He's broken the Butcher's Nail too many times tonight. So they punished him with unprecedented force.

The scarlet curtain returned, turning everything into twisted monstrous shapes, and Oinomouth's voice rang in his ears, eerie and high-pitched, as he cried out Angrand's name and demanded that he kill all creatures that came before his eyes.

The father asked, and the son complied.

Angelon jumped to his feet and laughed distortedly, and with a wave of his hands, he grabbed Carlil again, his needle-like pupils swept up and down frantically, as if looking for a suitable way for him to die.

He—or rather, it, even had an expectation in its consciousness that it wanted to see its prey struggle so that the blood would flow more.

But its prey did not struggle.

Its prey simply held its cheek and wiped the blood from under its eye socket for it, as if to wipe away the tear stains. It froze, unable to understand, and froze in place for a full dozen seconds.

The gnawing of the nails began to get worse during this time, and even began to burst the veins in its forehead, and the rage returned.

But it couldn't move at all. A force forced it to stay in place, its fingers trembling, but it just couldn't exert its strength.

Its prey, on the other hand, gazed calmly into its eyes and shook its head slowly.

"It's you again." It heard him speak softly, and a terrible emotion coalesced in that soft voice.

After that, thunder struck.

——

Fire.

Angrand opened his eyes in confusion, he had just seen a flame, a golden flame. But as soon as he opened his eyes, the flame died away, leaving only a warm temperature.

It was dark all around, and he felt as if he was floating, so he looked down and saw a river of blood, the smell of which was so thick that it seemed to drown a person. He looked at the river and wondered how he had gotten here.

In fact, he didn't really know where he was just now, and the chaotic fragmentation filled his mind, making everything seem chaotic.

This confusion did not last long, because a roar flashed, the temperature dissipated, and the pain and darkness hit him in the next second, and he couldn't help but wail, and the will to die flashed in his heart.

He sank deep into the bottom of the river.

When he opened his eyes, blood and bones poured in all directions, and the dead stared at him with wide open eyes, and some even stretched out their hands to keep him here. Angron frowned in disgust, he held his breath and headed up, trying to get out of here and back to where the flames were there.

However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get himself out.

The river bound him and held him back, and billions of dead whispered in his ear, promising glory and the like, but Angrand didn't care. He just wanted to go back, either to the place where there was a flame, or to his brothers and sisters.

He doesn't like blood, he doesn't like killing, he doesn't like it all the time.

Until Oinomouth's voice came to his ears.

"You like it."

Angrand's eyes widened, and he turned his head to see a face he knew no more, Oinomouth, his father, smiling quietly at him in the midst of this river of blood.

"Oinomouth!" Angron opened his mouth and called out, swallowing a large mouthful of blood, but he didn't care, he had to express his joy.

Angeland swam over happily and tried to give his father a hug, but at that moment, a familiar pain struck him, and he screamed and swallowed more blood. The familiar scarlet returned, but his father stood there smiling approvingly at him.

"Yes." Oinomouth, with his scarlet eyes, smiled and bowed. "That's it, drink it, my child, and become the embodiment of rage, the source of killing. You will enjoy supreme martial prowess, and you will make every world chant your name. You're going to make me proud, kid. ”

He spread his hands and asked with a smile, "Don't you want to make me proud?" ”

I think, Oinomouth, of course I want to— but—

"No, kid."

The smile faded, and the harshness he had taught him martial arts had returned.

"Don't you like the cheers coming from the stands when you kill your opponent? Remember, Angeland, they cheer for you! They rejoice when you swing your sword, and they rejoice when you kill. Isn't that bad? Violence is a desire rooted in people's hearts, everyone has a violent factor, you just released them by a legal means and you are their hero, Angelan, you are not a slave gladiator. ”

The dead Oinomouth laughed silently, "And you will be my hero." ”

Angron looked at him in confusion, gulping down the blood from the river. Oinomouth looked at him with delight, and the approval was beyond words, and there was no need to express it.

Angrand laughed, and a pride flashed through his chaotic mind—a child always wants to make his father proud

Everything seems to be a foregone conclusion.

'Oinomouth''s face began to grow more hideous, and the smile almost became a terrible expectation.

He twitched his fingers nervously, and Angeland's ears rang with cheers and the clashing of swords. He gradually closed his eyes, and like a drowning man, he stopped struggling, and lost all his strength. He felt serene and peaceful.

Until the thunder sounded.

Angron awoke violently, and 'Oinomouth' cried out in anger.

The skin that belonged to the old gladiator was turned upside down. Brass armor with spikes replaces skin and muscles. Scarlet, flame-like eyes replaced human eyes.

He stood still, almost screaming at the mere appearance of Angrand, his sanity could not bear His coming, and he ignored his emotions, just roared and stretched out his right hand, stirring up the river of blood and trying to grab Angrand.

And so the thunder came.

A giant appeared in front of Angrão.

He was draped in golden flames, and his eyes were shining with blue brilliance.

Then he sneered.

"Get out." He whispered. "Go back to where you belong."

In the next second, the river of blood suddenly disappeared.

OK,Super update,No card, no leakage,Plus more to write the climax in one go.。

I hope you enjoy reading and ask for a ticket.

(End of chapter)