Imperial Reckoning: Humanity Return

Chapter 21: Nuceria

The bloodstained sands of Nuceria's gladiatorial pits were thick with the scent of death, and at the heart of it all stood Angrya, the undefeated champion, a goddess of war among mere mortals. Every arena she fought in was filled with terrified silence until her rage boiled over, fueled by the dark implants embedded deep in her skull-the Butcher's Nails. The nails thrummed with dark energy, rewiring her brain to feed on fury. They punished her for any emotion other than rage, a relentless torment that forced her into constant bloodlust. Any attempt at joy, peace, or affection brought blinding pain, leaving her only one outlet: violence.

Her opponents lay dead or dying at her feet, their broken bodies a testament to her raw power. The crowds roared in bloodthirsty excitement, but she cared little for their admiration. Her thoughts were only for the next fight, the next kill. For Angrya, every moment of stillness was agony, her mind a battlefield of pain and rage. The Butcher's Nails demanded more blood, more death.

Nuceria, a planet deep in the heart of the Terminus Systems, was ruled by lawless slavers and warlords. Batarian raiders, krogan mercenaries, and asari smugglers all preyed on its broken cities. Its underworld teemed with monsters, both alien and human, each trying to carve out their own empire of suffering. This was a place where no law but strength prevailed, and Angrya had been forged in its fires.

As a child, she had been sold into slavery, passed from one cruel master to another before being thrown into the gladiator pits. She had fought for survival, but over time, she had fought for power. With every opponent she killed, her fame grew, and with it, her rebellion against the chains of her captors.

In time, Angrya had risen to become the greatest gladiator Nuceria had ever seen. None could stand before her rage-fueled might. But even in victory, the Butcher's Nails tormented her, allowing no respite. Freedom from the pits had only come when she led a violent uprising, turning on her captors and slaughtering her way to freedom. The gladiator revolt spread, engulfing the entire planet in chaos. Under her leadership, the rebels began to take the planet for themselves, fighting against the warlords and slavers who had controlled Nuceria for so long.

But as she stood on the brink of total conquest, something unexpected happened. The sky darkened, and colossal ships descended through the atmosphere. The ground trembled as titanic vessels blocked out the sun, casting shadows over the burning cities below. The Imperium of Man had arrived.

Angrya, watching from the war-torn capital of Nuceria, mistook the arrival for yet another invasion. Just more would-be conquerors to be slaughtered. But these were not ordinary invaders. From the ships emerged armies unlike any she had ever seen-legions of Space Marines, their dark armor gleaming in the dim light. They moved with terrifying precision, cutting through Nuceria's chaotic forces with a single-minded determination.

The air was filled with the sounds of battle as the Imperial forces unleashed their fury upon the lawless planet. But there was something different about these warriors. They did not come for plunder or conquest. They fought for something far greater.

At their head was the Emperor of Mankind himself, a towering figure of golden armor and divine power. His mere presence inspired awe and fear in equal measure. He strode through the battlefield with purpose, every step an act of sovereignty, every movement decisive. His eyes, glowing with unimaginable power, scanned the battlefield until they fell upon Angrya.

In that moment, something inside her shifted. She felt a pull, a connection to this godlike figure. For the first time in years, the Butcher's Nails faltered, their constant hum quieted as if in reverence of this man. Her rage did not dissipate, but it was tempered by something deeper-a recognition of who he was.

The Emperor cut through the remaining forces around her with ease, carving a path toward Angrya. His power was overwhelming, and for the first time, Angrya felt truly challenged. He was unlike any warrior she had ever faced. His steps left destruction in their wake, as slavers and raiders fell before him like chaff in the wind.

Finally, the Emperor reached her, his golden eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them charged with unspoken understanding. Angrya's fingers twitched, her bloodlust urging her to strike, but the pain from the Butcher's Nails held her back.

"You were never meant to be here," the Emperor said, his voice calm yet commanding. "You are my daughter, one of my lost Primarchs. I have come to bring you home."

The words hung in the air, but Angrya did not respond. She stood tall, her eyes burning with suspicion and fury. The Butcher's Nails pulsed, pushing her to attack, but something in the Emperor's presence held her still.

"I am no one's daughter," Angrya snarled, her voice laced with venom. "I am a gladiator, a warrior, and I will not abandon my people."

The Emperor did not flinch. Instead, he reached out, placing his hand gently on her forehead. Angrya tensed, her instincts screaming to lash out, but before she could move, something incredible happened.

The Butcher's Nails went silent.

For the first time in her life, the constant hum of pain, the rage that had consumed her, disappeared. She felt peace-not just the absence of fury, but true calm. It was as though the Emperor's touch had quieted the storm inside her, offering her a glimpse of what she might have been without the monstrous implants.

In that moment, the Emperor saw everything. He saw her pain, her suffering, her rage. He saw the life she had led, the horrors she had endured. And he understood.

"You are not a weapon for others to use," he said quietly, his voice filled with compassion. "You are a Primarch, destined to lead, to protect humanity. Your rage has a purpose beyond these petty wars. It can save the galaxy."

Angrya's breath hitched. She was still Angrya, still filled with the fury that had defined her life. But now she saw that her rage could be something more. It could be a weapon in the service of a greater cause.

Still, her loyalty to her gladiators remained unshaken. "And what of my people?" she asked, her voice still rough with defiance. "I will not leave them behind."

The Emperor smiled, as though he had expected the question. "Your comrades will join you," he said. "They will become the first of the World Eaters, a legion of Space Marines forged from your strength. Together, you will fight for something far greater than freedom-you will fight for the future of the galaxy."

For a moment, Angrya said nothing, her mind racing. She glanced at her fellow gladiators, many of whom were watching from the shadows, their faces filled with hope and fear. They had followed her into rebellion, and now they would follow her into something far greater.

After a long silence, Angrya nodded. "Then I will join you," she said, her voice steady and resolute. "But Nuceria must be cleansed of the filth that has plagued it. Only then will I follow you into the stars."

The Emperor inclined his head. "Nuceria will be cleansed. Together, we will rid this world of its corruption. And when that is done, you will take your place as the Primarch of the World Eaters."

The rebellion became a full-scale purge, with Angrya and the Emperor leading the charge. Together, they tore through the warlords and slavers, eradicating the monsters that had ruled Nuceria for so long. The planet burned, its cities reduced to ash as the World Eaters were born in the fires of conquest.

By the time the last enemy had fallen, Nuceria was free. Angrya stood atop the ruins of the planet's largest city, her gladiators by her side, now the first members of her legion. She looked up at the sky, where the Emperor's ships hovered in silent vigilance.

"I am ready," she said, her voice filled with purpose. "We have much to do."

And so, Angrya became the second Primarch to be found, her destiny now entwined with the Imperium of Man. The rage that had once consumed her was now a weapon in the service of the Emperor, and the World Eaters stood ready to bring justice to a galaxy in desperate need of it.