Tens of thousands of biological warship wreckages are floating in the void of the star region. These horrific creations that once blocked out the sky and the sun are now like insect specimens torn into pieces by children, quietly floating in the cold universe.

The yellow-green Zerg blood condensed into crystal ice crystals, reflecting a strange halo under the illumination of the stars.

Some of the debris was still twitching, and broken nerve cords twisting like dying snakes, proving that these abominable lives had not yet completely dissipated.

Near the planet's orbit, the last three Norn emissaries are leading the remaining Zerg in a desperate counterattack.

Their deep purple carapaces were covered in cracks, and blue psychic fluid oozed out of the wounds, condensing into floating beads in the vacuum.

These once proud killing machines now looked miserable, with two of their six arms broken and only half of their scorpion tails left.

But they still maintained their disturbing tactical qualities, approaching the goal in a triangle formation.

Their prey, the last few dozen wounded Imperial Guards, were building their last line of defense on the wreckage of a shattered Imperial cruiser.

The golden armor was covered in insect blood and scorch marks, and most of the energy indicators of the power weapons had reached the bottom.

The oldest of the Custodians leaned on a half-broken Guardian spear, the cracks on his visor blurring his vision.

Just as the Norn emissaries were about to complete the encirclement, a blood-red meteor whizzed out from the shadow of the planet.

Angron's arrival was like a hammer thrown down by a god. He crashed directly into the arms of the Norn messenger in the front, and the collision of the two behemoths exploded a circle of shock waves visible to the naked eye in the vacuum.

The Norn messenger stumbled back, the psychic patterns on his shell flashing wildly, and Angron had already grabbed its broken left arm, exerting force with his bulging muscles.

"His!"

With a teeth-grinding tearing sound, the Norn messenger's left arm and part of his chest were torn off.

Blue psychic blood gushed out and immediately boiled and evaporated when it came into contact with the blood-colored psychic energy wrapped around Angron's body.

The monster screamed silently, and its five remaining arms waved wildly, but it only caught the afterimage left by its original form.

Angron's movements were counterintuitively fast.

He was like the fiercest warrior in the ancient arena, and every turn he made brought up a whirlwind of blood and iron.

When the second Norn emissary attacked from the side, he didn't even turn his head, but punched the opponent's visor with his backhand.

The force of this blow was so great that the ten-meter-tall monster was knocked into the air and crashed into the remains of an insect nest floating not far away.

The sound of the chitinous shell shattering was like the cracking of ice, and it could be heard from far away.

The third Norn Messenger took the opportunity to launch a psychic attack.

Its remaining tentacles glowed with a blinding blue light, and a mental shockwave powerful enough to tear through the armor of a battleship headed straight for the back of Angron's head.

However, the Primarch merely tilted his head slightly, and the blood-red psychic energy automatically formed a barrier, swallowing up all the incoming energy.

Angron turned slowly, his face covered by armor showing no expression, only his eyes burning with anger fixed on his target.

The Norn messenger instinctively took a half step back.

This slight movement seemed to anger Angron. He bent his legs slightly, and a burst of psychic energy burst from his back, propelling him towards the enemy at nearly sublight speed.

The Norn messenger hastily raised the bone blade to block, but realized his mistake the moment of contact - Angron's fist directly smashed the bone blade as hard as adamantium, and the remaining force pierced through its chest.

The Primarch's arms were knotted with muscles, and his blood vessels were like tangled steel cables, violently stirring inside the Norn emissary's body, tearing every vital organ into pieces.

When Angron pulled his arm out, it brought out not only blue blood but also a bunch of still-twitching ganglia.

The Norn messenger fell to his knees, his six arms hanging limply, and the psychic patterns on his shell went out one by one.

Angron didn't even bother to look at the dying enemy, and turned to walk towards the second Norn Messenger that had just been knocked away.

The monster was struggling to crawl out of the remains of the hive, its facial carapace completely shattered, revealing the wriggling nerve plexus underneath.

Seeing Angron approaching, it suddenly let out a piercing psychic scream, summoning all Zerg units within a hundred miles.

Tens of thousands of knife bugs and gun bugs swarmed out from the wreckage and rushed towards the original body like a black tide.

Angron paused.

He slowly raised his hands, and the two chain axes began to spin at an extremely fast speed.

The whistling sound of the saw teeth cutting through the air even overwhelmed the hissing of the insect swarm. When the first wave of knife insects pounced in front of him, Angron moved.

It was a textbook display of violence.

Every swing of his axe brought up a fan-shaped wave of blood, and the Zerg were minced into pieces in the sawtooth storm. With a swipe of the chainsaw axe in his left hand, he cut a dozen warrior worms in half.

Then, he swung the chainsaw axe in his right hand horizontally, cutting off the heads of dozens of knife worms.

Angron's fighting style is unskillful yet has a certain primitive beauty. Every step he takes shakes the earth, and every blow he strikes is powerful and devastating.

The Zerg that are hit are often not hacked to death, but blasted into pieces by pure force.

The Norn Messenger took the opportunity to accumulate spiritual energy and prepare for the final attack.

Its four remaining arms glowed blue at the same time, and the psychic core in its chest was beating violently, as if it could explode at any time. At the moment when the energy reached the critical point, a blood shadow suddenly broke through the insect swarm.

Angron's chainsaw axe cut deep into the norn emissary's shoulder.

The sparks from the friction between the teeth and the psychic carapace were as bright as a small sun. The monster howled miserably and tried to stab the Primarch's eyes with the bone blade, but Angron's free left hand grabbed its wrist.

Angron slowly applied pressure, and the norn herald's indestructible bone blade began to bend, deform, and finally...

"Crack!"

With a crisp cracking sound, the bone blade was broken.

Angron did not pause, and thrust the half-bone blade into the Norn Emissary's psychic core.

The blue energy liquid sprayed out like a high-pressure water gun, forming strange floating droplets in the vacuum.

The dying Norn Herald struggled madly, beating Angron's back with his remaining arms, but could not move the Primarch at all.

Angron simply looked at the dying enemy coldly, holding the axe handle with both hands and slowly pressing down.

The teeth cut through the shell inch by inch, splitting the muscles, and finally splitting the ten-meter-tall monster in half from head to hip.

As the two halves of the body floated off in opposite directions, the last of the norn herald finally recovered from the initial blow.

Angron turned, the blue blood on his chainsaw axe freezing into ice crystals in the vacuum.

He stepped forward, each step leaving deep indentations in the floating wreckage.

"Boom boom boom boom!!!"

With the roar of the chainsaw axe, the last Norn emissary also died in the hands of Angron.