Ron sat on the Chaos Throne.
He looked down at Horus and the Dark Honor Guard below, as if receiving the homage of his court.
Right now, he—the Savior, the Emperor of Mankind—no longer had any intention of continuing the fight, and his posture was utterly relaxed.
As though that terrifying Dark Emperor posed no threat to him at all.
It was stable. Everything was stable!
"Are you trying to enrage me with such despicable methods? Unfortunately, none of this means anything."
Horus raised his hand and violently crushed the Primarch Blade he had seized earlier.
Thick sulfurous smoke billowed from his mouth and nose, and the rhythm of his heartbeat hammered in everyone's heart, breeding an uncontrollable fear.
In the Dark Emperor's eyes, the Savior was merely putting on a brave front, all bark and no bite. In his current state, no one in the Galaxy could rival him!
Even the incarnations of the Gods were no more than this—perhaps even inferior to him. No one else could gather such terrifying supreme Fel Energy in the Galaxy at once.
He, Horus, was Chaos's most perfect vessel in the Galaxy!
In an instant, the Imperial elites in the area came under unbearable pressure, unable to withstand the evil sweeping toward them.
They subconsciously took a step back, the muscles throughout their bodies trembling uncontrollably.
Instinctive fear left these warriors unable even to raise their blades. It was the pressure of a higher-dimensional existence bearing down on lesser beings.
It was not just those warriors. Even the Titan God-Machines' operations slowed under the corrosion of Fel Energy, their components clattering and grinding.
An enemy of this level was no longer something that could be dealt with by relying on numbers and war machines.
Primarchs such as Guilliman and Sanguinius gathered before