Even three Sons of Hydra capable of cutting through thousands of elite mortals needed far greater courage and resolve to face Rorschach.
In an instant, countless terrifying bolt rounds erupting from deep within their gun barrels were firmly blocked by psychic armor condensed from pitch-black shadows.
And the Power Swords accompanied by piercing howls did not even touch the edge of Rorschach's massive body.
They were crushed by one of his suddenly raised gigantic hands, shattering into countless metal fragments that flew in every direction!
After all, the gap in combat power between an Astartes and a Primarch had never been something that could be easily overcome with fighting spirit and a little conviction.
In only a few moments, strands of writhing black shadow tightly bound the three Sons of Hydra like trussed piglets.
Rorschach did not immediately kill them.
On one hand, these Sons of Hydra had not been corrupted by Chaos and could still possibly be saved.
On the other hand, he needed to obtain Omegon's exact location from them.
"I know that you have deep misunderstandings about me, this Primarch, and the Imperium of Man. So I have no intention of asking for Omegon's hiding place right away."
"I simply want to know what you meant when you called me a damned xeno earlier. Did you mistake me for some kind of Xenomorphic Race? If so, have you encountered a terrifying xeno capable of perfectly disguising itself as a Primarch?"
Rorschach, clad in Vibranium Power Armor, slowly sat down atop a pile of abandoned metal.
He asked the Sons of Hydra, who were suspended in midair and bound by countless black shadows.
However, Rorschach received no answer.
These Sons of Hydra, their expressions utterly rigid, seemed to have already prepared themselves to die generously.
"Heh. As Astartes,