Nimrod brought Aetsak to the middle deck. The moment they stepped out of the elevator, a radiance fiercer than the Lumen Lamps filled his eyes.
The hand of Hathor Maat, Temple Master of the Pavoni, overflowed with a cold gleam as it rested on the shoulder of Phosis T'kar, Temple Master of the Pyrae Cult.
Biochemical Psionic Power and Change Power tore and clashed, bursting into a dense string of tiny cracks.
Mist spread, reflecting the pale faces of the Thousand Sons.
It was as if countless scorching steel needles were slapping against his palm.
Cobweb-like cracks spread wider and wider, leaving his palm a bloody mess of flesh.
Hathor had no strength left to heal himself. All his power was focused on suppressing the Change Power.
The power of the Great Ocean receded like a tide, and at the same time, the Change Power gradually calmed.
Hathor looked toward the collapsed vortex black hole, then saw the towering figure of the Black Emperor approaching.
He suppressed the urge to cry out "My lord." "My lord."
Phosis T'kar spat out a mouthful of black smoke. He looked at the loathsome Soulless and, for the first time, felt they were not so detestable.
"Lord Nimrod—"
Bang!
His twisted knees smashed into the floor, sparks spilling from the gaps in the Plastisteel Armor plates.
"The Change Power inside him has undergone a series of mutations. By now, it has erupted five times."
"I can no longer suppress it. Only you can save him, my lord."
The Thousand Sons looked toward the giant in black armor, a trace of hope flashing in their eyes.
Menkare shook his head slightly. Before the Pariah appeared, he had been using the Raven Art to search through countless tens of millions of Threads of Fate for a