Ignatius Grulgor, captain of the Death Guard's 2nd Great Company, stood encased in warped, fractured Cataphractii Terminator Armour.
His bloated head pushed up against his helmet, a horn burrowing out from between his brows.
The single horn twitched as it pierced through the helmet, looking remarkably similar to the horned helmet worn by Calas Typhon, captain of the 1st Great Company.
"Shadow of Order, what do you think of my new appearance?"
Grulgor's voice was completely different from seven seconds earlier. It gurgled, nauseatingly.
"Have I offended your fragile heart?"
Dreamwalker watched the swollen body. My Combat Hypnosis did not truly threaten him just now.
Instead, it had seemed more like a pleasure—at least to him.
That was why it had worked.
As he considered this, his obsidian-like eyes suddenly narrowed.
The bloated figure charged at him with astonishing speed entirely unsuited to its size. With a casual swing, its scythe erupted with sinister green light.
A layer of "scales" spread across Dreamwalker's body as he thrust forward with his Crozius.
"I am the herald of the future, while you are merely a pitiful wretch!" Daemon Prince Grulgor sneered.
"Liberation in the Warp is the true path of light. It makes even your Emperor pale in comparison!"
"Nimrod once had the chance to step through this door, but the False Emperor's prohibition frightened him. He missed the gift."
"Heretic!"
Dreamwalker shouted, raising his Crozius to meet the scythe.
Boom!
The Screaming Field shrieked as it tore apart a chunk of rusty debris, spraying fluid into the air. It splattered against the Tartaros-pattern Terminator Armor with a wet smack.
Dreamwalker's gaze swept over a White Scars warrior whose Chainsword whirled as it bit viciously into Death Guard armor.
His body rapidly turned insubstantial before vanishing from where he stood.
A figure