Be'lakor, I'm not interested in your deal.

I only want your Shadow Blade.

The Shadow Blade, wreathed in eerie ghostlight, vanished from Nimrod's sight at terrifying speed.

Nimrod's heart jolted. He swept a glance over the altar. The veil had not been completely torn open, and the claw reaching into the rift had not fully entered reality.

His disappointment flickered past and was gone, followed at once by a sense of danger.

As the Mentor of Chaos beat his wings and climbed, spirituality surged out, and his Telekinesis was amplified through the layered, swirling Multiversal Prism.

A raging telekinetic vortex whirled into a storm. Fluctuations beyond the Primarch's control spread outward, grinding across the surrounding rock strata and turning them to dust.

The instant Nimrod rose into the air, the Psyker's arm blurred, wrapped in a mass of ghostlight.

His arm seemed both illusory and real, twisting and extending in an inhuman manner.

With a short, sharp boom, the Force Shield that even a Warlord-class Titan would have struggled to break shattered apart.

Amid the collision of supernatural forces, the Primarch finally caught the incoming ghostlight.

It pierced through layer after layer of psychic force and plane after plane of spiritual prism.

The right half of the Mentor of Chaos collapsed, and as his left arm rose, his muscles swung.

The Hand of Order smashed down. Golden light collided with shadow, sending out a rapid string of supernatural explosions.

The Shadow Blade suddenly appeared in the real world, gleaming with radiant ghostlight.

As Nimrod's arm went faintly numb, a trace of astonishment rose in him despite himself.

The Psyker wielding the Shadow Blade actually possessed strength on par with the Iron Hands of Ferrus Manus.

The Shadow Blade may truly contain blessings from The Four Ruinous Powers that Be'lakor somehow fused into it.

As Nimrod pondered, the