On the left stood the Iron Hands; on the right, the Iron Warriors. Both sides, who had been slaughtering each other only moments ago, had ceased fire and stood motionless.
All around them lay the wreckage of countless steel giants—war machines once prized by both sides, now scattered across the battlefield like abandoned toys, silently telling of the war's brutality.
An indescribable sense of oppression hung in the air. The occasional sound of metal fragments hitting the ground was especially piercing amid the deathly silence.
Francis and the other two appeared in the center of the battlefield.
"Horus, why are you wearing such a strange suit of armour? It looks even weirder than your last one!"
At that moment, Perturabo appeared before them in Cataphractii Terminator Armour. He had always felt that the Warmaster before him seemed strange. Combined with how the other man had made him do all the hard work earlier, he deliberately kept a straight face and snorted coldly.
"Is it? It's not too bad. You, on the other hand, have gotten thinner. You've really had it rough~" Francis said, casually patting him on the shoulder.
A strange feeling stirred within Perturabo.
Suddenly.
A hundred eyes emerged across Francis's armour, all of them glowing white.
A strange stiffness seized Perturabo's body. He immediately understood and roared in fury. "You're not the Warmaster! What are you trying to do?!"
The Iron Warriors who heard this reacted at once, roaring as they charged forward. "Shameless villain! You actually ambushed a Primarch!"
"Everyone, charge! Take back the Primarch!"
"Charge!"
In an instant, Ferrus Manus had already moved in front of Francis, while countless Iron Hands warriors charged forward as well.
Just as Perturabo's body began to break free of the stiffness, Francis grinned wickedly and injected all three drugs into