Who Dares Kill Me? Who Can Kill Me?!

Tzeentch's mist shrouded the warship's corridors. No matter how the Ultramarines attacked with Assault Cannons, plasma, and heavy bolters, their shots only sent ripples through the thin, viscous fog enveloping Abaddon and the Black Legion—like some living thing. They couldn't harm Abaddon in the slightest!

"Hmph!"

Suddenly, the air roiled.

The Primarch gave a cold snort. His mag-boots scraped against the floor, and he shot forward like a cannonball, dragging with him a blast of explosive wind and a shrill sonic boom as he charged straight into the thin, viscous Chaos fog!

"You're not getting away today!" Guilliman roared furiously. As he swung his sword, the Emperor's Sword blazed with an incomparable radiance, like the light of a star, as if ready to cleave through that profane mist.

To lure Abaddon into the trap, the Ultramarines had paid a terrible price.

They had even used the Glory of Macragge as bait, deliberately exposing it to the Black Legion's fleet. Guilliman had done all this to end the threat once and for all, to pull out the thorn lodged in the heart of the Imperium—Abaddon!

How could he possibly stand by and let Abaddon escape now?

No. Never!

Not a chance!

That was what Guilliman thought as he put even more force into his swing.

Screee!!!

But the result was deeply disappointing.

Even the Emperor's Sword, bestowed by the Emperor himself, couldn't cleave through that damned fog!

The blazing flames wrapped around the blade clashed fiercely with the viscous mist, like oil thrown onto a fire. They crackled as if burning flesh,

with a sharp, sizzling sound.

The blade met resistance. It couldn't break through.

Guilliman's expression shifted. The mist surged toward him, and he quickly pushed off the ground and retreated.

The counterattacking fog was so fierce that it corroded