It was obvious that the sword wound on Warmaster Horus's shoulder had grown increasingly severe. They said it had become so bad that he couldn't even get out of bed—or sit up?
Such an injury might have been understandable in an ordinary person, but for a Primarch as strong as a god, for Horus, whose ability and prestige in the Imperium were second only to the Emperor of Mankind, it was truly bizarre and inconceivable.
But there was nothing they could do...
The immensely powerful Primarch, Warmaster Horus, who was said to possess almost as much strength as the Emperor of Mankind, had truly fallen because of a small wound caused by a sword. That was an ironclad fact!
And the key point was that even the Legion's finest medical personnel were powerless against the wound. No matter what treatments the Apothecaries tried, no matter how advanced the technology they used—even when they resorted to the technology of certain Xenos races—the Primarch's sword wound continued to bleed and fester, and his condition kept deteriorating because of that incurable injury.
In his condition, the Primarch was obviously in no state to handle official business.
In fact, most of the affairs of the XVI Legion, the Sons of Horus, and the Great Crusade fleet directly under its command were now being handled by First Captain Abaddon.
Although he had realized the danger and sealed off the news, preventing it from spreading—the other Primarchs and the Emperor of Mankind still knew nothing—he understood that their Warmaster's condition was grim. They had to find a solution quickly, or they really wouldn't be able to keep it secret.
If the Emperor of Mankind or the other Primarchs learned of the Warmaster's current state—if they found out that he had suffered such grievous injuries during a