Brumm II Landmass.
A region reduced to scorched earth by fleet bombardment.
The flying Daemon Primarch casually hurled the "Thunder Warrior" in his hand toward the ground.
Clone Angron felt as though he had been stuffed into a cannon and fired out, rapidly crossing over a thousand meters before crashing through the ruins of a fortress on the scorched earth with a thunderous boom and embedding himself in a wall.
The clone tried to struggle, but the moment he slid down from the wall, the Daemon Primarch suddenly flickered before him and punched his head into the wall.
The Thunder Warrior's helmet withstood the blow.
But then the Daemon Primarch seized the clone by the throat, raised a hand to grip the helmet, and tore the entire thing off as it roared and strained.
Braids spilled loose, and a familiar face appeared before the Daemon Primarch's eyes.
After a brief daze, the Daemon Primarch's fists rained down upon the clone's face.
Had anyone been nearby, they would have heard sounds like explosions, along with the cracking of the ground.
The blows continued until the Daemon Primarch's fists were soaked in blood, until it realized its fury was fading and it felt emotionally exhausted.
The beating stopped.
The clone's hand trembled as he raised it, gently pressing it against the Daemon Primarch's face.
Then the clone gathered all his strength, tightly gripped the Daemon Primarch's facial skin, and slammed his head forward, forcing the Daemon Primarch to stagger back a step in surprise.
"Who made you?" the Daemon Primarch roared.
"Fabius." The clone crawled out of the crater and snapped his battered, misaligned facial bones back into place. "I'm not like you. I didn't come from a slaver, but... a morally bankrupt mad doctor... though he was probably a little