Another round of agonizing torment.
This time, Fabius was nearly at death's door. He lay sprawled on the ground, unable to rise no matter what he did.
Looking at Lupercal's cold expression, he realized he had become a slave.
A scientific slave.
His purpose was to work ceaselessly like a slave, endlessly cloning Lupercal's gene-father—Horus Lupercal.
As for what this Son of Horus intended to do.
Who the hell knew what he was thinking?
"I know perfectly well that you succeeded before." Lupercal bent down to look at Fabius. "You once cloned my Primarch, and then Abaddon brutally killed that clone Primarch."
As soon as he finished speaking, the edge of the Daemon Sword lifted Fabius's hair.
The mad doctor knew perfectly well that Lupercal had not used Psychic Power or any special ability of the Daemon Sword. He had simply used the blade to pick up Fabius's hair.
It was swordsmanship refined to the absolute extreme.
So exquisite that it was astonishing.
Fabius could not help thinking of someone named Sharokin.
Sharokin, a Raven Guard. When he killed Lucius, it was like tossing away a piece of trash; he felt no pleasure from it whatsoever.
"You succeeded before, yet this is what you give me." Lupercal glanced back at the incubation tank. "Do I seem like someone who is easy to talk to, someone with a great deal of patience?"
Fabius said nothing, but he felt that Lupercal clearly was not.
There was no point in saying more. Fabius struggled to his feet and continued retracing the steps he had used to create a clone Primarch.
Although the research materials he had collected when evacuating Brumm had all been destroyed by Lupercal, every scrap of information regarding the technology of cloning Primarchs was stored in the safest place possible—his