"Hogg, you swallowed Corax and the others! Hurry up and spit them out!"
Looking at the little brother in his paw, Hogg seemed to realize something as he came to his senses. A powerful discomfort was building inside him. His stomach hurt so badly, as if he'd scarfed down a ton of Spicy Crispy Snacks and then drunk two barrels of Nurgle's thick soup in the middle of the night.
Even worse, Hogg's throat felt itchy. Something was trying to crawl out of him. From the sound of it, there were even tank treads turning—but why would there be treads in his stomach?
"Run!"
"Huh?"
Curze's ears were ringing. He couldn't make out what Hogg was saying. When he'd been held in Hogg's mouth earlier, the saliva had already digested half his ear.
Ordinary acid wouldn't have affected Curze, who had become a Daemon Primarch. But after arriving in this world, he'd discovered that things worked very differently here. That terrifying acid seemed made specifically for Daemons; it could directly digest the illusory flesh that the Warp's energy used to form them.
Curze looked wretched. His head was as smooth as a braised egg, and wisps of green smoke rose from it now and then. His ears had been completely corroded by the acid. All he could see was Hogg's molars moving up and down, with something poking its head out of his mouth.
Their eyes met, and Curze recognized what was emerging from Hogg's throat: his good brother Corax, who had shared the blame with him for ten thousand years and chased Lorgar for just as long.
Corax had curled up inside the hull of a tank that was about to fall apart. He poked his head out of the viewing slit and looked at Curze, a glint of