"Two hundred and thirty-one thousand, four hundred and forty-two. Even one pig could knock someone dead with that kind of weight, let alone this many Greater Daemons.
You son of a bitch, are you kidding me? How the hell are we supposed to fight that?"
The more rational someone was, the more wildly they could lose it. After learning that all of Blackwatch would ascend to daemonhood, Guilliman was the first to crack.
He used his superintelligence to order his superstrength to think of a way to win. His brain then sent back one message: even if they gave it everything they had, they couldn't win. It was simply impossible.
Guilliman vaulted over the table, grabbed Hogg by the collar, hoisted him up, and cursed him out:
"Hogg, tuck your legs under you and get on your knees. Your brother's asking you for a favor. How about we just don't fight? You're not asking us to destroy Blackwatch; you're asking us to turn Cadia into the place where every last one of us dies!"
"Two hundred and thirty thousand Greater Daemons, and they can freely enter the physical world. Even a tiny fraction of them could drown us. We can't win."
Looking around, Hogg saw worry, indecision, pain over the future, and the deep despair that filled the entire room—a stark contrast to the excitement from moments ago.
As for himself, he still held the half-glass of champagne Magnus had poured him.
The champagne Magnus had brought was sweet and delicious, and pouring it into a glass raised a fine layer of delicate bubbles. Hogg didn't care for such a high-class drink. He preferred Nuka-Cola or a refreshing dark beer from Olympia.
"Phew. The morale's gone; this team's going to be a nightmare to lead."
Hogg didn't answer right away.