Shattered planetary fragments drifted through the vacuum, followed by a chain of explosions that broke them apart even further. To witness the destruction of an entire planet with one's own eyes was horrifying enough to challenge a person's sanity.
When you had seen the earth split open and the sky become burning ash, everything else stopped mattering.
And at that moment, there were two thousand two hundred and thirty-one people who had witnessed the planet's destruction firsthand. Ten minutes ago, the planet had still existed; it had merely been under attack by a group of Ultramarines. Now, those traitors had turned to ash along with it.
Three thousand two hundred and thirty-one people, the last survivors.
Their faces held the blank numbness that followed shock, and they were wrapped in flame, drifting through the cosmos. The warmth did not lift their spirits. Though it spared them the torment of cold, it could not relieve the weariness of their minds.
Surviving a brush with death could easily leave someone utterly exhausted.
Among them were people in military uniforms, as well as filthy miners, the safety helmets with searchlights on their heads not even removed in time. If one viewed the scene rationally, their survival was nothing short of a miracle.
The vacuum should have taken their lives with oxygen deprivation and cold, but those flames cut off everything, leaving them with enough leeway and strength to speak to one another and express their shock.
Someone gripped the prayer beads at his wrist and said with reverence, "The Emperor protects." His hair was a mess, and there was even a wound on his forehead still seeping blood.
But from the shirt and leather shoes he wore, one could tell he was most likely a man of wealth or status. Even so, he