"Keep fighting, and don't stop until the last enemy is dead. We need to make sure they become corpses."
Lorgar Aurelian spoke those words into the vox, his voice dull and heavy, like the echo of thunder.
Issuing orders came as naturally to him as breathing. In fact, for the Word Bearers, war had already become as natural as breathing. He did not need to pay special attention to the shape of the battlefield to act on instinct.
Of course—words like keep fighting could hardly really be called an order.
He gripped Illuminator in both hands and brought it down in a heavy swing against the hatch of the boarding torpedo, already warped by pressure and brutal impact. The metal door screamed as it tore through the air and flew into the darkness. When it fell, it would surely make a heavy crash.
But Lorgar had not heard it yet.
He leapt, springing out through the shattered hatch and landing on the deck thirteen meters below.
The Primarch landed in armor, and the sound was like thunder. The shock that followed was even more terrifying. Several traitors clutching guns were knocked to the ground before they could even aim. The slaves standing in the corner of the deck scattered in panic.
Lorgar had no time to concern himself with them for now. He simply held Illuminator in one hand and began killing.
Each time the Power Hammer howled, a traitor's body was reduced to powder. Sometimes it was a head; sometimes the entire upper body. Flesh and blood flew everywhere, shattered bone fragments spraying out and causing secondary casualties among the crowd.
The faintly glowing skin of the Word Bearer was completely hidden beneath his armor. His Power Armor was covered in blood and scraps of flesh. But this was