"His speed had increased."
Rogal Dorn spoke solemnly, his voice echoing through the room. It also caught the attention of another man, who lifted his head from his writing and began listening to his brother.
Meeting his brother's gaze, Rogal Dorn began to speak slowly.
"The gangs' weapons were by no means crudely made improvised firearms—perhaps some of them were, but we have all seen lasguns and autoguns. Technology left behind from distant ages is still being used by them, and it still works."
"He had no power armor, no weapons, and he managed all this alone?"
The stone-like giant slowly shook his head. For the first time, an emotion too complex to decipher appeared on that resolute, chiseled face.
"...Truly terrifying," he said slowly.
"Terrifying?"
Fulgrim raised an eyebrow. "And why is that, brother? He is carrying out a righteous deed. Do the deaths of those scum not bring you satisfaction?"
"I am not saying that his actions are terrifying."
"Then what are you talking about?"
"The resolve behind his actions."
The furrows between Rogal Dorn's brows deepened. They had appeared so often that this expression had practically become one of his trademarks, yet the gravity of his demeanor still made Fulgrim straighten in his chair.
"...Kael Lohars possesses a moral code that borders on obsession."
Fulgrim nodded. He agreed with that.
"He does not take the possessions of the dead, does not desecrate corpses to vent his rage, and even refuses to allow excitement or pleasure into his slaughter. Ferrus and I observed this ourselves, while Konrad's account was even more detailed."
"From his words, we can see that Kael Lohars is far more than merely obsessive. He is also extraordinarily sensitive."
"The suffering and numbness of those at the bottom both cause him pain—do you remember Konrad