"It was him."
Stronos walked toward him.
He wanted to meet him.
The other man held the Emperor's Sword.
He had to be one of the Emperor's most trusted men.
He was very likely a Primarch.
If he was a Primarch, Stronos wanted to know.
Why, why were they unwilling to return and help the Imperium?
Why did they possess the Webway, yet still refuse to return?
Had their Primarch returned as well? Would they be able to see their Primarch?
There was nothing else in Stronos's mind but those thoughts.
He desperately wanted to know the truth behind it all.
The other man's once enormous body gradually returned to its original form, though even at his original height, he stood far taller than those genetically enhanced Space Marines.
In the eyes of other psykers, his body was already as towering as a Primarch's.
And the Emperor's Sword at his side faintly signified that his status was noble and beyond reach.
The Iron Lords of the other clans suffered logical paradoxes in the mechanical structures within their bodies when Chaos power erupted. The irresistible psychic force led them to calculate that their opponent seemed to carry some weapon capable of gathering the souls of the battlefield.
The data turbulence produced by Chaos-induced labor had truly constructed, before their eyes, an image of the Emperor's divine statue lifting a planet and departing the Chaos Womb.
The others followed Stronos.
They shared the same question: was he a Primarch?
If he was a Primarch, why would he not meet them?
Cisrain sensed their eager gazes.
They looked like children who had finally awaited the return of parents working away from home, only to watch eagerly as those parents left to work again.
Cisrain merely nodded at them.
The Webway behind him no