The Men of Iron legion possessed extraordinarily advanced equipment. Though they still lagged considerably behind the first echelon of the Necrontyr dynasties, crushing the forces of the Imperium of Man was no problem.
The alloy formula making up their shells had long been lost, while the shield generators installed within could make batches of Adeptus Mechanicus priests research until they vomited oil without cracking even a fraction of their secrets. The various weapons mounted on their tactical arms and shoulders had been made solely for slaughter. Not a single Space Marine could withstand their precise fire.
Now, these savage-looking machines had been possessed by daemons. What flowed through their energy conduits and ammunition slots was the intangible power of the Warp. So long as Tzeentch did not die and the Warp did not perish, these machines could fight forever.
The larger a Man of Iron was, the more daemons it contained. Even if the Imperium paid a terrible price to destroy these war machines, it would still have to face the surviving daemon pilots.
But what did any of those traits mean to Lin Fan? His heart was gradually gripped by agitation and fury. He struck fast and viciously, giving no thought at all to the consequences of his actions.
Lin Fan had only one intention now: pin that damned bastard Tzeentch to the ground and beat him senseless, or simply erase part of him outright.
"Wait! Let's talk this out!" A Man of Iron was so frightened by the bayonet that its soul nearly fled its body. Tzeentch's craftsmanship truly was exquisite, however. No matter how desperately the daemon struggled, it could not break free from the Man of Iron.
In the end, it let out a shriek and became a mass of Chaos matter that merged into the