"Watch your tone." Valdor sounded displeased. "This spear was personally forged by The Emperor and contains his power. Are you saying The Emperor's power is sinister?"
"Why not?" Leman Russ glanced at Valdor. He did not want to waste too many words arguing with Valdor over this. He needed to pick up the spear he had discarded, yet which had kept returning to his hand, and borrow its power to completely turn the tide of battle.
Embrace his destiny...
The moment Leman Russ's hand touched the spear, visions appeared before his eyes.
In some visions, he killed his brothers.
In others, he killed himself.
And in still others, he killed The Emperor.
The visions made Leman Russ uncomfortable. He did not want to kill anyone, nor did he want to keep watching. Even if the brothers in those visions had become hateful beyond measure, even if The Emperor in those visions had become a new god built from the corpses of fools, it was still the same.
But now, he had no choice. To save his sons, to salvage the Imperium's losing battle, he had to endure these visions that caused him such pain.
He could only hope that these visions would never truly come to pass one day...
The Primarch took a deep breath and removed the Dionysian Spear from the coffin.
The power contained within the weapon was healing his wounded body while tormenting his helpless soul.
Leman Russ patted Angron on the back and told him to properly repair his Ork-style armor. Those arms and legs clearly could no longer be lifted.
Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the frigid air. When he opened them again, his figure vanished in an instant, becoming a streak of light that charged toward the skeletal