"How much longer are we staying here? Aren't you better yet?"
In the darkness, a Space Marine impatiently pressed his Primarch. Such a tone was exceedingly rare among Space Marines. Most Space Marines turned their worship of their Primarchs into an instinct ingrained in their blood. The few warriors who dared speak coldly to a Primarch were either won over by the Primarch's personal charisma or slapped into crippling disability by their displeased Primarch.
Yet judging by this Space Marine's words and actions, this was not the first time he had spoken to his Primarch this way.
"Just... wait... a little longer..."
A hoarse plea drifted over, making the impatient Space Marine even more displeased. In the end, he decided to put an end to this meaningless wait and wake his Primarch from his delusions.
"Hold my weapon." As he spoke, he began removing his power claw. Without the aid of servitors, this was no simple task. His anxious state made his movements somewhat rough, and the power claw, which had earned many glorious battle honors, let out a pained groan.
Perhaps moved by the weapon's wail, the warrior who took it could not help trying to dissuade him. "How about we forget it, Sevatar? You can't hurt him anyway, can you?"
"Can't hurt him?" Sevatar applied even more force to the power claw upon hearing that. "If he's still having an episode, then that may not be the case."
With a clang, the power claw came off. Sevatar strode deeper into the darkness, and before long, the stench of blood flooded his nostrils. The source of that blood was often the criminals imprisoned in their warship's cells. Their crimes should have been judged according to Imperial law, but unfortunately for them, they had happened to encounter his Primarch while