The Indomitable Truth's heavy armored hatch slammed shut amid an ear-piercing metallic screech, cutting off the deafening thunder of artillery and the Orks' frenzied howls from the battlefield outside.
Yet the atmosphere on the bridge was even heavier and more stagnant than outside.
Lion stood before the tactical star map like a battered black statue.
His crimson lenses were locked onto the enormous point of light on the map, which continuously radiated blinding scarlet energy pulses—the marker representing the Gargantuan Junk.
Fresh scratches and dents covered his black Terminator armor, reinforced with Hilling material technology. A wound torn open by Salaka's power claw on his left pauldron was particularly conspicuous, deep enough to expose the interior. The metal around it had warped and melted.
A cold casualty report scrolled across his lenses: more than a quarter of the elite boarding party had failed to return.
"That Ork's strength... defies reason." Lion's voice was low, carrying a trace of barely perceptible frustration, though gravity outweighed it. "On that ship, he is nearly invincible. Every Ork's death gives him more power. That form of energy... it is strengthening him every moment."
Salaka's terrifying form flashed through his mind—the way he grew fiercer with every battle, his power constantly swelling, along with combat instincts far too cunning for such a massive body.
This was no ordinary Ork warlord. His threat already surpassed that of an ordinary Primarch.
Luke stood nearby, his robes appearing especially still beneath the bridge's dim lighting.
He closed his eyes and focused, as though straining to sense something, his brow deeply furrowed.
After a moment, he opened his eyes. Deep concern filled his azure gaze. "It is not just his power, Lord Lion. The entire battlefield is shrouded in an invisible 'net.' The source interfering with my precognition... is