Pandora and the Void Dragon vanished through the hole in the dome as though they had never appeared, leaving behind only a wrecked hall and an atmosphere stretched to its limit.
The pressure abruptly eased, only to transform at once into a more direct confrontation.
Led by the Adeptus Custodes and Lieutenant General Kalanti, the Imperial warriors adjusted their formation almost without hesitation, their weapons uniformly aimed at the most conspicuous and unsettling target in the hall—the man who called himself Fulgrim.
The sharp clatter of bolters being readied, the hum of power weapon fields, and the mechanical locking of Contemptor Dreadnought turrets filled the air.
The air seemed to have solidified, heavy enough to suffocate.
Even though he had helped them just moments ago, and even though an unknown terror still lurked outside, the name "Fulgrim" itself represented ten thousand years of betrayal, corruption, and endless suffering.
For these loyal Imperial warriors, purging traitors was their duty, even if it cost them their lives.
Lord Castellan Creed directed the mortals and remaining soldiers to fall back, while the Salamanders and Ultramarines formed a pincer formation.
Everyone's eyes remained fixed on Fulgrim, waiting for his next move before launching an attack from which none might return.
Yet something happened that no one had expected.
Faced with the encirclement and the frigid killing intent, there was no anger, no mockery, not even the slightest desire for battle on Fulgrim's flawless face.
There was only a deep, indescribable weariness and sorrow.
Slowly and very clearly, he spread his hands to show that he would not resist.
"I understand your hostility." His voice remained beautiful, yet it carried a heavy helplessness. "If you believe this is necessary, I can accept imprisonment... and return to Terra to stand trial."
This action stunned every warrior