The cold scrape of metal echoed through the cramped cabin of a small Imperial Navy transport.
Doom Slayer's crimson visor swept over the control panel, which displayed a set of coordinates—marked "Edge of the Cadian Rift—Deep Warp Anomaly Zone."
The Imperium of Man's Navigators and Astropaths had described the "whispers" of that region in tones of utmost terror. It was precisely the hunting ground he longed to pursue.
The transport's rear engines spewed ghostly blue ion streams as it plunged without hesitation into the viscous, filthy veil between the real universe and the dimension of madness.
In an instant, the world warped.
Beyond the portholes was no longer the cold starry void, but boiling, shifting colors of Chaos.
Twisted bands of light pulsed like the veins of living creatures. Filthy energy storms swept fragments of space through the void, while countless inhuman howls, mad mutterings, and anguished wails poured directly into Doom's mind, as though billions of rusted needles were scraping against his soul.
"Blood... skulls... pain... Eternity..."
"Join... rot... embrace... Grandfather..."
"Destruction..."
"Pleasure..."
Those whispers were filled with blasphemy and temptation, seeking to erode, corrupt, and assimilate every soul that entered this place.
Yet at the core of Doom's consciousness, they crashed into an absolute Bulwark—cold and unyielding, forged from a will for pure Destruction.
Rather than shaking him, those blasphemous voices were like cold water splashed onto scorching iron, instantly igniting the fiercest urge to kill within his soul! The crimson visor flared brighter, like two miniature stars set ablaze.
"Prey..." A cold electronic voice growled beneath his helmet, trembling with the excited scrape of metal.
He violently shoved the controls forward, and the transport charged toward the region where the whispers were densest and the energy most foul, like a shark scenting blood.
He would leave this