If one couldn't hold him, then use a few more.
Psychic Storm, Psychic Storm, Psychic Storm—storm, storm, storm!
Several golden vortices intertwined, binding Angron.
Angron raised his axe and hacked at the storms. He had barely split one apart when another came at him.
He hacked again, and they closed again. Hacked again, closed again.
The wind was infuriating. Angron gritted his teeth and roared.
The storms coiled around his legs, his waist, and his arms, pushing him backward, back toward the crater he had made when he fell.
The storms pushed Angron back another dozen meters before he refused to budge. With a furious roar, his feet plowed two furrows through the ground as he forcibly held his ground against them.
He roared again, Warp energy exploding out of his body.
His axe blade forcibly cleaved the psychic storms apart.
As the storms dispersed, Angron charged toward Lin En.
Lin En refused to let Angron get close.
Whenever Angron charged, he flew farther away, then kept wearing down Angron's health with ranged attacks.
Dimensional Slash.
Dimensional Slash, Dimensional Slash.
Dimensional Slash—slash, slash, slash.
A blade of light cut through the air, passed through the bloody glow protecting Angron, and sliced into his shoulder.
A gash opened in Angron's shoulder, and blood-red light sprayed out through the crack.
But not much. Only a little.
The cut was shallow, seemingly less than a centimeter deep.
I can't cut through him.
A Daemon Primarch's regenerative ability was no joke, either. Only a few seconds had passed before Angron's wound began to close.
Carapace closed inward from both sides, flesh grew upward from below, and finally, the Warp energy drew back in!
The shallow wound was almost invisible now.
Angron roared, louder and angrier than before.
He charged even faster, his axe held