Endurance, Duel Cage.
Now.
.
Under the watchful lights, Calas Typhon turned and lowered his scythe. Wearing an expression of humility tinged with pride, he smiled at the Barbaran crowd below.
Cheers and applause erupted from the audience once more, and some even began whistling.
Surprisingly, Mortarion did not stop the noise.
Just now, only two people in the audience had seen Calas Typhon's little trick.
One was Mortarion—
Mortarion remained seated, the Primarch's towering figure as still as a corpse.
So this is what you wanted me to see, Typhon?
From beneath his hood, Mortarion looked toward the cheering Barbaran crowd. His sons, his people—since leaving their homeland, when had they ever celebrated like this?
Is this what you wanted to say?
A victory won through Psychic Power, followed by—using this sentiment—you want me to loosen my restrictions on Psychic Power and allow you to use it?
Are you still this persistent, Karras?
Or have I handled this poorly?
Mortarion fell silent.
On the stage, Calas Typhon discreetly glanced at Mortarion.
Of course, he knew what Mortarion was thinking.
Previously, Calas Typhon had probed Mortarion's attitude toward Librarians through indirect questions.
Clearly, based on what he had learned of Witchcraft on Barbarus, Mortarion had wholly rejected the existence of Librarians.
But Calas Typhon knew that Witchcraft—no, Psychic Power—was merely a tool. It was neither good nor evil in itself.
The Death Guard's former Librarians were the best proof of that.
Calas Typhon knew he needed an opportunity to prove to Mortarion that Psychic Power could win him glory.
And Mortarion was far less steadfast in his standards than he believed himself to be.
Karras chuckled to himself. From their previous interactions, Mortarion was actually someone easily influenced by the crowd.
He cared about his sons. He cared about his