Two mighty beings fought to the edge of the galaxy, and even the paths were erased.
+My other self cannot get over here.+
Mortarion said flatly, looking up at the vault of the sky where the C'tan, having already shattered the battlefield where Guilliman was, were plunging toward them at high speed.
Beside the Pale Lord, Guilliman opened his mouth without making a sound; he knew what the Primarch was talking about, for a Primarch who had long since undergone deep psychisation naturally sensed the High Heavens beginning to undergo drastic mutations.
It was like the sea rapidly receding; he had already begun to breathe with difficulty, like a fish abandoned on a mudflat.
The Warp was rapidly shrinking.
Thanks to the Underking.
Mortarion stood silently in place, looking up at the sky, pondering something gravely as the white mists roiling around him consequently sank down slowly and remained motionless.
+I believe we should narrow our psychic range now.+
Mortarion said gravely, much as he might have told Hades that the Death Guard's lunch wraps must be laced with mixed-type-three poison today.
Guilliman naturally nodded in extreme agreement, the originally majestic Primarch also somewhat silent as he, like Mortarion, raised his head and stared in disbelief at the imagery upon the vault of the sky.
There, pitch-black sea water seemed to surge across the deep blue, fluorescent-tinted starlight dome, the water rushing across half the sky so fast that the foremost billows were already lapping shallowly at the feet of the giant moon.
+He... he has finally awakened after all.+
Guilliman felt his throat go somewhat dry, sensing countless leaping black visual noise points appearing in his vision—not a sign of tension, but of the Underking approaching them.
Mortarion did not answer him, as if Guilliman had spoken yet