Curze was still locked in battle with Vulkan.
Their figures crossed, collided, and parted on Nocturne's rotting surface, like two ghosts dancing in the dark.
Curze's arm blades traced silvery arcs through the air, every swing lethally precise and ruthless.
Vulkan's warhammer was wreathed in green toxic miasma. Every blow gouged an enormous crater into the ground, sending dust and putrid spores billowing into the sky.
They had been fighting for an unknown length of time. Time had grown hazy and chaotic on this planet corrupted by Nurgle. His power warped Nocturne's space and time, making the battle drag on far longer than it should.
The two fought on the now-living Nocturne. Every collision left deep scars in the ground, and every clash made the surrounding earth tremble.
But Nocturne was clearly displeased with the battle taking place upon its body, and it let out a mournful howl of protest.
The howl rose from deep within the planet's core, a low, lingering groan.
The sound spread through the air, setting the planet's entire surface shaking and sending a shudder through the daemons and warriors fighting there.
Nocturne did not like people fighting on its head, especially when two Primarch-level beings were wreaking havoc upon its body.
"This is my fault, my Nocturne." Vulkan gazed tenderly at the earth beneath his feet, his voice gentle and apologetic, as though soothing a pet.
His gaze pierced the rotting vegetation and warped terrain, finding the consciousness that was howling in distress.
He reached out and gently patted the ground as though stroking a pet. "Bear with it a little longer. It'll be over soon."
He paid no heed to Curze's attacks. Those lethal slashes were merely trivial distractions to him. To Vulkan, soothing Nocturne's distress mattered far more than Curze's presence.
The arm