After they broke through the temple's outer defenses, resistance in the passageways dwindled. An eerie silence replaced the earlier uproar, broken only by the heavy tread of Power Armour echoing through the empty corridors.
Angron's frenzy was gradually subsiding, his rage retreating beneath the surface of his massive frame.
He no longer roared. His steps were steady, his Chainaxe hanging low, thick blood dripping from its blade.
His extreme fury had turned inward, becoming cold killing intent. Every step carried the crushing pressure of a mountain about to topple.
Skolzne, captain of the Primarch Guard, led the finest of his warriors along Angron's flank like shadows. Their chain weapons and Bolters covered every corner that might conceal an enemy as they silently cleared the Primarch's path.
The final massive door, inlaid with intricate organic patterns, shattered with a thunderous crash beneath a casual swing from Angron.
The scene beyond opened up before them.
The hall's interior was vast, its vaulted ceiling soaring overhead. Soft green light emanated from the surrounding walls, illuminating a lone, towering Throne at its center.
The Throne had been carved from a single piece of that distinctive emerald metal, its sheen flowing as though alive.
A man sat upon it.
He wore spotless white robes covered in elaborate ornamentation. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, leaving only a tautly drawn chin exposed.
There were no guards, no traps, only him, alone, as though he had been waiting there for a long time.
An air of decaying authority and despairing calm permeated the chamber.
Lorgar stepped inside as well and stood beside Angron, forming a stark contrast.
Angron resembled a savage beast poised to strike, while Lorgar seemed a composed inquisitor.
Rather than his usual weapon, he held a Power Spear casually taken