Sanguinius stepped beside Angron, his gaze leaving Ferrus Manus for a moment to settle on the naked figure next to him.
He could see the air around Angron distorting. That savage aura was like a layer of magma buried deep underground, silently churning, swelling, and growing hotter.
With every step forward, the aura grew heavier, as though that bronze-skinned body were swallowing the desolation and fury of the entire death world, turning it all into nourishment.
Beyond the canyon, the War Hounds fleet had finished deploying overhead.
Tens of thousands of Space Marines stood in formation aboard their warships. They sensed their father's presence, sensed the terrifying power surging skyward from deep beneath the surface.
The War Hounds' gene-seed was like countless invisible threads connecting the hearts of every son, channeling their emotions, their faith, and their killing intent into Angron's body like tributaries flowing into the sea.
Those emotions became strands of crimson energy, winding around Angron's muscle fibers, merging into his bones, and seeping into his blood.
With every heartbeat, that power surged further, making his body ever heavier and ever more dangerous.
Within seconds, that oppressive presence enveloped Ferrus Manus.
The scanning systems inside him worked furiously, streams of data flickering without pause.
The assessment of Angron's physical strength climbed slowly but steadily. Muscle density, skeletal stress tolerance, reaction acceleration—every parameter was being pushed upward by an invisible hand.
His processor tried to calculate the source of that amplification, but could reach no conclusion.
Ferrus Manus decided to strike first.
He raised his warhammer high. The weapon, forged through Chaos technology, gave a low rumble as liquid metal spread up its haft and fused with his arm.
He strode toward Angron.
"Be careful, Brother Angron," Sanguinius said quietly from beside him.
He gripped the Blade Encarmine, its