Zahurash had no patience to wait for Ferrus Manus's answer.
He had wasted too many breaths on this question, tired of an ordinary Primarch still needing time in his presence to consider his insignificant choice.
He could not be bothered to decipher the complicated expressions on Ferrus Manus's face any longer. Joy, anger, grief, fear, or hesitation—all were fleeting instants on the scale of his existence.
He raised his arm, spreading his five fingers slightly.
Ferrus Manus felt his back lose its weight in an instant. His entire upper body was suddenly hauled out of that steel shell.
Before he could even react, a tearing roar erupted from his back.
It was the sound of metal being ripped out at the roots, of bones and wiring being stripped from flesh, of countless sockets, ports, and neural junctions connected to his body rupturing simultaneously under tension far beyond their design limits.
The ground beneath his feet cracked. His body staggered half a step forward against his will, and then he saw his mechanical backpack torn bodily from his back by an invisible hand. It hung in midair, trailing strands of metal tubing and dark crimson data cables.
Those cables were still transmitting signals at the very last moment, like the twitching bodies of beheaded snakes.
A burning stab of pain shot through the base of Ferrus Manus's spine.
A low, muffled grunt rolled from his throat.
His knees buckled, and he almost fell to them, but at the last instant he braced himself, hauling himself upright with an effort that nearly shattered every tooth in his mouth.
He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, the fury in his pupils almost spilling from their metal sockets.
Zahurash looked down at the mechanical backpack suspended in midair. He extended one finger and gently