The Herald of the Holy Word
Cracks and scorch marks on the bulkheads recorded everything the ship had just endured, and the air reeked of scorched metal mingled with ozone.
When Lorgar returned to the bridge through the rift in the void, every officer aboard instinctively held their breath.
He wore armor still suffused with traces of golden psychic energy, with several fresh cracks across his pauldrons and breastplate.
Without a word, he walked straight to the raised tactical observation station on the platform at the center of the bridge, his gaze sweeping across the projection of the entire battlefield.
Seras spoke almost immediately: "Father! Those are Death Guard warships!"
Lorgar looked up from the tactical table and followed Seras's gesture toward that section of the holographic projection.
Gray-green hulls were joining the Sons of Horus fleet at the edge of the battlefield.
The Death Guard's Endurance slowly emerged from the warp jump point, and the two fleets advanced side by side along the same course.
"They're joining up with the Sons of Horus Legion's fleet!" Seras added.
Lorgar watched the scene, his expression turning cold, as though weighing something.
The air on the bridge seemed to freeze at that instant. Everyone waited for his judgment.
He had already been consumed by bloodlust, pursuing Corax from the Shadow of the Emperor to that death world and banishing the brother who had once been a fellow Primarch back into the Warp.
The lingering fury of battle flowed through his veins like a fire that had yet to die. Now, seeing the Death Guard fleet beside the Sons of Horus formation, that fire surged as though someone had thrown oil over it.
"Have the Death Guard turned traitor too?" he asked softly.
No one could tell whether his words held anger or