"You make me sick, Garro."
Dorn's voice fell from a high place, with a tone of extremely cold disgust.
Before he finished speaking, his right hand had already reached out, his five fingers spread out, and clasped Garro's breastplate like an iron pliers.
That palm covered Garro's armor, and the fingertips embedded themselves in the gaps in the armor, making a harsh sound of metal being squeezed.
Dorn didn't give him any time to react. His arms suddenly exerted force and lifted Garro up from the ground.
Garro's feet were off the ground, and his body was held down by Dorn with one hand in mid-air, pressed firmly against the cold wall of Command Room.
His back hit the metal wall, making a dull roar, and the entire wall seemed to tremble.
His shoulder blades were numb from the impact. Helmet was no longer there, and the back of his head almost brushed against the wall, leaving a faint mark.
He instinctively raised his hands, trying to break open Dorn's fingers that were clasped on his breastplate, but the hand was like an iron stake cast into the armor, motionless.
His fingers were clasped on Dorn's wrist armor, as if he were trying to pull a steel beam that had been welded to death, but to no avail.
Garro felt that the blood in his body was frozen by Dorn's cold anger.
He could feel the temperature at the ends of his limbs losing rapidly, as if the liquid flowing in his blood vessels had been filled with liquid nitrogen, condensing inch by inch from his fingertips to his heart.
He felt despair, just as desperate as when he first learned about Horus's rebellion.
But at this moment, when Dorn's fingers pinched his chest and pressed him against Imperial Fists's Temple wall, that shattering feeling came over again.
"This is Temple of Phalanx, Imperial Fists." Dorn's voice sounded in Garro's ears. His face was less than a palm away from Garro, and a deep and blazing anger surged in his gray-blue eyes.
"And you, Garro, among Imperial Fists's Temple, said such unsightly words to slander my perfect and noble brother!"
As Dorn's voice falls, power is gradually released along Dorn's fingertips.
The power of Dorn is like a hydraulic machine, increasing the pressure bit by bit.
Garro's breastplate began to deform under Dorn's fingers. The metal made a heart-breaking creaking sound. The originally strong armor plates began to dent inward, and cracks spread from the finger pressure points to all sides.
Garro could feel that his ribs were bearing the pressure, the air in his chest was being squeezed out bit by bit, and his breathing became shorter and shorter and more difficult.
He opened his mouth, but he could only make a dry breath.
The armor on Garro made bursts of tearing sounds, and Dorn's terrifying power seemed to be able to crush Garro at any time.
Garro could hear the inner padding of his breastplate being crushed, and the metal that once protected him from Bolt and Chainsword was shattering layer by layer.
His fingers were weakly clasped on Dorn's wrist, his nails embedded in the metal gaps, but he could not shake the palm as heavy as a mountain.
His vision began to blur, and patches of beating light appeared in front of his eyes, which were signals of a lack of oxygen in the brain.
"Where is your integrity, your loyalty, and your belief!" Dorn's roar exploded in Command Room like a thunderstorm.
His fingers tightened a little more, and Garro's breastplate finally couldn't bear the force, and there was a sharp metal crackling sound, and a crack spread from the center to the edge.
"How could Mortarion let a villain like you become Company Captain!"
Dorn cannot understand how a Company Captain of Death Guard, a Space Marine who once swore an oath under the banner of Emperor, could sink so low as to tarnish the name of Warmaster with such vicious lies.
"Listen up! Garro!" Dorn's voice suddenly dropped.
"I am not taking action myself now simply because I want to leave this opportunity to execute the traitor to my brother, Horus."
Garro felt that his body was being crushed into a ball of minced meat under the power of Dorn.
His consciousness had begun to blur, there were more and more light spots in front of his eyes, and he could hear his bones making subtle creaking sounds under the pressure.
There was not much air left in his lungs, and every attempt to inhale it only brought a sharp pain.
He felt that he was slipping into an abyss of darkness. There was no light or sound in that darkness, only a silence that lasted as long as eternity.
But as soon as the power was released, Garro fell down.
Dorn's fingers suddenly released, Garro's body slipped from the wall, and his knees hit the metal floor heavily, making a dull impact sound.
He knelt on the ground, held his hands on the ground, and breathed heavily.
Air rushed into his lungs, causing him to cough violently.
His breastplate has been completely deformed, and the cracks reveal crushed fragments of the inner layer.
A trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto the metal floor.
"Sigismund, detain Eisenstein. I want to go to the Imperial Palace and tell my father personally about this matter, and he will make a judgment." Dorn's voice returned to that calm, emotionless tone.
He didn't look at Garro anymore, turned around and walked to the other end of Control Panel, his eyes falling on the Holographic Star Chart stage.
Sigismund steps out of the shadows.
He grabbed Garro's shoulder armor, his hand gripped Garro's shoulder like an iron vice, and lifted it up.
Garro's body was forcibly straightened, and his legs were almost unsteady, but Sigismund didn't give him any time to adjust.
He took out a pair of special handcuffs and fastened the metal rings on Garro's wrists. With a "click", the handcuffs were locked.
The handcuffs were forged by Adamantium, with the seal pattern of Imperial Fists engraved on the surface. Once locked, only the high-grade Legion of Dorn and Imperial Fists can open it.
Sigismund escorted Garro towards the gate of Command Room.
Garro staggered behind, his steps unsteady, but he never fell down.
He turned back and glanced at the back of Dorn. The yellow figure stood in front of the Holographic Star Chart stage, like a silent mountain peak.
After several people left, only Dorn was left among Command Room.
He stood in front of the Holographic Star Chart stage, looking at the flashing light spots and watching the Terra Star Cluster map slowly rotating in the air.
He was silent for a long time, then slowly lowered his head and looked at his hands.
The hands that had almost crushed a Space Marine just now were hanging quietly by his sides, with metal scraps scraped from Garro's breastplate still on their knuckles.
He turned over his palm, looked at the lines on his palm, and thought for a moment.
At that moment, it seemed that I really wanted to kill Garro.
That thought passed through his consciousness like a Lightning, clear and real.
He really wanted to kill him. He wanted to slit his throat with Chainsword, he wanted to watch those blasphemous words Warmaster be reduced to pieces under the saw teeth, and he wanted to end this ridiculous farce in the most direct way.
That desire is real, like a beast that has been buried deep in my heart for a long time and finally shows its fangs.
But, nevertheless.
Dorn suppressed that desire and blocked the thought of killing from the high wall in his heart.
He slowly closed his fingers, made them into fists, and then released them.
The wall is still standing there, as strong as ever.
He turned around and walked towards the exit of Command Room. He wanted to tell his father everything that happened here.