As Supreme Seer Xinaniels was "erased" by Lorgar in the cruelest possible fashion against the Temple's towering outer wall, the enormous scarlet smear stung the eyes of every surviving Aeldari warrior like a brand of defeat and disgrace. With the seer's fall, their will to fight collapsed completely.
"Retreat! All forces, retreat!" An Aeldari Bishop unleashed a psychic shriek, the voice filled with anguish and grim resolve.
"The battle is lost! Preserve our remaining forces first! Hurry!"
The surviving Aeldari troops abandoned the fight and surged like a tide toward the teleportation nodes inside the Craftworld, their figures swiftly vanishing in flashes of psychic light.
Engines roared overhead. A transport bearing the insignia of the Word Bearers punched through the smoke, braking sharply to hover above the plaza with its hatch wide open.
"Angron! Move!" Lorgar's voice came over the comms, terse and forceful.
Angron did not hesitate.
He snatched up two veterans lying on the ground, too badly wounded to move, and hurled them into the cabin with pinpoint accuracy as though tossing sandbags.
Then he scooped up Hercules and Khârn, one beneath each powerful arm. His massive body surged into motion, launching him like a cannonball before he landed heavily inside the cabin.
"All units, confirm evacuation! Repeat, all units, evacuate immediately!" The fleet's orders echoed over the comms.
Just as the transport climbed, a breathtaking sight came into clear view through the viewport.
In the void outside the Craftworld, the main Aeldari fleet, which had been locked in combat with the Imperial Fleet, abandoned its formations and attacks on the Imperium entirely. Recklessly swinging its guns around, it poured every ounce of its firepower like a torrential downpour onto the very Craftworld it had once sworn to defend to the death!
"They're... destroying their own Craftworld?!" Khârn