Elsewhere, Lorgar made his way through the gigantic warship.
There was none of the grandeur of void warfare here, only close-quarters, bloody, kill-or-be-killed slaughter.
The air was thick with a fluorescent haze and a stench that mingled sweet, bloody rot with corroded metal.
The walls were not metal, but writhing flesh covered in a thin film of mucus, embedded with cold xenos pipes that constantly seeped dark Green Liquid and flickering psychic crystals.
The light came from an unknown source, a dizzying strobe of sickly green and deep purple.
Lorgar stepped across the faintly pulsing "floor," which resembled the innards of a living creature, his golden eyes calmly surveying this profane space.
Behind him, two hundred Cataphractii Terminators and five Contemptor Dreadnoughts deployed with astonishing efficiency, the thunder of Bolters and heavy weapons instantly filling the narrow passage.
They had scarcely gained their footing.
"Hsssk!!!"
Piercing, inhuman shrieks surged from every direction!
From the shadows, behind the pipes, and within the folds of flesh, hundreds of figures as swift as ghosts poured out like a tide!
They possessed the long, explosively powerful bodies typical of Rangdan Elite warriors, wore biological armour flickering with psychic energy, and carried deadly weapons such as vibration blades and particle rippers.
Their speed was astounding, their agility far beyond that of ordinary Space Marines. These were clearly the finest troops in the Rangdan army, capable of matching, or even slightly surpassing, ordinary Space Marines in individual combat.
But they faced Lorgar Aurelian.
To Lorgar, their surging assault was as slow and trivial as a children's game.
He had not even drawn the Flail at his waist.
He merely raised his right hand casually and gripped his finely crafted Mace.
He swung.
There was no dazzling psychic radiance, no earth-shaking spectacle.
Only a plain, unadorned swing,