A dark red figure, like the fire of judgment falling from a rift in the heavens, tore through the stagnant smoke and despair above Pascal Hive City.
Angron rode the enormous fragment of armour plating he had kicked off from, now heated white-hot by its terrifying speed and atmospheric friction, its edges beginning to melt and drip.
Like a living meteor imbued with the pure will to destroy, he plummeted mercilessly toward the earth, toward the grey colossus that had just brought down an Imperial Titan.
The wind roared in his ears.
A flowing layer of dark red plasma flame, almost solid in appearance, covered his sombre Power Armour. It was proof that the atmosphere had been violently ignited by his speed, far beyond the limits of any conventional airdrop.
He had no drag chute, no braking thrusters, no elaborate orbital adjustments—only the purest, unstoppable kinetic force, and an absolute straight line once his target was locked.
On the ground, both the charging Rangdan Tide and the Imperial survivors holding their last positions found their eyes drawn involuntarily to that dazzling, savage descent.
It looked less like reinforcements than another natural disaster.
Angron's crimson eyes had already pierced the flames and smoke, locking firmly onto the Rangdan Colossal Construct towering like a mountain below.
That thing had just erased an Imperial Warlord Titan with a horrifying beam.
Good.
That was his target.
With two thousand standard metres still separating him from the ground, his falling speed reached a horrifying peak.
Angron moved.
His heavily armoured right foot stamped down hard on the glowing red armour plate he had already crushed out of shape!
Crack!
Already on the verge of disintegration, the armour fragment shattered completely beneath that immense force concentrated on a single point. Countless crimson droplets of molten metal