"One last time..."
Angron's voice rang out again, lower and deeper than before, like two rough boulders grinding slowly together at the bottom of an abyss.
His deep crimson eyes were fixed on Thorns, who stood at the very front of the formation in heavy Terminator Armour.
There was no doubt in that gaze, no questioning, only a cold madness, almost obsessive, suppressed to its absolute limit.
"I'll ask again..."
He leaned forward slightly, his immense shadow pressing toward them with the movement, as though the light throughout the corridor had dimmed.
The air was as thick as congealed blood plasma. Even breathing became difficult.
"You..."
He paused, then spoke each word with a clarity that seemed to chisel it into every skull:
"Where have you trapped my brother Lorgar?"
"Lorgar?"
Thorns froze.
Not because of the name. Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the Word Bearers—they knew who he was, of course.
What stunned him was Angron's question itself.
"Where have we trapped him?"
Beneath his Helmet, Thorns's face was blank with confusion. He even felt a faint sense of absurdity.
Instinctively, he glanced at the Rangdan Overlord beside him, who had likewise momentarily frozen, as if silently asking, Are we really that powerful?
Powerful enough to "trap" a Primarch? Did Lord Saladin's grand plan include a secret operation against Lorgar?
Confusion spread through his mind, and through those of many Second Legion warriors who had heard the question, like ripples from a drop striking water.
But the battlefield gave them no time to think.
Angron's immense body, which had seemed motionless in its slight forward lean, abruptly became a dark red hurricane that tore through space!
"Engage!!!"
Thorns's shout rang out almost simultaneously with Angron's roar, but it was already too late.
His voice had not even fully escaped his