A few minutes earlier.
The Night Lords fleet.
The bridge of the flagship Nightfall.
"My lord, the War Hounds flagship Conqueror is forcibly docking with the traitor Saladin's Soul of the Sea of Sand."
"Lord Angron has been confirmed to be personally leading the boarding party." The communications officer's voice carried a barely perceptible tremor.
Konrad Curze raised his eyes slightly from his Throne of shadows and cold streams of data, his pale face looking all the more uncanny in the blue glow of the screens.
He fell silent for two seconds, then gave a faint scoff, almost a sigh.
"What do you mean... Angron boarded Saladin's warship 'alone'?" His voice was soft, yet the temperature on the bridge seemed to drop several degrees.
He raised a pale, almost translucent hand with pronounced knuckles and rubbed his deeply sunken temples.
"Very well." He lowered his hand, cold light flickering in his blue eyes.
"I don't think my... somewhat 'stupid' brother can handle Saladin on his own."
"Let's hope he wasn't stupid enough to walk into one of Saladin's quicksand traps."
Click.
A faint sound came as the mechanisms snapped open.
The vicious pair of Lightning Claws on his arms resembled the talons of a demon. Blue energy flowed silently between their adamantium blades, giving off a low, dangerous hum.
"Let me go," Curze said as he rose, shadows writhing and gathering behind him as though they had come alive.
"And give him a hand."
Back in the present.
Inside the Soul of the Sea of Sand.
Saladin ran his fingers over the three deep claw marks on his faceplate. They felt cold and rough.
He lowered his hand and looked at Curze, who had fully emerged from the shadows. Beneath his black faceplate, his lips seemed to curl into a