"Thud! Thud! Thud!"
Heavy, steady footsteps, like the beating of war drums, shattered the lingering Smoke and mournful cries at the battlefield's edge.
Each impact of steel soles against scorched earth sent a faint tremor through the ground, as though marking the final, victorious rest in this brutal battle of attack and defense.
A squad of giants clad in heavy Terminator Armour passed through drifting smoke and scattered fires like mobile steel fortresses, stepping into the ruins of the raiding ground that had only just fallen silent.
The warrior at their head wore armour painted predominantly in deep dark gold and somber dark gray. His pauldrons bore the Word Bearers' Scripture emblem and the distinctive heraldry of the Ninth Chapter, their decorations solemn and imposing. His enormous Power Fist and Storm Bolter remained combat-ready, yet he moved with the stillness of deep waters and the solidity of a mountain.
He was Tyrion, Chapter Master of the Word Bearers' Ninth Chapter. Behind him followed his fully armed Chapter guards, silent as mountains. Their wary gazes swept over the devastated battlefield before settling on the lone figure at its center.
Biberus had just finished his slaughter.
The last traitor lay at his feet, his body still twitching faintly. Biberus slowly drew the tip of his Power Sword from the man's throat, trailing a string of dark red droplets.
He did not turn immediately. He merely tilted his head slightly, catching sight of the imposing Terminator Squad approaching him out of the corner of his eye.
He made no hostile move. With a slight flick of his wrist, he shook the remaining blood from the blade onto the blackened earth, then opened his hand.
"Clang."
He casually discarded the Power Sword that had accompanied him through countless bloody battles and had just drunk