Yet even with Turing's spine forcibly snapped and his torso's power transmission nodes destroyed, leaving him collapsed like a war machine stripped of its drive shaft, the cold, relentless corruption originating from "Silverheart" showed no sign of weakening.
Faint silver gleams, almost impossible to catch with the naked eye, seeped silently from inside Turing's damaged mechanical prosthetics, from the cracks in his broken joints, and even from unnatural bulges beneath his skin, like liquid metal possessed of life.
They were countless swarms of nanometal.
As though obeying a single will, these tiny constructs writhed and gathered, spreading rapidly across the surface of Turing's ravaged body and through its internal structures.
"Creak... sizzle..."
Faint, teeth-grating sounds of proliferating metal and restructuring components kept coming from within Turing's body, which should have been incapable of movement.
At the break in the mechanical arm Lorgar had snapped, silver streams of nanometal were weaving frantically, building makeshift supports and energy pathways.
Beneath his badly deformed chestplate, damaged ceramite and plasteel were being replaced and repaired with a tougher, more flexible silver substance.
Even around his severely damaged spine, tiny silver lights flickered between broken bones and nerve bundles, attempting to force new, twisted conduction pathways into existence.
"Silverheart" was sparing no expense, drawing on its reserves or contingency plans embedded within Turing's body, attempting to repair and strengthen this Primarch's shell as quickly as possible and turn it into a more efficient killing weapon entirely under its control.
"Kill... me..."
The murmur came from Turing's bowed head, so faint it was almost nothing but breath.
Quiet as it was, the voice pierced the faint noise of proliferating nanometal like an icicle and stabbed straight into Lorgar's ears.
Lorgar lowered his head.
On the half of Turing's face that remained flesh and blood, he saw